Luck.
The very word made me want to leave my seat and go find the nearest available kickable cat.
Luck had never been something I possessed. I believed in luck; of course I did. I could see it everywhere, everywhere but in myself.
I had once though myself lucky. I had been with the man of my dreams, the man I loved. His russet-colored skin and messy black hair were bitingly clear in my mind. Even, the rough tone of his voice and the way his lips would pull into a smile at just the sight of me I could remember with perfectly clarity.
I wish that I couldn't. Knowing that I'd be able to remember these things throughout the remainder of my eternity, severely left the list of pros' on immortality dwindling, and was one of the reasons I wanted to quit this… whatever this was… as soon as possible. Of course, there were no chances of that happening with a coven of vampires living only a couple of miles to the west.
Having to live in such close proximity to him, and more importantly in his head, made everything infinitely worse. It even made me consider returning to Sam's pack, until Jacob heard of it and persuaded me not to. Having to listen to his thoughts held with such love and adoration toward his Nessie made an uncomfortable mixture of nausea and nostalgia run through me every time.
It had gotten better. He had finally realized how his thoughts affected me, and made and effort to channel them through what he thought was a stoic tunnel, but I could still feel the tenor of his love. His kindness made my heart ache even more prominently.
If he was mean, even infinitesimally easier to hate, this wouldn't feel half as bad. It was how he tried to redeem himself in my eyes, always asking me if I was okay with his decisions within our small pack, though he did not ask his brothers half the time. They thought he inquired purely because I was the girl, and by the way I always replied to his asking with strongly feministic and opinionated comment, I certainly didn't blame them.
It was only he and I who knew the true meaning of my aggravation, which is why he never failed to ask, breaking my heart harder and harder. I felt a sudden flashback come upon me, dated back from only a few weeks ago, before all his time was spent up at the Cullen mansion.
We were on the pebbly beaches of La Push. Jacob was wearing a wet suit (as the waters of the Pacific Ocean were exceedingly too cold for trunks) and I was wearing his oversized hoodie, which nearly swallowed me whole, with a bikini underneath. Though I had clearly told him that I would not be taking one step into the ocean, he seemed to be able to persuade me to wear my swimsuit under his hoodie, anyways. I crossed my arms determinedly as he took a step towards the lapping waves.
As if seeming to sense my abrupt stop, he turned around to face me pleadingly. "Come on, Leah, I told you I wouldn't make you go into the ocean. You can't trust me, can't you?" My mouth twisted into a small smile at his question. He knew I trusted him.
In stead of replying with words, I uncrossed my arms and brought my hand up to reach his outstretched one. He pulled my quickly to him and against his heated chest. I closed my eyes in comfort, my smile stretching even wider, as I pondered how I could possibly be lucky enough to have someone like him.
But, suddenly I heart a swoosh of air blow past my ears and felt my feet leave the ground. My eyes flashed open immediately, wide as saucers.
"Jake! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" I yelled at him to no prevail. He did not answer me as he walked unperturbed into the ocean, only flinching slightly at the temperature. "Jake!" My voice was almost a shriek it was so shrill.
He stopped about waist deep and moved his hands down to my waist, taking a hold of me there and turning me upright. At the sudden movement, I grabbed a hold of his shoulders to try and secure myself. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he didn't meet my gaze.
Instead, he reached his hands down to behind my knees and hooked them around his hips. He finally met my eyes, still narrowed, smiling cheekily. "You listen to me, Jacob Black," I spoke in a scarily sweet, sugary voice. "You're going to turn around and walk me to that shore, you hear me?" He just chuckled at my anger. I wanted to hit him.
I raised my hand to do just that, but quickly, anticipating my actions, he grabbed a hold of it in his large warm one. I struggled against his grip, making several unattractive instinctual noises as I did so, the last one a growl. As soon as he saw my defeat, he put my hand to his chest, looking lovingly into my eyes.
Any trembling I had been feeling, along with my resolve, dissipated instantaneously in that one look. I could no longer remember why I had been so angry with him. I suddenly came very aware of the lack of material between us, and, by the sudden darkening of his eyes, I guessed that he had come to the same conclusion.
He leaned down toward my face, pressing his heated lips against mine hungrily. I smiled against them as I grinded into him, forgetting completely about my aversion to the cold water. Who cared about subzero temperatures when you were full of lustful heat?
He groaned and the sound was deep and rough in the back of his throat. His hands fell to my hips and, from the loss of support, I tightened my legs around him to stop me from falling. My movement was met with a short gasp and I could feel him rock hard against me. With a newfound ferocity he found the hem of his hoodie, pulling it up and over my head, not caring about what the salt water would do to it, and discarding it to the side.
My flashback faded out at that moment - my mind's attempt to protect itself - not allowing me to relive anything too painful, and leaving me very uncomfortable in my seat. I blinked back the tears I could feel in the corners of my eyes, and looked up at the wall clock, realizing that I had been stirring my milkshake around the plastic cup with my finger for the last forty minutes. I sighed, looking back down and suddenly finding the milkshake in my hands very unappetizing.
I stood to my feet, making a quick exit out the diner door, trying to avoid the criticizing gazes from the staff I could feel hot on my back.
Well, if they'd lived through half of what I had, their priorities would be set a little differently too.