Summary: What if Jacob had gotten his chance? Set sometime in early Twilight, right after Bella moved to Forks. Slightly AU; some elements appear a bit out of order. Bella/Jacob
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own wacky imagination. Song belongs to Dashboard Confessional.
Author's Note: Next part coming soon - please read & review! :)
// invitation only grand farewells
crash the best one of the best ones
clear liquor and cloudy eyed
too early to say goodnight //
*
So. Another Saturday night. At home.
Cool.
I was okay with it. Really. I'd never really been much of a social butterfly – more like a caterpillar, actually. Slow, solitary and awkward. Now if only I had suction cups on my feet, now there was something I could use…
At dinner, Charlie had requested, in fifty or fewer words as per his usual fashion, that I do something fun tonight. "And I don't mean sit up in your room all night with your nose in a history book. That's not fun. Go out with your friends, or something. Please." The guilt in his voice was faint but it was there. I hastily agreed, mostly to appease him, but now I was stuck wondering what exactly I would do.
I made a quick mental scan through my list of options. I could call Angela or Jessica and see what they were doing. I could call, um…I think there was a girl in my math class that smiled at me once. Or maybe it was at the girl behind me.
Okay, so my list was admittedly short. Not necessarily a negative, but that didn't make my situation any easier.
Sighing, I opened my cell and searched through my contacts for Angela's number. I found it quickly and pressed the send button. Four rings, then five, passed before her voicemail greeting began and I hung up before I had to leave a message. If people thought I was clumsy in real life, hearing me try to sound natural and friendly when I know I'm being recorded wouldn't do me any favors. I scrolled through my phone again until I found Jessica's number and prepared myself to sound curious without too much desperation…
The shrill pealing of my ringtone cut through the air and shocked me so badly I tossed my phone into the air. It landed in a pile of dirty laundry, still sounding its musical alarm. I grabbed it clumsily and answered before I could check who it was. "Hello?" I half-shrieked.
"Bella," said the voice on the other end cautiously. "Are you okay?" It was a guy. Definitely a guy. Of this much I was absolutely sure.
"Me? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I replied breathlessly. I tried to sound casual. "Um…who is this?" I winced silently at how unintentionally blunt that came out.
"It's Mike. Mike Newton, from school?" The disappointment was obvious. I dropped my head into my hands.
"Mike. Right. I'm so sorry. You…sound different on the phone." Ugh. I hope I never have to testify in court someday. I'd get the most innocent of men fried. "What's up?"
"I was just wondering if you got anything going on tonight. I mean, you probably do, I don't mean to assume you're just sitting at home doing homework or something." I cringed. "But, if you don't have plans already or anything, a bunch of us were gonna go up to First Beach and hang out. Build a fire, eat stuff." Only in Forks would forty-degree weather constitute a day at the beach. "It would be cool if you wanted to come. With me." He added the last part so quietly I almost missed it.
I closed my eyes. Mike and I had been going through this song and dance since we met. Any other night I would have gently denied him and tried to distract his attention to ease the sting, but tonight I was all too happy to comply. "Sure!" I replied, a little too eagerly.
Relief, and more than a little surprise, flooded his voice. "Okay, uh, I'll pick you up by seven, then."
"Actually, I'll meet you guys there," I corrected. "I like having my own ride home, so nobody has to worry about me." And so I can leave if things get too date-like.
He made a sound that made me think he was going to argue, but he let it go, probably figuring he had achieved enough by just getting me to attend. "Oh, alright then. I'll see you there!" He hung up before I could acknowledge him.
I took a deep breath and turned to my closet to decide what to wear. Not that my wardrobe choices were affected by much; I'd wear jeans and a t-shirt to anything as long as nobody had died. After a minute's deliberation I decided on a hooded sweatshirt with my most comfortable jeans. I tossed the essentials – wallet, phone, keys – into my only purse and trudged down the stairs.
Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table, sorting through a stack of bills with his checkbook open. He glanced at me and raised his eyebrows, clearly pleased I was taking his request seriously. "So you decided to run off after all. Where're you going?"
"First Beach. With some kids from school. I won't be out late."
"Kids from school? Which kids?"
I rattled off a few names of the kids I guessed would be there. "And Mike Newton," I added.
This seemed to satisfy Charlie. I knew he approved of Mike's family particularly. He nodded and waved me off toward the door. "Alright, alright, I'm done with the inquisition," he joked. "Have fun."
I smiled at him and headed out to my truck. Fun.
Right.
