Midnight Sun, Continued
A continuation of Stephenie Meyer's Midnight Sun manuscript from where she left off. It is Twilight retold from Edward's perspective and follows the sequence of events in the Twilight novel.
1. Chapter 1
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Unless that source was me, but judging from our car trip earlier, I had enough hope to convince myself otherwise. The night was too long: though I could happily watch her sleep for hours on end, I wanted answers more. Tomorrow I would be sure she gave them.
I took one last look as I heard Charlie stir in the room down the hall before creeping silently out the window.
I ran back to the house to change, and made it there in slightly more than three minutes.
Emmett was already trying to wheedle Jasper into yet another contest. Shot-put, from the sound of things.
“Come on, they’re just little balls that you throw around, not hard at all.” Emmett shot me a wink. Saw it on the sports channel yesterday. Help me out here.
I continued up the stairs, smiling at Jasper’s suspicious glance between us. “Not a chance, Em.”
Loser. Emmett turned back to Jasper as Rose passed me on the stairs.
“Why don’t you ask Rose to play with you if it’s so easy?”
Rosalie ignored Jasper’s comment completely and went straight to Emmett. She put her hands on his face, and catching the direction her thoughts were headed, I ran faster up the stairs.
Ugh. They were positively revolting sometimes.
I heard Jasper hurry out the front door, presumably to reign in Alice in time to leave for school.
I changed my clothes and was back into the Volvo to pick up Bella before Jasper and Alice made it back in the house. I took advantage of the empty roads to speed the whole way to Bella’s, and smiled thinking of what she would likely say about my ‘lack of respect for traffic laws’. I only had to wait a few moments in front of the house before she came barreling out the front door, hardly pausing to push it shut.
Eager to get to me? I hope so.
Just seeing her made my world brighter—all I cared about was her. The rest of the world would have to settle for second place.
She opened the door and got in.
“Good morning.” I said in my softest voice. “How are you today?” I drank in her features, trying to see if the cause of her unrest last night was etched anywhere I could read.
“Good, thank you.” I expected nothing else from her, but surely there was something she was not telling me? This cause of worry? The purple rings under her eyes—what did that signify in humans?
“You look tired.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She moved her hair so that it partially covered her face, likely in an attempt to hide the evidence from me. No, that wouldn’t do. I had waited hours to see that face.
Keep it light.
“Neither could I.” I smiled and started the engine.
She laughed. “I guess that’s right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you did.”
“I’d wager you did.”
She cut a glance over to me. I wanted to know so badly what she was thinking. I failed once again to hear in the empty space where her thoughts should be. As I was focused on her, she spoke again. “So what did you do last night?”
I chuckled. “Not a chance. It’s my day to ask the questions.” I couldn’t let her get started with any questions or I would find it difficult to get any of the answers I so desperately wanted. Besides, what could I tell her? I spent last night in your bedroom watching you sleep.
She leaned back into her seat with a look—what was it—apprehension? That crease in her forehead appeared and I had to stop myself from smoothing it away. “What do you want to know?”
I decided to tease her a bit. I lowered my voice and put on my serious face. “What’s your favorite color?”
She rolled her eyes and her whole body relaxed. “It changes from day to day.”
She wasn’t going to get off that easily. Still grave, I asked “what’s your favorite color today?”
I snorted, losing my façade completely. “Brown?” I was skeptical—what human favored brown? The color of mud, dirt, and worse things. Leave it to Bella to give me the one answer I would never expect. She was wearing a brown top. Perhaps that was why she said brown today?
“Sure. Brown is warm. I miss brown. Everything that’s supposed to be brown—tree trunks, rocks, dirt—is all covered up with squashy green stuff here.” She finished her rant and looked right into my eyes.
She was telling the truth, I could see that. What an amazing, unusual person sat here in front of me. I couldn’t—didn’t want to—look away from her eyes. I wanted to dive into them and fish out the rest of her thoughts. I was sure each would be as fascinating to me as this affinity for brown things. I knew I liked brown things—as long as those things were Bella’s chocolate eyes and chestnut hair. A single wayward strand fell across her eyes and I longed to push it back behind her ear.
