CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Pumpkins

After losing her grip during a rope-climbing exercise in gym class, Jessica Stanley fell twenty feet and landed face first on a metal railing. This accident cost her two teeth and seventeen stitches on her forehead but simultaneously granted her access to Mike Newton's affections. When I walked into her hospital room, she flashed me a toothless smile and informed me, "It was totally worth it."

Out of guilt, I paid Jessica a visit on Monday after my shift at Newton Outfitters ended. Thankfully, the rumors that she had been impaled by the railing were false, and despite the distance she fell, her injuries were relatively minor. Her doctor informed her she could return to school in two days, but Jessica told me she planned on holding out until her teeth were fixed.

My inquiries into her health were of little consequence; instead, Jessica was extremely excited to discuss the resurgence of her relationship with Mike. They dated briefly our junior year, and now that Jessica had a damsel-in-distress quality to her, Mike apparently wanted a second chance.

"As soon as I woke up from the anesthesia, my mom told me he'd been in the waiting room the whole time. He brought me flowers and everything." She was glowing; even the purplish bruises around the bridge of her nose couldn't offset the sparkle in her eyes. "I think that we may be getting back together. I just wish all of this," she gestured to her face, "would disappear in time for the dance this weekend. I mean, there's no way I'm going out in public until this heals. And Mike is supposed to take that sophomore with him, but I'm sure he'd go stag if I asked him to…" She drifted off and looked at me expectantly.

"Uh, yeah, maybe, Jess."

This pacified her, and the dopey smile returned to her lips. "I am in a ton of pain, Bella, but I still feel so fantastic. I mean, have you ever just felt you had no control over yourself, like love was, like, controlling you instead?"

I couldn't help it; I scrunched up my nose. "That sounds kind of awful." I preferred to be in control at all times and had no idea what Jessica was talking about. I couldn't understand why anyone would give up the right to choose which path their life follows.

Jessica rolled her eyes at me, but the smile never left her face. "Oh, Bella, it's awesome. I've been thinking about him a lot lately, and now it's really happening between us. I never would've thought we'd actually get back together. Like, just last week, when I found out he asked Hannah Lewis to the dance, I went home and cried my eyes out. I felt the worst, the absolute worst I've ever felt in my entire life." The brief flicker of despair in her eyes changed to an almost loopy blissfulness. "But now, I think everything's going to work out, and I can't stop smiling. Even though I'm missing teeth and look terrible, I just can't stop smiling."

She wasn't lying. Jessica's grin was plastered on her face the entire thirty minutes I spent next to her bed. We talked more about Jessica's love-induced euphoria, and I hadn't realized how one-sided the conversation had been until Jessica suddenly turned the spotlight on me. "So does it feel like this all the time?"

My brow furrowed. "What?"

"Love, silly. Do you always feel like this?" Her voice took on a slightly worried tone. "Or does it fade after awhile?"

I studied Jessica's face before answering her question. Her lips curled up as evidence of her maniacal joy, and I couldn't recall ever feeling that kind of happiness. For the most part, I was always in the driver's seat when it came to my emotions. With Jake, our love had blossomed slowly, so slowly that I never felt like I had fallen in love at all; rather, it was as if I'd taken baby steps until one day I arrived at the conclusion that we belonged together. Our love for each other wasn't reckless like whatever it was Jessica was feeling. Jacob and I had something different, something more than just blind lust; we trusted each other in a way that made our love more responsible and true.

Jessica studied me in anticipation, and I was jarred out of my thoughts. "I think love is different for everyone, Jess." She appraised me suspiciously, prompting me to lie. "Whatever it is that you're feeling, I guess it doesn't have to fade if you don't want it to." I had my suspicions that teenage hormones fueled Jessica's current state of ecstasy. Of course what she felt for Mike would fade away with time. No one can build a relationship on irresponsible, ever-changing desire.

I stole one more glance at Jessica before leaving the hospital to go home. She waved good bye to me, beaming idiotically, and then turned to run her fingers over the petals of the daisies spilling out of a vase at her bedside. Internally, I groaned. Maybe it wasn't lust at all; maybe Jessica had just been given some very potent painkillers.

Once I got home, I discovered that Jessica's questions frustrated me, although I couldn't understand why. To take my mind off of her and her love-struck ramblings, I spent the night on the phone with Jake discussing his latest plans for souping up the Rabbit. Even though I was lost when it came to carburetors and horsepower, I found his enthusiastic descriptions were the perfect distraction. I purposefully avoided talking about myself, since doing so would only invite questions that I wasn't really prepared to answer. Eventually, midnight rolled around, and we ended our conversation. I was too tired to work on any homework, especially the mountain of Spanish translations that were due in the morning, and ultimately, I passed out on my bed with the lights still on and a textbook open on my lap.

