Midnight Sun

I only had to incline my head, and then her lips, so soft and warm, were just a hair’s breadth away from my own. Carefully, wary of the power of the alchemy, I touched my lips to hers.

I closed the tiny distance between us, and pressed my lips softly against hers.

I pressed my lips against the crown of her head, breathing in her warm scent. A first kiss, though a stealthy one—unrequited.

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…,” I whispered.

Jane Eyre. I read that one pretty often, too. That’s my idea of a heroine. Everything by any Brontë. To Kill a Mockingbird, obviously. Fahrenheit 451. All of the Chronicles of Narnia, but especially The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Gone with the Wind. Douglas Adams and David Eddings and Orson Scott Card and Robin McKinley. Did I already say L. M. Montgomery?”

It didn’t matter that I felt I’d made my side abundantly clear. It hadn’t gotten through to her, and so I had no excuse.

As if any woman could hope to capture my attention from Bella. Absurd, again.

“Too much,” she whispered. “More than he likes me. But I don’t see how I can help that.”

“Not really,” she said, her voice composed again. “But I am curious.”

“It all depends on whether he is strong enough. Either he’ll kill her himself”—she turned to meet my gaze again, glaring—“which would really irritate me, Edward, not to mention what it would do to you—” She faced Jasper again. “Or she’ll be one of us someday.”