interrogations

CNN broke the story first.

I was glad it hit the news before I had to leave for school, anxious to her how the humans would phrase the account, and what amount of attention it would garner.

Luckily, it was a heavy news day. There was an earthquake in South America and a political kidnapping in the Middle East. So it ended up only earning a few seconds, a few sentences, and one grainy picture.

"Alonzo Christopher Wallace, suspected serial rapist and murderer wanted in the states of Texas and Oklahoma, was apprehended last night in Portland, Oregon thanks to an anonymous tip. Wallace was found unconscious in an alley early this morning, just a few yards from a police station. Officials are unable to tell us at this time whether he will be extradited to Houston or Oklahoma City to stand trial."

The picture was unclear, a mug shot, and he'd had a thick beard at the time of the photograph. Even if Beau saw it, he would probably not recognize him. I hoped he wouldn't; it would make him afraid needlessly.

"The coverage here in town will be light. It's too far away to be considered of local interest," Alice told me. "It was a good call to have Carlisle take him out of state."

I nodded. Beau didn't seem to watch much TV regardless, and I hoped his father didn't pay much attention to news channels.

I'd done what I could. The monster no longer hunted, and I was not a murderer. Not recently, anyway. I'd been right to trust Carlisle, as much as I still wished the monster had not gotten off quite so easily. I caught myself hoping he would be extradited to Texas, where the death penalty was so popular…

No. That didn't matter. I would put this behind me, and concentrate on what was most important.

I'd left Beau's room less than an hour ago. I was already aching to see him again.

"Alice, do you mind—"

She cut me off. "Royal will drive. He'll act put out, but you know he'll enjoy the excuse to show off his car." Alice trilled a laugh.

I grinned at her. "See you at school."

Alice sighed, and my grin became a grimace.

I know, I know, she thought. Not yet. I'll wait until you're ready for Beau to know me. You should know, thought, this isn't just me being selfish. Beau's going to like me, too.

I didn't answer her as I hurried out the door. That was a different way of viewing the situation. Would Beau want to know Alice? To have a vampire for a friend?

Knowing Beau… that idea probably wouldn't bother him in the slightest.

I frowned to myself. What Beau wanted and what was best for Beau were two very separate things.

I started to feel uneasy as I parked my car in Beau's driveway. The human adage said that things looked different in the morning—that things changed when you slept on them. Would I look different to Beau in the weak light of a foggy day? More sinister or less sinister than I had in the blackness of night? Had the truth sunk in while he slept? Would he finally be afraid?

His dreams had been peaceful, though, last night. When he'd spoken my name, time and time again, he'd smiled. More than once he'd murmured a plea for me to stay. Would that mean nothing today?

I waited nervously, listening to the sounds of him inside the house—the fast, stumbling footsteps on the stairs, the sharp rip of a tin foil wrapper, the contents of the refrigerator crashing against each other when the door slammed. It sounded like he was in a hurry? Anxious to get to school? The thought made me smile, hopeful again.

I looked at the clock. I supposed that—taking in account the velocity of his decrepit truck must limit him to—he was running late.

Beau rushed out of the house, his book bag sliding off his shoulder, his hair a disheveled mess of curls. The thick green sweater he wore was not enough to keep his lean shoulders from hunching against the cold fog.

The long sweater was too big for him, unflattering. It masked his lean figure, turning his form into a shapeless jumble. I appreciated this almost as much as I wished that that he had worn something more like the deep blue shirt he'd worn last night… the fabric had clung to his skin in such an appealing way, cut low enough to reveal the mesmerizing way his collar bones curled away from the hollow beneath his throat. The blue had flowed like water along the subtle shape of his body…

It was better—essential—that I kept my thoughts far, far away from that shape, so I was grateful to the unbecoming sweater he wore. I couldn't afford to make mistakes, and it would be a monumental mistake to dwell on the strange hungers that thoughts of his lips… his skin… his body… were shaking loose inside of me. Hungers that had evaded me for a hundred years. But I could not allow myself to think of touching him, because that was impossible.

I would break him.

Beau turned away from the door, in such a hurry that he nearly ran right by my car without noticing it.

Then he skidded to a stop, his knees locking like a startled colt's. His bag slid further down his arm, and his eyes flew wide as they focused on the car.

I got out, taking no care to move at a human speed, and opened the passenger door for him. I would not try to deceive him anymore—when we were alone, at least, I would be myself.

He looked up at me, startled again as I seemingly materialized out of the fog. And then the surprise in his eyes changed to something else, and I was no longer afraid—or hopeful—that his feelings for me had changed in the course of the night. Warmth, wonder, fascination, all swimming in the molten silver of his eyes.

"Do you want a ride with me today?" I asked. Unlike dinner last night, I would let him choose. From now on, it must always be his choice.

"Yes, thank you," he murmured, climbing into my car without hesitation.

Would it ever cease to thrill me, that I was the one he was saying yes to? I doubted it.

I flashed around the car, eager to join him. He showed no sign of being shocked by my sudden reappearance.

The happiness I felt when he sat beside me had no precedent. As much as I enjoyed the love and companionship of my family, despite the various entertainments and distractions the world had to offer, I had never been happy like this. Even knowing that it was wrong, that this couldn't possibly end well, could not keep the smile from my face for long.

My jacket was folded over the headrest of his seat. I saw him eyeing it.

"I brought the jacket for you," I told him. That was my excuse, had I needed to provide one, for showing up uninvited this morning. It was cold. He had no jacket. Surely this was an acceptable form of chivalry. "I didn't want you to get sick or something."

"I'm not quite that delicate," he said, staring at my chest rather than my face, as if he were hesitant to meet my eyes. But he put the coat on before I had to resort to pleading or coaxing.

"Aren't you?" I muttered to myself.

He stared out at the road as I accelerated toward the school. I could only stand the silence for a few seconds. I had to know what his thoughts were this morning. So much had changed between us since the last time the sun was up.

"What, no twenty questions today?" I asked, keeping it light again.

He smiled, seeming glad that I'd broached the subject. "Do my questions bother you?"

"Not as much as your reactions do," I told him honestly, smiling in response to his smile.