X X X

My laziness caught up with me the next morning. I was in a mad rush to get out of the house on time, and I just barely made it to my seat in first period before the sound of the bell faded. Mrs. Goff spouted out perfect, rapid-fire Spanish, unfairly expecting us to respond in kind at eight o'clock in the morning. I practically rolled my eyes when she seemed angry that no one was as enthusiastic as she was about the plot of Don Quixote.

Instinctively, Mrs. Goff seemed to sense my annoyance. Staring directly at me, she pointedly inquired, "¿Puede alguien describir por qué mintió Sancho a Don Quijote acerca de Dulcinea?"

Of course, no one was raising their hand to save me. Even though she hadn't yet called on me, my face was turning crimson. I hadn't made it halfway through the assignment; I couldn't even fake a sensible answer.

Mrs. Goff's eyes narrowed minutely. "Bel—"

Before Mrs. Goff could eke out my name, Alice Cullen fired off an answer in seemingly flawless Spanish. Mrs. Goff seemed a bit surprised, but Alice's answer pleased her. "Muy bien, Senorita Cullen." Her eyes left me, and I hoped to catch Alice's to thank her, but she never turned to meet my gaze.

I endured the rest of the class period unscathed. When the hour was up, I made a bee line for Alice, who was taking her time gathering up her books. Despite her friendliness at lunch the day before, I was still nervous approaching her. Quietly, so Mrs. Goff wouldn't overhear, I took a deep breath and mumbled, "Thanks."

Alice flashed a megawatt smile. "Sure thing, Bella." To my surprise, she walked with me down the hallway. "You're joining us for lunch again today, aren't you?" She seemed hopeful.

"I, um, I think so, as long as I'm welcome."

My words confused her. "Why wouldn't you be?"

I flushed, unable to come up with a reasonable answer to her question.

She sensed my distress and warmly added, "I think I speak for Edward when I say we'd both be very disappointed if you weren't at our table." She grinned and then flitted off into a classroom, leaving me simultaneously relieved and baffled in her wake.

During the next three class periods, I obsessed over her words. I hadn't imagined that she said 'both Edward and I.' What did that mean? Did he talk about me to her? If so, what did he say? It had to be something positive, or she wouldn't insinuate that he also wanted me to join them for lunch.

An intimidatingly beautiful blonde popped into my thoughts, and I reminded myself that Edward had no romantic feelings for me. After all, yesterday I saw with my own eyes the kind of girl he runs with. And besides, I had Jake.

I did my best to ignore my guilt over how Jake had only been an afterthought to my jealousy over Edward's curvaceous girlfriend. The bell rang to signal the end of fourth period, and I bolted for the cafeteria. I wasn't used to my newfound exuberance for the lunch hour and thus arrived in the cafeteria before the majority of my classmates, including the Cullens. I made my way through the sparse line and hesitantly sat at their table. I was too nervous to start eating, certain that at any moment, Edward would show up and demand that I relocate to my old table where Lauren already sat admiring herself in her compact mirror. Or, worse yet, that he'd ignore me entirely and sit elsewhere.

My focus remained on obsessive-compulsively tapping my fingertips against the cold, plastic tray, so I didn't notice him come up behind me. "That looks disgusting," he said, referring to the rock-hard meatloaf I'd selected for lunch. He didn't sound disgusted, though… In fact, he was in high spirits, a grin playing at his mouth.

As the panic evaporated from my body, I shrugged for lack of a better response and took a sip of my lemonade. He eased himself into the chair across from me, not bothering to blink as he watched me. When I didn't speak, he asked, "So, anything new?" It still blew my mind how intently he waited as I formulated an answer. How I would miss that once he grew tired of me…

"Jessica Stanley's little accident in P.E. yesterday seems to have reunited her and Mike Newton?" It came out as a question because I wasn't sure how he'd respond to idle high school gossip. I had nothing better to discuss, at least nothing I had the courage to bring up, so I gambled against the odds that he'd find this an acceptable topic of conversation.

To my relief, he smirked wickedly, signaling his interest. "It must break your heart that Newton's found a new object to shower with his affection."

My eyes practically rolled into the back of my head. Of course, Edward would bring that up. "Yes, well, a girl can only say no a million times or so before Mike gets the message."

