“I wish you would come,” I said without any hope. “It would be more fun. For me, I mean.”
“Sure, sure,” he mumbled. “That would be very . . . wise . . .” His voice trailed off.
A few seconds later, he was snoring.
Poor Jacob. I studied his dreaming face, and liked what I saw. While he slept, every trace of defensiveness and bitterness disappeared and suddenly he was the boy who had been my very best friend before all the werewolf nonsense had gotten in the way. He looked so much younger. He looked like my Jacob.
I nestled into the couch to wait out his nap, hoping he would sleep for a while and make up some of what he’d lost. I flipped through channels, but there wasn’t much on. I settled for a cooking show, knowing, as I watched, that I’d never put that much effort into Charlie’s dinner. Jacob continued to snore, getting louder. I turned up the TV.
I was strangely relaxed, almost sleepy, too. This house felt safer than my own, probably because no one had ever come looking for me here. I curled up on the sofa and thought about taking a nap myself. Maybe I would have, but Jacob’s snoring was impossible to tune out. So, instead of sleeping, I let my mind wander.
Finals were done, and most of them had been a cakewalk. Calculus, the one exception, was behind me, pass or fail. My high school education was over. And I didn’t really know how I felt about that. I couldn’t look at it objectively, tied up as it was with my human life being over.
I wondered how long Edward planned to use this “not because you’re scared” excuse. I was going to have to put my foot down sometime.
If I were thinking practically, I knew it made more sense to ask Carlisle to change me the second I made it through the graduation line. Forks was becoming nearly as dangerous as a war zone. No, Forks was a war zone. Not to mention . . . it would be a good excuse to miss the graduation party. I smiled to myself as I thought of that most trivial of reasons for changing. Silly . . . yet still compelling.
But Edward was right — I wasn’t quite ready yet.
And I didn’t want to be practical. I wanted Edward to be the one. It wasn’t a rational desire. I was sure that — about two seconds after someone actually bit me and the venom started burning through my veins — I really wouldn’t care anymore who had done it. So it shouldn’t make a difference.
It was hard to define, even to myself, why it mattered. There was just something about him being the one to make the choice — to want to keep me enough that he wouldn’t just allow me to be changed, he would act to keep me. It was childish, but I liked the idea that his lips would be the last good thing I would feel. Even more embarrassingly, something I would never say aloud, I wanted his venom to poison my system. It would make me belong to him in a tangible, quantifiable way.
But I knew he was going to stick to his marriage scheme like glue — because a delay was what he was clearly after and it was working so far. I tried to imagine telling my parents that I was getting married this summer. Telling Angela and Ben and Mike. I couldn’t. I couldn’t think of the words to say. It would be easier to tell them I was becoming a vampire. And I was sure that at least my mother — were I to tell her every detail of the truth — would be more strenuously opposed to me getting married than to me a becoming vampire. I grimaced to myself as I imagined her horrified expression.
Then, for just a second, I saw that same odd vision of Edward and me on a porch swing, wearing clothes from another kind of world. A world where it would surprise no one if I wore his ring on my finger. A simpler place, where love was defined in simpler ways. One plus one equals two. . . .
Jacob snorted and rolled to his side. His arm swung off the back of the couch and pinned me against his body.
Holy crow, but he was heavy! And hot. It was sweltering after just a few seconds.
I tried to slide out from under his arm without waking him, but I had to shove a little bit, and when his arm fell off me, his eyes snapped open. He jumped to his feet, looking around anxiously.
“What? What?” he asked, disoriented.
“It’s just me, Jake. Sorry I woke you.”
He turned to look at me, blinking and confused. “Bella?”
“Hey, sleepy.”
“Oh, man! Did I fall asleep? I’m sorry! How long was I out?”
“A few Emerils. I lost count.”
He flopped back on the couch next to me. “Wow. Sorry about that, really.”
I patted his hair, trying to smooth the wild disarray. “Don’t feel bad. I’m glad you got some sleep.”
He yawned and stretched. “I’m useless these days. No wonder Billy’s always gone. I’m so boring.”
“You’re fine,” I assured him.
“Ugh, let’s go outside. I need to walk around or I’ll pass out again.”
“Jake, go back to sleep. I’m good. I’ll call Edward to come pick me up.” I patted my pockets as I spoke, and realized they were empty. “Shoot, I’ll have to borrow your phone. I think I must have left his in the car.” I started to unfold myself.
“No!” Jacob insisted, grabbing my hand. “No, stay. You hardly ever make it down. I can’t believe I wasted all this time.”
He pulled me off the couch as he spoke, and then led the way outside, ducking his head as he passed under the doorframe. It had gotten much cooler while Jacob slept; the air was unseasonably cold — there must be a storm on the way. It felt like February, not May.
The wintry air seemed to make Jacob more alert. He paced back and forth in front of the house for a minute, dragging me along with him.
“I’m an idiot,” he muttered to himself.
“What’s the matter, Jake? So you fell asleep.” I shrugged.
“I wanted to talk to you. I can’t believe this.”
“Talk to me now,” I said.
Jacob met my eyes for a second, and then looked away quickly toward the trees. It almost looked like he was blushing, but it was hard to tell with his dark skin.
I suddenly remembered what Edward had said when he dropped me off — that Jacob would tell me whatever he was shouting in his head. I started gnawing on my lip.
“Look,” Jacob said. “I was planning to do this a little bit differently.” He laughed, and it sounded like he was laughing at himself. “Smoother,” he added. “I was going to work up to it, but” — and he looked at the clouds, dimmer as the afternoon progressed — “I’m out of time to work.”
He laughed again, nervous. We were still pacing slowly.
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
He took a deep breath. “I want to tell you something. And you already know it . . . but I think I should say it out loud anyway. Just so there’s never any confusion on the subject.”
I planted my feet, and he came to a stop. I took my hand away and folded my arms across my chest. I was suddenly sure that I didn’t want to know what he was building up to.
Jacob’s eyebrows pulled down, throwing his deep-set eyes into shadow. They were pitch black as they bored into mine.
“I’m in love with you, Bella,” Jacob said in a strong, sure voice. “Bella, I love you. And I want you to pick me instead of him. I know you don’t feel that way, but I need the truth out there so that you know your options. I wouldn’t want a miscommunication to stand in our way.”
15 WAGER
I STARED AT HIM FOR A LONG MINUTE, SPEECHLESS. I could not think of one thing to say to him.
As he watched my dumbfounded expression, the seriousness left his face.
“Okay,” he said, grinning. “That’s all.”
“Jake —” It felt like there was something big sticking in my throat. I tried to clear the obstruction. “I can’t — I mean I don’t . . . I have to go.”
I turned, but he grabbed my shoulders and spun me around.
“No, wait. I know that, Bella. But, look, answer me this, all right? Do you want me to go away and never see you again? Be honest.”
It was hard to concentrate on his question, so it took a minute to answer. “No, I don’t want that,” I finally admitted.
Jacob grinned again. “See.”
“But I don’t want you around for the same reason that you want me around,” I objected.
“Tell me exactly why you want me around, then.”
I thought carefully. “I miss you when you’re not there. When you’re happy,” I qualified carefully, “it makes me happy. But I could say the same thing about Charlie, Jacob. You’re family. I love you, but I’m not in love with you.”
He nodded, unruffled. “But you do want me around.”
“Yes.” I sighed. He was impossible to discourage.
“Then I’ll stick around.”
“You’re a glutton for punishment,” I grumbled.
“Yep.” He stroked the tips of his fingers across my right cheek. I slapped his hand away.
“Do you think you could behave yourself a little better, at least?” I asked, irritated.