Here's to responsibility, twice a week.

His eyes flashed open. “Is it so unbearable to have me love you? Is that it?

Alice was scrutinizing my boring jeans-and-a-T-shirt outfit in a way that made me self-conscious. Probably plotting another makeover. I sighed. My indifferent attitude to fashion was a constant thorn in her side. If I'd allow it, she'd love to dress me everyday―perhaps several times a day―like some oversized three-dimensional paper doll.

I couldn’t get the words exactly right; I only remembered wishing that Jacob were my brother so that we could love each other without any confusion or pain.

I didn't want to be the monster! I didn't want to kill this room full of harmless children! I didn't want to lose everything I'd gained in a lifetime of sacrifice and denial!

Hey, Rosalie? Do you know how to drown a blonde? Stick a mirror to the bottom of a pool.

So what you're saying is, I'm your brand of heroin?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood. He smiled swiftly, seeming to appreciate my effort. "Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin.