CNN broke the story first.

I was glad it hit the news before I had to leave for school. I was anxious to hear how the humans would phrase the account, and what amount of attention it would garner. Luckily, it was a heavy news day. There was an earthquake in South America and a political kidnapping in the Middle East. So it ended up only earning a few seconds, a few sentences, and one grainy picture.

"Yolanda Calderas Wallace, suspected murderer wanted in the states of Texas and Oklahoma, was apprehended last night in Portland, Oregon, thanks to an anonymous tip. Wallace was found unconscious in an alley early this morning, just a few yards from a police station. Officials are unable to tell us at this time whether she will be extradited to Houston or Oklahoma City to stand trial."

The picture was unclear, a mug shot. Even if Beau saw it, he would probably not recognize her. I hoped he wouldn't; it would only frighten him needlessly.

"The coverage here in town will be light. It's too far away to be considered of local interest," Archie told me. "It was a good call to have Carine take her out of state."

I nodded. Beau didn't watch much TV regardless, and I'd never seen his father watching anything besides sports channels.

I'd done what I could. This repugnant creature no longer hunted, and I was not a murderer. Not recently, anyway. I'd been right to trust Carine, as much as I still wished the wretch had not gotten off quite so easily. I caught myself hoping she would be extradited to Texas, where the death penalty was so popular.

No. That didn't matter. I would put this behind me and concentrate on what was most important.

I'd left Beau's room less than an hour ago. I was already aching to see him again.

"Archie, do you mind—"

He cut me off. "Royal will drive. He'll act pissed, but you know he'll enjoy the excuse to show off his car." Archie trilled a laugh.

I grinned at him. "See you at school."

Archie sighed, and my grin became a glare.

I know, I know, he thought. Not yet. I'll wait until you're ready for Beau to know me. You should know, though, this isn't just me being selfish. Beau's going to like me, too.

I didn't answer him as I hurried out the door. That was a different way of viewing the situation. Would Beau want to know Archie? To have a vampire for a friend?

Knowing Beau, that idea probably wouldn't bother him in the slightest.

I frowned to myself. What Beau wanted and what was best for Beau were two very separate things.

I started to feel uneasy as I parked my car in Beau's driveway. The human adage said that things looked different in the morning—that things changed when you slept on them. Would I look different to Beau in the weak light of a foggy day? More or less sinister than I had in the blackness of night? Had the truth sunk in while he slept? Would he finally be afraid?

His dreams had been peaceful, though, last night. When he'd spoken my name, time and time again, he'd smiled. More than once he'd murmured a plea for me to stay. Would that mean nothing today?

I waited nervously, listening to the sounds of him inside the house—the fast, stumbling footsteps on the stairs, the sharp rip of a foil wrapper, the contents of the refrigerator crashing against each other when the door slammed. It sounded as though he was in a hurry. Anxious to get to school? The thought made me smile, hopeful again.

I glanced at the clock. I supposed that—taking into account the velocity his decrepit truck must limit him to—he was running a little late.

Beau rushed out of the house, his book bag sliding off his shoulder, his hair unusually messy, with a tuft that was standing up near the nape of his neck. The thick green sweater he wore was not enough to keep his shoulders from hunching against the cold fog.

The long sweater was too big for him. It masked his slender figure, turning his long and lean body into a shapeless jumble. I appreciated this almost as much as I wished that he had worn something more like the soft blue one he had on last night. The fabric had clung to his skin in such an appealing way, cut low enough to reveal the mesmerizing shape of his collarbones, curling out from the hollow of his throat. The blue had flowed like water along the subtle shape of his arms and shoulders.

It was better—essential—that I kept my thoughts far, far away from that shape, so I was grateful for the unbecoming sweater. I couldn't afford to make mistakes, and it would be a monumental mistake to dwell on the strange hungers that thoughts of his lips... his skin... his body... were shaking loose inside me. Hungers that had evaded me for a hundred years. But I could not allow myself to think of touching him, because that was impossible.

I would break him.

Beau turned away from the door in such a hurry that he nearly ran right by my car without noticing it.

Then he skidded to a stop, his knees locking like a startled colt's. His bag slid farther down his arm, and his eyes flew wide as they focused on the car.

He looked up at me, startled again as I seemingly materialized out of the fog. And then the surprise in his eyes changed to something else, and I was no longer afraid—or hopeful—that his feelings for me had changed in the course of the night. Warmth, wonder, fascination, all swam in the translucent depths of his eyes.

"Would you like a ride to school?" I asked. Unlike dinner last night, I would let him choose. From now on, it must always be his choice.

"Yeah, thanks," he murmured, climbing into my car without hesitation.

Would it ever cease to thrill me that I was the one he was saying yes to?

The happiness I felt when he sat beside me this way had no precedent. As much as I enjoyed the love and companionship of my family, despite the various entertainments and distractions my world had to offer, I had never been happy like this. Even knowing that it was wrong, that this couldn't possibly end well, could not keep the smile from my face for long when we were together.

