A/N: Welcome back to Porterward! let's get straight into it shall we?

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer made it all up. I make a mean arsed MOFO mushroom risotto...


Chapter 2. Lost and Found… the Lost portion

BPOV

Bella wandered back to her seat in a daze. She lowered herself down carefully, then stood again to remove her trench coat, dropping it absentmindedly on the seat next to hers and sat again. She wasn't sure what had just happened, but she liked it, she liked it a lot.

She wanted that feeling again. She wanted that man again. She wanted that man.

She wanted that man. Shit. It was a long time since she had wanted a man. She hadn't actually wanted a man since she had been with Jake, and, if the truth be told, she had never really wanted one then either – actually, that's not true. She had wanted one bad – just turns out it wasn't Jake she wanted.

It wasn't that she hadn't loved Jacob. She had. In fact, that was the problem. She HAD loved Jacob since she was two years old. He was her best friend all through those sunlit years of early and middle childhood. And even when, as a teenager, she had moved on to more conventional best-friendships with people of the same sex, she and Jake had stayed close….too close. It seemed like a natural progression to start 'experimenting' with Jake. And then, before she knew it, without ever really deciding to, they were 'going out'. And because they were such good friends, and they knew each other so well, and they got along so well, there was never really any reason to not keep 'going out' with him.

It wasn't until her senior year, when things started really getting serious, physically, between Bella and Jake, that she started to get an uneasy feeling that this 'relationship' might not be quite right. But because she was sexually inexperienced (in fact, down right naïve) she wasn't really sure if the fact that she didn't really want Jake that way was a real issue. Maybe that's just how it was for girls (or, at least, good girls, anyway). She refused to let herself dwell on the issue. She wasn't ready to own the facts. And the facts were these: she might love him, but he didn't turn her on. Sex wasn't fun. At best, it was just ok. At worst, it hurt. Most often, it was mildly uncomfortable. And she wasn't happy. She was frustrated – because there is nothing quite like being routinely stimulated up to a point, then left hanging, wanting more, unsated and unsatisfied.

And then Alice, her BFF of the appropriate gender, met Jasper. And KAHBOOM! Alice and Jasper were at it like rabbits, from day one. And Alice being Alice, couldn't help but share every itsy bitsy detail with her BFF. It was like a light bulb lit up in Bella's head. In fact, a lot of things lit up in Bella's body. And she knew. She knew she shouldn't be with Jacob. Because even at it's very, very best, sex with Jake was NOTHING like the wonderland of delight that Alice described to Bella on a daily basis.

But what was she to do? She didn't want to hurt him…she couldn't. And Forks was a small town. It wasn't like she could dump him and they could both avoid each other for a while until the stinging and smarting subsided. And so it dragged on….and on. For weeks and weeks she avoided any and all moments of intimacy – using every excuse she could think of to get out of anything more romantic than holding Jake's hand.

And then James arrived in town. Fuckhawt James and his fuckhawt swagger and his fuckhawt shoulders. Oh yes. Now Bella felt tingling in all the right places for all the right reasons. Now she wanted a man…just not the one she had.

But James, oh James… it was true, he was fuckhawt…but he was bad news. Things had gone so horribly wrong…

Bella shock her head, trying to dislodge the memories. This was so not where she wanted her mind to go at the moment. 'Stay in the present, stay in the present' – she willed herself. Hold on to the memory of those vivid eyes….She tried to recall the scent of his body, the feel of his breath, whispering across her face. The feel of his arm around her waist. The comforting weight of his body behind hers.

She realised she longed to see him again. She ached for him….Before she knew what she was doing, she stood. She put her trenchcoat back on and started to make her way down the centre aisle of the third class carriage. She didn't move fast. She was scanning the seated passengers, looking for……looking for who exactly? She realised she had no idea who she was looking for. All she knew was that he had green eyes, some kind of dark uniform jacket, and he smelt of sandalwood.

She abruptly turned and headed back to her seat. Fuck it. What was she thinking?