The drive to First Beach was short, but just long enough to allow me some time to build a mental contingency plan. If Mike got too cozy (which given past occurrences was more than likely to happen) I could fake feeling sniffly and push him away…for his own good, of course. I could pretend to trip over something – not that I'd really need to pretend, though, if I was being honest with myself – and insist on going home so I could nurse my injury. If worse came to worse I could always call my dad and exaggerate my end of the conversation so that it sounded like he needed me home right away. Sorry guys, Chief Swan says.
I parked near the small congregation of typical high school kids' vehicles – a rusty Toyota Corolla from sometime in the mid-nineties, two elderly Civics with an assortment of goofy bumper stickers covering the bumpers, someone's mom's minivan. The shadows of twilight were beginning to color everything a soft blue. Down on the sand Mike and the other kids were huddled around what could barely be called a bonfire. I pulled my heavy coat tightly around me and began the rocky descent down the hill towards them.
"Bella!" Mike spotted me from the bottom and jumped up to meet me. I was relieved that he did – the last third of the hill was all rocks and I didn't know how I was going to negotiate it without tumbling down.
"Hey." He grabbed my hand and I hopped down the last rock. "Maybe we should start building me a sand igloo down here, because there's no way I'm ever gonna be able to get back up that hill."
"Aw, no worries, Arizona. I'll carry you back up if I have to." He shot a grin back at me before he turned away and led me toward the bonfire, which was slightly more robust than it had been when I arrived. "Look who's here, guys!" he called.
As I came closer I began to recognize everyone I knew. Jessica, Angela, Eric, Tyler Crowley, and a few people I didn't know. I waved tentatively and sat down beside Angela, trying to cram myself between her and Jessica. Mike watched me hopefully and looked slightly dejected as he regained his place next to Tyler.
"I'm glad you're here, Bella," Angela said with a warm smile. "You probably had something else going that's more exciting than this but it's cool that you came. Even if it is just small-town fun."
Why does everyone believe that I have this rollicking social life? I considered correcting her but thought better of it. At least they thought I was cool enough to actually have a social life, and this wasn't a pity invitation.
What passed for daylight in northern Washington began to wane not long after I sat down. Before an hour had passed nighttime crept up and swallowed the beach in a thick blanket of darkness. The bonfire slowly grew until it was hearty and managed to keep all of us warm. I caught Mike staring longingly in my direction when he thought I wasn't looking, but I kept Angela and Jessica talking enough to prevent him from making his move.
Tyler suddenly stood up and flashed a big grin at all of us. He turned and bolted up the steep incline with surprising grace and disappeared behind the group of cars.
"Oh, sweet," exclaimed Eric with a smirk. "This party's about to get started!"
Tyler reappeared at the edge of the hill with a large box lodged over his shoulder, looking mischievous. He hurried down, sliding here and there, but made it to the bottom unscathed. I could read the label on the box now, and I froze once I realized what it said.
Labatt Blue. Light, as if that made any difference.
Bella and alcohol had never really made an acquaintance. Renee had given me sips of champagne every now and then, or a glass of wine when I visited my grandparents, but that was the extent of it. Mostly because my mom had very little tolerance for alcohol and I had to keep an eye on her when she'd had one too many, but I never appreciated the wacky things people did when they drank. I wasn't uptight – I had no moral opposition to drinking. I just didn't want to subject my already questionable coordination and social palatability to any more disadvantages. Nevertheless, here I was, surrounded by people that could potentially be my best friends for the foreseeable future, and my participation might make or break that. Besides, who really leaves high school without at least one episode of clandestine drunkenness?
Peer pressure. That's what this was. I could hear Charlie in my ear with all his fatherly (and police officer-ly) mantras: If Everyone Else Were Jumping Off of a Bridge, Would You Do it Too? Just Say No. Hugs Not Drugs. Well, something like that.
I swallowed hard as Tyler broke open the box with a flourish and began passing around the cans. Everyone accepted one, even Angela, who I'd hardly pegged as someone that indulged in drinking. When a can landed in my lap I mumbled a thank you and stared at it like it had legs. Would I even like the taste? What if I couldn't stomach it? Could I politely decline?
Mike and Eric had already cracked open theirs and were racing to see who could finish first. I felt a nudge from my left side and Angela whispered in my ear, "Drink fast. You won't notice the taste as much." She wrinkled her nose sheepishly. Gratefully I smiled and popped the tab. Here goes nothing, I thought.
Two hours and five beers later, my head was swimming, I could barely put one foot in front of the other, and I couldn't remember where I dropped my purse.
I was having a blast.
Angela, Jessica and I had our arms around each other, professing our undying, unconditional love for one another and giggling. The guys were cutting holes in the side of the remaining cans and sucking the beer out (what I later learned is referred to as "shotgunning"), smashing the empties against their foreheads.
