He shook his head. "Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition—unless you're afraid someone might steal it." He laughed at the thought of someone wanting to steal The Growler. He seemed to be in better spirits already.
"All right," I agreed, pursing my lips. I was pretty sure my key was in the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore Wednesday, under a pile of clothes in the laundry room. Even if he broke into my house, or whatever he was planning, he'd never find it without touching at least one pair of my265 panties. He seemed to feel the electricity in my consent and smirked.
"So where are you going?" I asked as casually as I could manage.
"Hunting," he answered grimly. "If I'm going to be alone with you tomorrow..." His eyes took on a distant look as he trailed off, tunneling through the folds of time and space into a distant universe which held the ripening tomorrow that we would soon share. "Bella," he muttered.
"Yes?"
"Bella, if I don't hunt now, then tomorrow..." And I saw clouds pass over his goldy-blacks, and then spots of crimson well up underneath them. I wondered what Fredward was seeing. "... so... so I'm going to take whatever precautions I can." His face grew morose, pleading forgiveness for something I did not know could happen yet. "You can always cancel, you know."
I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of his eyes. I refused to be convinced to fear him, no matter how real the danger might be. It doesn't matter that he wants to eat my blood, I repeated in my head. I don't need it as much as I need him...
"No," I whispered, glancing back at his face. "I can't."
"Perhaps you're right," he murmured bleakly. The clouds in his eyes seemed to darken.
I changed the subject to something more sunny. "What time will I see you tomorrow?" I asked, already depressed by the thought of leaving him now.
"That depends... it's a Saturday. The traffic from my place to yours will be nil, but it might be a nice day out, which would create a beach-rush and turn the highway into sludge. I could drive partway and meet you there—"
"I told you about your car and Charlie, Fredward."
"—don't interrupt me. As I was saying, I could drive partway and walk the rest, but where I park depends entirely on which lots are and aren't vacant. This brings up a whole other question, which is: will I run to your place from the car or take a leisurely stroll? There isn't really..."
I stopped listening and spaced out, feeling the lunchroom slowly begin to empty around us. I looked over at the other table, my old table, and watched my old friends. Lauren was spoon-feeding Tyler estrogen-laced yogurt while Jessica babbled about something to Mike, who simply stared down at his mashed corn and potatoes, a blank look on his face. We were so much better than them.
"... of course, that isn't even considering whether you'd want to sleep in."
"I don't," I answered too fast, not sure what he'd said but ready to argue with him about it. He restrained a smile.
"The same time as usual, then," he decided. "Will Charlie be there?"
265. dirty