His mouth turned down. "Do I react badly?"

"No, that's not the problem. You take everything so coolly—it's unnatural. It makes me wonder what you're really thinking." Of course, everything he did or didn't do made me wonder that.

"I always tell you what I'm really thinking."

"You edit."

His teeth pressed into his lip again. He didn't seem to notice when he did this—it was an unconscious response to tension. "Not enough."

Just those words were enough to have my curiosity raging. What did he purposefully mean to keep from me?

"Enough to drive me insane," I said.

He hesitated, and then whispered, "You don't want to hear it."

I had to think for a moment, run through our entire conversation last night, word for word, before I made the connection. Perhaps it took so much concentration because I couldn't imagine anything I wouldn't want him to say to me. And then—because the tone of his voice was the same as last night; there was suddenly pain there again—I remembered. Once, I had asked him not to speak his thoughts. Never say that, I'd all but snarled at him. I had made him cry…

Was this what he kept from me? The depth of his feelings about me? That my being a monster didn't matter to him, and that he thought it was too late for him to change his mind?

I was unable to speak, because the joy and pain were too strong for words, the conflict between them too wild to allow for a coherent response. It was silent in the car except for the steady rhythms of his heart and lungs.

"Where's the rest of your family?" he asked suddenly.

I took a deep breath—registering the scent in the car with true pain for the first time; I was getting used to this, I realized with satisfaction—and forced myself to be casual again.

"They took Royal's car." I parked in the open spot next to the car in question. I hid my smile as I watched his eyes widen. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"Um, wow. If he has that, why does he ride with you?"

Royal would have enjoyed Beau's reaction… if he were being objective about Beau, which probably wouldn't happen.

"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."

"You don't succeed," he told me, and then he laughed a carefree laugh.

The blithe, wholly untroubled sound of his laughter warmed my hollow chest even as it made my head swim with doubt.

"So why did Royal drive today if it's more conspicuous?" he wondered.

"Hadn't you noticed? I'm breaking all the rules now."

My answer should have been mildly frightening—so, of course, Beau smiled at it.

He didn't wait for me to open his door, just like last night. I had to feign normality here at school—so I couldn't move fast enough to prevent this—but I hoped he would get used to being treated with more courtesy, and get used to it soon.

I walked as close to him as I dared, watching carefully for any sign that my proximity upset him. Twice his hand twitched toward me and then he would snatch it back. It looked like he wanted to touch me… My breath sped.

"Why do you have cars like that at all? If you're looking for privacy?" he asked as we walked.

"An indulgence," I admitted. "We all like to drive fast."

"Figures," he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

He didn't look up to see my answering grin.

Oh my god, oh my god. Yes! Go, Beau! You sly dog! You've been holding out on me, you ass!

Jessica's mental cheering interrupted my thoughts. She was waiting for Beau, taking refuge from the rain under the edge of the cafeteria's roof, with Beau's winter jacket over her arm. Her eyes were wide with excitement.

Beau noticed her, too, in the next moment, a faint pink touched his cheek when Beau registered Jessica's expression. The thoughts in Jessica's head were fairly clear on her face.

"Hey, Jess. Thanks for remembering," Beau greeted her. He reached out for the jacket and Jessica handed it to him wordlessly.

I should be polite to Beau's friends, and after all, Jessica was starting to grow on me. "Good morning, Jessica."

Whoa…

Jessica's eyes popped even wider. It was strange and amusing… and, honestly, a bit embarrassing… to realize how much being near Beau had softened me. It seemed like no one was afraid of me anymore. If Emmett found out about this, he would be laughing for the next century.

"Er… hi," Jessica mumbled, and her eyes flashed to Beau's face, full of significance. "I guess I'll see you in Trig."

You are so going to tell me everything. I'm not taking no for an answer. Details. I have to have details. Edward freaking CULLEN!! Oh my god!

Beau's mouth twitched. "Yeah, I'll see you then."

Jessica's thoughts ran wild as she hurried to her first class, peeking back at us now and then.

The whole story. I'm not accepting anything less. Did they plan to meet up last night? Are they dating? How long? How could Beau keep this a secret? Why would he want to? It can't be a casual thing—he has to be seriously into him. Is there any other option? I have to know! I can't stand not knowing! I wonder if Beau's made out with him? Oh, my god, that's so hot! Ugh… Jessica's thoughts were suddenly disjointed, and she let wordless fantasies swirl through her head. I quickly worked to block her speculations as her fantasies involving Beau and myself quickly became more and more… explicit.

It couldn't be like that. And yet I… I wanted…

I resisted making the admission, even to myself. How many wrong ways would I want Beau in? Which one would end up killing him?

"What are you going to tell her?" I asked Beau.

"Hey!" he whispered fiercely. "I thought you couldn't read my mind!"

"I can't." I stared at him, surprised, trying to make sense of his words. Ah—we must have been thinking the same thing at the same time. Hmm… I rather liked that. "However, I can read hers—she'll be waiting to ambush you in class."

Beau groaned, and then let the jacket slide off his shoulders. I didn't realize that he was giving it back at first—I wouldn't have asked for it; I would rather he kept it… a token—so I was too slow to offer him my help. He handed me the jacket, and put his arms through his own, without looking up to see that my hands were extended to assist. I frowned at that, and then controlled my expression before he noticed it.

"So what are you going to tell her?"

"A little help? What does she want to know?"

I smiled, and shook my head. I wanted to hear what he was thinking without a prompt. "That's not fair."

His eyes tightened. "No, you not sharing what you know—now that's not fair."

Right—he didn't like double standards.

We got to the door of his class—where I would have to leave him; I wondered idly if Ms. Cope would be more accommodating about a switch in the schedule of my English class… I made myself focus. I could be fair.

"She wants to know if we're secretly dating," I said slowly. "And she wants to know how you feel about me."

His eyes were wide—not startled, but ingenious now. They were open to me, readable. He was playing innocent.

"Great," he murmured. "What should I say?"

"Hmmm." He always tried to make me give away more than he did. I pondered how to respond.

