A/N: Hello!
I would first like to apologize for not updating for such a long time. I received a lot of messages asking me where the update was, when it was going to be posted, and such. The reason you all have been waiting for this for so long is because I posted the first chapter of White Blank Page just before I went on a ten day vacation. But I'm back now; fear not, there will be updates sooner and quicker!
Thanks so much to those who reviewed on the last chapter, your words truly kept me writing this chapter. Thanks to all those who added me or the story to their favorites!
I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please read and review!
White Blank Page
Chapter Two: Broken Boy Soldier
It was the day after Paul and I's "misunderstanding" outside of my Math Room and I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The way Paul treated me that day scared me. I was truly freaked out by his sense of entitlement, as though it was his right to treat me this way. It didn't sit well with me, and I was seriously considering rearranging my schedule just to avoid being around him.
Bessie was all fixed, thanks to the demon that harassed me yesterday (Paul) and I was happy not to walk everywhere anymore. Paul had come over yesterday, spoken with my mother (I listened from the top of the stairs—I had been too scared to come down and face said demon) and promptly fixed my hunk of junk for a truck.
I was currently leaning against Bessie in the school parking lot, waiting for the bell to ring. I mean, I could go inside but I wasn't that desperate to climb further down the social ladder. I had my ear plugs shoved in, the volume cranked up high as I tuned everything else out. But I couldn't tune out what was happening on the inside. I was still rattled from my run in with Paul and feeling scared because it wasn't something I could actually defend myself against.
Paul was untouchable as he was known to hang around Sam Uley, thereby making him a great kid that wasn't capable of any wrongdoing. Paul was a force that I didn't know how to counteract. He actually had me frightened and I didn't enjoy the feeling.
But I was also angry. I was not only angry with Paul for making me feel this way, but for treating me the way he had. He talked about me like I was some piece of meat, opposed to an actual human being. I mean, who the hell did he think he was that he had that he had the right to claim me as his? The thought burned in my belly, twisting and turning.
I worried my lower lip and nearly jumped ten feet in the air when a large palm slapped down on the hood of Bessie, right next to me. With my heart hammering I whip my head around to see who the hell would do such a thing.
Paul.
I gulp at the sight of him and bring a shaking hand up to pull out my ear buds—of course my anger is nowhere to be found, having stepped out only to be replaced by fear at the sight of Paul. The music fades and I keep quiet, waiting for him to speak. He smiles at me and I quickly move my gaze away, not liking the things it makes me feel.
"How's she doing?" Paul asks, rubbing Bessie as he moves to stand closer to me.
"Good."
"Good?" Paul asks.
"Great." I snap curtly. The bell rings and I step away from Bessie, smiling tightly, trying to get away.
Paul follows my move, walking with me. I try to pretend like he isn't there but I can't. He's the itch under my skin that won't be satisfied without any amount of scratching. I glance at him from the corner of my eye and scowl. What was going on here? Why couldn't he just leave me alone?
A lump rises at the back of my throat and all of a sudden it's too much. I still feel his gaze, the one heavy with disappointment and anger. I quicken my pace and lengthen my strides in hopes of getting away from Paul. I didn't understand, one day he hated me, the next he wants to make conversation.
Was I just some sick joke to him?
Was this a dare or something?
My heart clenches at the thought of this being a prank on me. I look around the parking lot, my eyes searching for any clues. I don't see anything that provides evidence until I see Sam and his cronies watching Paul.
I keep on walking, "Is there something you want, Paul?"
Paul smiles, "Just to make sure that your truck was okay."
"Well you've done that." I snap, anger bubbling at boiling at the thought of him attempting to humiliate me in front of Sam and his posse.
"Tsk, tsk, why so angry?" Paul says, his voice teasing.
"Well how would you feel if some asshole wouldn't leave you alone?"
"Asshole? Ouch."
I groan, "In case you didn't pick it up, that was my hint: leave me alone."
"And if I don't?" Paul smirks.
"Then you'll answer to my foot."
Paul laughs.
Asshole.
He knows that he has gotten under my skin and damn him for abusing that privilege. I almost wished that he would just go back to giving me dirty looks. Sighing I say, "Seriously, Paul, leave me alone. I meant what I said yesterday."
Paul smirks, "And I meant what I said."
My hackles rise quicker than I anticipated and without even thinking I have spun to face Paul. He has this smug little smirk on his face and I feel the strong urge to punch him.
