For the fourth day in a row, Edward and I were lying in bed together watching some mindless romantic comedy which wasn’t even funny and I couldn’t remember the title of. My head was on his chest, as usual, and I’d become so bored, I’d started drawing invisible shapes on his stomach with my finger.
“You’re not enjoying this, are you?” Edward asked as his fingers, which had been running through my hair, stopped their soothing movements.
“It’s… alright,” I lied, turning my head to face him.
“Bella,” Edward replied, raising his eyebrow as he pushed my hair back from my face. He rolled his eyes, smirking, then reached over to the bedside table and hit the ‘stop’ button.
“Good,” he said, still grinning. “I thought the film was shit too.”
“How did you-” I began, but he cut me off by pulling me up to him, his hand moving to cup my cheek.
“I know you, Isabella Marie,” Edward replied, gazing into my eyes. “Much better than you give me credit for.”
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