"So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?" She sounded hopeful.
Ah, her hope was soothing. She wanted me with her, not Mike Newton. And I wanted to say yes. But there were many things to consider. For one, the sun would be shining this Saturday...
"Where are you all going, exactly?" I tried to keep my voice nonchalant, as if it didn't matter much. Mike had said beach, though. Not much chance of avoiding sunlight there.
"Down to La Push, to First Beach."
Damn. Well, it was impossible, then.
Anyway, Emmett would be irritated if I cancelled our plans.
I glanced down at her, smiling wryly. "I really don't think I was invited." She sighed, already resigned. "I just invited you."
"Let's you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don't want him to snap." I thought about snapping poor Mike myself, and enjoyed the mental picture intensely.
"Mike-schmike," she said, dismissive again. I smiled widely.
And then she started to walk away from me.
Without thinking about my action, I reached out and caught her by the back of her rain jacket. She jerked to a stop.
"Where do you think you're going?" I was almost angry that she was leaving me.
I hadn't had enough time with her. She couldn't go, not yet.
"I'm going home," she said, baffled as to why this should upset me.
"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?" I knew she wouldn't like that - my implication of weakness on her part. But I needed to practice for the Seattle trip, anyway. See if I could handle her proximity in an enclosed space. This was a much shorter journey.
"What condition?" she demanded. "And what about my truck?"
"I'll have Alice drop it off after school." I pulled her back to my car carefully, as I now knew that walking forward was challenging enough for her.
"Let go!" she said, twisting sideways and nearly tripping. I held one hand out to catch her, but she righted herself before it was necessary. I shouldn't be looking for excuses to touch her. That started me thinking about Ms. Cope's reaction to me, but I filed it away for later. There was much to be considered on that front.
I let her go beside the car, and she stumbled into the door. I would have to be even more careful, to take into account her poor balance...
"You are so pushy!"
"It's open."
I got in on my side and started the car. She held her body rigidly, still outside, though the rain had picked up and I knew she didn't like the cold and wet. Water was soaking through her thick hair, darkening it to near black.
"I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!"
Of course she was - I just wasn't capable of letting her go.
I rolled her window down and leaned toward her. "Get in, Bella."
Her eyes narrowed, and I guessed that she was debating whether or not to make a run for it.
"I'll just drag you back," I promised, enjoying the chagrin on her face when she realized I meant it.
Her chin stiffly in the air, she opened her door and climbed in. Her hair dripped on the leather and her boots squeaked against each other.
"This is completely unnecessary," she said coldly. I thought she looked embarrassed under the pique.
I just turned up the heater so she wouldn't be uncomfortable, and set the music to a nice background level. I drove out toward the exit, watching her from the corner of my eye. Her lower lip was jutting out stubbornly. I stared at this, examining how it made me feel... thinking of the secretary's reaction again...
Suddenly she looked at the stereo and smiled, her eyes widening. "Clair de Lune?" she asked.
A fan of the classics? "You know Debussy?"
"Not well," she said. "My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house - I only know my favorites."
"It's one of my favorites, too." I stared at the rain, considering that. I actually had something in common with the girl. I'd begun to think that we were opposites in every way.
She seemed more relaxed now, staring at the rain like me, with unseeing eyes. I used her momentary distraction to experiment with breathing.
I inhaled carefully through my nose.
Potent.
I clutched the steering wheel tighter. The rain made her smell better. I wouldn't have thought that was possible. Stupidly, I was suddenly imaging how she would taste. I tried to swallow against the burn in my throat, to think of something else.
"What is your mother like?" I asked as a distraction.
Bella smiled. "She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier."
I doubted that.
"I have too much Charlie in me," she went on. "She's more outgoing than I am, and braver."
I doubted that, too.
"She's irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she's a very unpredictable cook. She's my best friend." Her voice had turned melancholy; her forehead creased.
Again, she sounded more like parent than child.