A wayward strand of his hair, slightly damp from the fog, fell forward onto his forehead. My eyes followed the curl down his forehead, following the line of his nose, to his full lips, where my eyes lingered…

I reached for the strand carefully, not touching his skin—the morning was chill enough without my touch—and smoothed it back into place on his head so that it wouldn't distract me again. I remembered when Mike Newton had touched her his, and my jaw flexed at the memory. He had flinched away from his then. His reaction now was nothing the same; instead, there was a slight widening of his eyes, a rush of blood under his skin, and a sudden, uneven thumping of his heart.

I tried to hide my smile as I answered his question.

"I suppose you could say yes to the first… if you don't mind, that is." His choice, always his choice.

"I… I don't mind," he whispered. His heart had not found its normal rhythm yet.

"And as for her other question…" I couldn't hide my smile now. "Well I'll be listening to hear the answer to that one myself."

Let Beau consider that. I held back my laugh as shock crossed his face.

"I'll see you at lunch," I said gently. I turned quickly before he could ask for any more answers. I had a difficult time not giving him whatever he asked for. And I wanted to hear his thoughts, not mine.

As I paced away I was vaguely aware of the shocked and speculative thoughts that swirled around me—eyes bouncing back and forth between Beau's face and my retreating figure. I paid them little attention. I couldn't concentrate. It was hard enough to keep my feet moving at an acceptable speed as I crossed the soggy grass to my next class. I wanted to run—really run, so fast that I would disappear, so fast that it would feel like I was flying. Part of me was flying already.

I put the jacket on when I got to class, letting his fragrance swim thick around me. I would burn now—let the scent desensitize me—and then it would be easier to ignore it later, when I was with him again at lunch…

It was a good thing that my teachers no longer bothered to call on me. Today might have been the one day that they would have caught me out, unprepared and answerless. My mind was in so many places this morning; only my body was in the classroom.

Of course I was watching, Beau. That was becoming natural—as automatic as breathing. I heard his conversation with a demoralized Mike Newton. Beau quickly direction the conversation to Jessica, and I grinned so wide that Rob Sawyer, who sat at the desk to my right, flinched visibly and slid deeper into his seat, away from me.

Ugh. Creepy.

Well, I hadn't lost it entirely.

I was also monitoring Jessica loosely, watching her refine her questions for Beau. I could barely wait for fourth period, ten times as eager and anxious as the curious human girl who wanted fresh gossip.

And I was also listening to Angela Weber.

I had not forgotten the gratitude I felt to her—for thinking nothing but kind things toward Beau in the first place, and then for her help last night. So I waited through the morning, looking for something that she wanted. I assumed it would be easy; like any other human, there must be some bauble or toy she wanted particularly. Several, probably. I would deliver something anonymously and call us even.

But Angela proved almost as unaccommodating as Beau with his thoughts. She was oddly content for a teenager. Happy. Perhaps this was the reason for her unusual kindness—she was one of those rare people who had what they wanted and wanted what they had. If she wasn't paying attention to her teachers and her notes, she was thinking of the twin little brothers she was taking to the beach this weekend—anticipating their excitement with an almost maternal pleasure. She cared for them often, but was not resentful of this fact… it was very sweet.

But not really helpful to me.

There had to be something he wanted. I would just have to keep looking. But later. It was time for Beau's trig class with Jessica.

I wasn't watching where I was going as I made my way to English. Jessica was already in her seat, both her feet tapping impatiently against the floor as she waited for Beau to arrive.

Conversely, once I settled into my assigned seat in the classroom, I became utterly still. I had to remind myself to fidget now and then. To keep up the charade. It was difficult, my thoughts were so focused on Jessica's. I hoped she would pay attention, really try to read Beau's face for me.

Jessica's tapping intensified when Beau walked into the room.

He looks… glum. Why? How could he not be over the moon right now? I have so many questions I can't even begin…

Beau's face didn't look glum, it looked reluctant. He was worried—he knew I would hear all of this. I smiled to myself.

"Tell me everything!" Jessica begged while Beau was still removing his jacket to hang it on the back of his seat. He was moving with deliberation, unwilling.

Oh, it's got to be good if he's being so hesitant.

"What do you want to know?" Beau stalled as he took his seat.

"What happened last night?"

"He bought me dinner, and then he drove me home."

And then? C'mon, Swan, there has to be more than that! He's got to be hiding something.

"How did you get home so fast?"

I watched Beau roll his eyes at the skeptical Jessica.

"He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying."

He smiled a tiny smile, and I laughed out loud, interrupting Mr. Mason's announcements. I tried to turn my laugh into a cough, but no one was fooled. Mr. Mason shot me an irritated look, but I didn't even bother to listen to the thought behind it. I was hearing Jessica.

Huh. Sounds like he's telling the truth. Why is he making me pull this out of him, word by word? I would be bragging at the top of my lungs if it were me.

"Was it like a date—did you tell him to meet your there?"

Jessica watched surprise cross Beau's expression, and was disappointed at how genuine it seemed.

"No—I was very surprised to see him there," Beau told her.

What is going on?? "But he picked you up for school today?" There has to be more to the story—Oh, my god, I wonder… "Or… did he stay the night?"

Beau's face went crimson. "Jess!" He hissed, his embarrassment plain on his face.

"Well?" Please say yes, please say yes.

"Of course he didn't." Beau insisted, though it wasn't true. At least not how Jessica meant. Beau continued, "Do you think I could sneak him past my dad?"

I had a rather easy time sneaking past Chief Swan, actually.

Okay, so maybe it's not that, but still… Jessica shrugged, grinning widely.

"He picked me up this morning. It was also a surprise." Beau assured her.

"Well, are you going out again?" Jessica probed.

"He offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because he thinks my truck isn't up to it—does that count?"

Ooh, this just got interesting. There must be something there on his side, for sure. Beau, you lucky boy!

"Yes." Jessica answered Beau's question.

"Well, then," Beau concluded. "Yes."

"W-o-w…" Jessica overdramatically stretched out the word, "Edward Cullen." Beau has to like him back, he has to! This is major.

"I know," Beau sighed.

