So this is my new story, The Only One, which I was inspired to start after writing a one shot from Paul's perspective called Don't Tell Me Who To Love, which can be found on my profile. You don't need to read that to understand this, but it'd be cool if you did. Please, tell me what you think, I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: All characters mentioned in this chapter but Jemma Duncan, Anna Clearwater, Lizzy Duncan and Hannah Duncan belong to Stephanie Meyers, I'm simply having some fun with them. No copyright infringement intended.
The bedroom door slammed shut, the action causing a breeze which wrapped itself around tendrils of long, dark hair and blew them into weary hazel eyes. Jemma Duncan loosened her hold on the bag she had been carrying around all day, watching it fall to the ground. Collapsing onto her bed, she rolled over onto her stomach, stretching her arms out above her and getting comfortable before closing her eyes. She was exhausted, but so glad to be home and reunited with her bed.
She'd spent all day at school, and then the entire afternoon had been comprised of cheerleading practice. Their coach was determined to see every girl crying at least once, it seemed.
What's more, she couldn't just resign herself to sleep now; she'd promised her best friend, Paul Lahote, that she'd go with him to a party one of their friends was throwing. Though she knew he'd understand if she backed out, she didn't want to make him go on his own.
She didn't see him enough as it was, due to her going to Forks High School while he went to the Tribal school. It wasn't that her father didn't like the Tribal School; he just knew that Forks High had better facilities and a better teacher to student ratio. Plus, Forks High had a cheerleading squad.
The ringtone of her phone invaded the silence, and Jemma reached down beside her thigh to where her phone had landed. Not bothering to check the ID, she answered with a somewhat sleepy "hello?"
"You're exhausted, aren't you?"
Jemma shook her head quickly even though she knew Paul couldn't see. "I'm fine, quit being so momentarily perceptive."
Paul laughed quietly. "It's fine, I'll just go by myself. Alone, with no one to keep me company. It's cool, Mimi. I'll be fine."
Jemma rolled her eyes. Not only at his very childish nickname for her, but at his predictability. She knew he was only teasing, but she knew he was also slightly serious. "I'm fine. Stop being a dick, Paul."
His response was instantaneous. "It's too hard" he said quite solemnly before bursting into laughter. Jemma rolled her eyes again, though she had to stop herself from laughing too.
"Dirty, dirty mind" she muttered.
"If nothing else, you can rely on that" he replied, and she could imagine the smirk he wore as if he were right in front of her.
"Just pick me up on time" she said, loosening the tie on her ponytail with one hand as she spoke.
"Yes, Jemima. Your wish is my command."
Amused, she hung up on him after saying goodbye through her laughter. She threw her phone back onto her bed, sighing as she ran her fingers through her hair.
A half hour later, Jemma stood in front of her closet wrapped in a towel, searching for something to wear. Looking at the dresses hanging up together, she thought about putting one on but just didn't feel like it. If she was being honest, she felt like wearing pyjamas. Normally she wasn't this antisocial, but tonight she just wanted to sleep.
If only she was okay with being a crappy friend.
Deciding that jeans and boots would suffice at a party, she got dressed. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower, but she knew it would dry in time and wouldn't need any extra primping. Fully dressed but bare-faced, she strode into the bathroom and gave herself a once-over.
She didn't look like the rest of her friends. She lived on the La Push reservation, but she didn't have any Native American heritage. She'd moved onto the reservation with her father when she was six, and that had been because he'd remarried. Looking at herself in the mirror, she picked out her differences. The first was her skin; her slightly tanned complexion was a far cry from the russet-skinned beauties she was surrounded by. Her long, slightly wavy hair was dark, but still lighter than everyone else's.
The most obvious difference, the difference which stood out the most, was her eyes. They were hazel, more green than brown, with only a ring of brown around each pupil causing them to be considered so. But aside from that ring of brown they were a brilliant, bright green. She liked her eyes, but she couldn't help but note their difference from everyone else's.
Shaking off thoughts of her physical differences, Jemma continued to get ready. Not bothering with anything fancy, she stuck to the basics of make-up; concealer, powder, mascara. She slid a small jar of lip balm off the counter as she walked out of the bathroom, dropping it into her handbag before sliding the strap up her arm. Closing her bedroom door behind her so her younger sister wouldn't be tempted to go inside, Jemma hid a yawn behind one hand as she descended the stairs.
Her mother, Hannah, stood at the kitchen bench, looking up as Jemma came nearer. "Still going out, Jem?"
Jemma shrugged. "Paul would have to go alone if I didn't go."
Her mother nodded, slicing an orange in half before cutting them into wedges and sliding the plate towards Jemma. "Have one of your sister's orange pieces if you're hungry."
Jemma smiled and put her bag down on the bench, sitting down on one of the three stools lined up in front of it. She watched as her mother moved on to cutting up vegetables, for dinner she presumed.
Hannah wasn't her biological mother, and Jemma could remember despising her at first, but as she'd grown up she'd realised DNA didn't really matter. Hannah loved her and treated her like a daughter; not once had she ever given Jemma reason not to love her back.
Picking up an orange wedge and sucking on it, Jemma turned at the sound of loud, hurried footsteps making their way towards the kitchen. "Food, food, food!" Jemma smiled as her four-year-old sister, Lizzy came into view.
It had taken Jemma's parents a while to have their own child, even though they were both young and healthy. Her father and biological mother had married young and without knowing each other long, so when their marriage broke down her father was still only in his twenties.
Lizzy's continued chanting of "food, food, food!" made Jemma laugh, and the orange she'd been eating fell down to the plate she'd taken it from.
