Dying Doesn't Seem So Cruel

Dahlia's P.O.V.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I stay the night with Alice tonight?"

"You've been spending a lot of time over there, honey."

"It's because, well, I dunno. Alice doesn't like town much. It's too hard for her to sleep with the neighbours being noisy all night."

"I understand. Will you go to school tomorrow?"

"Like usual. Yes, Mom."

"Ask your dad."

"Ugh. Dad! Where are you?"

"Study."

I walked down the hall to my father's den. Bookshelves lined three walls, full of encyclopedias, psychology and self-help books, and random classics, such as A Christmas Carol, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and All Quiet On the Western Front, just to name a few. A desk had been pushed against the fourth wall, and surrounding the computer were legal pads, pens and pencils, and a large amount of Post-It notes. My dad took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Hey, sweetie. What's up?"

"Can I stay the night with Alice?"

"What'd your mom say?"

"I had to talk to you."I hate when you two do this to me.

"I don't care if she doesn't, as well."

"Great. Mom, he said he doesn't care."

"I'll see you Monday then."

"Thank you so much."

I ran to my room and threw four quick outfits together, shoving them into a duffel-bag. Emma sat on my bed. I debated before deciding to leave her there.

"Dahlia!"

I opened my bedroom window and saw Edward's silver Volvo. None of the others were around. "Hang on. I'm almost done."

"Hurry!"

"Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad!"

They both gave me swift kisses good-bye, and I hurried out the front door. Edward grinned and rushed to my side when I tripped over my own two feet. He caught me; once I was steadied, I blushed and got into his Volvo. He was laughing when he drove away.

"Shut up."

"I'm sorry, but that was funny."

"No, it wasn't."

"'Lia, you cannot hide the fact that you're not mad at me."

"Quit reading my mind."

"I wasn't. Your face, your eyes, gave you away."

"Damn," I swore. "Okay, fine. So maybe it was funny. Maybe."

"It was. So how did you sleep last night?"

"Really good."

"What'd you dream about?"

"Three guesses."

"Emmett." His statement had no edge of uncertainty to it.

"Yes."

"Do you love him?"

"I. . . .I-I think so."

"He loves you."

"He's a great guy, but I'm not sure I could, you know. . ."

"Trust your heart with someone else?"

"Exactly."

"He won't hurt you."

"I know. It's just. . ." I looked out the window at the scenery flying by. "I don't want to be out of control. I don't want to feel insufficient or inferior, or like he's all I can think about. I kinda don't want to be in love."

"I don't know what to say. But, Dahlia, you're still in control of yourself. You're not insufficient, nor are you inferior. You both deserve each other, because you make each other happy."

"Well, we'll see."