"Listen, you Neanderthal, I am my own person, alright? I don't answer to anybody but myself. Which means, in smaller terms, that I am not yours, you got that? I told you not to look at me, and you won't." I snap, glaring at him.
He looks down at me with raised eyebrows, an expression that tells me exactly how he feels: unimpressed. He looks at me like a child who has just thrown a temper tantrum, and that thought is only confirmed when he rolls his eyes asking, "Are you done?"
"No!" I screech. "I'll be done when I say I am done!"
I stand there before him, huffing with anger and the bastard says, "We really should get to class, assuming you're done, of course."
I gape at him in all his cheeky glory and my anger only grows because he's not taking me seriously. Paul steps closer, and I—completely unintentionally, of course—breathed in his scent. He smelled like the fall and boy and soap and the forest after the rain. Mm-mm-good.
No, not good, I scold myself. I try to regain my wits but all efforts are lost when Paul leans down and place a hot finger just under my chin, "You should close your mouth, or you're going to catch flies."
The heat of his touch is enough to shock me into alertness and ignore my hairs standing on end as I order, "Don't touch me."
Paul clicks his tongue, "Don't you remember, Bella? You're mine. To look at. To touch. To torment. I can do whatever I want."
I stumble away from him, shaking like a leaf, "No."
"No?"
I just gulp, trying to swallow all my fears.
Because I was scared.
I was scared of Paul and all the things he could do to me.
I could feel the panic rising.
The helplessness overpowering me.
The noose around my throat.
I gasp and shakily request, "Just st-stay away from me, Paul."
"Stay away? I'll do no such thing." Paul smirks, as if he knows what he's doing to me.
As though he can feel my panic.
As though he enjoys my fear. I look up at him, and plead, "Please?"
Instead of granting my request or even denying it, Paul says, "See you in class."
He walks off like he's the greatest man that ever lived and I have never felt weaker.
P ~ B
My morning had been less than normal to say the least. During my first class with Paul I was on edge and nearly fell apart when the door slammed loudly behind our teacher when they came in. During my second class with Paul, he handed out papers on what the class would be discussing today and purposely brushed my hand when he handed my paper to me. It was as though he was trying to prove that I was truly his toy to play with. But he didn't talk to me. Paul had left me alone for the most part just like I asked and somehow, it didn't feel as good as I thought it would.
I refused to think that way though.
Those thoughts were dangerous because that could lead me to Paul, which wasn't good. Paul wasn't nice; he was a chauvinistic prick that had me under his thumb. I knew he didn't care about anything or anyone. Certainly not about me and how he scared the crap out of me. I knew that Paul could hurt me and would. Then tell me why I tingled all over when ever he touched me?
Tell me why I wanted him to touch me.
Tell me why with one look he had me in pieces, falling apart at his feet.
Tell me why he scared me, but not enough to keep me away.
Tell me why I wanted to take back my words from earlier.
Tell me why.
Somebody.
Anybody.
But nobody had the answers to my questions. I knew that it would be best if I just stayed away from Paul. I should revel in Paul's silence, but I didn't. I craved the sound of his voice. I should just forget Paul and everything that he made me feel. I should do a lot of things. But I couldn't. I should forget the tingles, the shivers, the thrills, the butterflies, everything. I should, but I didn't know how.
How do I get rid of all of it when it had just come into existence?
Just yesterday Paul was another one of Sam's cronies. But today he was the guy who had taken interest in me for once, he was the guy who was somehow tied to me (from what I heard of his conversation with Sam yesterday), he was the guy who scared the crap out of me, but set me free all at once.
I was at a loss.
That feeling of confused desperation followed me everywhere, right to the cafeteria. I walk in my head anywhere but where it should be and I walk right into someone. It's not Paul, thankfully, but it is one of Sam's cronies. I recognize him as Quil, but more importantly he's just as hot as Paul (in temperature) but doesn't give me the tingles.
"Sorry." I mutter, and move to walk around him.
He steps in my way, startling me when he places a hand on my shoulder, stopping me from moving. I glance at his hand on my shoulder and then back at him, my eye brows raised.
"Sorry, but I just wanted to tell you not to take Paul so seriously," Quil scratches the back of his neck nervously. "He's got a bad temper, and tends to lash out whenever. Especially if he doesn't get his way. I mean, I saw you guys in the parking lot and—"
"Should stop worrying," I interrupt. "I told him to leave me alone, Quil. He has, so far at least."
