Summary: His life remains quiet. Her days stretch on. AU. AH. OOC.
Rating: T - Language
Disclaimer: SM owns everything Twilight.
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Wade in your Water
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1.
The breeze ruffles his semi-wet hair as he stares out at the surf. With his bare feet in the sand he allows the orange and purple rays of the rising sun to sweep over him, light touching every inch of his form.
Resting his elbows on his knees he slouches forward, eyes crinkling as he contemplates his next move. The sound of the waves breaking on the shore calms something deep inside him, something which a life full of privilege could never placate. It's a dull throb, something which blooms in the middle of the night, something which drags him out to the shore before the sun has risen.
And alone in the water, he finally can breathe.
"I thought I'd find you here," her voice says as it breaks through the sounds of the blue ocean. She stabs her board into the sand and collapses down beside him.
He acknowledges her by the small quirk on the corner of his mouth. She's always late, no matter the time or day. He can smell the scent of the wax she uses on her board, mixing with the scent of her sun-kissed skin. It covers her in a light embrace, distinctly her in every way.
"Have you seen Jake yet?" She queries, nudging his knee with hers.
This time he does look at her.
With the sun touching her face he has to hold back the smile that threatens to bloom. Long dark hair tangles in the wind, sweeping back from her elegant neck, uncovering her face. Her sharp brows are drawn down, berry lips pressing together in an almost pout which he finds comical. Thin black straps wrap over her collar bones to the nape of her neck, tying to a delicate bow.
Sweeping down, his eyes run over the full sleeve of ink which runs from the top of her shoulder to the curve of her wrist, grey and black shadows of her heritage drawn on her skin for the whole world to see. He finds that just like everything about her, he is the complete opposite to her in every way imaginable.
He sighs, shaking his head in response. "Last time I saw him he was, less than friendly."
Leah quirks a brow as she looks over him, her dark eyes awaiting an explanation.
"Long story," he tells her as he stands, brushing the sand from his palms over his half-wetsuit. The second skin grips his waist tightly, all the way down to his ankles. He's never been able to get used to a full body suit and it doesn't hurt that the female population on the island appreciated the view.
As he looks down, she angles her chin back and looks up at him.
"You've already gone out?"
"Been and gone, Clearwater."
Grabbing his board he makes his way up the beach, feet sinking into the warming sand as he heads to his Jeep.
"I'll see you at Bella's Bar tonight?" She calls to his back, projecting her voice on the winds.
He gives a half wave to assure her he'll be there like always, but he doesn't look back.
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2.
He looks at himself as he stands before the full-length mirror, fixing the lapel of his suit jacket. He feels different than he had that morning.
Trading the wetsuit for Armani, he even looks different.
Instead of wind-swept hair, it's now combed back, not a single strand out of place. His sun-bronzed shoulders and chest are now hidden under the crisp white dress shirt, wrapped in the couture of the grey designer suit. His blue eyes are dark against the whitish-blonde of his hair, his mouth pressing into a firm line as he secures the tiny initialled cuffs to his shirt.
Even though he looks and feels different, he can still smell the ocean on his skin, overpowering even the spicy cologne that has become his go-to scent.
Fixing the material around his wrists he buttons the jacket and takes one more look in the mirror. He assesses each aspect of his appearance, even down to the tan leather dress shoes before he feels adequate enough to leave the sanctity of the penthouse floor of the hotel.
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3.
Wringing out her hair, Leah flips it over her shoulder before heading to her cousin's beat up truck with her board tucked under her arm. Throwing it in, she rounds up the duffel in the back seat and slips on a pair of denim shorts and a tee before climbing in.
It takes ten minutes to arrive back at the old plantation home and another ten trying to convince her aunt she isn't up to anything.
"You're too skinny, girl. You need to eat, instead of surfing and running around the beaches with those Haole. You need to get your head out of the clouds and start looking for a nice Hawaiian boy before there are none left on the Island."
"Aun-tee, pl-ease," she huffs.
Once she's inside the small room she locks the door and falls onto the bed.
Tendrils of black span the white cotton of the sheets as she groans into it.
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4.
He's lived in Maui since he was ten, and yet, he feels like he doesn't belong. Even at twenty-eight he feels like an outsider on the island.
Standing beside the BMW, he stares at the shanty shack in the middle of the most majestic background. With the sun already set, the low lights of the colourful bulbs which wrap around the verandas call to him, inviting him into a world he doesn't belong to. Music thrums through the air, loud drumlines and crooning hurt filled voices ringing true.
Removing his suit jacket, he throws it inside the vehicle and unpins his dress shirt sleeves, rolling it to his elbows. He knows he should have changed before arriving, but he didn't have the heart to go all the way back to the suite.
Ruffling his hair, he makes his way inside, pushing open the rickety door.
Bodies fill the inside of Bella's bar, most dancing, others laughing and rough housing. Paper lanterns hang from the ceiling, bulbs of light illuminating the space just enough. Some people scatter around the juke box while others sit amongst themselves, guitar in hand, making their own music.
Besides the bar, he orders a drink.
Elbow leaning down he looks across the make shift dance floor, searching for the reason for his attendance. The temperature inside the large shack remains steady with the help of winds from the easterly breeze which roll through the old weathered establishment. His eyes dance over the hoards, chin jerking up in greeting as he recognises some of the faces.
Quil Ateara strolls over to where he's standing, fingers up signalling for another beer behind him. "Howzit?"
Jasper takes a long sip. "Same, Same."
"You still ripping?"
Jasper nods.
"Ma boy." Quil grins, white teeth gleaming even under the multitude of warm yellow bulbs, as he claps him on the shoulder. "Maybe see you out there, cuz. Pe'ahi should be slamming huge ones this weekend. You should pull through. It's been awhile since there's been any shark bait in the water."
"Maybe," Jasper shrugs, ignoring the jibes. He was used to them by now.
He watches as Quil stalks off, beers in hand.
"Hey," a smooth honey voice sounds as she slides onto a stool at the bar. The scent of frangipani drifts under his nose, identifying the scents owner immediately. Ever since he was ten, he's found the scent calming, almost as if it were part of the island, the part that is ingrained in his memories.
"Hey," he murmurs back, eyeing her from the side.
Her midnight black hair is pulled up, showing off her elongated neck and the tiny pearls in her ears. Dark maroon lipstick covers her full mouth, the splay of sun freckles unhidden by the fact that she does not wear heavy make-up. Her lashes look thicker though, and her brows more defined. He enjoys the subtly of her look, especially the short white denim shorts and cropped navy tee that allows one of her shoulders to peek through as well as showing off her toned mid-section.
"How long have you been here?"
"Not long." He replies, setting his beer down on the counter. "Can I get you something?"
"Nah, I'm good. I have to be up early anyway. Just came for the change in scenery, you know."
"You're heading to Jaws in the morning?" He raises an eyebrow when he sees her fidget.
She smiles to herself mostly. "I don't know why you still call it Jaws, Jasper. You know you can call it Pe'ahi. Only tourists call it Jaws."
He shrugs, "I don't know why. I guess, I just do."
Jasper thanks the barmaid for the new beer. Taking a sip, he eyes the crowd again. "You paddling out tomorrow?"
Leah turns to him, her smooth legs turning on the stool as she does. His eyes flutter, fighting the urge to look down and take in every inch of her skin. To feel more than just friendship between them. She taps the little stitched logo on her top which reads 'Billabong' and nods her head.
"Sponsors are going to be out. They want to see that they're getting their monies worth. The circuit starts in a couple of months and they want to get some promotional stuff done as well. Photos and all that."
He nods in understanding as he takes another sip.
"Jasper," she says quietly, "We should talk about the other night."
He interrupts her, "It's better we don't. Is Jacob coming tonight?"
Leah huffs quietly and turns back in her seat. "Maybe, I don't know. I have no idea what my cousin does."
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5.
Instead of leaving, like she said she would, she allows him to take her home after he downs several more drinks. The ride is silent as the warm breeze ruffles through the open windows, drowning them both in the scent only the mainland could conjure.
When he drives past the turn off to her Aunt's house she fidgets in her seat. "You missed my turn."
She watches as his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. "I know. We need to talk."
Blowing out a breath she stretches her neck, tilting her chin to glance at the ceiling of the car. She closes her eyes briefly until he speaks.
"The deal on North Shore closed yesterday." He says in a strange tone.
She quirks her brow. It had been common knowledge that Jasper's family had been trying to seal that part of the island for the past decade. Locals had stopped the commercial marketing of most of the big island which included Hale Enterprises and their land grabs. Lots of people had invested in its development, mostly corporations and international interests, so there was always money pushing against the protests.
"How?" she asks in disbelief. "My family would never agree to that. Jacob, would never."
Given the tumultuous history, there was no way the government would let non-Natives procure the land.
His lip rolls through his teeth, tempting her to kiss him. It's one of the only things she's thought about since they first had.
"Jacob signed on the dotted line yesterday. Business is business. Unfortunately no one can stop progression and innovation."
Suddenly the thought of kissing him makes her sick. She wants to ball her fist and knock his lights out. Her breathing quickens. He knew how much North Shore meant to her. How much it should have meant to him; especially since he grew up along side her.
"What kind of monstrosity are you going to build there?" It comes out harsher than she intends.
Jasper quirks a brow in her direction, taken aloof by the comment. "Monstrosity? Sweet Leah, please don't be mad." He reaches out to touch her face, and sighs when she jerks away from him quickly.
"It's people like you..." she starts softly.
He looks at her, no emotion flitting over his face, nothing but steeled indifference. "People like me?"