"Oh, I wouldn't put too much stock in the idea that he's given up on you. Just give him the word, and I'm sure he would come running." Edward was teasing me, but there was an edge to his tone.

I made a face. "Bite me."

He stopped laughing, and the light that had been dancing in his eyes faded to black.

"What?" Had I offended him somehow? Just in case, I kept talking to cover myself. "I think Mike Newton is only sought after by a certain type of girl. A certain type of girl who is not me." I smiled sheepishly. I wished he'd say something so I didn't feel so weird.

As if the gods heard my silent prayer, Alice arrived, bouncing gracefully into her seat. "So what are we talking about?" she asked, appearing oblivious to Edward's suddenly sour mood. "Types?" Turning to me, she continued, "So what's your type, Bella?"

Edward picked up his spoon and absentmindedly swirled invisible patterns in his soup.

Alice was smiling brightly at me, so, even though I didn't want to, I attempted to come up with an answer. "Uh, I don't really have one. I've, um, only dated one person, so… I guess I would say my type is Not Mike Newton. That's all I've got, sorry." My traitorous cheeks were flaming. I refused to even look to see what Edward was doing now.

Alice leaned back in her chair, obviously at ease despite the tension that surrounded her. "So, what is your boyfriend like, then? I mean, he would be your type, right?"

My knees were literally shaking under the table. Of all the topics of conversation, this had to be the one that I never wanted to discuss in Edward's presence. "Jake's great. He's my best friend." My voice was childlike and quiet. "He's younger than me, but he's really easy to talk to."

Alice shook her head. "That's not what I mean." She leaned closer to me. Now seemed like an inappropriate time to notice she smelled nice. "Is he cute?"

"I guess."

She glanced at Edward, and her lips curled into a tiny, unfathomable smirk. "You guess?"

I just nodded, not sure what she was getting at.

She opened her mouth to continue, but Edward stopped her cold. "Did you get the reading assignment for English finished?" He sounded almost hoarse, but he was rescuing me yet again, so I didn't pay much attention to his tone.

I was a little embarrassed admitting I'd slacked off the night before. "No, not this time. I'm crossing my fingers that there's not a quiz or anything."

Alice was practically pouting from her seat. Picking up her tray, she uttered some excuse about needing to look for something in her locker and left Edward and me alone for the second time in as many days.

We spoke only about class-related topics, anything Jake-related long forgotten, which made the remainder of our time together at lunch stilted but not uninteresting. I still hadn't grown accustomed to sitting across from Edward rather than at his side as I did in English, so I'd never noticed how motionless his body was the majority of the time. That was, until he realized I was watching him, after which he would make some minor movement, almost as if consciously putting on a show for me. Sometimes he'd shift in his seat, other times he'd run a hand through his hair. My favorite was how he'd put his forearms on the table and lean forward ever so slightly. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and I liked looking at the contrast between the white marble of his skin and the gray Formica tabletop. He wore a watch, which looked expensive and hung a little loose around his wrist, loose enough that I could slip a finger in the gap between the leather strap and his flesh. I want to touch him, I realized. His hair, his hands, his forearms, everything he moved, I wanted to grab or, at the very least, run my fingers across.

The memory of his girlfriend only made it worse. Strangely, her mere existence made me feel more comfortable ogling him. He had someone and so did I, and they acted like alarms that would stop me if I went too far, silent and invisible security sensors that would keep any real danger at bay. My mind, though, was private, belonging only to me, and I indulged myself. I was still in control of reality, but I let myself dream because soon enough, the dream would disappear.

Like yesterday, we strolled to English together. He walked a pace or two to my left, but I kept moving closer the longer we walked. When Eric Yorkie barreled past us, I bumped gingerly against Edward's shoulder, and the sensation sent my heart flying. I was exhausted over trying to suppress it, so I let it pound away in my chest and found that I enjoyed letting go.

Edward spotted Mr. Berty before I did. "Uh oh," he murmured under his breath.

I followed his gaze to the stack of papers in our teacher's arms, a stack that could only mean one thing. "Quiz," I responded in an equally hushed tone.

Edward nodded. Without considering the repercussions of what I was about to suggest, I looked up at him, enjoying the close proximity even if it meant straining my neck, and boldly suggested, "Let's get out of here."

Edward had finished his reading and had a knock-out girlfriend likely meeting him after school, so he did the right thing. "I can't." He refused to look down at me, the overeager girl almost hopping up and down before him.

