You're drowning…

"So, you've been hanging out with that Cullen boy a lot," my father says one morning before school. My head snaps up at his words, but he's busy pretending to solve the crossword in the paper.

His eyes meet mine, and I look away. I shrug, unsure what to say to his statement. It's true, but I don't want him to worry. I haven't lied to him about Edward, but I haven't been completely honest either.

I sometimes imply that I'll be hanging with Angela when really I'm driving into the Cullen's driveway.

"We're just friends, Daddy," I say, pushing around the cereal in my bowl and avoiding eye contact. My father is usually blissfully unaware. He trusts me. I've never given him a reason not to, but I know if he wanted he would be able to read me like an open book.

"Friends, right," he scoffs.

"Really, we are," I say, meeting his eyes. For this is true. Edward has never implied we're anything more. Just friends. Even though I like to think we're more.

"I just…want you to be careful. Boys like him…they're not the right kind of boys for you, sweetheart," he warns. I roll my eyes, but he catches it. "It's true. Maybe you should focus on some of your other friendships."

I shrug again, because his words remind me how desperately I miss Angela. I haven't spoken to her since our disagreement two weeks ago.

"I gotta go, Dad," I say, getting up from the table and placing my bowl in the sink.

"Bella!" he calls, but I'm already out the door.

Oh, teenage angst.
Really guys, I love reading your thoughts and how much everyone worries for Bella. It makes me feel like maybe I'm writing this right. 'til tomorrow.

-T