After a particularly lengthy bout of girlie giggling, I made an honest attempt to stand up. Everything around me spun and I almost took a headfirst dive into the fire. "Whoa, whoa, Bella!" Mike was at my side in an instant, but he was swaying only a little less than I was. "Let's try to fall away from the inferno, okay?" He slid his arm around my waist and for once I was grateful. We stumbled outside of the circle surrounding the fire and his arm tightened. "So, now that we're alone, sort of-"
Even in my inebriated state I knew what was coming. No, no, no, I thought, panicked. I stiffened and broke away abruptly. "I don't feel so good," I blurted. "My stomach…I don't feel good."
"Ohhh." That did the trick. Mike backed away, eyes on the ground. "Uh, I'll get…somebody," he muttered as he turned and made a beeline for the campfire.
I shook my head in exasperation. As soon as I did that, I realized that I didn't feel good. Terror struck me as the nausea hit like a ton of bricks – I was going to hurl up everything in my stomach (which was pretty much just beer at this point) and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. This was definitely not the best way to forge new friendships: hey, guys, thanks for inviting me out, sorry about your floor mats. All I could do was hope that everybody else was too drunk to notice.
Uh-oh. About that. Everybody else was drunk. Like, really drunk. Tyler was passed out, mouth slack, drooling, on his coat. The girls were huddled together, leaning against each other for support, also totally unconscious. From somewhere in the distance I heard the unmistakable sounds of retching. Great. Charlie would love this.
My poor abused stomach emptied itself then, spilling out in a festering torrent on the sand. I fell to my knees and groaned. I couldn't go home like this. But, from the looks of my newfound drinking buddies, I wasn't going to be going home at all, and that was worse.
"Tsk, tsk, Bella Swan. What would your father think?"
That voice was much too coherent to be one of my drunken cohorts. Wearily I raised my head. "Jacob?"
Jacob Black stood in front of me with his arms crossed. A disapproving look was painted across his boyish face. "Well, this is something you don't see every day. The police chief's seventeen-year-old daughter puking her guts out after a night of binge-drinking." His expression slid into a sly smile. "Think of the blackmail potential!"
My face must have reflected exactly the degree of horror I felt, because Jacob instantly dropped to his knees and took my arms gently in his. "I'm kidding, Bells, sorry. Let me help you up." He gripped my forearms firmly in his hands – had I ever noticed before how large his hands were? – and carefully pulled me to my feet. Wobbling, I collapsed into his arms. "O-okay, maybe we should reconsider letting you stand on your own. Where's your truck?"
I pathetically tossed my hand in the general direction of the makeshift parking lot.
He glanced up the hill, and then over to the group lying around the campfire. He sighed heavily. "Bella, it's almost two in the morning. Your dad's gonna freak if you come home like this. You can't drive yourself, and neither can any of those numbnuts that got you drunk in the first place." He chewed his bottom lip in contemplation. "Bella, you're gonna have to come back to my house with me. I'm not leaving you here to sleep outside. It's not…a good idea." He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn't.
I was too drunk to argue with him. "Okay," I agreed, and leaned closer into him for support. His shirt was soft and warm and it felt wonderful against my cold cheeks. "You're hot," I mumbled as he scooped me up in his arms and began to carry me, bridal-style.
He chuckled. "Yeah, I have that effect on girls."
"No, you're hot. Warm. You don't have a coat on…where's your coat?" My last few words were so slurred I'm surprised he could understand me at all.
Jacob slowed his pace a bit. "Uh, I guess I don't mind the cold so much."
"I don't like cold," I informed him. "Why are you outside? It's late…are you having a party too?"
He hesitated before answering. "Nah, I was just going for a walk." He pulled the thick knit cap off of his head and smushed it onto mine. "Here."
I yanked the cap further down on my head until it nearly covered my eyes. Something occurred to me, cut through my beer-addled stupor like a razor blade. "What happened to your hair?"
"What's with the Twenty Questions?" he countered. "I thought you were supposed to be drunk. Close your eyes, try to sleep if you can. I can't have you babbling like this when we get near the house, or Billy's gonna think something's up."
"Mmhmm." I was asleep not even thirty seconds later.
*
My head throbbed.
My mouth felt like sandpaper.
My stomach had turned itself inside out and was trying to exit my body via my throat.
All this I was aware of before I even opened my eyes.
When I did, I instantly shut them again. The sun streamed gloriously through the tiny window and it hurt so bad I could've sworn it was a giant laser trying to cut my corneas from my eyeballs. I groaned.
