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kind that knocked me out for a good eight hours. I normally wouldn't condone that type of behavior in
myself, but tomorrow would be complicated enough without me being loopy from sleep deprivation on
top of everything else. While I waited for the drugs to kick in, I dried my clean hair till it was impeccably
straight, and fussed over what I would wear tomorrow. With everything ready for the morning, I finally
lay in my bed. I felt hyper; I couldn't stop twitching. I got up and rifled through my shoebox of CDs until I
found a collection of Chopin's nocturnes. I put that on very quietly and then lay down again,
concentrating on relaxing individual parts of my body. Somewhere in the middle of that exercise, the cold
pills took effect, and I gladly sank into unconsciousness.
I woke early, having slept soundly and dreamlessly thanks to my gratuitous drug use. Though I was well
rested, I slipped right back into the same hectic frenzy from the night before. I dressed in a rush,
smoothing my collar against my neck, fidgeting with the tan sweater till it hung right over my jeans. I
sneaked a swift look out the window to see that Charlie was already gone. A thin, cottony layer of
clouds veiled the sky. They didn't look very lasting.
I ate breakfast without tasting the food, hurrying to clean up when I was done. I peeked out the window
again, but nothing had changed. I had just finished brushing my teeth and was heading back downstairs
when a quiet knock sent my heart thudding against my rib cage.
I flew to the door; I had a little trouble with the simple dead bolt, but I yanked the door open at last, and
there he was. All the agitation dissolved as soon as I looked at his face, calm taking its place. I breathed
a sigh of relief yesterday's fears seemed very foolish with him here.
He wasn't smiling at first his face was somber. But then his expression lightened as he looked me
over, and he laughed.
"Good morning," he chuckled.
"What's wrong?" I glanced down to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything important, like shoes, or pants.
"We match." He laughed again. I realized he had a long, light tan sweater on, with a white collar showing
underneath, and blue jeans. I laughed with him, hiding a secret twinge of regret why did he have to
look like a runway model when I couldn't?
I locked the door behind me while he walked to the truck. He waited by the passenger door with a
martyred expression that was easy to understand.
"We made a deal," I reminded him smugly, climbing into the driver's seat, and reaching over to unlock his
door.
"Where to?" I asked.
"Put your seat belt on I'm nervous already."
I gave him a dirty look as I complied.
"Where to?" I repeated with a sigh.
"Take the one-oh-one north," he ordered.
It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling his gaze on my face. I compensated
by driving more carefully than usual through the still-sleeping town.
"Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?"
"This truck is old enough to be your car's grandfather have some respect," I retorted.
We were soon out of the town limits, despite his negativity. Thick underbrush and green-swathed trunks
replaced the lawns and houses.
"Turn right on the one-ten," he instructed just as I was about to ask. I obeyed silently.
"Now we drive until the pavement ends."
I could hear a smile in his voice, but I was too afraid of driving off the road and proving him right to look
over and be sure.
"And what's there, at the pavement's end?" I wondered.
"A trail."
"We're hiking?" Thank goodness I'd worn tennis shoes.
"Is that a problem?" He sounded as if he'd expected as much.
"No." I tried to make the lie sound confident. But if he thought my truck was slow&
"Don't worry, it's only five miles or so, and we're in no hurry."
Five miles. I didn't answer, so that he wouldn't hear my voice crack in panic. Five miles of treacherous
roots and loose stones, trying to twist my ankles or otherwise incapacitate me. This was going to be
humiliating.
We drove in silence for a while as I contemplated the coming horror.
"What are you thinking?" he asked impatiently after a few moments.
I lied again. "Just wondering where we're going."
"It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice." We both glanced out the windows at the thinning
clouds after he spoke.
"Charlie said it would be warm today."
"And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?" he asked.
"Nope."
"But Jessica thinks we're going to Seattle together?" He seemed cheered by the idea.
"No, I told her you canceled on me which is true."
"No one knows you're with me?" Angrily, now.
"That depends& I assume you told Alice?"
"That's very helpful, Bella," he snapped.
I pretended I didn't hear that.
"Are you so depressed by Forks that it's made you suicidal?" he demanded when I ignored him.
"You said it might cause trouble for you& us being together publicly," I reminded him.
"So you're worried about the trouble it might cause me if you don't come home?" His voice was still
angry, and bitingly sarcastic.
I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road.
He muttered something under his breath, speaking so quickly that I couldn't understand.
We were silent for the rest of the drive. I could feel the waves of infuriated disapproval rolling off of him,
and I could think of nothing to say.
And then the road ended, constricting to a thin foot trail with a small wooden marker. I parked on the
narrow shoulder and stepped out, afraid because he was angry with me and I didn't have driving as an
excuse not to look at him. It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I'd arrived,
almost muggy under the clouds. I pulled off my sweater and knotted it around my waist, glad that I'd
worn the light, sleeveless shirt especially if I had five miles of hiking ahead of me.
I heard his door slam, and looked over to see that he'd removed his sweater, too. He was facing away
from me, into the unbroken forest beside my truck.
"This way," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me, eyes still annoyed. He started into the dark forest.
"The trail?" Panic was clear in my voice as I hurried around the truck to catch up to him.
"I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it."
"No trail?" I asked desperately.
"I won't let you get lost." He turned then, with a mocking smile, and I stifled a gasp. His white shirt was
sleeveless, and he wore it unbuttoned, so that the smooth white skin of his throat flowed uninterrupted
over the marble contours of his chest, his perfect musculature no longer merely hinted at behind
concealing clothes. He was too perfect, I realized with a piercing stab of despair. There was no way this
godlike creature could be meant for me.
He stared at me, bewildered by my tortured expression.
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