I noticed a boy about my age, maybe a couple years older, standing by the big, white-and-gold French doors. He was barefoot with messy golden-blonde hair, and dressed in a suit that looked brand-new. His hands were overlapping in front of him. I hadn’t realized I was gawking, until he smiled sincerely at me. I smiled back hesitantly.
“Cecilia,” said Lucille in her melodic voice, “this is Edward Brown.” She motioned—her hand looked like it was dancing—to the astonishing boy on the porch.
He walked over to me without making a sound and held out his hand. I shook it; surprised by the fact his naked feet didn’t seem bothered by the scorching concrete.
“Hello,” he said, smiling genuinely again. His eyes were light brown and looked like they were laughing.
“Hi,” I replied, smiling as sincerely as I could under the circumstances. He appeared okay. If I would get to see him while I was here there would at least be one good thing about this hell.
Midnight Sun: She was dreaming of me. And it wasn't even a nightmare. She wanted me stay with her, there in the dream.--Edward Cullen