Her heart clenches as she tries to find the words. "People like you... You pretend to care, to love, but you only want one thing. You want to consume everything in your path. No matter the consequences." She isn't sure if she's talking about North Shore or his own treatment of her. Another thought dances in her mind. "Is that why you.. slept with me? To get closer to Jacob?"
"Leah- that's not what this is about. You know I have trouble - expressing - certain aspects of my emotions-. I slept with you because - no one has ever wanted me like you do. Being related to Jacob... was a coincidence."
She doesn't hear his words, not when the prominent mask of quilt flitters over his face. She should have known. They'd all gone through high school together, and he hadn't acknowledged her at all until he found out she was related to Jacob. Her eyes water thinking back to all the instances they shared. His words hurt her more than she could admit.
"Stop the car."
"Leah."
"STOP THE FUCKING CAR!"
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6.
Leah bursts into her Aunt's house, on the hunt for her cousin. She pushes her hair off her forehead, sweat smearing moisture across every plane of her skin. She's shaking, shuddering in rage. She throws her shoes to the floor and screams at the top of her lungs.
"JACOB!"
When she hears panicked movements she moves towards them with intent.
"JAKE! Where the hell are you?"
"Fuck! What's all the hollering about?" Her cousin asks as his head pops out of his room.
"You SON OF A BITCH! You sold out!"
Jacob growls in response, pulling Leah into his room. She slaps and pulls at him as he tries to subdue her against the wall by pinning her body still. She lets out muffled shrieks as she screams at him from under his palm. Her eyes blaze, her nails catching his cheek causing him to hiss in pain.
He grasps her and shoves her into the wall several times.
"STOP, LEAH! Settle down!" He hiss whispers at her. "Just - let me fucking explain."
She fights against him, arching her body to push off the wall. She tears at his forearm with her nails, catching skin and blood again. He hisses, slamming her back again into the wall. This time, her skull knocks into the wall with a blunt thud. Her eyes feel heavy as her cousin tilts her, half catching her, half holding her to the wall.
"You sold out, Jake," she mumbles, a heavy metallic taste circling her mouth.
"LOOK- it was either that, or have their lawyers take it anyway. We can't hold them out forever. It's just the way it is. Why not allow us to get a cut, instead of having the fucking courts favour them and leave us with nothing."
She presses her palm against his chest to try and push him away, but she feels so weak, like a floating cloud.
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7.
Jasper's life is quieter.
He feels indifferent but notices the slithers of discontent within the silence.
He oversees the clearing of North Shore, watching as the natural green habitat is torn down, replaced by steel structures and concrete walls. He doesn't allow himself to dwell on the absence of Leah.
She was, a constant. Nothing more.
Which is what he tells himself when he paces the penthouse in the middle of the night. He doesn't sleep as well, having swapped the North Shore project for his morning liaisons with the ocean; and subsequently her.
Sometimes, he isn't alone in the middle of the night, the over population of bars and tourists on the island granting him with a buffet of women who are willing to warm his bed. But sometimes, he dreams of her. Her face, her lips. And her scent. God, if he could just bottle it, keep it, maybe he wouldn't be so displeased with all of the females that just weren't her. That could barely hold a bar to her.
But she was gone.
So his life remains quiet.
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8.
Leah's days stretch on, long after the sun has set and the house is quiet.
She works a schedule, trying to forget about the betrayal in her life.
She wakes, works on preparing a strategically designed diet, works on her core strength, conditioning, fuelling her body and talking shop with her manager. And that was all before she even hit the water.
She lives away from her family now, scraping enough together to afford an overpriced pad near a secluded beach, with a room mate. The sand is darker, the surrounds and surf harsh, which makes the normal hike with her board, a 20 minute trek. She supposes the endurance of it helps and the waves really are better on your own.
After she's hit the water, she paddles in and sits on the beach. She lays back against the warm sand and watches as the sun fades slowly behind the horizon. Everything fades away with the light, but she enjoys the feeling. It feels peaceful.
So when she walks back to the beach batch in the evenings, dragging her board, she sits on the porch, polishing it before packing it away.
After that it's usually a quick dinner or a meet up with her manager, maybe some drinks, before she returns back to the porch, forearms resting on the railing, eyes combing the darkness of the surf.
Her life is a process. Run on a schedule.
She ignores calls from Jacob and from her Aunt. She doesn't know if she has the heart to forgive either of them.
In the darkness, when her room mate is asleep or working on the cars in the shed around back, her thoughts drift to Jasper.
The same Jasper that doesn't call. That doesn't try to mend the rift between them. She supposes she had expected nothing less from him. She was just another blimp on his radar, a notch in a belt, a means to an end.
She misses him sometimes if she's truthful. His aloof personality, his hard yet curious stares. Sometimes she misses the tiny scar on his neck, the one that would flex when he clenched his jaw too tight in thought. But she mostly just misses his voice.
But - whatever they had, was now gone.
So her days stretch on.
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