Because I am so Team Jacob. I just had to. I also needed to write present tense. It was nagging me. The first paragraph has been sitting on my computer for months, deeply buried in a word doc titled "Ideas." What do you suppose is in there? Oh, yes, you guessed it. Story ideas. Lots and lots and lots of them. Like 40, I believe.
I am not sure when this one-shot takes place. It really doesn't fit anywhere in the books. So let's just say it's somewhere between Twilight and Breaking Dawn. Not that anything truly exceeds either end of those (unless you're on fan fiction, of course). But shhh. Don't tell that to my "Ideas" doc.
Please review!
.kate(:
Disclaimer: Jacob Black is not mine. Un-friggen-fortunately. SMeyer can have the other characters. And her whole story line. I just want me some Jacob. Oh, well. We all can dream, right? Anyway. I do not own Twilight.
One Shot -
Black and White
BPOV
Breaths morph to shallow gasps. Fragmented thoughts scramble. Mind spins irrepressibly. I watch guardedly as his head moves close, barely stroking his lips over mine. A consoling warmth lingers after he pulls away. He gauges my reaction with a somber expression. Every muscle in me is tense as I try to keep my face emotionless, even though I am anything but it inside. Before I can form a single coherent thought, he cups his hands on either side of my face and leans in to kiss me again, taking my upper lip between his. They are soft and moist. He stops suddenly, shuts his eyes and rests his forehead against mine for barely a second. He leaves a tender kiss there before he retreats. He steps hesitantly backward and I see the remorse wash slowly over his face. He tries to keep his feet quiet on the wood flooring of my bedroom.
He bows his head and mutters, "I'm sorry." The unadorned words hit me like a boulder and I am suddenly confused. He has always read like a book; just as transparent as glass. Why am I unable to tell what's he's thinking now?
"Why are you apologizing?" I move one hand to his face, and look at him. His eyes wander as I stare at him. I brush a thumb over his lip, which is an apparent revelation to him. This was the sanction he has been looking for.
"Can I," he whispers, hesitant, "kiss you?" I can feel him shaking underneath my touch. He's very nervous. I drop my arms to my sides, and he finds my hands and holds them softly. We stand dormant for a while. He thinks I'm playing hard to get. I'm not. I just can't decide what to say to him. I look up, searching for some sort of answer in his eyes. "God, Bella," he sighs wretchedly, his face crinkling into a wince. He lets go of my hands and walks toward the door.
"I'll talk to you later," he says throatily and I can hear the subtle dejection in his voice. He walks through the door of my bedroom and shuts it behind him. I walk over and slide myself down the door. I curl my knees to my chest and for some incomprehensible reason, I cry. Sadness slashes through me and an aching takes a painful residence in my chest. It feels like a part of me has been ripped away. I look down at my trembling hands and my quiet tears evolve into a breathless sob.
I have made a huge mistake.
I stand up clumsily, run out of my bedroom, stagger down the staircase, and race outside. He has just pulled out of the driveway. I scream his name as I run toward his car. A distant part of me screams, "He isn't worth it." But he is worth it. Jacob is worth everything to me.
I am worried that he can't see me through the gray sheets of rainfall. Tears mix with the bitter rain and I can no longer distinguish the two. My hair and clothing are already drenched. The waning taillights of his Rabbit glow a hundred feet away, and I sit down on the slick asphalt of the road's edge, defeated.
Still, the question hangs. Why? Why did I try to go after him? Why would I sacrifice anything for him? Why do I feel this undying need to protect him? Maybe it's because I love him. And maybe all this time, I was too damn terrified to admit it.
I suddenly hear the screech of brakes, and I jerk my head up toward the sound. The edges of my lips rise slightly, and something inside of me seems to ignite. In the distance, I see Jacob turn his car around and speed back this way. With significant acceleration, a squeal of the brakes, a stifle of the engine and the slam of a door, I see a shadowy figure slicing through the rain toward me.
He slowly sits down beside me, his face wet and confounded. "Why are sitting out here in the rain, sweetheart?"
"I was running after you," I breathe. Confusion dawns on his russet features, and then his lips rise a bit, forming a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Unsuccessfully," I add.
"You're something else, Bells," he chuckles halfheartedly. He takes his sleeve and rubs some of the water off my cheeks.
Jacob and I grew up together, best friends since birth. And for the longest time, that's all we were. But things changed once we began high school. I'd been in love with him since our freshman year, and I'd almost told him a thousand different times, but I was scared to death. So I kept silent, letting the what if's and what could have been's dangle over me for years.
Tonight he kissed me for the first time, and now everything changes.
We stare at each for a moment, letting the rainfall slowly wash away the remnants of our youth. I can finally see it in his eyes how much he's changed, and how much of a man he's become. Time has truly driven by, aging us, maturing us, and changing us. It seems as if just days ago we were swinging at the park, playing in my dad's backyard, or having cookie dough wars his father's kitchen. And now we're seventeen, time has escaped us, adolescence has begun its fade into adulthood and the simple ardor we used to have for life has disappeared.
"Do you want to go back inside?"
"No," I say, glancing up at the sky. "I like the rain."
He scoots himself closer to me and tucks me safely under his arm. We're waiting for one another to speak. He has tried a few times, I had felt his lips move ever so slightly, but he had seemed scared. Hell, I was too. We sit here for a while, our clothes and bodies saturated by the rainwater.
Unease begins to set in, so decide to rupture the deafening silence. "Can I ask you something?" He disentangles himself from me, and I miss his warmth immediately.
"Sure, sure," he says slowly, his voice unusually tentative.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes," he admits surely.
I hesitate to continue, because I'm afraid to know the answer. "More than… more than a friend?"
A distinct pain clouds his face, and he winces, closing his eyes. I prepare myself for the harsh disappointment and I feel like crawling in a hole and dying. "Yes." I'm not sure how to react, so I try to remain indifferent. He pauses and the puzzling agony that is radiating from his face doesn't fade. "I do, Bella." I stare at him in awe and wonder how he can possibly be so blasé. "I'm going to say something now that I should have said years ago." He pauses, and then continues, "I love you."
A breath catches in my throat and I choke back a grin. I believe a part of me has always known it, has always sensed it.
Then without hesitation he mutters to me, "I'm going to kiss you now," and I suddenly feel like I'm floating. Something in my eyes must have given it away, something in my expression much have revealed it, something in the way my hands touched his when he said those three stunning words must have made it obvious, something must have screamed to him that I loved him too.
And I did.
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