The tone of his voice encouraged Jessica. Finally—he sounds like he gets it! I mean, seriously, Beau!

"Wait!" Jessica said, suddenly remembering her most vital question. "He didn't stay the night, but has he kissed you?" Please say yes. And then describe every second.

"No," Beau mumbled, and then he looked down at his hands, his face falling.

Damn. But the way he looks at Beau… Poor Beau, he looks so bummed.

I frowned. Beau did look upset about something, but it couldn't be disappointment like Jessica assumed. Beau couldn't want that. Not knowing what he knew. He couldn't want to be that close to my teeth. For all he knew, I had fangs.

I shuddered.

"But…" Beau said suddenly, looking back at Jessica with a spark in his eyes. "I think he wanted to."

The subtle excitement in Beau's eyes… No, that's impossible. Of course, he could read my own desires—he missed nothing. But, surely, he didn't actually want me to… Did he?

Jessica's mind was an explosion of excitement. "Do you think Saturday…?" She prodded.

Beau looked frustrated again as he said, "I don't know. I doubt it."

He doubts it? No way! They have to kiss! They have to! It would be so hot!

Was it because I was watching all this through the filter of Jessica's perceptions that it seemed like Jessica was right? That it would be… a good thing?

For a half-second I was distracted by the idea, the impossibility of what it would be like to kiss Beau. My lips to his lips, cold stone to warm, yielding silk…

And then he dies.

I shook my head, wincing, and made myself pay attention.

"So what did you talk about?" Did you talk to him, or did you make him drag every ounce of information out of you like this?

I smiled ruefully. Jessica wasn't far off.

"I don't know, Jess, lots of stuff."

Oh, yes, a lot. I smiled wider.

Oh, c'MON. "Please, Beau! Give me some details."

Beau deliberated for a moment.

"Well… okay, I've got one. You should have seen the server flirting with him—it was over the top. But Edward didn't pay any attention to him at all."

What a strange detail to share. I was surprised Beau had even noticed. It seemed a very inconsequential thing.

Ooh, good… "That's a good sign. Was he hot?"

Hmm. Jessica thought more of it than I did. I wonder why?

"Yeah," Beau told her. "And probably nineteen or twenty."

Jessica was momentarily distracted by a memory of Mike on her date Monday night—Mike being a little too friendly with a waitress who Jessica did not consider pretty at all. She shoved the memory away and returned, stifling her irritation, to her quest for details.

"Even better. He must like you."

"I think so," Beau said slowly, and I was on the edge of my seat, my body rigidly still. "But it's hard to tell. He's always so cryptic."

I must not have been as transparently obvious and out of control as I'd thought. Still… observant as he was… How could he not realize that I was in love with him? I sifted through our conversation, almost surprised that I hadn't said the words out loud. It had felt like that knowledge had been the subtext of every word between us.

Wow. How do you sit there across from a male model and make conversation? "I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him," Jessica said.

Shock flashed across Beau's face. "What? Why?"

Weird reaction. What does he think I meant? "He's so…" What's the right word? "Intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to him." I couldn't even speak English to him today, and all he said was good morning. I must have sounded like such an idiot.

Beau smiled. "Honestly, I don't always know what to say when I'm around him."

He must be trying to make Jessica feel better. He was almost unnaturally self-possessed when we were together.

"Oh well," Jessica sighed. "He is unbelievably gorgeous."

Beau's face suddenly changed. His eyes flashed the same way they did when he resented some injustice. Jessica didn't process the change in his expression.

"There's a lot more to him than that," Beau insisted.

Oooh. Now we're getting somewhere. "Really? Like what?"

Beau gnawed his lip for a moment. "I can't explain it right," he finally said. "But he's more unbelievable behind the face." He looked away from Jessica, his eyes slightly unfocused as if he was staring at something very far away.

The feeling I felt now was loosely similar to how it felt when Carlisle or Esme praised me beyond what I deserved. Similar, but more intense, more consuming.

If what's behind is even half as good as his face then Beau is really in trouble! I can't imagine anything better than that face, though! "Is that possible?" Jessica giggled.

Beau didn't turn. He continued to stare into the distance, ignoring Jessica.

A normal person would be gloating. Maybe if I keep the questions simple he'll give me something… "So you like him, then?"

I was rigid again.

Beau didn't look at Jessica. "Yes."

"I mean, do you really like him?"

"Yes."

Look at that blush!

I was.

"How much do you like him?" Jessica demanded.

The English room could have gone up in flames and I wouldn't have noticed.

Beau's face was bright red now—I could almost feel the heat from the mental picture.

"Too much," he whispered. "More than he likes me. But I don't see how I can help that."

Shoot! What did Mr. Varner just ask? "Um—which number, Mr. Varner?"

It was good that Jessica could no longer quiz Beau. I needed a minute.

What on earth was that boy thinking now? More than he likes me? How did he come up with that? But I don't see how I can help that? What was that supposed to mean? I couldn't fit a rational explanation to the words. They were practically senseless.

It seemed like I couldn't take anything for granted. Obvious things, things that made perfect sense, somehow got twisted up and turned backwards in that bizarre brain of his. More than he likes me? Maybe I shouldn't rule out the institution just yet.

I glared at the clock, gritting my teeth. How could mere minutes feel so impossibly long to an immortal? Where was my perspective?

My jaw was tight throughout Mr. Varner's entire trigonometry lesson. I heard more of that than the lecture in my own class. Beau and Jessica didn't speak again, but Jessica peeked at Beau several times, and once his face was brilliant scarlet again for no apparent reason.

Lunch couldn't come fast enough.

I wasn't sure if Jessica could get some of the answers I was waiting for when the class was over, but Beau was quicker than she was.

"In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about Monday night," Beau said, a smile pulling up at the corners of his lips. I understood this for what it was—offence as the best defense.

Mike asked about me? Joy made Jessica's mind suddenly even more chaotic than it usually was. "You're kidding! What did you say?"

"I told him you said you had a lot o fun—he looked pleased."

"Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!"

That was all I was going to get from Jessica today, clearly. Beau was smiling like he was thinking the same thing. Like he'd won the round.

