Midnight Sun (Twilight #1.5)(42)

"What are you thinking?" I asked - it was a relief to say the words out loud at last.

She met my gaze, and her breathing sped while her cheeks flushed faint pink. I inhaled, tasting that in the air.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are."

I held the smile on my face, locking my features that way, while panic twisted through my body.

Of course she was wondering that. She wasn't stupid. I couldn't hope for her to be oblivious to something so obvious.

"Are you having any luck with that?" I asked as lightly as I could manage. "Not too much," she admitted.

I chuckled in sudden relief. "What are your theories?"

They couldn't be worse than the truth, no matter what she'd come up with. Her cheeks turned brighter red, and she said nothing. I could feel the warmth of her blush in the air.

I tried using my persuasive tone on her. It worked well on normal humans. "Won't you tell me?" I smiled encouragingly.

She shook her head. "Too embarrassing."

Ugh. Not knowing was worse than anything else. Why would her speculations embarrass her? I couldn't stand not knowing.

"That's really frustrating, you know."

My complaint sparked something in her. Her eyes flashed and her words flowed more swiftly than usual.

"No, I can't imagine why that would be frustrating at all - just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night wondering what they could possibly mean...now, why would that be frustrating?"

I frowned at her, upset to realize that she was right. I wasn't being fair. She went on. "Or better, say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things - from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a pariah the next, and he never explained any of that either, even after he promised. That, also, would be very non-frustrating."

It was the longest speech I'd ever heard her make, and it gave me a new quality

for my list.

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"

"I don't like double standards."

She was completely justified in her irritation, of course.

I stared at Bella, wondering how I could possibly do anything right by her, until the silent shouting in Mike Newton's head distracted me.

He was so irate that it made me chuckle.

"What?" she demanded.

"Your boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you - he's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." I would love to see him try. I laughed again. "I don't know who you're talking about," she said in an icy voice. "But I'm sure you're wrong anyway."

I very much enjoyed the way she disowned him with her dismissive sentence.

"I'm not. I told you, most people are easy to read."

"Except me, of course."

"Yes. Except for you." Did she have to be the exception to everything?

Wouldn't it have been more fair - considering everything else I had to deal with now - if I could have at least heard something from her head? Was that so much to ask? "I wonder why that is?"

I stared into her eyes, trying again...

She looked away. She opened her lemonade and took a quick drink, her eyes on the table.

"Aren't you hungry?" I asked.

"No." She eyed the empty table between us. "You?"

"No, I'm not hungry," I said. I was definitely not that.

She stared at the table her lips pursed. I waited.

"Could you do me a favor?" she asked, suddenly meeting my gaze again.

What would she want from me? Would she ask for the truth that I wasn't allowed to tell her - the truth I didn't want her to ever, ever know?

"That depends on what you want."

"It's not much," she promised.

I waited, curious again.

"I just wondered..." she said slowly, staring at the lemonade bottle, tracing its lip with her littlest finger. "If you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to ignore me for my own good? Just so I'm prepared."

She wanted a warning? Then being ignored by me must be a bad thing... I smiled.

"That sounds fair," I agreed.

"Thanks," she said, looking up. Her face was so relieved that I wanted to laugh with my own relief.

"Then can I have one in return?" I asked hopefully.

"One," she allowed.

"Tell me one theory."

She flushed. "Not that one."

"You didn't qualify, you just promised one answer," I argued.

"And you've broken promises yourself," she argued back.

She had me there.

"Just one theory - I won't laugh."

"Yes, you will." She seemed very sure of that, though I couldn't imagine anything that would be funny about it.

I gave persuasion another try. I stared deep into her eyes - an easy thing to do, with eyes so deep - and whispered, "Please?"

She blinked, and her face went blank.

Well, that wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been going for.

"Er, what?" she asked. She looked dizzy. What was wrong with her?