The rejection stung, even though I knew it was coming. Out of pride, I refused to walk into the classroom and take my seat next to him. "Fine," I replied. "See you later." I stalked off in the opposite direction, trying not to stomp like an unruly child, and pushed open the heavy double doors that headed to the student parking lot.

You're skipping school, I told myself, adjusting to the idea. I'd never skipped before, not even when I knew I'd be picked last for volleyball in gym or when I'd realized I'd written my sophomore English speech on the wrong topic. But today, I was skipping. And it felt good. It was barely misting outside, the October leaves brilliantly colored but wet against the shiny pavement. Against the cold breeze that filtered around me, I felt free.

Hopping in my truck with a self-reliant smile dancing on my lips, I turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing.

My one moment of regret-free rebellion, ruined by a dead battery. "Only you, Bella," I said aloud to myself in my rearview mirror. I let three minutes pass before giving the engine a third and final attempt. Forever nothing.

My head drooped, my chin scraping my sternum as I opened the driver's side door, defeated. When I looked up, my breath caught in my throat. I had grown so used to my truck's roaring engine that I'd forgotten other cars traveled in silence. This explained how I'd failed to notice the silver Volvo that idled next to my comatose truck.

A swoosh filled the soundless void between the two vehicles as Edward lowered his window. "You win. Let's go." Everything about him, even the cold black leather of his car's interior, was suddenly warm and inviting.

Without a moment's hesitation, I splashed through the tiny pools of water on the pavement and flung open the front passenger door. I knew we were crossing more lines by spending time together outside school property, but nothing could have talked me out of getting into his car.

The interior smelled like him, somehow sweet like honey. I bit my top lip in order to keep a toothy grin from forming. "You changed your mind."

"I've been known to do that every once in awhile." He shifted the Volvo into drive.

"How did you make your escape?"

He turned to me. His face shifted from amusement to agony. Taking a hand off the wheel, he placed it on his stomach and convincingly told me, "I'm suddenly not feeling very well."

I laughed, perhaps a bit too loud, and his feigned illness transformed into a devious grin.

"Well, I'm glad," I said, still giggling like I was being tickled. "Otherwise, I'd have to swallow my pride and go back in there; my truck wouldn't start."

He didn't respond, focusing his attention on the road. It was then that I realized I had no idea where we were headed. "So," I asked, "what's the plan?" I was giddy, likely high from feeling like I was Bonnie to Edward's Clyde.

"There is no plan. I'm driving you home." He seemed to infer that he thought a ride home was what I wanted.

"No way," I spouted off with such fervor that Edward raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You may skip school all the time, but this is a first for me. I can't just go home. I have to do something fun."

"Fun?" I could tell he had no idea what to make of me.

"Or at least memorable."

I watched as he had some sort of silent debate with himself. Luckily, his eventual response told me the right side won. "Where to, then?"

My usual self-consciousness typically would have taken over at this point, but I felt so at ease with Edward that I just blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. "You know, I haven't gotten a pumpkin in years."

"A pumpkin, huh?" Edward said nothing about the wet fog that permeated the air around us or the simple bizarreness of my idea. Instead, his eyes twinkled, almost as if he understood the reasoning behind my sudden need for a pumpkin.

"You don't sound surprised."

Edward stole a glance at me out of the corner of his eye. "Bella, everything you say is a surprise." The smile he wore on his face kept me from feeling embarrassed over my childish request. "I'm guessing you have somewhere in mind."

"Make a right at the stop sign and head outside of town."

He complied, not once making me feel as if I needed to explain myself to him. This, of course, only made me want to tell him everything, no matter how inconsequential. "My mother used to take me to get a pumpkin every year when I was a kid, right before Halloween. We never actually got around to carving any of them, so it eventually became this joke where we'd sit a plain old pumpkin out on the stoop every October." I was wistful until I remembered what I would inevitably discover on the morning of November 1st. "But then some jerk would always smash it to pieces." I sighed, cheered up by the fact that my dull little story seemed to entertain Edward. "At least we didn't go to the trouble of actually putting any work into it."

"My mother and Alice do that every year. They love Halloween."

I cocked my head to the side. "Edward Cullen, did you just voluntarily offer up information about yourself?" I asked in mock awe.

"Careful with the taunting or it won't happen again," he shot back, his smile betraying his idle threat.

We pulled into the pumpkin patch on the outskirts of Forks. It was owned by a local farmer and doubled as a Christmas tree lot in December. The evergreens waved in the breeze in front of us, a flash of orange far off in the distance.

