"You shouldn't be here," he whispers softly, his voice like velvet caressing my senses.
"I had to see you," I admit, only just managing to vocalise my thoughts before being distracted by his closeness.
He doesn't argue anymore, just sighs a little as he lifts his fingers as though to run them through my cropped dark hair. I stare captivated by his golden irises which draw me towards them as though they are a warm fire on a cruel winter's night. He is but a hairs-breadth away from me, his sculpted marble face is blurry and out of focus. I can only smell him, that sweet distinctive smell that used to repulse me but now only serves to entice me further. I can feel the cold emanating from him and I am certain he can feel the heat of my body so close yet so too far away. If we touch it will be like giving in. If I ever gave in I don't know if I would be able to stop.
He's dead, I remind myself; he is not natural. No, not natural because how could anyone possibly be this beautiful? That flawless lily white skin, soft bronzed hair, tall, lithe figure. His smooth, hard lips. I try not to think about the fact that they are mere inches away from my own. This is wrong, yet so right. I feel as though nothing could possibly be wrong when he is this close to me, although in reality the opposite is true. This relationship could ruin everything. It is dangerous and foolish. It is not yet existent and we should keep it that way. We should…but, God I don't want to!
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" he laughs slightly at his own joke, a little half-smile marring his emotionless face.
"Thou art more lovely and more temperate," I say, admittedly trying to impress him.
He raises his eyebrows in amusement and the animation in his face makes it all the more handsome. He's surprised, I can tell, that I am able to quote Shakespeare to him but then I suppose that he doesn't really know me at all. I do occasionally pay attention in class, though I'd never admit it to anyone besides him. It doesn't matter if he knows because everything that passes between us is a deadly secret, even the smallest of things such as this. Anything could give us away.
"Jacob," he says, and I love how my name sounds in his voice, "You have to forget this. Forget me."
"I've tried, Edward, you know I have," I say desperately, remembering the weeks of torment and self-loathing but most of all loathing him for doing this to me. For doing this to Bella.
"Try harder," he says and, with what looks like a supreme effort on his part, he takes a step backwards; away from me.
I don't say anything. I take one last look at him, then turn on my heel and take off running as fast as I can. If I don't keep running, I'll start crying. How could he have caused this complete change in me? He makes me want to speak poetry with every sentence, if only I knew any besides the one's we've covered in class. This intense emotion has taken away all of my care-free manner, my easy laughter and, most importantly, my desire to be a wolf. I haven't phased in days because when I do they can all see it. They know; of course. It disgusts them; none of the pack is on speaking terms with me any longer. I almost don't care. All I care about is him with an utterly selfish abandon.
My muscles ache from the exertion of my continuous running but I ignore the pain; I almost invite it. It is a distraction from all that is wrong in my life and that is; everything. I am an outcast. My pack no longer wants anything to do with me. They tried to reason with me, to tell me that what I felt was wrong and that I should stop it. But I can't help how I feel. I shunned them all because of it and slowly they gave up on me. I gave up on them, too. My own Father can no longer look me in the eye. I have no-one; not even him.
Besides the pack, whom I could not keep this hidden from, nobody else is aware of what is happening. Bella and the Cullen's think that I was thrown out merely for supporting them. They have no idea of the truth of the matter. My Father is aware that there is something more than what there seems, but I am unsure if he knows the specifics. He does not mention it to Charlie, though I can tell that Bella's Dad is worried about me, too.
I am in the middle of the forest before I realise that I am being followed. I stop dead, listening for the soft footsteps just a few meters behind. Whoever this is; they're fast, very fast. I have been running full pelt at a much faster speed than most humans are capable of. They must have been following me for some time, since I doubt there would be anyone out here by chance. My body is tensed, ready for an attack; ready to phase if needs be. There is a rustling in the undergrowth to my left and I turn with a start. A figure emerges from the trees.
Edward. He followed me.
He moves towards me, his eyes fixed on mine and filled with a passion that is almost fury. When he reaches me he stops just short, so that we are once again at that uncomfortably close proximity. He reaches out and this time he really does run his hands through my hair. I trail my fingers down the side of his face tentatively; feeling the cold smooth texture of his skin. His face is moving gradually closer to mine and I tilt my head slightly to accommodate him. I sigh, almost with relief, as his lips touch my own. It is only for the briefest of moments but I close my eyes and surrender to it completely.
"Edward! What are you doing? What the…," a voice calls out from just behind me. One of them; I can smell it.
"Go home, Alice," he snarls, but I can see that he was taken off guard.
I turn to see the little dark haired girl, normally so cheerful but now with a face that seems so angry that I am frightened by it a little. She glares at me viciously.
"Don't you dare hurt him," Edward threatens, obviously reading her thoughts.
"What about Bella, Edward? Did you even think about how she might feel?" Alice practically spits at him.
His face becomes contorted with guilt at the mention of her name. Of course he thought about it. That's the whole reason he has been denying me these past few months; the reason that I had been holding back although it seemed practically impossible to do so. We both still care about Bella, but it's not the same. Neither of us feels for her in the way we feel about one another. Before this, I don't think I knew what love was. I don't think he knew, either.
When neither of us responds Alice storms off into distance moving with inhuman speed in the direction of the Cullen's house. Our secret is out. The little one is bound to tell the others and Bella is likely to be next.
"You should go find Bella," I tell Edward, who is still staring in the direction that Alice went, "She should hear this from you."
He nods, without even turning to look at me. Without warning he sprints off into the trees so fast that I blink and I miss him. I am alone again and the world is not a friendly place anymore.