Roy's jacket was folded over the headrest of his seat. I saw him eyeing it.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Royal's jacket," I told him. This was my excuse, had I needed to provide one, for showing up uninvited this morning. It was cold. He had no jacket. "I didn't want you to catch a cold or something."

He seemed to be put off by the idea of wearing something that belonged to Royal. He set the jacket on the backseat and pulled Archie's scarf from his bag to place it on top.

"I'm good," he said, thumping his chest twice. "Immune system in top form."

If only we could be so lucky. I laughed to myself.

He looked out at the road as I accelerated toward the school. I could only stand the silence for a few seconds. I had to know what his thoughts were this morning. So much had changed between us since the last time the sun was up.

"What, no Twenty Questions today?" I asked, keeping it light again.

He smiled, seeming glad that I'd broached the subject. "Was that annoying last night?"

"Not annoying, just... confusing" I told him honestly, smiling in response to him.

His mouth turned down. "What does that mean?"

"Your reactions—I don't understand them." Not one scream so far. How could that be? It made me wonder what he was really thinking. Of course, everything he did or didn't do made me wonder that.

"My reactions?"

I looked at him like he was missing something obvious. "Yes, Beau. When someone tells you they drink blood, you're supposed to get upset. Make a cross with your fingers, throw holy water, run away screaming, that sort of thing."

"Oh. Um... I'll do better next time?"

"By all means, please work on your expressions of horror."

"Horror isn't exactly how I'd describe last night."

I had to think for a moment, run through our entire conversation last night, word for word, before I made the connection. Perhaps it took so much concentration because I couldn't imagine anything that I wouldn't want him to share with me.

Was this what he kept from me? The depth of his feelings about me? That my being a monster didn't matter to him, and that he thought it was too late for him to change his mind?

I was unable to speak, because the joy and pain were too strong for words, the conflict between them too wild to allow for a coherent response. It was silent in the car except for the steady rhythms of his heart and lungs.

"So, um, where's the rest of your family?" he asked suddenly.

I took a deep breath—registering the scent in the car with true pain for the first time; I was getting used to this, I realized with satisfaction—and forced myself to be casual again.

"They took Royal's car." I parked in the open spot next to the car in question. I hid my smile as I watched his eyes grow round. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"If he's got that, why does he ride with you?"

Royal would have enjoyed Beau's reaction... if he were being objective about Beau, which probably wouldn't happen.

"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."

Of course, Beau was totally oblivious to the inherent contradiction of my own car. It was no accident we were most often seen in the Volvo—a car celebrated above all for its safety. Safety, the one thing vampires would never need from a vehicle. Few would recognize the less common racing edition, not to mention the aftermarket work we'd done.

"No offense, but you're totally failing there," he told me, and then he laughed a carefree laugh.

The blithe, wholly untroubled sound of his laughter warmed my hollow chest.

"Why did Royal drive today if it's more conspicuous?" he wondered.

"My fault—as usual, Royal would say. Haven't you noticed, Beau? I'm breaking all the rules now."

My answer should have been mildly frightening—so of course, Beau smiled at it.

Once out of the car, I walked as close to him as I dared, watching carefully for any sign that my proximity upset him. Twice his hand twitched toward me and he snatched it back. It looked like he wanted to touch me... My breath sped.

"Why do you even have cars like that at all?" he asked as we walked. "If you're looking for privacy, there are plenty of used Hondas available."

"It's an indulgence," I admitted. "We all like to drive fast."

"Of course," he mumbled, his tone sour.

He didn't look up to see my answering grin.

Nuh-uh! I don't believe this! How the hell did Beau pull this off?

Jeremy's mental boggling interrupted my thoughts. He was waiting for Beau, taking refuge from the rain under the edge of the cafeteria's roof, with Beau's winter jacket over his arm. His eyes were wide with disbelief.

Beau noticed him, too, in the next moment. A faint pink touched his cheek when Beau registered Jeremy's expression.

"Hey, Jer. Thanks for bringing that," Beau greeted him. Jeremy handed his the jacket wordlessly.

I would be polite to Beau's friends, whether or not they were good friends. "Good morning, Jeremy."

Whoa...

Jeremy's eyes popped even wider, but he did not flinch or take a step back as I expected. Though he'd often found me alluring in the past, he'd always kept a safe distance before, the way all our admirers unconsciously did. It was strange and amusing... and, honestly, a bit embarrassing... to realize how much being near Beau had softened me. It seemed as though no one was afraid of me anymore. If Eleanor found out about this, she would be laughing for the next century.

"Er... hi," Jeremy mumbled, and his eyes flashed to Beau's face, full of significance. "Guess I'll see you in Trig."

I'm making him tell me every detail. I have to know... Edythe freaking CULLEN!

Beau's mouth twitched. "Yeah, see you then."

Jeremy's thoughts ran wild as he hurried to his first class, peeking back at us now and then.

The whole story. I'm not accepting anything less. Did they plan to meet up last night? Are they together? How long? How could he keep this a secret? Why would he want to? It can't be a casual thing—he has to be seriously into her. I will find out. I wonder which base he's gotten to with her? Oh, damn... Jeremy's thoughts were suddenly disjointed, and he let wordless fantasies swirl through his head. I winced at his speculations, and not just because he'd replaced Beau with himself in the mental pictures.

