"I didn't get an invitation. I'm hurt," he teased.

"Consider yourself invited. It's supposedly my party, so I should be able to ask who I want."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically, and his eyes slipping closed once more.

"I wish you could come," I said without any hope. "It would be more fun. For me, I mean."

"Sure, sure," he mumbled. "That would be ... very ... ... wise ..." His voice trailed off. A few seconds later, he was snoring.

Poor Jacob. I studied his dreaming face, and liked what I saw. While he slept, every trace of defensiveness and bitterness disappeared and suddenly he was the boy who had been my very best friend before all the werewolf nonsense had gotten in the way. He looked much younger. He looked like my Jacob.

Bella

Eclipse, The Twilight Saga.