I wanted to die. If a massive satellite crashed through the roof of…where was I, anyway?
Oh. The Blacks' house. Bits and pieces of last night came bounding into my memory. Singing to Angela. Fending off Mike. Jacob carrying me home, so drunk I could barely stand.
It hit me. Oh my God. Charlie.
I sat up way too quickly and was rewarded with a head rush like a concussion. The room whirled around me. I fell back onto the pillow and bemoaned my situation. Charlie had probably called the entire state of Washington to arms and was out combing the woods for my dead body. I was never, never going to be allowed out of the house again. Ever. I was going to die an old maid under my father's watchful eye.
I rolled over onto my side and snuck a peek around what must be Jacob's bedroom. It was small, fairly disorganized, and plain. A stack of mechanic magazines sat on top of a dresser in the corner. Laundry spilled over the sides of a basket in the middle of the room. Random car parts (or what I surmised to be car parts) were strewn here and there. The entire room smelled woodsy and clean, like soap. It was the only pleasant thing I could derive from this whole awful experience.
The door cracked open the slightest bit. I could see one dark eye peer through. "Bella? Mind if I come in?"
"Sure," I croaked, suddenly self-conscious of the fact that I probably looked like hell and God only knows what my breath smelled like. A tiny voice within me wondered why I cared – it was just Jacob.
He quietly crept into the room and took care to close the door as silently as possible. "Billy," he mouthed to me. He tiptoed across the floor and settled next to me on the bed. I noticed then how tall he was, and how the muscles on his arms filled out the sleeves of his t-shirt. "How are you feeling?"
"Ugh," I grunted. "Like I got hit by a bus. No, like I got hit by a bus, a train, and a Concorde. Twice. Why do I feel like this?"
"It's called a hangover," he grinned. "Your reward for having too much fun. Speaking of which, I called your dad." My eyes grew wide. "Don't worry – I didn't tell him anything. I just said we ran into each other and we got to talking. You were too tired to drive home." He shrugged. "Not totally untrue."
I smiled as much as I could, given that my face felt like paper mache. "Thanks."
"No prob."
"I mean, thanks for all of it. For not letting me sleep on the beach and for keeping Charlie in the dark. I was really lucky you came along." I narrowed my eyes. "How did you manage to come along, exactly?"
His discomfort was obvious. "I was out for a walk. Couldn't sleep."
The feeling that he was keeping something from me was back. "You went for a walk five miles from your house? Did you chug a pot of coffee before you went to bed?" I demanded. Clearly stung, he recoiled from me a little. "Sorry. I didn't mean to pry. It was just…convenient that you were there when you were."
He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm just good like that."
I reached up and ruffled my fingers through his jet-black hair – now very short, not even an inch long on the top. "I like this. You look…older." Without the thick curtain of hair around his face I could really appreciate the bone structure of his face. The curve of his lips. The intensity of his eyes, nearly black. My hand lingered in his hair for a second too long. He smiled, a sweet and sincere smile that made my heart jump and my breath catch in my chest.
Something electric passed between us then. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it was like the air around us changed. Warmer, but clearer, too, like the peace after a heavy thunderstorm. I knew that I should probably get up and call Charlie, reassure him that I was both alive and still intact, but I couldn't tear myself away. Jacob Black? a little voice in the back of my mind whispered. I had only seen Jacob a handful of times since I moved back to Forks, always in the company of our dads. Although he was good-looking in a childish sort of way, that was exactly how I saw him – like a younger cousin or boy next door. A kid.
Lying here in his bed, though, with his dark eyes gazing down at me…he seemed anything but young. It was mostly in his eyes, the way they seemed to see past all superfluous details and into the heart of things (like me, I thought wildly), but it was his body, too. The lankiness of a teenage boy was replaced by long, sinuous muscle and his face was even different – less round, more defined. The result was breathtaking.
"You should probably get home," he murmured softly, but the words were empty, like he really wasn't hearing himself. "Charlie's probably getting worried."
"Yeah," I answered in the same absent tone. "Right. Home." I hooked the hand that was still entwined in his hair around his neck, my heart pounding as I realized that my first kiss was going to be here, in Jacob's bed, after my first night out drinking, with my hair in a rat's nest. It surprised me that none of that mattered. The drive to kiss him, to know what his lips felt like, consumed me.
He leaned down towards me, the simmering heat radiating off of his skin and I wondered for one wild second if he would burn me. I decided I didn't care. The way he was looking in my eyes, he could have thrown me into a fiery pit of lava and I wouldn't have minded. He snaked his hand under my shoulders and gently lifted me closer. I closed my eyes…
"JAKE!" Billy's thundering baritone roared through the tiny house like an earthquake.
