Chapter 10

She's almost out the door when I shout her name. Bella turns quickly, and I can see her blush creep across her face. And her chest.

Focus, Edward.

I don't know what possesses me to do it. Maybe it's because I find her adorable and sexy. Maybe it's because our fascination has turned into a flirtation. Whatever it is, it gives me courage.

"Since we'll both be reading the same book tonight, maybe…I don't know. Maybe you could give me your number? And then, if I have any questions, or if you have any, we could…call each other?"

"You want my number? To talk about the book?"

"Yeah, to uh…talk about the book."

I'm a babbling idiot, but her face splits into a bright grin.

"Okay, give me your phone. I'll program it in."

I walk toward the door, reach into my pocket, and hand her my phone. After a few seconds, she hands it back, and I smile down at her name on my list of contacts. I feel a weird sense of triumph, but then I realize it's just a phone number. Real triumph will come when I'm able to touch her. Or kiss her. Or…

Focus, Edward.

"I'll text you. You know, so you can have mine, too."

"Okay," she replies, smiling. "I might...you know...have questions."

"Yeah. Me too."

We stare at each other for a thousand seconds until she finally says goodbye. I watch, transfixed, as she walks down the sidewalk.

Is it too soon to text? I mean, I can still see her through the window.

It's probably too soon.

But I'm still riding high on my wave of courage, so I quickly type out a quick text. I synchronize my movements—I hit send and stare out the window at the same time, just so I can have the satisfaction of watching her stop in her tracks.

Bella looks down at her phone, and she beams. It's a blinding, beautiful smile that lights up her entire face, and I feel like Gandalf or someone equally kickass—because I'm the one who made her smile like that.

Glancing over her shoulder, she looks back toward the library. I don't know if she can see me, but I can see her.

And she's still smiling.

Once she's gone, I walk over to the children's section and grab our second copy of Half Blood Prince. It's been years since I read it. If I remember correctly, this is the year Harry became a bitchy teenage boy, ruled by his hormones for Ginny Weasley while preparing for the inevitable battle with Voldemort. It's also the book where Snape kills Dumbledore, in one of the strongest and bravest acts of loyalty in the history of literature.

Love and death.

Friendship and loyalty.

While cool, none of this is useful in helping me determine why Bella Swan loves it so much.

I check-out the book and shut down the computer before heading home.

It's weird staying with my parents during the summer months. After residing in the dorms, it's always an adjustment to living with them again. But it just doesn't seem practical to live on campus during the summer—not when I can live rent-free and have home-cooked meals for a few months. Besides, they aren't too terrible to live with, and I know it makes my mom happy to have me home.

I do my own laundry, though. I'm twenty-one years old, and my mom shouldn't be washing my boxers.

Or my sheets.

Definitely not my sheets.

After saying a quick hello to my parents, I rush upstairs, locking the door behind me. I've just stretched across my bed and opened the book when my phone vibrates. I can't help but grin at the message on the screen.

How's Harry?

I toss the book aside, because no matter how stimulating Harry Potter might be, it can't possibly be more stimulating than texting with Bella Swan.

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