Well, lunch would be another story. I would have better success getting answers out of him than Jessica, I would make sure of that.

I could hardly bear to check in occasionally with Jessica through the fourth hour. I had no patience for her obsessive thoughts of Mike Newton. I'd had more than enough of him in the last two weeks. He was lucky to be alive.

I moved apathetically though gym class with Alice, the way we always moved when it came to physical activity with humans. She was my teammate, naturally. It was the first day of badminton. I sighed with boredom, swinging the racket in slow motion to tap the birdie back to the other side. Logan Mallory was on the other team; he missed. Alice was twirling racket like a baton, staring at the ceiling.

We all hated gym, Emmett especially. Throwing games was an affront to his personal philosophy. Gym seemed worse today than usual—I felt just as irritated as Emmett always did.

Before my head could explode with impatience, Coach Clapp called the games and sent us out early. I was ridiculously grateful that he'd skipped breakfast—a fresh attempt to diet—and the consequent hunger had him in a hurry to leave campus to find a greasy lunch somewhere. He promised himself he would start over tomorrow…

This gave me enough time to get to the math building before Beau's class ended.

Enjoy yourself, Alice thought as she headed off to meet Jasper. Just a few days more to be patient. I suppose you won't say hi to Beau for me, will you?

I shook my head, exasperated. Were all psychics so smug?

Just so you know, it's going to be sunny on both sides of the sound this weekend. You might want to rearrange your plans.

I sighed as I continued in the opposite direction. Smug, but definitely useful.

I leaned against the wall by the door, waiting. I was close enough that I could hear Jessica's voice through the bricks as well as her thoughts.

"You're not sitting with us today, are you? He looks so excited! It's so cute! I bet there's tons he didn't tell me.

"I don't think so," Beau answered, oddly unsure.

Hadn't I promised to spend lunch with him? What was he thinking?

They came out of class together, and both of their eyes widened when they saw me. Jessica giggled and poked Beau in the ribs.

Nice! Oh, yeah, there's more going on here than he's telling me. Maybe I'll call him tonight… Unless he's busy… Ha! Beau is the luckiest boy in the whole world, I swear.

"See you later, Beau."

Beau walked toward me, pausing a step away, still unsure. His skin was pink across his cheekbones.

I knew him well enough now to be sure that there was no fear behind his hesitation. Apparently, this was about some gulf he imagined between his feelings and mine. More than he likes me. Absurd!

"Hello," I said, my voice a tad curt.

His face got brighter. "Hi."

He didn't seem inclined to say anything else, so I led the way to the cafeteria and he walked silently beside me.

The jacket had worked—his scent was not the blow it usually was. It was just an intensification of the pain I already felt. I could ignore it more easily than I once would have believed possible.

Beau was restless as we waited in line, toying absently with the zipper on his jacket and shifting nervously from foot to foot. He glanced at me often, but whenever he met my gaze, he looked down as if he were embarrassed. Was this because so many people were staring at us? Maybe he could hear the loud whispers—the gossip was verbal as well as mental today.

Or maybe he realized, from my expression, that he was in trouble.

He didn't say anything until I was assembling his lunch. I didn't know what he liked—not yet—so I grabbed one of everything.

"What are you doing?" he objected in a low voice. "You're not getting all that for me?"

I shook my head, and shoved the tray up to the register. "Half is for me, of course."

He raised one eyebrow skeptically, but said nothing more as I paid for the food and escorted him to the table we'd sat at last week before his disastrous experience with blood typing. It seemed like much more than a few days. Everything was different now.

He sat across from me again. I pushed the tray toward him.

"Take whatever you want," I encouraged.

He picked up an apple and twisted it in his hands, a speculative look on his face.

"I'm curious."

What a surprise.

"What would you do if someone dared you to eat food?" he continued in a low voice that wouldn't carry to human ears. Immortal ears were another matter, if those ears were paying attention. I probably should have mentioned something to them earlier…

"You're always curious," I complained. Oh well. It wasn't like I hadn't had to eat before. It was part of the charade. An unpleasant part.

I reached for the apple in his hands, and held his eyes while I brought it to my mouth and bit off a small bite of it. It was slimy and chunky and repulsive as any other human food. I chewed swiftly and swallowed, trying to keep the grimace off my face. The gob of food moved slowly and uncomfortably down my throat. I sighed as I thought of how I would have to choke it back up later. Disgusting.

Beau's expression was shocked. Impressed.

I wanted to roll my eyes. Of course we would have perfected such deceptions.

"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?"

His nose wrinkled and he smiled. "I did once… on a dare. It wasn't so bad."

I laughed. "I suppose I'm not surprised."

They look comfortable together, don't they? Good body language. I'll give Beau my take later. Edward's leaning toward him just the way he should, if he's interested. He looks interested. He looks… perfect. Jessica sighed. God, they're gonna be such a hot couple.

I met Jessica's curious eyes, and she looked away nervously, giggling to the girl next to her.

I wonder if Mike and I make such an attractive couple? Doubtful…

"Jessica's analyzing everything I do," I informed Beau. "She'll break it down for you later."

I handed the apple back to him, wondering how best to begin. My former frustration flared as the words repeated in my head: More than he likes me. But I don't see how I can help that.

He took a bite from the apple. It amazed me how trusting he was. Of course, he didn't know that I was venomous—not that sharing food would hurt him. Still, I expected him to treat me differently. As something other. He never did—at least not in a negative way…

I would start off gently.

"So the server was attractive, was he?"

He raised the eyebrow again. "He was hot. You really didn't notice?"

As if anyone could hope to capture my attention from Beau. Absurd, again.

"No, I wasn't paying attention to him." I was more distracted by deep cut of his shirt… the way it clung to his chest…

Good thing he'd worn that ugly sweater today.

"Poor guy," Beau said, smiling.

He liked that I hadn't found the server interesting in any way. I could understand that. How many times had I imagined crippling Mike Newton in the biology room?

He couldn't honestly believe that his human feelings, the fruition of seventeen short mortal years, could be stronger than the immortal passions that had been building up in me for over a century.

