Сумерки

           "He,ofallpeople,shouldunderstandthat-Ididn’tgetmybalanceproblemsfrommymother.

           Hedidunderstand."Oh,that’sright,"herealized.

           Thenextmorning,whenIpulledintotheparkinglot,IdeliberatelyparkedasfaraspossiblefromthesilverVolvo.Ididn’twanttoputmyselfinthepathoftoomuchtemptationandendupowinghimanewcar.Gettingoutofthecab,Ifumbledwithmykeyanditfellintoapuddleatmyfeet.AsIbenttogetit,awhitehandflashedoutandgrabbeditbeforeIcould.Ijerkedupright.EdwardCullenwasrightnexttome,leaningcasuallyagainstmytruck.

           "Howdoyoudothat?"Iaskedinamazedirritation.

           "Dowhat?"Heheldmykeyoutashespoke.AsIreachedforit,hedroppeditintomypalm.

           "Appearoutofthinair."

           "Bella,it’snotmyfaultifyouareexceptionallyunobservant."Hisvoicewasquietasusual-velvet,muted.

           Iscowledathisperfectface.Hiseyeswerelightagaintoday,adeep,goldenhoneycolor.ThenIhadtolookdown,toreassemblemynow-tangledthoughts.

           "Whythetrafficjamlastnight?"Idemanded,stilllookingaway."IthoughtyouweresupposedtobepretendingIdon’texist,notirritatingmetodeath."

           "ThatwasforTyler’ssake,notmine.Ihadtogivehimhischance."Hesnickered.

           "You..."Igasped.Icouldn’tthinkofabadenoughword.Itfeltliketheheatofmyangershouldphysicallyburnhim,butheonlyseemedmoreamused.

           "AndI’mnotpretendingyoudon’texist,"hecontinued.