It couldn't be like that. And yet I... I wanted...

I resisted making the admission, even to myself. In how many wrong ways would I want Beau? Which one would end up killing him?

I shook my head and tried to lighten up.

"What are you going to tell him?" I asked Beau.

"Huh?" he whispered. "Oh. What's he thinking?"

"I don't know if it's entirely ethical for me to tell you that..."

His eyes tightened. "What's not ethical is for you to hoard your unfair advantages for yourself."

Right—he didn't like double standards.

"He wants to know if we're secretly dating," I said slowly. "And exactly which base you've gotten to with me."

His eyebrows shot up—not startled, but ingenuous now. Playing innocent.

"Um," he murmured. "What should I say?"

He always tried to make me give away more than he did. I pondered how to respond. "That's a good question. I can't wait to hear what you come up with."

"Edythe..."

A wayward lock of his hair, slightly damp from the fog, draped across his forehead.

I reached for it carefully, not touching his skin—the morning was chill enough without my touch—and pushed it back into place so that it wouldn't distract me again. There was a rush of blood under his skin, and a sudden, uneven thumping of his heart.

I tried to hide my smile. "See you at lunch."

I turned quickly, before he could ask any more questions. I had a difficult time not giving him whatever he asked for. And I wanted to hear his thoughts, not mine.

As I paced away, I was vaguely aware of the shocked and speculative thoughts that swirled around me—eyes bouncing back and forth between Beau's face and my retreating figure. I paid them little attention. I couldn't concentrate. It was hard enough to keep my feet moving at an acceptable speed as I crossed the soggy grass to my first class. I wanted to run—really run, so fast that I would disappear, so fast that it would feel like flying. Part of me was flying already.

It was a good thing that my teachers no longer bothered to call on me. Today might have been the day they caught me out, unprepared and answerless. My mind was in so many places this morning; only my body was in the classroom.

Of course I was watching Beau. That was becoming natural—as automatic as breathing, something I barely thought about consciously. I heard his conversation with a demoralized McKayla Newton. He quickly directed the conversation to Jeremy, and I grinned so wide that Rose Sawyer, who sat at the desk to my right, flinched visibly and slid deeper into her seat, away from me.

Ugh. Creepy.

Well, I hadn't lost it entirely.

I was also loosely monitoring Jeremy, watching him refine his questions for Beau. I could barely wait for fourth period, ten times as eager and anxious as the curious human boy who wanted fresh gossip.

And I was listening to Allen Weber.

I had not forgotten the gratitude I felt to him—for thinking nothing but kind things toward Beau in the first place, and then for his help last night. So I waited through the morning, looking for something he wanted. I assumed it would be easy; like any other human, he must desire some bauble or toy. Several, probably. I would deliver something anonymously and call us even.

But Allen proved almost as unaccommodating as Beau with his thoughts. He was oddly content for a teenager. Happy. Perhaps this was the reason for his unusual kindness—he was one of those rare people who had what he wanted and wanted what he had. If he wasn't paying attention to his teachers and his notes, he was thinking of the twin little sisters he was taking to the beach this weekend—anticipating their excitement with almost paternal pleasure. He cared for them often, but was not resentful of this fact. It was very sweet.

But not really helpful to me.

There had to be something he wanted. I would just have to keep looking. But later. It was time for Beau's Trigonometry class with Jeremy.

I wasn't watching where I was going as I made my way to English. Jeremy was already in his seat, both his feet tapping impatiently as he waited for Beau to arrive.

Conversely, once I settled into my assigned seat in the classroom, I became utterly still. I had to remind myself to fidget now and then to keep up the charade. It was difficult; my thoughts were so focused on Jeremy's. I hoped he would pay attention, really try to read Beau's face for me.

Jeremy's tapping intensified when Beau walked into the room.

He looks... glum. Why? Maybe there's nothing going on with Edythe Cullen. That would be a disappointment. Except... then she's still available... If she's suddenly interested in dating, I don't mind helping out with that.

Beau's face didn't look glum, it looked reluctant. He was worried—he knew I would hear all of this.

"Dang, son," Jeremy commented while Beau was still removing his jacket to hang it on the back of his seat. He was moving with deliberation, unwillingly. "Who knew you had that kind of game?"

"I have no game," Beau said.

"Please." He punched his arm. "Edythe Cullen. C'mon. How did you swing that?"

"I didn't do anything."

"How long has this been happening? Is it some kind of secret? Like, she doesn't want her family to know? Is that why you pretended you were going to the movie with us?"

"I wasn't pretending anything. I had no idea she was in Port Angeles last night. She was the last person I expected to see."

And then? C'mon, there has to be more than that! He's lying anyway, I know that. I'm going to call him on it.

"Have you ever been out with her before last night?"

"Never."

"Huh. Just a total coincidence?"

"I guess."

"Because, you know, it's not a secret that you've been, like, obsessed with her since you got here."

I watched Beau make a face. "It's not?"

