It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of security washed over me - even before I was off the street - as soon as I heard his voice.

Fall down again, Bella?' No, Emmett, I punched a werewolf in the face.

He's got to let go of you sometime.

How old are you?” “Seventeen,” he answered promptly. “And how long have you been seventeen?” His lips twitched as he stared at the road. “A while,” he admitted at last.

I was much more upset by the situation with Jacob than by the possibility of being eaten by a bear.

I stared into her eyes, wide under the thick fringe of lashes, and yearned for sleep. Not for oblivion, as I had before, not to escape boredom, but because I wanted to *dream*. Maybe, if I could be unconscious, if I could dream, I could live for a few hours in a world where she and I could be together. She dreamed of me. I wanted to dream of her.

Why does Ian think I have to kiss you?