But I could afford this one little gesture, I reasoned with myself. I wouldn’t even be touching her skin. Certainly, this could be allowed.
I hitched my serious face back on and gently reached for her hair. “You’re right,” I said, carefully, ever so carefully tucking her hair back, “brown is warm.” The very edge of my fingertips brushed against her face, and it felt as though they were on fire.
But it could not last forever, that moment alone in the car. We had arrived in the school parking lot. Sigh. One last question alone before we headed into the crowds. One that I considered most important: “What music is in your CD player right now?”
She said the name of the band, and I smiled what I had begun to recognize as my “Bella” smile. One more surprise. I wondered if I would ever truly figure her out, and I realized I wouldn’t entirely want to. I fished out the CD she had just named from the center compartment of the car and held it up.
“Debussy to this?” I raised an eyebrow.
She seemed…embarrassed. She examined the CD to make sure it was indeed the same, keeping her eyes glued to the disc all the while. That familiar hue rose in her cheeks to remind me of how delicate she was.
I reluctantly led her into the school, but was determined that day to find out as much as I could from her. She answered most of my questions as though she could not figure out why I would want to know such things as what movies she liked and disliked, the books she had read and what she thought of them.
Did she still not understand that I wanted to know everything? Every thought she had ever entertained, every facet of every decision she made fascinated me. I met her with a barrage of questions every second I could throughout the day, and was intrigued most during a series in which gemstones were brought up. I had been firing off questions as fast as she was answering, when a particular answer made her blush so badly that I involuntarily gripped the desk tight enough to chip a splinter of wood onto the floor.
I had asked which gemstone was her favorite.
“Topaz.” She blurted out quickly, then seemed acutely embarrassed as the crimson glow began flooding her face.
I was so curious it felt like physical pain. I tried to persuade her to confide in me the reason for her reaction, but she refused to look me in the eyes.
Why would she have such a dramatic reaction? Topaz seemed a harmless enough choice—unusual, surely, but I was so used to the unusual in regard to Bella that it had become the expected.
Finally, I couldn’t stand waiting any longer and resorted to half-pleading, half-commanding. “Tell me.”
“It’s the color of your eyes today.” She sighed, seeming very uncomfortable, like she was admitting to the CIA that she had been a foreign spy. She fiddled with her hair and fidgeted in her chair. “I suppose if you asked me in two weeks I’d say onyx.”
I was pretty sure that if I had a beating heart, it would have taken flight right out of my chest.
She had been honest with me in spite of her clear discomfort, and I wanted to ease that for her as soon as possible. I carefully hid my feelings, glad that my heart, at least, would not betray me for her to hear. Barely a second had passed since she had spoken; my pause would not be noticed by her.
“What kinds of flowers do you prefer?” I asked, sure that this was innocuous enough to let her relax.
She did, and resumed breathing normally again as we moved on to a whole new list of questions I had for her.
Biology was…interesting. Not because of Mr. Banner, who was only mildly entertaining on a good day, but because of the same strange phenomenon that seemed to transpire between Bella and I as soon as the lights went out. I moved my chair slightly farther away from her in an effort to quench the fire that seemed to tingle on the whole right half of my body when she sat so near.
It didn’t help.
Also not helping was her tense posture that made me want to believe she felt something too. She was gripping her desk as if her life depended on it, and she maddeningly refused to shoot even a glance in my direction. I was content to just look at her—no, not content, but it would have to do.
At the end of the movie, she sighed a loaded sigh. She finally looked to me and didn’t seem surprised to find my eyes on her face. Perhaps then she did expect me to be looking at her.
I stood and waited for her to gather her things to go to gym class. We didn’t need words, so we walked without them. I wanted to hold her hand, to touch a part of her and not let go, but Alice’s vision kept ramming into my conscious thoughts uninvited.
I couldn’t resist. After all, yesterday nothing bad had come of that one touch, so I would be just as careful now. Just one stroke, from temple to jawbone—so breakable, so fragile. I walked away. Each day I got stronger.