Сумерки

           Igottheheaterrunning,foroncenotcaringaboutthemind-numbingroaroftheengine.Iunzippedmyjacket,putthehooddown,andfluffedmydamphairoutsotheheatercoulddryitonthewayhome.

           Ilookedaroundmetomakesureitwasclear.That’swhenInoticedthestill,whitefigure.EdwardCullenwasleaningagainstthefrontdooroftheVolvo,threecarsdownfromme,andstaringintentlyinmydirection.Iswiftlylookedawayandthrewthetruckintoreverse,almosthittingarustyToyotaCorollainmyhaste.LuckyfortheToyota,Istompedonthebrakeintime.Itwasjustthesortofcarthatmytruckwouldmakescrapmetalof.Itookadeepbreath,stilllookingouttheothersideofmycar,andcautiouslypulledoutagain,withgreatersuccess.IstaredstraightaheadasIpassedtheVolvo,butfromaperipheralpeek,IwouldswearIsawhimlaughing.