"So, I have to wonder how you turned that around. Do you have a genie in a lamp? Did you find some blackmail on her? Or did you trade your soul to the devil or something?"

"Whatever, man."

"Exactly how much did you get in the bargain? Bet it was a pretty wild night, eh?"

"It was an early night. Home by eight."

"Are you serious?"

"It was just dinner and a ride home, Jeremy."

"What about this morning, though? You were still with her."

"Still? No! What—you thought she was with me all night?"

"She wasn't?"

"No."

"But you were in her car—"

"She picked me up for school this morning."

"Why?"

"I have no idea. She offered me a ride. I wasn't going to say no."

"And that's it?"

Beau shrugged.

Wonder why he's lying... I'd be bragging to everyone. Maybe she's making him keep things down low.

"Really? Please tell me you at least made out with her—anything."

For a half second I was distracted by the idea, the impossibility, of what it would be like to try to kiss Beau. My lips to his lips, cold stone to warm, yielding silk...

And then he dies.

I shook my head, wincing, and refocused.

"It's not like that."

Damn. I wish... ha. Looks like he does, too.

"That is, hands down, the most disappointing story I've ever heard in my entire life. I take back everything I said about your game. Obviously, it's just some pity thing."

"Yeah, probably."

"Maybe I should try to look more pathetic. If that's what Edythe is into."

"Go for it."

"It won't take her long to get bored with you, I bet."

"Yeah. I'm sure you're right." Beau concluded.

I must not have been as transparently obvious and out of control as I'd thought. Still, observant as he was... how could he not realize that I was in love with him? I sifted through our conversation, almost surprised that I hadn't said the words out loud. It had felt as though that knowledge was the subtext of every communication between us.

"You know what, though?" Jeremy said under his breath. "I think I'd rather be with a normal girl."

"That's probably for the best." Beau was clearly irritated now. "Keep your expectations low."

It seemed I couldn't take anything for granted. Obvious things, things that made perfect sense, somehow got twisted up and turned backward in that bizarre brain of his.

I glared at the clock, gritting my teeth. How could mere minutes feel so impossibly long to an immortal? Where was my perspective?

My jaw was tight throughout Mrs. Varner's entire Trigonometry lesson. I heard more of that than the lecture in my own class. Beau and Jeremy didn't speak again, but Jeremy peeked at Beau several times, and once noticed that his face was brilliant scarlet again for no apparent reason.

Lunch couldn't come fast enough.

I moved apathetically through Gym class with Archie, the way we always moved when it came to physical activity with humans. He was my teammate, naturally. No one human would ever choose to partner with one of us. It was the first day of badminton. I sighed with boredom, swinging the racket in slow motion to tap the birdie back to the other side. Logan Mallory was on the other team; he missed. Archie was twirling his racket like a baton, staring at the ceiling. He took a step closer to the net, and Logan flinched two steps back.

We all hated Gym, Eleanor especially. Throwing games was an affront to her personal philosophy. Gym seemed worse today than usual—I felt just as irritated as Eleanor always did. Before my head could explode with impatience, Coach Clapp called the games and sent us out early. I was ridiculously grateful that she'd skipped breakfast—a fresh attempt to diet—and the consequent hunger had her in a hurry to leave campus to find a greasy lunch somewhere. She promised herself she would start over tomorrow...

This gave me enough time to get to the math building before Beau's class ended.

Enjoy yourself, Archie thought as he headed off to meet Jessamine. Just a few days more to be patient. I suppose you won't say hi to Beau for me, will you?

I shook my head, exasperated. Were all psychics so smug?

FYI, it's going to be sunny on both sides of the sound this weekend. You might want to rearrange your plans.

I sighed as I continued in the opposite direction. Smug, but definitely useful.

I leaned against the wall by the door, waiting. I was close enough that I could hear Jeremy's voice through the bricks as well as his thoughts.

"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" He looks all... lit up. I bet there's tons he didn't tell me.

"Um, not sure," Beau answered.

Hadn't I promised to spend lunch with him? What was he thinking?

Jeremy came out of the classroom first, and his eyes widened when he saw me.

"Seriously, what the hell..." he muttered to himself.

Nice. Wow. Oh yeah, there's more going on here than he's telling me.

When Beau appeared, he looked just as surprised as Jeremy. He walked toward me, pausing a step away, still unsure. His skin was pink across his cheekbones.

I knew him well enough now to be sure that there was no fear behind his hesitation. Apparently, this was about some gulf he imagined between his feelings and mine. Just some pity thing. Absurd!

"Hello, Beau," I said, my voice a tad curt.

His face got brighter pink. "Hi."

"Hungry?"

"Sure."

He didn't seem inclined to say anything else, so I swung my bag onto my shoulder and turned toward the cafeteria.

"Hey, let me get that for you," he offered.

I looked up at him and feigned fatigue. "Does it look too heavy for me?"

"Well, I mean..."

"Sure." I slid the bag down my arm and held it out to him, balancing it on the tip of my pinkie finger.

"Er, thanks."

I dropped the bag into his hand. Beau lurched forward as the unanticipated weight pulled his arm to the ground. He heaved the bag that was twice as heavy his own up on his free shoulder.