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't count on it. Paul doesn't…" Quil gets cut off by Paul.
I feel him standing behind me, and his proximity raises the hairs on the back of my neck. I shiver when I hear his deep voice rumble out from over my head, "Paul doesn't what, Quil?"
The situation is damn near laughable except for the fact that I am caught in the middle of it. I am wedged between both Paul and Quil, forming a tension filled Bella sandwich. I don't care for it one bit and thankfully Quil laughs nervously, "Nothing, man."
Paul grunts out this sound that sounds like 'later' but I don't know for sure. Quil walks away, back to the table that has Sam and everyone else. I watch him go and refrain from calling him back—I don't want to be left alone with Paul.
Paul just steps out from behind me and looks down at me, "What'd he want?"
"Nothing." I reply, moving to get in line for lunch. I forgot my lunch at home in my haste to get ready for school (my alarm clock didn't go off at the set time). Stupid alarm clock.
"He must have wanted something," Paul snaps, picking up a tray to put his food on. "Or else he wouldn't be talking to you."
"Maybe he wanted to talk to me." I snap back, not liking his assumption.
Paul makes that sound again, all frustrated and angry.
I nearly smirk but it dies on my face when I hear Paul's next comment.
"Maybe, but I know he didn't. Quil doesn't like girls like you."
"Girls like me?" My trachea is tight, my voice small.
"Yes, girls like you." Paul says, but it's like he's talking to a five year old.
"Meaning?" I know I shouldn't be asking, but part of me wants to know.
"Girls who…" He trails off, smirking like he's got an inside joke. "Have a great personality, fat girls."
My heart cracks.
My chest caves in.
My lungs collapse.
My stomach clenches painfully.
He's truly an asshole.
He just called me fat.
I nearly choke on the lump lodged in my throat.
I blink back tears, biting into my lower lip so hard that it hurts.
It hurts though.
"You're such an asshole, Paul." I mutter weakly.
"Twice in one day, Bella, that's not very nice."
"Neither are you."
"C'mon, Bella, you don't even know me."
"Well apparently you know me well enough to comment on my weight." I mumble.
Paul just laughs and the lump in my throat swells because he doesn't even care. But he isn't supposed to, and I don't know why I expected him to. I mean, from what I've seen, I shouldn't come to expect anything from Paul. He was mean and cruel and I just wanted to get away from all of it.
I wanted to leave so I could break down in privacy, because for some reason Paul was able to get inside my head and do serious damage. I should just brush off the comment, and show him that I am strong enough to handle whatever he dished out.
So that's what I did. I bought my salad and went to my table and ate my food. I listened to my angry playlist on my I-pod to keep myself together because I was just about ready to loose it. Between this morning and Paul's more recent comments my weak shield of confidence was battered and bruised and ready to fall apart.
I feel Paul's gaze on me and I look up, the martyr that I am. I sweep over the disappointment and find something different. I don't know what it is, maybe regret. Either way it's not an improvement and I drop his stare.
I leave the cafeteria, my eyes glued to the ground as I do so. I enter the Girl's Bathroom and pick a stall. I slide its lock shut behind me and place a hand over my mouth as the lump in my throat swells and swells. I sit on the toilet and resist the tears that are begging to fall. I want to keep them in, to prove that I am strong, and to prove that his opinion doesn't affect me. But I'm a weak fool that has great posture for their lack of a spine and I let the tears fall.
The tears fall, fat and ugly like me as they slide down my cheeks.
I feel the burn of my embarrassment.
The searing pain of my shame.
For being fat.
For being so pathetically weak.
For not being strong enough to embrace who I was.
For falling apart and allowing my self to do so.
For allowing myself to sob.
To cry.
To fall.
To crack.
To break.
P ~ B
Hurt had released me from its strangling hold and I emerge from the stall blotchy and swollen. I avoid looking at the mirror as I approach the sinks and twist the tap for cold water. I cup my hands and splash the cold water over my face. I do this in hopes of calming it, so that I won't scare my Math teacher when I go to class. Also in the case that I happen to see Paul that he won't know how much he affected me, how much he hurt me.
I know a lot of you must be thinking, so what, he called you fat, big deal, get over it. But to me it just wasn't that simple. The excess weight I carried around with me day-to-day wasn't just made up of physical pounds. The excess weight was lined with insecurities, filled with being compared, of being put down by society, by my peers, by everyone. It was so much more than my jean size that Paul was commenting on.
