Hi guys. This is not going to be very long, and it's a definite Jacob/Bella fic(Edward is so not my kinda guy). So be warned. I have no idea what it's going to turn out like, but I'm tired of reading so many fics out there that range from downright bad to those that skip straight to the bedroom scenes, regardless of plot and heedless of character. So I thought I'd just give a shot at writing my own.
Anyways, this takes part in that little bit before the wedding. If anything doesn't tally with the book, gimme some lee way, and kindly ignore the discrepancies that are bound to be found all over the place.
And up and above all else, I would dearly appreciate reviews! Constructive ones, please. Even if it's just a smiley. (that's how desperate I am)
Enjoy!
Chapter 1 : Going back
I hesitate, warring with indecision. My hands are firmly wrapped around the steering wheel of the gigantic, impossibly costly, luxurious missile proof car, whose model and make I don't even know.
God, what I'd do for my Chevy.
I bite my lip. I haven't seen my best friend in ages…almost two months. It's really starting to wear on me.
Edward's gone hunting with Emmett today, up near the mountain pass; he won't be home till way past dinner time…my dinner time, at least.
Carlisle's working over time at the hospital. Esme and Alice, my very favouritest person in the family are out shopping for a pair of new loafers for a very irate Jasper, who had to be coaxed along.
And I'll be coming home to an empty house, empty save Rosalie. I'm hardly ashamed to admit I do not like her a whit.
Dinner with Rosalie. Bah.
My mind is made up and I take the next turning left, wincing as the car zooms forward in response to a miniscule twitch of my foot.
What do I say to him? Jake doesn't do small talk.
I haven't seen Jacob in a long, long time; we have a lot of catching up to do. If he even wants to be near me in the first place.
Jacob is the biggest, most complex, most heart wrenching dilemma I've ever been made to face.
My best friend, my truest confidante….and he loves me with a love I cannot return, not at all in the way he wants me to.
I think very much of Jacob nowadays. What we used to do, and how I don't see him at all anymore now.
Every time I made a reference to Edward, he made light of it, calling him a leech, a bloodsucker, whatever. He has not since learnt to watch his tongue. He and Edward are on delicate terms now. Better than before, definitely, but not bosom buddies. The two sole most important men of my life and they're doomed by race and origin to forever hate each other; if Jacob had his way, he'd have tried to tear Edward's throat out long ago. Though I'm positive Edward would have reduced him to a fur carpet two minutes in to the fight.
I pretended not to notice, not to show any outward sign of emotion every time Jacob found an excuse to hug me, touch me, pick me up, hold my hand. But he got so much joy out of doing simple things for me and with me, I hadn't any heart to deny him something which cost me so little. If he wanted to hold my hand, I might as well let him.
After a while I realized my awful mistake. He had begun to hope again. Every touch, which to me, was plain insignificant, was to him like a little bit more of a change of heart. The heart which he knows is going to cease beating and freeze in to a state of immortal death, cold and lifeless, the day Edward drinks my blood.
Bleah. And look where we are now. Barely speaking. Way to go, Bella.
I compose myself, taking deep breaths as I drive in to La Push.
Two minutes later, I'm at Jake's door, my ridiculous car having cruised to a perfect stop right in front of the porch.
Deep breath.
gasp
Deep breath.
phew
Dee- gaspphew
gaspphewgaspphewgaspphew
I mentally shake myself. If I hyperventilate now, Jacob's going to come out and find my dead body sprawled all over this expensive car.
I groan, realizing this car is going to give Jacob another reason to poke fun at me.
Ah, what the hell.
I get out, puff my chest out in a show of false bravado and slam the door.
It shuts with a boom.
Oh shit the car door.
I whirl around at once to thoroughly check the door, and I heave a sigh of my relief at my own paranoia.
This is a missile proof car, for goodness sake. Why am I worried about the stupid car door? Gosh, I'll never get used to this thing.
I eye the front door balefully, mentally staring it down, the way I'm trying to stare down my fear, stamp down my hesitance to go in and find the one person whom I am aching to see.
Hand fisted up in my sweater and my brown hair blowing all over my face and into my mouth, I set my jaw and stride up to the porch.
Okay, so this is completely (in my opinion) emo, and mightn't sound promising, but it's nearly 1 am in the morning, and I'm hiding from my mother, PLUS I have a chem trial paper tomorrow. Be a dear and stick around for the rest.
Thanks!
