"Why the traffic jam last night?" I demanded, still looking away. "Ithought you were supposed to be pretending I don&`&t exist, not irritatingme to death.""That was for Tyler&`&s sake, not mine. I had to give him his chance." Hesnickered.
"You…" I gasped. I couldn&`&t think of a bad enough word. It felt like theheat of my anger should physically burn him, but he only seemed moreamused.
"And I&`&m not pretending you don&`&t exist," he continued.
"So you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Tyler&`&s van didn&`&t dothe job?"Anger flashed in his tawny eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, allsigns of humor gone.
"Bella, you are utterly absurd," he said, his low voice cold.
My palms tingled — I wanted so badly to hit something. I was surprised atmyself. I was usually a nonviolent person. I turned my back and startedto walk away.
"Wait," he called. I kept walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. Buthe was next to me, easily keeping pace.
"I&`&m sorry, that was rude," he said as we walked. I ignored him. "I&`&m notsaying it isn&`&t true," he continued, "but it was rude to say it, anyway.""Why won&`&t you leave me alone?" I grumbled.
"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," he chuckled. Heseemed to have recovered his good humor.
"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?" I asked severely.
"You&`&re doing it again."I sighed. "Fine then. What do you want to ask?""I was wondering if, a week from Saturday — you know, the day of thespring dance —""Are you trying to be funny?" I interrupted him, wheeling toward him. Myface got drenched as I looked up at his expression.
His eyes were wickedly amused. "Will you please allow me to finish?"I bit my lip and clasped my hands together, interlocking my fingers, so Icouldn&`&t do anything rash.
"I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wonderingif you wanted a ride."That was unexpected.
"What?" I wasn&`&t sure what he was getting at.
"Do you want a ride to Seattle?""With who?" I asked, mystified.
"Myself, obviously." He enunciated every syllable, as if he were talkingto someone mentally handicapped.
I was still stunned. "Why?""Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to behonest, I&`&m not sure if your truck can make it.""My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern." Istarted to walk again, but I was too surprised to maintain the same levelof anger.
"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" He matched my paceagain.
"I don&`&t see how that is any of your business." Stupid, shiny Volvo owner.
"The wasting of finite resources is everyone&`&s business.""Honestly, Edward." I felt a thrill go through me as I said his name, andI hated it. "I can&`&t keep up with you. I thought you didn&`&t want to be myfriend.""I said it would be better if we weren&`&t friends, not that I didn&`&t wantto be.""Oh, thanks, now that&`&s all cleared up." Heavy sarcasm. I realized I hadstopped walking again. We were under the shelter of the cafeteria roofnow, so I could more easily look at his face. Which certainly didn&`&t helpmy clarity of thought.
"It would be more… prudent for you not to be my friend," he explained.
"But I&`&m tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, hisvoice smoldering. I couldn&`&t remember how to breathe.
"Will you go with me to Seattle?" he asked, still intense.
I couldn&`&t speak yet, so I just nodded.
He smiled briefly, and then his face became serious.
"You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I&`&ll see you in class."
He turned abruptly and walked back the way we&`&d come.