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"Cow mouth," he accuses.
"Book stealer."
"Bed stealer."
"This is my bed."
"Room on the bed stealer."
"This is my  "
"Done," he announces randomly, throwing the book at her. It connects with her side.
"What is your  that hurt!"
He looks contrite. "Sorry. As I slowly gain strength back& you know. I always forget. If
I would have tried that a few months ago, it wouldn't have moved."
She rolls her eyes at him and takes her book back. He clicks his mouse a couple times,
and then closes his laptop with a huge yawn.
"What did you put for number six?" she asks.
"B."
"That's what I got." She looks over at him, and his eyes are drooping. "You look
exhausted."
He shakes his head. "I'm okay." He stretches out his legs and rises. "I'm going to go
smoke and try to wake up. Where's your balcony again?"
"Through the kitchen. It's a sliding glass door  you can't miss it."
He nods and fumbles for his cigarettes. She watches him go. He's limping again  his
whole body must be tired.
She finishes up her quiz in another ten minutes, and Edward still isn't back. Puzzled,
she creeps into the kitchen and out onto the balcony.
He's asleep in one of their plastic chairs, snoring softly. Her heart aches for him. His
cigarette is still burning, the cherry dangerously close to falling on his pant leg.
She reaches out her hand and runs it over his shorn hair. "Edward," she whispers.
He jolts awake, the motion causing the cherry of the cigarette to fall exactly where
she suspected it would. He curses, blowing and wiping away the ash.
"Shit, I'm sorry," he groans, standing. "I can't believe I& I should go."
"You can't drive. You fell asleep on my balcony!"
"It's fine." But his voice is weak, like he's going to fall asleep standing up.
"Don't be ridiculous," she snaps. "Our couch is really comfortable. Come on." She leads
him inside and forces him onto the couch.
"Bella, really& "
"Shut your stupid face."
It's dark in the living room, but she can hear his smile. "My face isn't stupid."
"Stupid and ugly. I can't look at you. Here." She throws a blanket in the general
direction of his head. She hears the muffled noise, knowing it connected. "Do you
need pajamas?"
"You have guy pajamas?"
"My dad left some& "
"Oh, that's a likely story."
"Shut up and go to sleep."
She finds her dad's pajama bottoms for him, but he's asleep by the time she makes it
back in the living room. She places them by the couch and kisses his forehead, trying
not to notice the medicinal smell to his skin.
When she makes it back to her room, her email icon is bouncing with one new
message. It's from her mom. Smiling and surprised, she settles down to read it.
Hi, baby 
Can't write much. We're about to leave for a weekend in Vancouver, but I was thinking
about you today. I bought the most beautiful dress for you in one of the vintage shops I
found in Portland, but you're just going to have to see your dear mother to get it.
What do you say, darling? I know your semester is coming to a close soon, and
Christmas is right around the corner. Maybe you can spend a few weeks with us? We're
going to be at our house in Banff over the holidays& it's beautiful there. You'd love it.
Bring Emily, if you'd like. Or anyone, if you're not still friends with her.
Send me a note to tell me if you're coming!
All my love,
Mom.
Her silly, flighty, loving mother. She used to think her mom didn't love her because
she wasn't like the moms who made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and kissed
boo-boos. Now, she knows her mom loves her very much, but she's just the type of
woman who lacks a maternal instinct and makes up for it in friendship and
adventure.
She wakes up before she realizes she's asleep, and it's still dark. It must be the middle
of the night. Her laptop is still on her chest, and it's left a warm spot on her skin. Her
mouth tastes fuzzy so she stumbles into her bathroom and brushes her teeth.
She's climbing back into bed when she hears the knock. Edward comes in quietly,
standing by the door. The moon pours through her window, casting him in shadow
and light. He looks ethereal and exhausted.
"I heard you up," he whispers. "I can't sleep."
She scoots over to the left side of the bed and pats the warm spot. "Come on."
He needs no further convincing. She notices that he's changed into the pajama pants,
and they hang off his hips. The drawstring is nearly screaming with no slack.
He lifts up the side of her covers, and his cold feet brush her bare legs. They hover at
their respective edges before she moves or he moves or they meet in the middle, but
his head is suddenly against her breast and his short hair is tickling her chin. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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