We froze. Jacob threw an apologetic look at me. He snatched his hand back from under my back and scrambled across the little room to the door. Busted, I thought gloomily, surprised at how disappointed I was. He slipped out into the hallway and I heard the rises and falls of angry speech. "Dad!" I heard Jake exclaim. "What was I supposed to do? I couldn't just…" and then their tones became hushed.
Sounds like I had just about worn out my welcome. I sheepishly collected my shoes and coat and shuffled out of bed. Once I hit my feet I remembered why it had been so hard to get up in the first place – my head spun and my stomach heaved. I really wanted to go home and curl up in my bed and do my best to sleep this off.
Jacob poked his head back through the door. "Bells? Sorry about that. Dad thought that…well, y'know. Not that he thinks you'd do anything like that, he was yelling at me," he reassured, looking somewhat embarrassed.
I jammed my hands in my pockets. "No prob." I gestured towards the door. "I should probably get going." My head throbbed.
"Right." He opened the door for me and I sidled out into the hallway. Awkwardly I paused there. Jake ran his fingers through his hair, obviously searching for something to say. Then he frowned. "How are you planning on getting back to your truck?"
Uh, good question. Scratching my head, I replied, "Looks like a nice day out. I guess I'm gonna walk." Ugh. The mere idea of it made me want to hurl again.
He raised his eyebrows. "Five miles? In your condition? I doubt if it's that nice of a day. I'll drive you," he declared.
Oh, boy. I may be hung over but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. "Jake, you're fifteen. No." I crossed my arms stubbornly over my chest in an effort to solidify my position.
But the mischievous glint in his eye was already there. "Come on, Bella," he coaxed, his voice hushed. "It's only a few miles. Still on the rez, even." I shook my head furiously. Unfazed, he shrugged and leaned casually against the wall, smirking. "Or, I could just call Charlie to come pick you up and you can explain to him why you smell like a house party."
He had me cornered. I scowled. "Fine. But if I die I'll be so pissed at you."
The grin that lit up his entire face melted away any vestiges of annoyance I had. "I'll take my chances."
The ride back to First Beach was quiet, so I contented myself with watching Jake drive. Even though he was still underage and technically not allowed behind the wheel of anything but a Fisher Price minivan, he looked perfectly at home in the driver's seat. His strong hands guided the wheel with relaxed precision. Eyes focused strictly on the long stretch of pavement in front of him. I admired his well-defined profile and it sent a tiny shiver down my spine.
Jake handed me a bottle of water from the center console and I drained it in seconds. I felt better almost instantly. Not one hundred percent, but definitely better.
With my roiling stomach off my mind, the reality of what happened this morning began to set in. Our almost-kiss. The kiss that would have been had Billy not interrupted. I pondered the crossroads I found myself standing upon. I could ignore it, and pretend nothing had changed. That seemed to be the most sensible solution. I had barely been in Forks a month; maybe it would be smart not to entangle myself with anyone.
Or…I could finish what I started, and let the chips fall where they may.
I knew Jake liked me. Even if his father hadn't dropped hints every time they came over to watch baseball with Charlie, it wouldn't have taken me long to notice. It was in the way he unconsciously inched closer to me on the couch, how his eyes never left my face when I was talking, the way his shoulders slumped a little when his dad announced that they had to leave. I replayed all these moments in my mind with a new appreciation.
The drive was short, and I found myself disappointed when I spotted my truck alone on the shallow cliff. Jake hopped out of his side of his car (which, he had reassured me, was bound to be his once he turned sixteen in the fall, so at least it wasn't like we had committed grand theft auto as well) and opened my door for me. "What a gentleman," I mocked lightly. He walked me the last few steps to my truck, and there we paused uncomfortably.
"So." I stuffed my hands in my pockets. I didn't know what I was waiting for – him to kiss me? Me to kiss him? One of us to work up the nerve to admit that we had come within millimeters of changing everything?
"So." Gee, this was going well. "Hope you feel better," he said lamely.
"Thanks. Sorry I got you in trouble."
"No biggie. Billy'll probably forget about it by the time I get home." Long, awkward pause. "I'll see ya, Bella." Jake smiled, but it never quite made it to his eyes, and it was glaringly obvious that there was something he wished he could say. Maybe it's better that he didn't.
The moment was over. He turned and walked back over to his car. I hopped into my truck and watched him start up and pull away. Sighing, I turned the key.
Nothing.
Perplexed, I tried again.
Nothing.
Uh-oh.
