Eclipse - Stephenie Meyer [104]
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 becoming a 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?