Chapter 13

           Edwardinthesunlightwasshocking.Icouldn’tgetusedtoit,thoughI’dbeenstaringathimallafternoon.Hisskin,whitedespitethefaintflushfromyesterday’shuntingtrip,literallysparkled,likethousandsoftinydiamondswereembeddedinthesurface.Helayperfectlystillinthegrass,hisshirtopenoverhissculpted,incandescentchest,hisscintillatingarmsbare.Hisglistening,palelavenderlidswereshut,thoughofcoursehedidn’tsleep.Aperfectstatue,carvedinsomeunknownstone,smoothlikemarble,glitteringlikecrystal.

           Nowandthen,hislipswouldmove,sofastitlookedliketheyweretrembling.But,whenIasked,hetoldmehewassingingtohimself;itwastoolowformetohear.

           Ienjoyedthesun,too,thoughtheairwasn’tquitedryenoughformytaste.Iwouldhavelikedtolieback,ashedid,andletthesunwarmmyface.ButIstayedcurledup,mychinrestingonmyknees,unwillingtotakemyeyesoffhim.Thewindwasgentle;ittangledmyhairandruffledthegrassthatswayedaroundhismotionlessform.

           Themeadow,sospectaculartomeatfirst,palednexttohismagnificence.

           Hesitantly,alwaysafraid,evennow,thathewoulddisappearlikeamirage,toobeautifultobereal...hesitantly,Ireachedoutonefingerandstrokedthebackofhisshimmeringhand,whereitlaywithinmyreach.Imarveledagainattheperfecttexture,satinsmooth,coolasstone.WhenIlookedupagain,hiseyeswereopen,watchingme.Butterscotchtoday,lighter,warmerafterhunting.