Plus when he said that, the fat comment that is, I was still left rattled from our altercation prior. I was still rattled. I couldn't believe that Paul was claiming me as his. I was horrified that I was left defenseless against him and I didn't know what to do. What could I do? Say that a boy was being mean to me? Harassment? No. I wouldn't do that. I couldn't. No one would believe me anyway, Paul was one of the golden boys on the Reservation despite his anger problems.
I had nowhere to go.
I clean myself up with that thought on my mind, patch myself back together, and look in the mirror. The damage isn't too bad, my eyes are still a little red, but other than that I was fine. I was good enough shape to go to the office and the School's secretary, Mrs. Gable, to rearrange my schedule. I had decided that the only way to survive was to get away from Paul.
I enter the office and approach Mrs. Gable's desk. She looks up at me, all bright eyed and bushy tailed as she asks, "How can I help you, dear?"
"I would like to make some changes to my schedule." I say, biting my lower lip at the thought of not being able to switch my classes around.
"Well let's see what we can do." She smiles, moving over to her computer.
I smile back weakly and offer, "I don't want to anything to serious. I just want to rearrange it so that my first two classes are at a different time."
Mrs. Gable frowns, "Why?"
"Preferences."
"Hmm…well…" She clicks her computer's mouse for a little while, guiding it over the desk as she looks at the screen. "I'm afraid classes will have to remain as they are."
Defeat lands like a brick in my stomach and I murmur, "Oh, okay, thank you for trying, Mrs. Gable."
"You're welcome, dear." She smiles.
I nod and turn around.
My heart stops when I see Paul standing in the doorway.
He looks at me, pinning me to the spot and I am feel like I am back in the stall in the Girl's bathroom. I feel the hurt rising up and I bite my lower lip, trying to shy away from it. I straighten my spine and muster every ounce of confidence as I walk out of the Office.
Paul smirks when I pass through the doorway, "Trying to get away from me?"
"No." I lie, because I don't want Paul to know that I was indeed trying to get away from him.
"Bull shit." He snorts, and walks into the Office.
"Language, young man!" Mrs. Gable scolds from her desk.
It's my turn to smirk, "Yeah, language, Paul."
His lip curls into a snarl he is about to say something when Mrs. Gable cuts in, "Can I help you, young man?"
I don't stick around to hear his reply and quickly make my way to Math Class. I make it to Math Class safe and sound, no interruptions from Paul, thank God. It's half way through the class and I leave to go to the bathroom, partly because I gotta go and partly because I am extremely bored and need to get away.
P ~ B
It's the end of the day and I haven't managed to get over what happened earlier. I am done being hurt; I am still wrestling with the anger though. I'm angry because I didn't understand why he would say that to me, he had no reason to. It wasn't like I said or did anything that warranted being attacked like that. I didn't understand Paul, never mind his reasoning.
I felt angry with him for treating me the way he did and making me feel this way. But I was angrier at myself for allowing him to make me feel this way and get away with it. But the problem was that I didn't know how to stop him from making me feel this way. Truthfully, I didn't know how to stop feeling this way.
I had never met anyone who could make me feel this way. I had never let some childish insult result in me bawling my eyes out in the washroom. I wanted to say that it was hormones or something like that. But I knew it wasn't. I knew it was because the insult was coming from Paul.
That was the really confusing part.
Because it shouldn't be the reason why. I barely knew Paul, but somehow what he said to me and about me mattered. It shouldn't, but it did. It was like if an average person said it, like some F.S.S.B, it wouldn't be as bad. I didn't know how that made sense, but it did. Just the other day, a girl called me fat-ass and I just brushed it off. But Paul called me fat and I was in pieces.
But whether I liked it or not, Paul had something over me. It felt like that too. It felt like something bigger than Paul was involved and I wanted to find out what. However, a part of me didn't want to know, because I knew it would only make this entire situation worse.
My trek across the parking lot towards Bessie feels long and tiring, and I am hit with the sudden weight of today's events. It had truly been a bad day and I knew that I made it that way. Had I ignored Paul and his insult, the day probably wouldn't have been so bad. Instead I had another pity party, the second within a two-day stretch, and I was bordering pathetic. I mean, I had confidence, or at least I thought I did. But I just didn't have it around Paul. I felt so insecure and vulnerable around Paul, and his behavior didn't help one bit.
Instead of letting myself get sucked back into it I quickly opened Bessie (I had reached her by now) and hopped in. I toss my school bag onto the passenger side seat and start her up. She rumbles to life and I steer my way out of the school parking lot under the dark clouds threatening to rain.