"Something you said to Jessica…" I couldn't keep my voice casual. "Well, it bothers me."

He was immediately defensive. "I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You shouldn't be eavesdropping."

How did that saying go? Eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves?

"I warned you I would be listening."

"And I warned you that you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."

Ah, he was thinking of when I'd made him cry. Remorse made my voice thicker. "You did. You aren't precisely right, though. I do want to know what you're thinking—everything. I just wish… that you wouldn't be thinking some things."

More half-lies. I knew I shouldn't want him to care about me. But I did. Of course I did.

"That's quite a distinction," he dead-panned, raising an eyebrow at me.

"But that's not really the point at the moment."

"Then what is?"

He leaned toward me, his hand cupped lightly around his throat. It drew my eye—distracted me. How soft that skin must feel…

Focus, I commanded myself.

"Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?" I asked. The questioned sounded ridiculous to me, like the words were scrambled.

His eyes were wide, his breathing stopped. Then he looked away, blinking quickly.

"You're doing it again," he murmured.

"What?"

"Dazzling me," he admitted, meeting my eyes warily.

"Oh." Hmm. I wasn't quite sure what to do about that. Nor was I sure that I didn't want to dazzle him. I was still thrilled that I could. But it wasn't helping the progression of the conversation.

"It's not your fault," he sighed. "You can't help it."

"Are you going to answer my question?" I demanded.

He stared at the table. "Yes."

"Yes, you are going to answer, or yes, you really think that?" I asked impatiently.

"Yes, I really think that," he said without looking up. There was faint undertone of sadness in his voice. He blushed again, and his teeth moved unconsciously to worry his lip.

Abruptly, I realized that this was very hard for him to admit, because he truly believed it. And I was no better than that coward, Mike, asking for him to confirm his feelings before I'd confirmed my own. It didn't matter that I felt I'd made my side abundantly clear. It hadn't gotten through to him, and so I had no excuse.

"You're wrong, Beau," I promised. He must hear the tenderness in my voice.

Beau looked up to me, his eyes opaque, giving nothing away. You can't know that," he whispered.

He thought that I was underestimating his feelings because I couldn't hear his thoughts. But, in truth, the problem was that he was underestimating mine.

"What makes you think so?" I wondered.

He stared back at me, the furrow between his brows, biting his lips. For the millionth time, I wished desperately that I could just hear him.

I was about to beg him to tell me what thought he was struggling with, but he held up a finger to keep me from speaking.

"Let me think," he requested.

As long as he was simply organizing his thoughts, I could be patient.

Or I could pretend to be.

He pressed his hands together, twining and untwining his slender fingers. He was watching his hands as if they belonged to someone else while he spoke.

"Well, aside from the obvious," he murmured. "Sometimes… I can't be sure—I don't know how to read minds—but sometimes it seems like you're tryin to say goodbye when you're saying something else." He didn't look up.

He'd caught that, had he? Did he realize that it was only weakness and selfishness that kept me here? Did he think less of me for that?

"Perceptive," I breathed, and then watched in horror as pain twisted his expression. I hurried to contradict his assumption. "That's exactly why you're wrong, though—" I began, and then I paused, remembering the first words of his explanation. They bothered me, thought I wasn't sure I understood exactly. "What do you mean, 'the obvious'?"

"Well, I mean…," and he sighed, "I'm absolutely ordinary. There's nothing particularly special about me. I'm not the only one in this school who finds you attractive, I'm not exceptionally talented at anything, I'm as interesting as the next guy, but I'm just ordinary—average. Aside from some unfortunate near-death experiences and a talent for tripping over my own feet, I'm not… special."

He thought he was ordinary? He thought that I was somehow preferable to him? In whose estimation? Silly, narrow-minded, blind humans like the ones surrounding us now? How could he not realize that he was the most beautiful… most exquisite… those words weren't even enough.

And he had no idea.

"You don't see yourself very clearly, you now. I'll admit you are correct about the bad things…" I laughed humorlessly. I did not find the evil fate who haunted him comical. The clumsiness, however, was sort of funny. Endearing. Would he believe me if I told him he was beautiful, inside and out? I didn't know how to show him. "But you don't see how fascinating you really are?"

Fascinating and captivating, and despite the interest of so many in this school, he didn't want any of them.

I was the one he said yes to.

My smile must have been smug.

His face was blank with surprise. He blinked a few times. "I don't believe that," he mumbled.

"Trust me just this once—you are the opposite of ordinary."

His existence alone was excuse enough to justify the creation of the entire world.

"Is that true?" His expression was suddenly fiercely serious. "Or are you just fascinated with me because I'm the one person whose mind you can't read?"

I was shocked. Horrified that he could possibly think that I wasn't completely enamored with every brilliant facet of him.

"I'll admit it does frustrate me that I can't read your mind," I wanted to explain the depth of my feelings in an eloquent way, but I couldn't hold back my emotions about him. The words came out in a torrent. "But believe me, Beau, you are so much more complicated than you give yourself credit for. You are intelligent and perceptive, you're remarkably mature. You see those around you in a way most simply don't. You see the world in a way most are unable." I sighed, past all secrets, relinquishing myself to complete honesty, "When I realized I couldn't read your mind I began searching everyone else's minds to find out as much about you as I could. Everything I saw only made me sure that you are… one of a kind." I paused, and took him in—his unique, subtle beauty. "And all those words are not enough to describe why you are anything but ordinary."

I stared at him, hoping he finally understood me, hoping that he could see what I saw. His face was bright red, he sat, unspeaking. His heart beating erratically in his chest.

He wasn't used to compliments, I could see that. Another thing he would just have to get used. He flushed deeper, and changed the subject. "But… why are you always trying to say goodbye? I'm not saying goodbye."

"Don't you see? That's what proves me right. Don't you see how much it hurts me to say goodbye to you? Even if just for a night? I care the most, because if I can do it…" Would I ever be unselfish enough to do the right thing? I shook my head in despair. I would have to find the strength. He deserved a life. Not what Alice had seen coming for him. "If leaving is the right thing to do, then I'll hurt myself to keep from hurting you, to keep you safe."