I was wearing beat up sneakers, so I had no qualms about trudging through the mud to get to the pumpkins, but Edward's feet were another story. I grimaced. "Your shoes look really expensive. Why don't you wait here and I can go—"

He waved his hand dismissively in my direction. He was already halfway past the first row of trees before I finished exiting the car. "Hey, wait up!"

Edward had no problem navigating through the muck and tree branches, but I barely remained upright during our trek toward the pumpkin patch. He caught me once or twice before I could do any real damage to myself. Every time his arm grazed mine, my stomach flip flopped. To test myself, I faked losing my balance, preparing myself in advance for his touch; it didn't matter, even if I knew it was coming, I couldn't keep the jitters away. The thing was, they weren't the worst feeling in the world; there was something so fresh and vivid about the butterflies in my gut.

As we reached the rows of orange orbs, I searched for a distraction. Like most of my actions in Edward's presence, I didn't foresee the statement that fell out of my mouth; maybe subconsciously I knew I needed more than a distraction… Maybe I needed a reminder, a boundary line. "So, your girlfriend is really beautiful." My voice was controlled, appropriate for casual conversation. At least, I hoped it was.

His head shot up from the mammoth pumpkin at his feet. "What?" He looked lost. I attributed it to being freaked out at the thought that I was stalking him.

"Oh, I saw her yesterday. In the parking lot. Her car is so—"

"She is not my girlfriend." The words seemed to disgust him. He sounded like a fourth grader at recess accused of liking the class pariah, usually the chubby girl or the one with hideously crooked teeth.

"Um, sorry." I was embarrassed by my brazenness, but something else also lurked inside me. After a second or so, I recognized what it was: relief. Unabashed, releasing relief. This realization shamed me even further, compounded with the fact that Edward was scrutinizing every slight movement of my face.

"You thought Rosalie was my girlfriend? Rosalie?! What on Earth gave you that idea?" His face shifted into a dozen expressions that suggested shock, abhorrence, and intense confusion.

It's never a good idea to blabber incoherently when you're completely mortified, but I was too far gone to make that assessment. "What? It's not that crazy. She's beautiful and you're, you know, perfect. You understandably have zero interest in anyone at school, and she's the only person I've ever seen who can even play in your league, so…" I trailed off at the bewildered expression shadowing his complexion.

For a few moments, he stood stoically still and speechless. I stepped away from him to examine the pumpkins. Eventually, I drifted further and further away from where he remained rooted in the mud. I let my mind wander and came to the conclusion that my theory about this Rosalie wasn't that ludicrous. He had to know how gorgeous she was and how gorgeous he was. Gorgeous people fit together; I was pretty sure Darwin's theory regarding survival of the fittest included some provision along those lines.

Entire minutes passed with Edward and me drifting aimlessly on opposite sides of the pumpkin patch. I didn't even hear him approach until he was mere feet from where I attempted to lift a pumpkin twice the size of my head. I looked up to see he still displayed the same confused look on his face. "Oomf," I exhaled as I lost my battle with the giant pumpkin and fell flat on my backside.

He stifled a laugh, his face finally breaking into a new, gentler expression. "Rosalie is my sister," he said simply. "Not biologically, mind you, but my sister nonetheless. Also, she's incredibly stubborn, rude, and vain. Hence, my revulsion at your incredibly misguided assumption."

"It wasn't that misguided," I disagreed, pulling myself to my feet. I hoisted a smaller pumpkin to my hip and headed over to the dilapidated card table near the entrance to pay. "Do you want a pumpkin or not?" I fumbled in my pocket, pulled out a wad of one-dollar bills, and waved them at him. "It's on me. To commemorate my first skipped afternoon of high school."

He shook his head, distracted. I paid the disinterested cashier, and we repeated our muddy march back to his car. On the way, Edward emerged from his silence and asked, "What did you mean by 'my league'?"

I didn't bother hiding my exasperated groan. "Not this again." He nodded anyway, urging me to explain myself. I sighed and continued, "You're kind of…really attractive, alright?" My face flushed, but I didn't stop talking and muttered, "Like you don't know. Nobody even feels like approaching you because you're just completely out of everyone's league. You're pretty intimidating."

This appeared to be news to Edward. He was dumbfounded, and had I not been humiliated, I would have reveled in it. "Do I intimidate you?" Strangely, he seemed utterly naive as what my response would be.

