Chapter One
Ok, two days here and I'm starting to remember just why I left.
All the old memories I'd buried in the back of my mind are resurfacing and forcing their way to the front. Every good, bad and even downright embarrassing memory from my childhood and pre-college years whirls around my head, with no chance of me catching them all again.
Either way, trying to go back to sleep while sprawled on an air mattress at half past six in the morning isn't the easiest thing to do, especially if it's very uncomfortable and if you are convinced, like I am, that it is slowly deflating beneath you.
As soon as my fingers touched the wooden floor, I was utterly convinced.
I sit up and grab the first item of clothing I can lay my hands on, quickly making my way to the bathroom. I wash in silence and brush my hair, pulling it back it back in a low ponytail, and slip my shoes on by the back door. If I listen carefully, I can hear Dad's snores from here; annoying, but strangely comforting…
Unlike the fact that Dad seems oblivious to Jake routinely leaving the house at night and not returning 'til the next morning. That in itself doesn't seem so bad – but combine it with the pair of us sitting there in the living room several times and seeing him leave, and you know something's up. And they both act like nothing's happened the next morning when Jake's then eating half a box of cereal.
I tiptoe back up the hallway and slowly push Jake's bedroom door open… Nothing. Bed empty, window closed, and the mysterious odour of dirty socks. I groan and stomp outside, through the rain-covered grass that attaches itself to my shoe laces, glittering in the early morning clouds. I half-run along the road shrouded by tree tops until I break out into the open air, the trees all behind me now, and the salty air blowing against my skin.
Ahh… I breathe it in and slow down to a snail's pace as I followed the main road along the ocean front.
As I step onto the pebbly beach, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, registering someone off to my far right, the opposite direction to which I'd come. I ignore them and continue walking, past all the houses and little shops, until I'm a stone's throw from the murky surf and I can lean back against the nearest washed-up log and comb my hair out with my fingers.
The 'person' shifts in my line of vision so that I can see him out of the corner of my eye – oh yes, it was a 'him'...
About damn time too! I swear I hadn't even touched a guy in the last few months leading up to graduation. Oh, how intriguing the male anatomy is, especially this guy… Tall, buff, nice hair… everything a girl could ever want in a potential life mate – physically, of course. It takes some intellect on the man's part to impress me, because (yes, obviously) I'm hard to please when it comes to males.
Like any girl, I prefer the man to have at least a modicum of muscle, although the extent to which it is actually toned and visible can be debated, but I wouldn't mind a six-pack… mmmmm…
Mr. Hopefully-Right definitely has some things going for him. Except the whole 'no shirt' thing. That's just… strange. Only idiots or madmen walk around scantily clad in the rain.
"Hey." Oh my god! He's right next to me, like, two feet away and I didn't notice! Damn wandering eyes and brain! I am such a douche.
"Uh, hi," I muster, barely more than a whisper. I play with the ends of my hair whilst turning my head and scanning him feet first.
By the time I make it to his chin two seconds later, I can tell he's looking at me with a slightly weird, mostly curious, and a tad cocky expression, obviously knowing I'd stopped for a fraction of a second longer than I should have when I spotted his torso.
His face when I actually looked at it is priceless though – his deep brown eyes are wide, his pupils dilated, his mouth which looks ready to pronounce some words stops and opens a little, revealing his perfectly straight white teeth, and his eyebrows (though I don't know why I was looking there) become raised as he just looks at me.
"Are you ok?" I ask him slowly, eventually snapping my fingers in the space between us twice. He blinks and looks straight in my eyes, smiling crookedly and pushing his hands into his pockets.
There are two things wrong with this scene: firstly, I had never met anyone who would look in another person's eyes for more than two seconds at a time when talking, yet this… man-boy – maybe just man – seems perfectly comfortable just staring, and secondly, I would never ever call a smile 'crooked' (it usually entails a lopsided smile that is adorably cute). Yet I did with him… Whenever I usually try to imagine a crooked smile on someone's face, all I ever see is a witch or a crazy man in a horror film who may or may not have recently escaped from a psychiatric hospital.
"Yeah, I'm great actually." We don't say anything for a few more seconds before he practically thrusts his hand in my face. "I'm Paul."
I take it gingerly and shake it, looking from his hand to his face. "I'm Rachel…"
Ok, this is a little awkward…
I straighten my back and hold my head a little higher as we examine one another, though I can almost feel his eyes wandering over my body, lingering on my legs and my breasts before returning to my face, or more precisely, the lower half.
"Wait, wait, wait; are you… checking me out?" I ask incredulously.
He just laughs in a deep baritone. Great. I say one thing and I get laughed at by a complete stranger!
"Well aren't you doing the same to me?" he chuckles in his deep, slightly husky voice. I consider it and tilt my head to the side momentarily, shrugging my shoulders in a 'what're you gonna do?' sort of way.
