My fingers tightened in his hair, but I was pulling him closer now.
He was everywhere. The piercing sunlight turned my eyelids red, and the color fit, matched the heat. The heat was everywhere. I couldn't see or hear or feel anything that wasn't Jacob.
The tiny piece of my brain that retained sanity scream questions at me.
Why wasn't I stopping this? Worse than that, why couldn't I find in myself even the desire to want to stop? What did it mean that I didn't want him to stop? That my hands clung to his shoulders, and like they were wide and strong? That his hands pulled me to tight against his body, and yet it was not tight enough for me?
The questions were stupid, because I knew the answer: I'd been lying to myself.
Jacob was right. He'd been right all along. He was more than just my friend. That's why it was so impossible to tell him goodbye — because I was in love with him. Too. I loved him, much more than I should, and yet, still nowhere near enough. I was in love with him, but it was not enough to change anything; it was only enough to hurt us both more. To hurt him worse than I ever had.
In this moment, it felt as though we were the same person. His pain had always been and would always be my pain — now his joy was my joy, too, and yet his happiness was somehow also pain.
Almost tangible — it burned against my skin like acid, a slow torture. — Eclipse, Chapter 23: Monster
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