I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don’t exist, not irritating me to death.

Dad, I wrote. I'm with Alice. Edward's in trouble. You can ground me when I get back. I know it's a bad time. So sorry. Love you so much. Bella.

Isn't it supposed to be like this?" He smiled. "The glory of first love, and all that. It's incredible, isn't it, the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it?" "Very different," I agreed. "More forceful than I'd imagined.

It makes me . . . anxious . . . to be away from you.

How was I ever going to fight the blurring lines in our relationship when I enjoyed being with him so much?

Edward and I had not had a last grand scene of farewell, nor did I plan one. To speak the word was to make it final. It would be the same as typing the words The End on the last page of a manuscript. So we did not say our goodbyes, and we stayed very close to each other, always touching. Whatever end found us, it would not find us separated.

Because when I thought of him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now.