We'd reached the Volvo, but neither of us climbed in. I bent down to scrape the mud off my shoes, meaning I conveniently was unable to stare him back in the eye. "Not as much as everyone else. I mean, I at least talk to you."

He walked around and opened up the driver's door. "Only because I talk to you."

I thrust my own door ajar and plopped down against the icy leather. "You are so ridiculously arrogant, Edward."

He shrugged and smirked in my direction. I glared back but felt pangs of guilt over my earlier rudeness. "Hey, I'm sorry about thinking you were dating your sister." I meant to sound sincere, but I couldn't help laughing at how my apology came out, which weakened its impact.

Edward appeared on the verge of gagging. "Yes, thank you for reminding me," he replied sardonically. "Rosalie, ugh."

"Yeah, what an insult. I am so sorry that I thought the most beautiful woman in all of Washington was your girlfriend. How terrible of me."

He grimaced at me in response.

"What? Do you normally date trolls? The morbidly obese? Girls with back hair?" My laughter faded at Edward's sudden deflated appearance.

Never detracting his eyes from the windshield, he coldly muttered, "I don't date anyone. Not ever."

"That's…that's not possible." My jaw was suspended inches below my upper lip, so wide that I could feel the warm air from the heating vents hit the back of my throat. "I mean, someone has to have gotten to you. Look at you; you're just, just wonderful." And there it was. I was gushing. Over him. Out loud.

Somehow, none of this registered with Edward. He recovered in an instant, the calculated haughtiness rising back under his well-defined cheek bones. I wasn't falling for his tricks, though. It was a mask. He was scared. I didn't know what of, but I intended to find out.

"Why is that?" I asked, unafraid.

His reply was prepared, safe; he knew my question was coming. "I have a very low tolerance for most people."

"Ah." Hoping to cheer him up, I spoke the tried and true cliché, "Well, you'll find someone. I mean, I did, and I run and hide from mostly everyone. So there's definitely hope for you." My admissions about myself were accidental. The last thing I wanted was to turn the conversation onto my own love life, which was hanging on by a thread at this point.

"Yes, you did. You found someone." Edward's tone was resigned. "And you're happy."

"Sure." My answer was identical to the one I gave dental hygienists who asked me if I flossed twice daily. For someone who claimed to be an expert at reading people, Edward didn't seem to notice the pain behind my voice.

Changing the subject, I asked, "Do you want my pumpkin? Would that make you feel better?"

I was so serious, the question so ludicrous, that he erupted in spontaneous laughter. "No, Bella, I think you should keep your pumpkin."

I lifted it off my lap and placed it on the arm rest between us. "Here, take it. You can carve a scowl into the side, and it can be the most brooding pumpkin on the block."

He rubbed his jaw, thinking. "Is that what you think of me? You think I brood too much?"

"You say that like it's a surprise. Have you seen you?" I smiled at him to show him I was only teasing; he already seemed almost fragile, I didn't want to make him feel any worse.

"Funny." Our eyes met. Too much time had passed since he last looked at me. "So you think I should smile more?"

I laughed at the thought. "Lord, no. You'd give all the girls a heart attack. Plus, I wouldn't recognize you anymore." The truth was he'd give me the heart attack, and I could never forget how he looked when his lips turned up into that infamous crooked grin.

At some point, we'd arrived back at the high school. It was nearly three, and reality would soon come crashing back upon us both. To keep myself honest for Jacob, my hand drifted to the door latch.

"Thanks for skipping with me today, Edward." I wished my words hadn't sounded so bashful.

"Do your homework next time, Bella." That stupid lopsided grin of his was sending me into cardiac arrest.

"Will do, Mom." God, I could keep this up forever. Ashamed of the thought, I pushed the door open. He waited to see if my truck would spring to life. Miraculously, when I turned the key in the ignition, the engine awoke with it usual thunderous growl.

Before I could shift the gears into drive, I opened the door to tell him the obvious, that the truck was fine. He already stood nearby, my pumpkin in tow. He passed it into my arms, and I turned back to him and smiled. It wasn't my usual smile, not even the one I occasionally flashed him. It was wider, goofier. I could feel the corners of my mouth pull, my teeth exposed to the air. When I saw my reflection in my windshield, I recognized the strange, idiotic look on my face. Except for the presence of my two front teeth, I looked no different than Jessica Stanley in all her love-struck glory.

It was official. My plans to dislike Edward Cullen were out the window. I'd completely lost control. The feelings inside me were dangerous. I could only pray that they would fade with time. The thing was, I wasn't sure I wanted them to.