What had made me say that?

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What had made me say that?  I supposed it was honest, at least.  And perhaps
she'd hear the unsubtle warning my words implied.  Maybe she would realize that she
should get up and walk away as quickly as possible?
She didn't get up.  She stared at me, waiting, as if I'd left my sentence unfinished.
"You know I don't have any idea what you mean," she said when I didn't
continue.
That was a relief.  I smiled.
"I know."
It was hard to ignore the thoughts screaming at me from behind her back—and I
wanted to change the subject anyway.
"I think your friends are angry at me for stealing you."
This did not appear to concern her.  "They'll survive."
"I may not give you back, though."  I didn't even know if I was trying to be
honest now, or just trying to tease her again.  Being near her made it hard to make sense
of my own thoughts.
Bella swallowed loudly.
I laughed at her expression.  "You look worried."  It really shouldn't be funny?
She should worry.
"No."  She was a bad liar; it didn't help that her voice broke.  "Surprised,
actually?.  What brought this on?"
"I told you," I reminded her.  "I got tired of trying to stay away from you.  So I'm
giving up."  I held my smile in place with a bit of effort.  This wasn't working at all—
trying to be honest and casual at the same time.
"Giving up?" she repeated, baffled.
"Yes—giving up trying to be good."  And, apparently, giving up trying to be
casual.  "I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may."
That was honest enough.  Let her see my selfishness.  Let that warn her, too.
"You lost me again."
I was selfish enough to be glad that this was the case.  "I always say too much
when I'm talking to you—that's one of the problems."
A rather insignificant problem, compared to the rest.
? 2008 Stephenie Meyer