"Do you always bring your own cinder blocks to school?"

Was it really that heavy? I laughed. "Archie asked me to grab a few things for him this morning."

"Is Archie your favorite brother?"

Unequivocally. "It's not nice to have favorites." Perceptive indeed.

"Only child," he responded. "I'm everyone's favorite."

"It shows. Anyway, why do you think that?"

"Seems like you talk about him most easily."

Only Archie could be so accepting. My brother and I had always had a connection that went beyond the bonds we shared with our other adopted siblings. Perhaps it was the way I had so easily accepted him into our family, and he was paying back in kind. If only the others were more understanding... That was a conversation for another time, however.

Beau was restless as we waited in line, toying absently with the zipper on his jacket and shifting nervously from foot to foot. He glanced at me often, but whenever he met my gaze, he looked down as if embarrassed. Was this because so many people were staring at us? Maybe he could hear the loud whispers—the gossip was verbal as well as mental today.

Or maybe he realized from my expression that I was going to want some explanations.

I caught him staring across the room at the others where they sat at our usual table. Archie noticed him looking and was considering waving. He smiled widely at Beau, and I raised my eyebrows at him in warning.

Archie rolled his eyes. Fine, keep him all to yourself, he thought as he held his hands up in surrender.

"I'm pretty close with all my family, but Archie and I do have the most in common," I told him, answering his earlier question. "Some days he's really annoying, though."

Archie laughed, and Beau glanced back at him.

He didn't say anything until I was assembling his lunch. I didn't know what he liked—not yet—so I grabbed one of everything.

"That'll be twenty-four thirty-three," the cashier said.

"What?" Beau hissed in a low voice.

I had already paid for the food and was heading off to the table we'd sat at last week.

Beau's pace picked up as he came up behind me. "Hey, I can't eat all that."

I sat down and pushed the tray toward the middle of the table. "Half is for me, of course."

He sat across from me again. "Really."

"Take whatever you want," I encouraged.

He picked up an apple and twisted it in his hands, a speculative look on his face.

"I'm curious."

What a surprise.

"What would you do if someone dared you to eat food?" he continued in a low voice that wouldn't carry to human ears. Immortal ears were another matter, if those ears were paying attention. I frowned.

"You're always curious," I complained. Oh well. It wasn't as though I hadn't had to eat before. It was part of the charade. An unpleasant part.

I reached for the closest thing, and held his eyes while I bit off a small piece of whatever it was. Without looking, I couldn't tell. It was as slimy and chunky and repulsive as any other human food. I chewed swiftly and swallowed, trying to keep the grimace off my face. The gob of food moved slowly and uncomfortably down my throat. I sighed as I thought of how I would have to choke it back up later. Disgusting.

Beau's expression was shocked. Impressed.

I wanted to roll my eyes. Of course we would have perfected such deceptions. "If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?"

His nose wrinkled and he smiled. "I did once... on a dare. It wasn't so bad."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised. Here." I pushed the piece of food away toward him.

How could she? She's so selfish! How could she do this to us? Royal's piercing mental shriek broke through my humor.

"Easy, Roy," I heard Eleanor whisper from across the cafeteria. Her arm was around his shoulders, holding him tight into her side—restraining him.

Sorry, Edythe, Archie thought guiltily. He could tell Beau knew too much from your conversation... and, well, it would have been worse if I hadn't told him the truth right away. Trust me on that.

I winced at the mental picture that followed, at what would have happened if I'd admitted to Royal that Beau knew I was a vampire when we were at home, where Royal didn't have a façade to keep up. I'd have to hide my Aston Martin somewhere out of state if he didn't calm down by the time school was over. The sight of my favorite car, mangled and burning, was upsetting—though I knew I'd earned the retribution.

Jessamine was not much happier.

I'd deal with the others later. I only had so much time allotted to be with Beau, and I wasn't going to waste it.

Edythe and Beau look cozy, don't they? As I tried to ignore Royal, Jeremy's thoughts intruded. This time I didn't mind the interruption. Is he blind? She's leaning toward him just the way she should if she's interested. She looks interested. She looks... perfect. Jeremy sighed. Yum.

I met Jeremy's curious eyes, and he looked away nervously, cringing back into his seat. Hmmm. Probably better to stick to McKayla. Reality, not fantasy...

Little time had passed, but Beau had noticed my abstraction. "What?"

"You've got Jeremy so confused," I said, using the lesser distraction as my excuse.

"Tough."

"He really let his mind run wild when he saw you get out of my car."

Royal's outrage continued, a caustic inner monologue that barely paused for a second or two as he searched his memory for fresh insults to hurl my way. I forced the sound into the background, determined to be present with Beau.

My former frustration flared as Jeremy's words repeated in my head: Just some pity thing.

He took a bite of pizza. It amazed me how trusting he was. Of course, he didn't know I was venomous—not that sharing food would hurt him. Still, I expected his to treat me differently. As something other. He never did.

I would start off gently.

"Do you truly agree with him?"

