Сумерки

           Ilookeddownatmybookassoonashiseyesreleasedme,tryingtofindmyplace.Cowardlyasever,Ishiftedmyhairovermyrightshouldertohidemyface.Icouldn’tbelievetherushofemotionpulsingthroughme-justbecausehe’dhappenedtolookatmeforthefirsttimeinahalf-dozenweeks.Icouldn’tallowhimtohavethislevelofinfluenceoverme.Itwaspathetic.Morethanpathetic,itwasunhealthy.

           Itriedveryhardnottobeawareofhimfortherestofthehour,and,sincethatwasimpossible,atleastnottolethimknowthatIwasawareofhim.Whenthebellrangatlast,Iturnedmybacktohimtogathermythings,expectinghimtoleaveimmediatelyasusual.

           "Bella?"Hisvoiceshouldn’thavebeensofamiliartome,asifI’dknownthesoundofitallmyliferatherthanforjustafewshortweeks.

           Iturnedslowly,unwillingly.Ididn’twanttofeelwhatIknewIwouldfeelwhenIlookedathistoo-perfectface.MyexpressionwaswarywhenIfinallyturnedtohim;hisexpressionwasunreadable.Hedidn’tsayanything.

           "What?Areyouspeakingtomeagain?"Ifinallyasked,anunintentionalnoteofpetulanceinmyvoice.

           Hislipstwitched,fightingasmile."No,notreally,"headmitted.

           Iclosedmyeyesandinhaledslowlythroughmynose,awarethatIwasgrittingmyteeth.Hewaited.

           "Thenwhatdoyouwant,Edward?"Iasked,keepingmyeyesclosed;itwaseasiertotalktohimcoherentlythatway.

           "I’msorry."Hesoundedsincere."I’mbeingveryrude,Iknow.Butit’sbetterthisway,really."

           Iopenedmyeyes.