Forgotten
A/N: Twilight Saga belongs to Stephanie Meyer, not me. As much as I would love to own it, I do not. No copyright infringement intended. I just like to play with her boys. (Insert evil laugh)
And so it begins…
Unknown
I check my phone for the 57th time in the past hour. Around me, people steadily file into the now full bar. The only seat available is the one across from me—the one my purse and foot is steadfastly occupying. Checking my phone one last time, I sigh.
She was late again. This was nothing unusual; this girl would be late for her own funeral. But it frustrated me nonetheless. It didn't matter that we'd been friends since she rolled into town six years ago with nothing but her car and a change of clothes. It didn't matter that I'd given her a place to stay, gotten her a job, helped her get—and stay—on her feet. It didn't even matter that I'd asked her to meet me an hour before I'd actually planned to arrive. No, she was now an hour and fifteen minutes late. Now, I was stuck sitting alone, saving a seat for someone who didn't look like they were going to show, and getting dirty looks from the bar patrons for holding said seat for said VERY late friend.
My phone vibrates on the table signaling a text:
omg… sry im l8 b thr n 10. ily! *~*MAGS*~*
Scoffing to myself, I text back:
hurry…ppl are starting to stare ;) xoxo Kat
I knew her "10" would more likely be thirty minutes; that made me mad all over again. I was pulling from my inner frustrations by an "AHEM" from someone behind me.
"Excuse me ma'am," a thick southern accent drawled.
Turning to face the stranger behind me, my jaw hit the floor. Before me, stood the picture of perfection—the epitome of every woman's fantasy. He was tall, clad in cowboy boots, snug fitting jeans slung loose on his hips, grey Henley tee hugging every plane and contour of his upper body, blonde, messy chin length curls that accented the sexiest smirk I'd ever had the pleasure of viewing. And his eyes—the most beautiful shade of honey I wanted to stare into forever. Beautiful as he was, something was a little strange, a little different about him.
"Excuse me ma'am," he repeats, my cheeks flushing bright in embarrassment. He moves to the chair in front of me
His smile deepens, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. "Is this seat taken?" he askes, his long finger curling top of the chair.
"Well, I've been holding it for a friend for the last hour, but she's late as usual. So you might as well take it. It serves her right having to stand—if she even shows." I finish my rant with a short "humph" and move my purse to my lap. Sitting across from me, he motions to someone in the crowd.
"My friend stood me up tonight, too. Was supposed to meet me twenty minutes ago," he drawls.
As if on cue, a woman appears with two beers. Taking one for himself and passing me the other, he holds up his bottle in a toast.
"To shitty friends and beautiful women," he winks and takes a long pull from his beer.
"And sexy men in cowboy boots," I add before following suit.
"Gotta name, beautiful?" he asks.
"Yeah, I'm Katrina, but everyone calls me 'Kat'. What about you, cowboy?"
Taking my hand in his, he kisses it once. "It's a pleasure to meet you Kat. I'm Ja—"
"Jasper?" I hear quietly behind me.
"Bella?" the so called Jasper questions, eyes wide as saucers. You'd have sworn he'd seen a ghost.
Who is Bella? I wonder.
I turned toward my friend, the look on her face frightening me. She had changed so much over the past six years, but the look on her face tonight was the same one I saw the day she arrived in Dallas.
"Mags, babe, you okay?" I ask, really beginning to worry. I stand and walk the few short steps to close the distance. She is more petite than I, but tonight she seems even smaller. Her head drops slightly, her short blond bob bouncing, as she slowly nods her head.
"Yeah, I'm okay. But we really need to leave," she says, her voice shaking.
"I take it you know Jasper," I ask, turning back to the table to retrieve my purse. It was apparent she knew him and obviously held some fear of him. If he happened to be someone from her past, someone who'd hurt her, then who was I to second guess her.
Jasper has not moved from his shocked expression. As I leaned down to gather my things, cool fingers wrap around my wrist. Looking up at him, his eyes are haunted. Staring deep into his golden eyes, I zone out. I feel so drawn to this man, yet I'm not sure why. His thumb lightly traces the underside of my wrist, back and forth across my pulse point, and I shiver.
