How old are you?โ she asked. My answer was automatic and ingrained. โSeventeen.โ โAnd how long have you been seventeen?โ I tried not to smile at the patronizing tone. โA while,โ I admitted. โOkay,โ she said, abruptly enthusiastic. She smiled up at me.
Stephenie MeyerMike's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Don't kid yourself, Bella. The guy's head over heels for you." "I know," I sighed. "Life is complicated." "And girls are cruel," Mike said under his breath.
Stephenie MeyerHer scent blazed in my throat and I was glad. It was a pain that meant she was alive. As long as I burned, she was safe.
Stephenie MeyerUm, Bella? You've got a huge cut on your forehead, and it's gushing blood," he informed me. I clapped my hand over my head. Sure enough, it was wet and sticky. I could smell nothing but the damp moss on my face, and that held off the nausea. Oh, I'm so sorry, Jacob." I pushed hard against the gash, as if I could force the blood back inside my head. Why are you apologizing for bleeding?" he wondered as he wrapped a long arm around my waist and and pulled me to my feet.
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