"Maybe… but that wasn't the question… And why am I still holding your hand?" I pull mine away slowly, though this Paul man appears a tad reluctant.
"Probably 'cus you think I'm hot," he grins crookedly (again, why?).
"Oh ha ha!" I can't help but laugh too as he stands there so confidently beside me. "Never know, do ya?" I joke coyly.
Oh my, this is, uh, a little awkward, yet oddly comfortable at the same time. I can't help but smile to myself as I look around and see that the beach was completely deserted, save for us.
"So, Rachel," he sounds out, moving a foot closer and leaning back against the log next to me. His warmth radiates across the few inches between us. "You're from around here, aren't you?"
I clear my throat quietly before replying, "Yeah, I just finished college, so I'm back at my dad's place."
"Which one did you go to?" Paul questions, crossing his arms over his well-defined chest. He seems genuinely interested in what I'd spent the last three years of my life learning about. Usually when I tell people that I was close to graduating or had just left college, they move the conversation on to more interesting topics. I don't mind, it's just a little unnerving the way he's gazing at me attentively, waiting for a detailed answer.
"Um, Washington State - I had a scholarship. It's really good there, actually. And my major was great too," I finished quickly.
"Why? What did you take? Business, a science?" Wow, hot guy who wasn't a complete dunce.
"Nope, computer engineering actually. With a minor in history." I pause and turn my head slightly to catch a glimpse of this man's expression, but instead I see his whole face still watching me intently. I flush under his gaze and the corner of his mouth pulls upwards. "I wanted to be a teacher, but I was offered another job, so… Yeah, that's about it…"
"Really?" Paul laughs again. "Nothing happened the whole time you were there?" His jokey mood conjures up a terrible slide-show of all the events that took place while I was there, such as when some idiot thought it would be funny to let some chickens loose in the dorm.
"Just, uh, regular college stuff…" Like when my friend's boyfriend was napping on my bed in Speedos. That's just… ew. Though that reminds me of what Paul was wearing right now, since I'm on the subject.
"Why are you only wearing shorts?" I demand suddenly and more aggressively than intended, eyeing the frayed hems and faded colour. He glances down and back to me slowly.
"Just am." Alrighty then, maybe I was wrong about him, maybe he is a little demented. "Why are you wearing a scarf? It's June already." Paul reachs out and softly tugs on the end as I watched.
"Because I want to, and it's raining a bit, and it's a nice scarf," I ramble a little, seizing it back and straightening it out. "It's not exactly a woolly knitted scarf anyway."
"Hey, do you have a watch?" Paul asks me after a minute of silence. I look down at my right wrist and start to lift it up, but Paul obviously has an issue with patience! No, he has to wrap his hand around my arm and pull it up really quickly so I twisted, losing my balance and falling into him.
"Hmm, 7:05," he murmurs. Did this guy not notice me collapsed against his extremely nice chest?
I pant in deep uneven breaths, not even bothering to push myself away as I stand there, leaning against him as he still holds onto my arm. I close my eyes and bite the bottom of my lip for a second. I really don't want to move; it's so warm here, and I can feel his body heat creeping through my thin layers of clothing and thawing me out. In fact, I actually move closer, shrinking into him as my free hand traces the soft lines of his stomach before flattening against his side. My breathing quietens as we stand there, and I could feel Paul's hot breath against my scalp, and his hand quietly sneaking up to my waist.
As soon as that happens, I come to my senses, backing away so there are several feet between us, and ripping my wrist from his grip. Well, when I say ripping, I mean tugging it until he agrees to let go.
"What am I doing?" I breathe to myself, clutching my head between my hands. Me, him, ugh, I don't know what to do! I've just met him on a beach in the early morning while he's wearing hardly anything. This is definitely not normal!
"Hey, are you ok, Rachel?" he asks in a low voice, stepping forward and touching my shoulder. I peer up at Paul as he stands there transfixed, waiting for me to respond. I squeeze my eyes shut, opening them a moment later and sniffing once.
"Yeah, I'm good," I nod, meeting his gaze. I can't help but smile a little when his concerned face watches me cautiously. "I-I should get home soon, I mean, before Jake eats all the cereal again," I try to laugh. It sounds really stupid though, and I cuss myself silently while tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
Paul is frozen when I look up at him again, but he blinks before I can open my mouth, and looks slightly confused for a moment, like he's processing something quickly.
"Crap," he breathes, just loud enough for me to hear.
"What?" I ask, jumping on it immediately.
"Uh, nothing–"
"No, what do you mean 'crap'?" I demand, frowning up at him.
"I'll, uh, tell you later, or, uh, yeah…"
"Tell me what, Paul?" Stepping back again, his hand finishes dropping down my arm.