As I said the words, I willed them to be true.

He glared at me. Somehow, my words had upset him. "And you don't think I wouldn't do the same?" He demanded, angrily.

So angry—so soft and so fragile. How could he ever hurt anyone? "You'd never have to make the choice," I told him, depressed anew by the wide difference between us.

He stared at me, concern replacing the anger in his eyes and bringing out the little pucker between them.

There was something truly wrong with the order of the universe if someone so good and so breakable did not merit a guardian angel to keep him out of trouble.

Well, I thought with dark humor, at least he has a guardian vampire.

I smiled. How I loved my excuse to stay. "Of course, keeping you safe is beginning to feel like a full-time occupation that requires my constant presence."

He smiled, too. "No one has tried to do away with me today," he said lightly, and then his face turned speculative for half a second before his eyes went opaque again.

"Yet," I added dryly.

"Yes," he agreed to my surprise. I'd expected him to deny any need for protection. "Though I think maybe you're just looking for an excuse to be around me."

His voice was teasing, but he wasn't far off from the truth, really.

He turned bright red and his eyes fell away from mine.

How could he? That selfish jackass! How could he do this to us? Royal's piercing mental shriek broke through my concentration.

"Easy, Roy," I heard Emmett whisper from across the cafeteria. His arm was around Royal's shoulders, holding him tight into his side—restraining him.

Sorry, Edward, Alice thought guiltily. He could tell that Beau knew too much from your conversation… and, well, it would have been worse if I hadn't told him the truth right away. Trust me on that.

I winced at the mental picture that followed, at what would have happened if I'd told Royal that Beau knew I was a vampire at home, where Royal didn't have a façade to keep up. I'd have to hide my Aston Martin somewhere out of state if he didn't calm down by the time school was over. The sight of my favorite car, mangled and burning, was upsetting—though I knew I'd earned the retribution.

Jasper was not much happier.

I'd deal with the others later. I only had so much time allotted to be with Beau, and I wasn't going to waste it. And hearing Alice had reminded me that I had some business to attend to.

"I have another question for you," I said, tuning out Royal's mental hysterics and rearranging my features to a casual smile.

"Sure," Beau said, looking back at me with a smile.

"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of saying no to all your admirers?"

He grimaced at me. "You know, I haven't forgiven you for the Tyler thing yet. It's your fault that he's deluded himself into thinking he's taking me to prom."

"Oh, he would have found a chance to ask you without me—I just really wanted to watch your face."

I laughed now, remembering his aghast expression. Nothing I'd ever told him about my own dark story had ever made him look so horrified. The truth didn't frighten him. He wanted to be with me. Mind-boggling.

"If I asked you, would you have turned me down?"

"I don't think I'll tell you," he said, his voice short. "That's my revenge."

I started laughing again at the subtle genius of him. Of course that would be the perfect revenge.

"Oh, you are cruel, aren't you?" I smiled at him.

"Besides," he continued. "As you like to point out; I have coordination issues. I'm a terrible dancer."

"That wouldn't be a problem. It's all in the leading."

For a brief fraction of a second, I was overwhelmed by the idea of holding him in my arms at a dance—where he would surely wear something becoming and flattering rather than this hideous sweater.

With perfect clarity, I remembered how his body had felt under mine after I'd thrown him out of the way of the oncoming van. Stronger than the panic or the desperation or the chagrin, I could remember the sensation. He'd been so warmed and so soft, fitting easily into my own stone shape.

I wrenched myself back from the memory.

"But you never told me—" I said quickly, preventing him from arguing with me about his clumsiness, as he clearly intended to do. "Are you resolved on going to Seattle, or do you mind if we do something different?'

"I'm open to alternatives," Beau said. "But I do have a favor to ask."

A qualified yes. What would he want from me?

"What?"

"Can I drive?"

Was this his idea of humor? "Why?"

"Well, mostly because when I told Charlie I was going to Seattle, he specifically asked if I was going alone and, at the time, I was. If he asked again, I probably wouldn't lie, but I don't think he will ask again, and leaving my truck at home would just bring up the subject unnecessarily. And also, if I'm being brutally honest here, your driving frightens me."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Of all the things that could frighten you, you worry about my driving." Truly, his brain worked backwards. I shook my head, disgusted.

Edward, Alice called urgently.

Suddenly I was staring into a bright circle of sunlight, caught up in one of Alice's visions.

It was a place I knew well, the place I'd just considered taking Beau—a little meadow where no one ever went beside myself. A quiet, pretty place where I could count on being alone—far enough for any trail or human habitation that even my mind could have peace and quiet.

Alice recognized it, too, because she had seen me there not so long ago in another vision—one of those flickering, indistinct visions that Alice had shown me the morning I'd saved Beau from the van.

In that flickering vision, I hadn't been alone. And now it was clear—Beau was with me there. So I was brave enough. He stared at me, rainbow flames dancing across his face, his eyes fathomless.

It's the same place, Alice thought, her mind full of a horror that did not match the vision. Tension, perhaps, but horror? What did she mean, the same place?

And then I saw it.

Edward! Alice protested shrilly. I love him, Edward!

I shut her out viciously.

She didn't love Beau the way I did. Her vision was impossible. Wrong. She was blinded somehow, seeing impossibilities.

Not even half a second had passed. Beau was looking curiously at my face, waiting for me to approve his request. Had he seen the flash of dread, or had it been too quick for him?

I focused on him, on our unfinished conversation, pushing Alice and her flawed, lying visions far away from my thoughts. They didn't deserve my attention.

"Won't you tell your father that you're spending the day with me?" I asked, darkness seeping into my voice.

I shoved at the visions again, trying to push them farther away, to keep them from flickering though my head.

"With Charlie, less is always more," Beau said, certain of this fact. "Where are we going anyway?"

Alice was wrong. Dead wrong. There was no chance of that. And it was just an old vision, invalid now. Things had changed.

"The weather will be nice," I told him slowly, fighting the panic indecision. Alice was wrong. I would continue as if I hadn't heard or seen anything. "So I'll be staying out of the public eye… and you can stay with me, if you'd like to."

