So, Did You Stab Edward Cullen With

"aren't You Hungry?" He Asked, Distracted. "no." I Didn't Feel Like Mentioning That My Stomach Was Already Full - Of Butterflies.

I Wondered To Myself Why No One Else Had Seen Him Standing So Far Away, Before He Was Suddenly, Impossibly Saving My Life. With Chagrin, I Realized The Probable Cause - No One Else Was As Aware Of Edward As I Always Was. No One Else Watched Him The Way I Did. How Pitiful.

He Raised His Hand, Hesitant, Conflict Raging In His Eyes, And Then Swiftly Brushed The Length Of My Cheekbone With His Fingertips. His Skin Was As Icy As Ever, But The Trail His Fingers Left On My Skin Was Alarmingly Warm - Like I'd Been Burned, But Didn't Feel The Pain Of It Yet.

I Already Know How Strong You Are. You Didn't Have To Break The Furniture." —bella Swan

I Tensed, Waiting For The Fury - Both His And Mine - But It Was Only Quiet And Calm In The Darkness Of His Room. I Could Almost Taste The Sweetness Of Reunion In The Air, A Separate Fragrance From The Perfume Of His Breath; The Emptiness When We Were Apart Left Its Own Bitter Aftertaste, Something I Didn't Consciously Notice Until It Was Removed. There Was No Friction In The Space Between Us. The Stillness Was Peaceful - Not Like The Calm Before The Tempest, But Like A Clear Night Untouched By Even The Dream Of A Storm.