He swallowed hard, and I heard his breath hitch. I half-rose, but his hand came up. "I'm fine. Agree with him about what?"

"Why I'm here with you."

As if any man could hope to capture my attention from Beau. Absurd, again.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Obviously, it's just some pity thing." I quoted

"It's as good an explanation as any."

"And I'll be getting bored soon, will I?"

He half flinched at my words.

"Beau, you're being ridiculous again."

"Am I?"

"There are several things I am currently worried about. Boredom is not one of them." I cocked my head to the side. "Don't you believe me?"

"Um, sure, I guess. If you say so."

I narrowed my eyes. "Well, that was an overwhelming affirmative."

He continued to eat as I waited for his answer. He took one bite of pizza, and then another without speaking. I sighed.

"I truly loathe it when you do that."

"What?" he challenged. "Not tell you every single stupid thought that passes through my head?"

"Precisely."

"I don't know what to say. Do I think you'll get bored with me? Yeah, I do. I honestly don't know why you're still here. But I was trying not to say that out loud, because I didn't want to point something out that you might not have thought of yet."

"So very true. I never would have realized it myself, but now that you mention it, I really ought to be moving along. That Jeremy suddenly seems alluringly pathetic—"

I stopped when his face went white. "Beau? You know that I'm joking."

He nodded.

Hesitantly, I reached out to him across the table, leaving my palm face up.

He covered it with his.

Across the cafeteria, Royal's complaints were gaining in volume rather than dwindling. I winced.

"Sorry," Beau said, pulling his hand away.

"No. It's not you. Here." I rested my fingers on his palm, and then he folded his hand around them.

"What was wrong just now?"

"Many different reactions... Royal has a particularly strident mental voice."

I could see through Royal's eyes he was staring at me now. He noticed Beau was looking at him now, and shifted his eyes to glare daggers at him.

Should have killed you when I had the chance, you little freak.

I turned in my chair to glare back. Eleanor turned to face Roy, and he dropped his stare.

"Did I just piss off... a bunch of vampires?"

"No," I told him. "But I did."

Beau glanced nervously back toward their table. "Look, are you in trouble because of me? What can I do?"

I shook my head and smiled. "You don't need to worry about me... I'm not saying that Royal couldn't take me in a fair fight, but I am saying that I never have fought fair and I don't intend to start now. He knows better than to try anything with me."

"Edythe..."

I laughed. "A joke. It's really nothing, Beau. Normal sibling issues. An only child couldn't understand."

"If you say so."

"I do."

He looked down at our hands, still wrapped around each other.

"Back to what you were thinking." I said.

Beau sighed. "Would it help if you weren't the only one who had been accused of obsession?"

He groaned. "You heard that, too? Great."

I laughed. "I was entranced from start to finish."

"Sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? It makes me feel better to know I'm not the only one."

He stared at me skeptically.

"Let me put it this way. Though you are the one person I can't be sure about, I'd still be willing to place a very large wager that I spend more time thinking about you than you do about me."

"Ha," he laughed. "You would totally lose that bet."

I raised an eyebrow and lowered my voice. "Ah, but you're only conscious for roughly sixteen hours in any given twenty-four-hour period. That gives me quite a lead, don't you think?"

"You're not factoring in dreams, though."

I sighed. "Do nightmares count as dreams?"

"When I dream about you... it's definitely not a nightmare."

Abruptly, I realized that this was very hard for him to admit, because he truly underestimated the depth of my feelings. And I was no better than that coward, McKayla, asking him to confirm his feelings before I'd confirmed my own. It didn't matter that I felt I'd made my side abundantly clear. It hadn't gotten through to him, and so I had no excuse.

"Really?" I wondered. I inferred that he thought I was underestimating his feelings because I couldn't hear his thoughts. But, in truth, the problem was that he was grossly underestimating mine.

"Every single night."

He stared back at me, furrowing his brows, teeth against his lip. For the millionth time, I wished desperately that I could just hear him.

"REM cycles are the shortest of all the sleep stages. I'm still hours ahead."

He frowned doubtfully. "You really think about me?"

"Why is that hard for you to believe?"

"Well, look at me," he said.

I was looking. All I ever did was look at him.

"I'm absolutely ordinary," he explained. "Well, except for the bad things like all the near-death experiences and being so uncoordinated that I can barely walk. And look at you." He fanned the air toward me, like he was making some point so obvious it wasn't worth spelling out.

He thought he was ordinary? He thought that I was somehow preferable to him? In whose estimation? Silly, narrow-minded, blind humans like Jeremy or Mr. Cope? How could he not realize that he was beautiful... so endearing...? Those words weren't even enough.

And he had no idea.

"I can't argue with you about the bad things..." I laughed humorlessly. I did not find the evil fate who hunted him comical.

"Well, there you go."

The clumsiness, however, was sort of funny. Sweet. Would he believe me if I told him he was beautiful, inside and out? Perhaps he would find corroboration more persuasive. "But you're the least ordinary person I've ever met."

"But why... Last night..." He stopped and shook his head.

"Do you do that on purpose? The unfinished thought as a way to drive me mad?"