"Come here, munchkin. Have your food." Jemma stood up, reaching down so she could pick Lizzy up before sitting back down again with Lizzy now on her lap. She handed Lizzy an orange wedge, laughing as she tried to fit the entire thing in her mouth.
Picking up her fallen orange wedge, Jemma placed it in her mouth so the skin faced outwards, crossing her eyes and looking at Lizzy. Instantly, the four-year-old burst into giggles, attempting to do the same but failing.
A knock at the door made Jemma realise it was time to go, lifting Lizzy off her lap and onto the chair next to them. Calling out "just a minute" to Paul, she quickly washed her hands of orange juice and picked up her handbag before kissing both her mother and Lizzy on the cheek. "Love you both. I'll see you later."
"Love you, Jemmy!" Jemma grinned at Lizzy, giving her another kiss on the top of her head before forcing herself to leave.
Opening the door, she was greeted by the sight of Paul leaning against the wall next to it, a cup of coffee in each hand. He smiled at the sight of her, holding out one of the cups. "I couldn't let you walk around caffeine-deprived".
Jemma grinned, taking the coffee and thanking him. Neither of them were the mushy type, preferring to let their actions say what their words couldn't. She shut the door behind her, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him; careful not to spill her coffee. She had to reach up further than she usually did, making her frown. "You need to stop growing; you're making me feel short here."
Paul smirked. "I made it past six foot."
She rolled her eyes at the look on his face. "Don't be so self-satisfied."
He laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulder and leading her towards his car. "Don't be so critical. You're just jealous that you're a shorty."
Jemma laughed. "I'm five foot nine, I am not a shorty!"
Paul opened the door for her, letting his arm fall from her shoulders. His hand skimmed over the side of her waist and the small of her back before he walked around to the other side of the car. "Yeah you are, you're my shorty." He raised his eyebrow playfully at her before winking and she laughed, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks.
Inside the car she rifled through his stack of CDs until she found one she deemed suitable, sliding it into the player. "Better be good" he murmured and she rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at him. "So mature, Mimi."
"If nothing else, you can count on that" she grinned, mimicking his words from earlier.
He just shook his head, focussing his eyes on the road. She sipped her coffee, letting it warm up her cold fingers.
It wasn't far to the party and they barely made it through two entire songs but, as she'd planned, they were ones she knew he'd sing along to. Too often he'd just sit there and tap his fingers on the wheel to the beat, or his leg if it was a slow song, so she'd mentally comprised a list of songs he couldn't help but sing along to. Generally they were old ones that only they seemed to know the words to; definitely not your party songs unless it was an annoyingly catchy one.
He'd told her once that most of them were songs he used to listen to with his mum. He didn't speak of her often and of those times very rarely was it fondly, so she treasured that good memory on his behalf. His parents had divorced when he was eight and he'd moved to La Push with his dad shortly after. They'd met and bonded over their mutual hurts. Not your average common ground amongst eight year olds, but that was how they'd started.
Turning the music down as they arrived, Jemma rifled through her bag for her lip balm. Flipping down the mirror, she applied it with her index finger. When she flipped it back up, she looked over to see Paul watching her intently. "What up, creepy?"
He smirked. "Not creepy. I was merely observing."
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
"You know, I've heard your eyes can fall out if you do that too much."
She tried not to laugh, but failed. "Lame joke. Did you steal that from one of the guys or is that a personal creation?"
Opening the door and getting out, he didn't respond until he was on her side of the car. He reached for the door but she got to it first. "I searched cheesy jokes on my computer when I was bored" he shrugged as he shut the door behind her, his hand resting on her back when he retracted it from the car. She just smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear. "Come on" he said as he led her to the entrance of the house.
The heat from his hand burned through the fabric of her light grey shirt, and she swore the feeling of his hand resting there would be seared onto her skin long after he'd pulled away. She waited for him to do just that, but he continued to keep physical contact with her as they walked deeper into the chaos of the party. He'd never been overly protective of her, always knowing she was perfectly capable, so that reason was ruled out. She liked it though, so tried not to think about it too much.
The usual crowd hung out inside the house. Jacob Black, Quil Ateara, Embry Call and his girlfriend Anna Clearwater sat on the couch. Jemma waved at Anna; she didn't go to the Tribal School but that didn't mean she didn't know all the kids who did. She and Anna weren't particularly close, but close enough for Jemma to consider her more a friend than acquaintance.
While searching for their friends, she felt Paul tense up beside her, his hand moving around her waist to grip her hip. At first she thought he'd spotted someone he knew she didn't like, but then she realised his grip was for his comfort, not hers.
Sam Uley stood in the corner of the room, his large dark eyes overseeing the commotion of the party. By his side stood Jared Cameron, his arms crossed over his chest. It was the first time Jemma had seen Jared since he'd taken time off school, and the change was striking. His hair had been cut short, and Jemma could just make out a tattoo on his shoulder through the dark lighting of the party. His normal jovial demeanour was gone too, or at least hidden away for the moment. What shocked her most, though, was the look he was giving Paul.
Paul had expressed distaste for Sam before, but he'd been on good terms with Jared as far as Jemma knew. They had a few classes together and greeted each other in the hallways on occasion, so Jemma had no clue why Paul would warrant that look. Jared looked at Paul like he pitied him, but also like he knew something they didn't. It was a look of many meanings, and she didn't like it one bit. She was just about to insist they move on, but before she could Sam pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning against, walking straight towards them.
This wouldn't be good.