"I shouldn't tell you yet, but I will," he adds quickly when he registers my expression.
"Yeah, great, well I think I should be heading off," I inform Paul, turning on my heels and walking back up the beach. "Bye Paul."
"Wait, Rachel," he called. He appears before me, walking backwards as I angrily stomped on. "I'll tell you everything you want to know, just not right now." I look off to my left, trying to ignore him. "I promise, Rachel."
I halt mid-step and study his face, trying to find any sign of a lie, but he looks completely sincere.
"Everything?" I ask skeptically.
"Everything," he confirms.
I nod slowly and my lips twitch slightly. "I'm holding you that promise, Paul whatever-your-name-is."
"Lahote."
"Good to know."
"Can I walk you back then?" he asked me quietly.
"Sure, why not?" A grin sneaks onto my face.
The walk back to my house doesn't take very long, and somehow, once we started talking, we didn't stop. Sure, Paul wasn't the brightest tool in the box, but he definitely knew how to make me laugh.
As we turned onto the dirt road that ran up to my house, I kept brushing Paul's hand with my own. Unintentionally, of course, but I turned just a second after him so we were even closer. He just smiled a little and kept talking, but I could feel my cheeks burning as I dug my hands into my jacket pockets, trying not to clue him in.
When the old, red house was in sight, I noticeably slow, wanting to waste as much time as possible before my day reverted to the same pattern as yesterday: boring and predictable.
"I guess we're here then…" I sigh, both of us coming to a standstill just outside.
"Yep…"
"I'll see you around, right?" I inquire quickly, turning to face him again.
"Course," he grins.
I fidget for a moment, unsure what to do, so I decide to do exactly the same thing Paul had done when he introduced himself.
I offer my hand for him to shake. He just smirks down at it before taking it, but instead of doing what a normal person would do and shake it, I'm pulled to him for an actual hug. I can't say I mind either; he seems so warm and familiar (somehow). I hug him back for a few seconds, pulling him close with my arms around his middle until I decide that enough time has probably passed to make this the longest anyone can have a friendly hug for. I step back and flashed him my best smile before walking up the steps, stopping and twisting around when I'm one from the top, a question on the tip of my tongue.
"Hey," I call back to him when I notice he's started to walk away. He looks over his shoulder at me and stops, raising an eyebrow and waiting for me to speak. "I have one question. Will you answer it?"
"Depends what it is?" My unimpressed expression clearly registers. "Fire away."
"Are you on steroids?" Taking in his body-builder stature, it's clear he's physically fit and presumably strong, although I can't say mind.
Paul just laughs at me. Again.
"I'm taking that as a no," I grumble, rolling my eyes as I walk backwards up the last step.
"What made you think I was?" he continues to laugh.
I huff and shake my head. "Ah, well, I guess you're reasonably hot then… Goodbye…"
"Bye Rachel…" I push the door open and steal one last glimpse of him before walking through the house to the kitchen.
"Morning," I greet as I grab a glass and a bowl from the cupboard. Jake was back, leaning against the counter eating a massive bowl of cornflakes. The box sitting next to him looks suspiciously empty.
"Did you eat all of them again?" I seethe.
Jake shrugs at me and peeks down into the box before his eyes wander as he continued to munch on his breakfast.
I snatched the box off the side and looked too. "Stop eating everything already!" I flicked his ear for good measure and poured the pathetic amount of cereal into my bowl, adding half a carton of milk so it actually looked like something worth eating.
"It's not my fault you didn't get up earlier," he mutters, eyes flicking to where I'd entered the kitchen.
"Actually, I did!" I point out, jumping on the opportunity. "And you weren't here! Now tell me, why is that?"
Jake regards me across the kitchen and simply declares, "Running."
"Running? Seriously?" I so do not believe him.
"Uh huh, lots of running. Ever gone running in the forest?"
"No, not really."
"It's not that bad actually," he muses thoughtfully.
"So you went running… in a forest… at six in the morning?" I clarify slowly, repeating the facts.
"Mm-hmm," he bobs his head with a mouthful of cornflakes.
"And I'm guessing you have running shoes too?"
"Nope."
Well that's helpful.
"So – just let me get this straight – you go running every morning before anyone else is awake in a forest that's probably filled with killer bears and stuff?"
"Killer bears?" Jake chortles.
"Not funny, and yeah! Killer bears! I called the INTERNET, idiot. I know about those people who went missing around here and Forks!" I almost shout.
"That stopped months ago, Rach, so calm down. There's nothing that's exactly dangerous out there," he laughs again, although this time much more sourly.
"Fine, be like that." I snatch my bowl of milk from the counter and exit to the living room where I'd left one of my books last night, sitting down heavily to sulk quietly over my cereal.