"I don't know if I can explain it right."

"Please try."

"Okay. You're claiming I don't bore you and you aren't thinking of moving on to Jeremy anytime soon."

I nodded.

"But last night... it was like... Like you were already looking for a way to say goodbye."

"Perceptive," I whispered. I gently squeezed his fingers. "Those two things are unrelated, however?"

"Which two things?"

"The depth of my feelings for you, and the necessity of leaving. Well, they are related, but inversely."

His face fell. "I don't understand."

I stared into his eyes and leaned forward. "The more I care about you, the more crucial it is that I find a way to... keep you safe. From me. Leaving would be the right thing to do."

Would I ever be unselfish enough to do the right thing? I shook my head in despair. I would have to find the strength. He deserved a life. Not what Archie had seen coming for him. It had to be the right thing, didn't it? Beau didn't belong with me. He'd done nothing to deserve my underworld.

As I said the words, I willed them to be true.

He glared at me, shaking his head. Somehow, my words had angered him. "No."

So furious—so soft and fragile.

I sighed. "Well, I wasn't very good at leaving you alone when I tried. I don't know how to do it."

"Will you do me a favor? Stop trying to figure that one out."

There was something truly wrong with the order of the universe if someone so good and so breakable did not merit a guardian angel to keep his out of trouble.

Well, I thought with dark humor, at least he has a guardian vampire.

I smiled. How I loved my excuse to stay. "I suppose, given the frequency of your near-death experiences, it's actually safer for me to stay close."

He smiled, too. "True story. You never know when another stray van might attack."

I frowned.

"You're still going to Seattle with me, right? Lots of vans in Seattle. Waiting in ambush around literally every corner."

"Actually, I have a question for you on that subject. Did you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of saying a definitive no to your bevy of admirers?"

"Um."

"That's what I thought."

He scowled at me. "You know, you actually put me in a kind of difficult position with the whole thing in the parking lot with Taylor."

"You mean because you're taking her to prom now?"

His mouth fell open, and this his teeth ground together.

I stifled a laugh. "Oh, Beau."

"What?"

"She already has her dress."

His face looked totally panicked. "It could be worse—she actually bought it before she claimed you for the date. It was secondhand, also, not a large investment. She couldn't pass up the deal."

I squeezed his hand again. "You'll figure it out."

"I don't do dances."

"If I'd asked you to the spring dance, would you have told me no?"

"Probably not," he said. "But I would have found a reason to cancel later. I would have broken a leg if I had to."

How strange. "Why would you do that?"

He shook his head, as if he was disappointed that I did not understand at once. "You've never seen me in Gym, I guess, but I would have thought that you would understand."

Ah. "Are you referring to the fact that you can't walk across a flat, stable surface without finding something to trip over?"

"Got it in one."

"I'm a very good teacher, Beau."

"I don't think coordination is a learnable skill."

For a brief fraction of a second, I was overwhelmed by the idea of holding him in my arms at a dance.

With perfect clarity, I remembered how his body had felt under mine after I'd thrown him out of the way of the oncoming van. Stronger than the panic or the desperation, I could remember that sensation. He'd been so warm and so soft, fitting easily into my own stone shape...

I wrenched myself back from the memory.

"Back to the question—" I said quickly, preventing him from arguing with me, as he clearly intended to do. "Must you go to Seattle, or would you mind if we do something different?"

Devious—giving him a choice without giving him the option of getting away from me for the day. Hardly fair. But I had made him a promise last night. Too casually, too thoughtlessly, but still... if I was ever going to earn the trust he'd given me despite my unworthiness, I would have to keep every promise I could. Even if the idea terrified me.

The sun would be shining Saturday. I could show him the real me, if I was brave enough to endure his horror and disgust. I knew just the place to take such a risk.

"I'm open to alternatives," Beau said. "But I do have a favor to ask."

A qualified yes. What would he want from me?

"What?"

"Can I drive?"

Was this his idea of humor? "Why?"

"Well, mostly because you're a terrifying driver. But also because I told Charlie I was going alone, and I don't want him to get curious."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you worry about my driving." Truly, his brain worked backward. I shook my head, disgusted. Why couldn't he fear the right things? Why couldn't I want him to?

I wasn't able to keep up the playful tone of our banter. "Won't you want to tell your father that you're spending the day with me?" I asked, darkness seeping into my voice as I thought of all the reasons that was important, already guessing what his answer would be.

"With Charlie, less is always more," Beau said, certain of this fact. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Archie says the weather will be nice," I told him slowly, fighting the panic and indecision. How much would I regret this choice? "So I'll be staying out of the public eye... and you can stay with me, if you'd like to."

Beau caught the significance at once. His eyes were bright and eager. "And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?"

Maybe, like so many times before, his reaction would be the opposite of what I expected. I smiled at that possibility, struggling to return to the lighter moment. "Yes. But"—he hadn't said yes—"if you don't want to be... alone with me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of all the vans."

His lips pressed together; he was offended.

"As it happens, I don't mind being alone with you," he said.

No—because his instincts were backward.

"I know." I sighed. "You should tell Charlie, though."

