A week passed since I came here, to this lumberjack's paradise, taking a good ride on my father's police car.
Nothing foreshadowed the upcoming bullshit.
I did all my homework perfectly. Also had to pretend that I'd learned something new in Russian, because I needed to somehow explain my knowledge. That's why in Phoenix I kept going to that wonderful lady who basically covered for me. I called it tongue muscle training in my head, but I would never admit it out loud to anyone. Because there are some things that don't really sound as unambiguous out loud. And I wouldn't want this lady to be imprisoned for molestation, just because I have phrased something badly.
It was still years to wait for normal phones and convenient Internet, but I found the next best thing for a meaningless pastime. A Song of Ice and Fire. Of course, I bought this brick of a book before I left. So first I unpacked, then I finished the studio, and only after, it turns out, I had time to take up re-reading. A Storm of Swords came out about five years ago, and there are already rumors that Martin will give birth to a sequel this year. Who said that first, I have no idea, but I have always been overwhelmed with skepticism about Martin, and frankly speaking I did not remember the release dates of books from my first life experience, but nevertheless, his tortoise-like writer's nature did not prevent me from enjoying this writer.
"Those knight novels again?" with dismissive cheerfulness, and at the same time totally knowing how much it annoys me, my once again girlfriend asked me and didn't shy away from finishing me off, as always. "How often do you try to escape the reality, exactly?"
She walked around my red monster and, for some reason, unbuttoned her leather jacket, which drew my attention to her bare collarbones.
Such a blockhead, she'll catch a cold in this weather.
Then she leaned on the front fender right next to me.
I was fleetingly angry at myself for my weakness and pliability when this frivolous blonde with the grip of a bulldog and the stubbornness of a rhinoceros gets down to business.
But I sighed, trying to calm myself down, and slammed the book shut.
Before she finished texting her father and got out of the passenger seat, I was standing by the truck and reading the chapter I didn't have time to finish reading yesterday. Once again because of her being nuisance. Of course, everything was for the best - sex makes the wait better. Books don't take offense if I prefer a girl to them. But girls are the opposite to books in this, so the choice was obvious. My father was on the weekend after a night shift, so last night he went fishing with his friends from La Push - Harry and Billy. The house was completely ours, which we used for our pleasure.
"Lillian, the fact that the cover depicts a knight does not mean that it is some sort of Ivanhoe. This book almost won Hugo in 2001, but it was bypassed by Harry Potter. Harry Potter, Lillian. It's an epic fantasy, and I'm sure that when it's filmed, it will be cooler than Harry Potter. PG eighteen, of course, but twice as cool for sure!
"Don't you dare compare Harry Potter and this nonsense of yours! Rowling is the best!"
She playfully poked me with her fist and smiled, as always, caring nothing for what I like, if she doesn't like it herself.
"I'm starting to remember why we broke up," I snorted, and her cheerful look faded a little, and she stepped away.
This snip at her gave me pleasure for exactly a second, and a moment later I felt awkward.
I didn't want to continue following the changes in her face after my words. That's why I saw Tyler Crowley's Chevrolet Astro rushing at us in time. That made me immediately rush forward, hoping to take Lillian out of the blow. I had time that's why I pushed off well and gave us acceleration. If you think about it, the last time I died was quite similar. But last time I didn't have time to grab hold of the one I was saving, and only managed to push away.
The screech of metal, the rumble of colliding cars, a crunch from somewhere on the side of my leg - in general, I succeeded in my plan, I did not die, and soon the pain would come. But so far the shock prevented it, so I squeezed Lillian harder in my arms and tried to distance myself from these useless feelings. She was conscious, quietly shedding tears, reached up to my chin and pressed her lips, whispering something softly. I couldn't hear - it was ringing in my ears, because I hit my head hard.
I turned my face wearily, because the back of my head was very sore even from the simplest contact with the asphalt, and I realized that I could not take my eyes off Rosalie's face, frozen nearby, clutching the arm of her hulky boyfriend... Or was that he who clung to her? I couldn't make out her expression, but I had a feeling, it really seemed that our eyes met for a reason.
This whole scene - and the feeling of warm lips whispering something obscure near my cheekbone - was the last clear frame before the pain engulfed me. It was followed by the darkness of the unknown, which brought back the horrific remembrance of my previous death.