"Please stay," he asks, his eyes pleading.
The pull on my other arm jerks me out of my trance. "Let's GO," Maggie huffs.
"Bella? I won't hurt her. I never meant to hurt you. So much has changed, please give me a chance to explain." He practically begs.
"Wait. Everyone stop," I sit back down to the table with Jasper. "I'm Kat," I state the obvious, pointing at myself. "This is Maggie." I point beside me to my friend. "I assume you're Jasper, but who the hell is this Bella you keep referring to?" That's twice now and I am thoroughly confused—not that it ever took much to confuse me.
"Let's just go, Kat." Maggie tugs my arm once more. Jasper has yet to release my hand, and I am beginning to feel like I'm in the middle of tug-o-war.
"I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers, and another beer." Someone had some explaining to do, and I wasn't leaving until someone told me what was going on.
Sighing in defeat, Maggie slumps her shoulders. She looks around for somewhere to sit down. Thankfully someone next to us had left their table. Releasing my hand, Jasper stands, takes an available chair, and places it on the side of our table, between his and my own chair. Maggie sits without much enthusiasm.
"Since no one wants to talk, I will." I'd never been shy, and talking was never an issue for me. "I'm going to go ahead and assume you are the Bella Jasper keeps referring to. I don't know why, but that doesn't surprise me. You were pretty shaken up when I met you. It makes sense."
Maggie simply nods her head. Jasper has resumed his statuesque position, expression blank.
"Can I also assume this is the ex?" I nod toward Jasper.
"No." He speaks! I think to myself.
"She dated my…" he pauses.
"Brother," finishes Maggie/Bella. At this point I'm not sure who she is.
"Then why the animosity when you saw Jasper?" I have this urge to defend? him. Geez where did that come from?
"Kat, it's a long story, one I don't think you'd understand. Let's just go home and forget tonight ever happened." My best friend reaches for her things.
"Please, Bella," Jasper starts.
"I'm not Bella anymore," Maggie practically yells. "Bella died a long time ago," she adds, her voice growing quieter. "I'm not the same girl anymore, Jasper." She finishes in a whisper.
"Just so I'm straight here, you did not date Jasper, but his brother. His brother was the reason you were so distraught," I pause when she gives me 'the look'. "Okay, okay, the reason you were a little upset. And, you hate Jasper too."
"I don't hate Jasper," she sighs, "it's just…"
"Okay, fine. But you will explain some of this to me when we get home," I state, my frustration seeping into my voice. Maggie nods and gets up from her seat at the table. When she's almost to the front I turn to Jasper, "And you, you, I want to see again. I also expect some answers as well." I quickly jot my cell number onto a napkin and slide it to him.
Finally moving, he gives me that sexy devilish smirk. "I like the sound of that. I'll call you soon," he winks.
I gather my phone and purse and rise from my chair. Maggie is waiting for me outside the bar, arms crossed over her chest. Walking past her, I hail a taxi. When one finally stops, I open the door. "You comin' or not?"I ask before sliding in.
She doesn't speak during the ride home; nothing in the elevator up to our apartment. The click of the deadbolt, as I lock the door behind us, set her free. Her shoulders shake as sobs pour through her. I wrap my arm around her, and guide her to the couch. Tears flow like a river, six years worth bursting through the dam she'd built.
"I'm sorry Mags, we don't have to do this. I didn't realize it was so bad, so hard to talk about. You can be Bella, Maggie, the Pope…Hell, I don't care who you are. You're my friend and I hate to see you like this." I was rambling. I didn't know what to say. I hadn't seen nor heard her cry since the night I met her. Even then it wasn't this bad. I really didn't care who she was, she was my best friend and nothing would change that.
"Shh," I pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry. It's okay. Don't cry." I chanted the words over and over, rocking my friend.
After a while, she pulled away from me. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she let out a long sigh.
"His name was Edward."
Dun, dun, dun… Reviews are much appreciated, and the story will be continued. Next chapter is Bella POV (the reason for her tardiness), and Doucheward makes an appearance of sorts! I'll continue if anyone is interested!