"Why on earth would I do that?" he asked, appalled by the idea.

I glared at him, though the anger was, as usual, directed at myself. How I wished I had a different answer for him.

"To give me some small incentive to bring you back," I hissed. He should give me that much—one witness to compel me to be cautious.

Beau swallowed loudly and stared at me for a long moment. What did he see?

"I'll take my chances," he said.

Ugh! Did he get some thrill out of risking his life? Some shot of adrenaline he craved?

Will you shut up! Royal's mental scream peaked, breaking into my absorption. I saw what he thought of this conversation, of exactly how much Beau already knew. I glanced back automatically to see Royal glowering furiously, but I realized I simply did not care. Let him destroy the car. It was just a toy.

"So that's settled. New topic?" Beau suggested suddenly.

I looked back at him, wondering how he could be so oblivious to what really counted. Why wouldn't he see me for the monster I was? Royal certainly did.

"What do you want to talk about?"

His eyes darted left and then right, as if checking to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. He must be planning to introduce another myth-related topic. His gaze froze for a second and his body stiffened, and then he looked back to me.

"Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend... to hunt? Charlie said it wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."

So oblivious. I stared at him, raising one eyebrow.

"Bears?" he gasped.

I smiled wryly, watching that sink in. Would this make him take me seriously? Would anything?

Just tell him everything. It's not like we have rules, Royal's thoughts hissed at me. I struggled to not hear him.

Beau pulled his expression together. "You know, bears are not in season," he said severely, narrowing his eyes.

"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons."

He lost control over his face again for a moment. His lips fell open.

"Bears?" he said again, a tentative question this time rather than a gasp of shock.

"Grizzly is Eleanor's favorite."

I watched his eyes as he worked through the astonishment and recovered.

"Hmm," he murmured. He took a bite of the pizza, looking down. He chewed thoughtfully, and then took a drink.

"So," he said, finally looking up. "What's your favorite?"

I supposed I should have expected something like that, but I hadn't.

"Mountain lion," I answered brusquely.

"Sure, that makes sense," he said in a neutral tone. His heartbeat continued steady and even, as if we were discussing a favorite restaurant.

Fine, then. If he wanted to act like this was nothing unusual...

"Of course, we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting," I told him, my voice detached and clinical. "We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators—ranging as far away as we need. There are always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but where's the fun in that?"

He listened with a politely interested expression, as if I were a guide in a museum describing a painting. I had to smile.

"So not fun," he murmured calmly, taking another bite of pizza.

"Early spring is El's favorite bear season," I continued in the same tone. "They're just coming out of hibernation, so they're more irritable."

Seventy years later, and she still hadn't gotten over losing that first match.

"Nothing better than an irritated grizzly bear," Beau agreed, nodding solemnly.

I couldn't hold back a chuckle as I shook my head at his illogical calm. It had to be put on. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."

"I'm trying to picture it—but I can't," he said, the crease appearing between his eyes. "How do you hunt a bear without weapons?"

"Oh, we have weapons," I told his, and then flashed his a wide smile. I expected his to recoil, but he was very still, watching me. "Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you've ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Eleanor hunting."

He glanced toward the table where the others sat, and shuddered.

Finally. And then I laughed at myself, because I knew part of me was wishing he would stay oblivious.

His eyes were wide and deep as he stared at me now. "Is it dangerous?" he asked in an almost-whisper. "Do you ever get hurt?"

I burst into laughter. "Oh, Beau. About as dangerous as your slice."

"Yikes. So... are you... like a bear attack?"

"More like the lion, or so they tell me," I told his, striving to sound detached again. "Perhaps our preferences are indicative."

His lips pulled up a tiny bit at the corners. "Perhaps," he repeated. And then his head leaned to the side, and curiosity was easy to read in his eyes. "Is that something I might get to see?"

For a moment, it was so clear in my head—Beau's crumpled, bloodless body in my arms—as though I were the one who had seen the vision, rather than just watching it in Archie's mind. But I didn't need foresight to illustrate this horror; the conclusion was obvious.

"Never!" I snarled at him.

He jerked away from me, shocked and frightened by my sudden rage.

I leaned back, too, wanting to put space between us. He was never going to see, was he? He wouldn't do one thing to help me keep his alive.

"What did I day?" he asked, even-voiced. His heart, however, was still moving in double time.

"I almost wish it were possible. You don't seem to understand the realities present. It might be beneficial for you to see exactly how dangerous I actually am."

"Okay, then why not?"

I glared at him blackly, waiting for him to be afraid. I was afraid.

His eyes remained curious, impatient, nothing more. He waited for his answer, not giving in.

But our hour was up.

"Later," I snapped, and I rose to my feet. "We're going to be late."

He looked around, disoriented, as though he'd forgotten we were at lunch. As though he'd forgotten we were even at school and was surprised that we were not alone in some private place. I understood that feeling exactly. It was hard to remember the rest of the world when I was with him.

He got up quickly, bobbling once, and threw our bags over his shoulders.

"Later, then," he said, and I could see the determination in the set of his mouth. He would hold me to that.