Beau caught the significance at once; his eyes were bright and eager. "And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?"

Maybe, like so many times before, his reaction would be the opposite of what I expected. I smiled at that possibility, struggling to return to the lighter moment. "Yes. But…" He hadn't said yes. "If you don't want to be… alone with me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of the trouble you could find in a city that size."

His lips pressed together; he was offended.

"Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle—just in population. In physical size—"

"But apparently your number wasn't up in Phoenix," I said, cutting off his justifications. "So I'd rather you stayed with me."

He could stay forever and it would not be long enough.

I shouldn't think that way. We didn't have forever. The passing seconds counted more than they ever had before; each second changed him while I remained untouched.

"Again," He smiled. "I think you're just trying to make excuses to be together."

A guilty smile spread across my lips.

"And, as it happens, I don't mind being alone with you," he said.

No—because his instincts were backwards.

"I know." I sighed. "You should tell Charlie, though."

"Why in the world would I do that?" he asked, sounding perplexed.

I glared at him, the visions I couldn't quite manage to repress swirling sickeningly through my head.

"To give me some small incentive to bring you back," I hissed. He should give me that much—one witness to compel me to be cautious.

Why had Alice forced this knowledge on me now? I exhaled and looked away, fuming.

I scowled at Alice, who met my glare with a warning glance. Beside her, Royal was glowering furiously, but I couldn't have cared less. Let him destroy the damn car. It was just a stupid toy.

"You should learn to control your temper."

My head snapped back to Beau, unable to hide my surprise.

"I beg your pardon?" The same surprise was readily apparent in my voice, as well.

"You should learn to control your temper," he repeated with an earnest edge to his voice.

What on earth was he talking about? My temper? There was nothing wrong with my temper! I was perfectly even-tempered! I… I realized even in my frustration that my temper was, in fact, not quite in control. While my family would occasionally think about my temper negatively from time to time no one had ever even thought to actually bring it up and say something to me. I laughed as I looked at this human boy who feared nothing.

"You really are remarkable, Beau."

"Let's talk about something else," he stammered, blushing.

I watched this sweet, strange boy, wondering how he could manage to be so remarkable. Why wouldn't he just see me for the monster I was?

"What do you want to talk about?"

His eyes darted to the left and then the right, as if checking to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. He must be planning to introduce another myth-related topic. His eyes froze for a second and his body stiffened, and then he looked back to me.

"Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend… to hunt? Charlie said it wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."

So beautifully oblivious. I stared at him, raising one eyebrow.

"Bears?" he gasped.

I smiled wryly, watching that sink in. Would this make him take me seriously? Would anything?

He pulled his expression together. "You know, bears are not in season," he said sternly, narrowing his eyes.

"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons."

He lost control over his face again for a moment. His lips fell open.

"Bears?" he said again, a tentative question this time rather than a gasp a shock.

"Grizzly is Emmett's favorite."

I watched his eyes, seeing this settle in.

"Hmmm," he murmured. He took another bite of the apple, looking down. He chewed thoughtfully, and then took a drink.

"So," he said, finally looking up. "What's your favorite?"

I supposed I should have expected something like that, but I hadn't. Beau was always interesting, at the very least.

"Mountain lion," I answered brusquely.

"Ah," he said in a neutral tone. His heartbeat continued steady and even, as if we were discussing a favorite restaurant.

Fine, then. If he wanted to ask like this was nothing unusual…

 "Of course, we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators—ranging as far away as we need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but here's the fun in that?"

He listened with a politely interested expression, as if I were a teacher giving a lecture. I had to smile.

"Where indeed," he murmured calmly, taking another bite of his apple.

"Early spring is Emmett's favorite bear season," I said, continuing with the lecture. "They're just coming out of hibernation, so they're more irritable."

Seventy years later, and he still hadn't gotten over losing that first match.

"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," Beau agreed, nodding solemnly.

I couldn't hold back a chuckle as I shook my head at his illogical calm. It had to be put on. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."

"Honestly, I'm trying to picture it—but I can't," he said, the crease appearing between his eyes. "How do you hunt a bear without weapons?"

"Oh, we have weapons," I told him, and then flashed him with a wide smile. I expected him to recoil, but he was very still, watching me. "Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you've ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Emmett hunting."

He glanced toward the table where the others sat, and shuddered.

Finally. And then I laughed at myself, because I knew part of me was wishing he would stay oblivious.

"Don't let Royal catch you staring." I teased, unable to decide if I was trying to lighten the mood or give him some healthy fear. "He's prone to jealousy."

An understatement if ever there was one.

His gray eyes were wide and deep as he stared at me now. "Are you like a bear, too?" he asked in an almost-whisper.

"More like the lion, or so they tell me," I told him, striving to sound detached again. "Perhaps our preferences are indicative.

His lips pulled up a tiny bit at the corners. "Perhaps," he repeated. And then his head leaned to the side, and curiosity was suddenly clear in his eyes. "Is that something I might get to see?"

I didn't need pictures from Alice to illustrate this horror—my imagination was quite enough.

"Absolutely not," I snarled at him.

He jerked away from me, his eyes bewildered and frightened.

"Temper, Edward!" His voice was sharp, and his eyes simmered.

I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. He was never going to see, was he? He wouldn't do one thing to help me keep him alive.

"So, what? Too scary for me?" he asked, his voice even. His heart, however, was still moving in double time.

"If that were it, I would take you out tonight," I retorted through my teeth. "You need a healthy dose of fear. Nothing could be more beneficial for you."

"Then why?" he pressed, undeterred.

I glared at him blackly, waiting for him to be afraid. I was afraid. I could imagine only too clearly having Beau near when I hunted…

But our hour was up.

"Later," I sighed, and rose to my feet. "We're going to be late."

He looked around himself, disoriented, like he'd forgotten we were at lunch. Like he'd forgotten we were even at school—surprised that we were not alone in some private place. I understood that feeling exactly. It was hard to remember the rest of the world when I was with him.

He got up quickly, bobbling once, and threw his bag over his shoulder.

"Later, then," he said, and I could see the determination in the set of his mouth; he would hold me to that.