I am just about halfway from home when a loud booming thunder rattles through the sky; I glance up, shaking my head. I wanted to get home before the storm—I hated driving in the rain. I keep on driving and nearly die when Bessie begins to sputter. The sounds coming from my truck cannot bee healthy, and that is verified when she abruptly stops, causing me to lurch forward in my seat.
"Fuck!" I curse, trying to start Bessie up again. "No! C'mon!"
I breathe in through my nose deeply, the sound seeming loud in the cab of my truck as I try to calm down. I let the deep breath out in a whoosh and close my eyes, turning the key in the ignition again. That attempt earns an awful sound from Bessie and I slam my hands on her steering wheel, "Damn it!"
I was so fucking pissed. Paul had one job—to fix my fucking truck, and he couldn't even do that. But there was no point in getting worked up about it, and I knew that, but it didn't stop me from screeching out a series of profanities and beating up Bessie.
By the end of my grand spaz attack I was a huffy mess with angry tears dripping down my cheeks. I sat there in the drivers seat, arms slung over the steering wheel as I pounded my head against them, repeatedly wailing 'why'. I received no answer and that only made it worse.
Sniffling I reach over to my school bag and pull out my cell phone. I scroll through my contact list and call my Mom, wiping the angry tears off my cheeks as I do so. It goes straight to voice mail and I groan, hanging up before the beep. I know that my Dad is working as well so I don't want to bother him, but I am not content to sit in my truck waiting around for some serial killer to creep out of the woods and cut me into pieces. So I call him, only to get the horrid voicemail treatment again.
"This is fucking great, impeccable timing, Bessie." I punch the steering wheel, as more angry tears build. I feel so pathetically helpless like some damsel in distress and this is cemented when the clouds open up and rain down on Bessie and I.
"Great!" I cry. "Just fucking great!"
But my voice can barely be heard over the loud sound of the rain hitting the cab of my truck in repeated thumps. I shake my head and give aloud shriek when there is a sharp series of knocks on my window. I look over and see that it's Paul who's knocking on my window.
I roll it down with the little knob thing on my door and snap, "What?"
"Is that anyway to greet your rescuer?" Paul grins cheekily, and I am hit with the sudden thought that Paul could be actually, sort of, I don't know, normal when he tried. I didn't see the chauvinistic prick from this morning, nor did I see the asshole from lunch standing before me, I saw a guy trying to help me out.
I sniffled, "Sorry, it's just been a really bad day."
Something flashes in Paul's eyes, I don't know what, but I don't get the chance to ask because Paul says, "I know—"
All of a sudden with that little statement my anger for Paul rolls through me, and without even thinking I shout over the rain, "Do you know, Paul?"
Paul doesn't know. If he did he wouldn't have treated me like crap and would stop caring the crap of me.
"Listen, Bella, if this is about what happened at lunch, just let it go!" Paul shouts back over the rain.
"Let it go!" I hop out of my truck and into the pouring rain, and it is just now that I notice how hot Paul looks. He is all wet from standing in the rain, his black t-shirt is clinging to his torso and his jeans are hugging his legs. He glares down at me, slicking his wet hair back, "Yeah, let it go!"
"Fuck you! I'll let it go when I want to let it go, Paul!" I scream back and I know we're battling over something more than him commenting on my weight. We're arguing something much bigger—I don't know what exactly, but we were none the less.
"Fine! Have it your way, Bella! I am trying help you out here and you're arguing with me over some dumb joke that I made!" Paul shouts.
"Dumb joke? You're right; it was a fucking dumb joke coming from a dumb guy! And I never asked for your help! I never asked for anything!"
"Dumb guy?" Paul scoffs. "You know, a dumb guy wouldn't have pulled over to help you! I could have easily driven past you and left you stranded here, but I didn't! So why don't you do the both of us a favor and get in my fucking car so I can drive you home!"
"I wouldn't be stranded here in the first place if you had done your job right and fixed Bessie properly!" I shouted, jabbing my finger into chest.
"Just get in the car!" Paul snaps, grabbing my wrist to stop me from jabbing him again.
His hand is hot around my wrist and I tug it out of his grasp, "Why are you being so nice now? Why didn't you just drive past me?"
"Jesus, woman, just get in the damn car, right about now I don't know why the hell I stopped! I just did, but I am seriously regretting my decision!" Paul answers me.
We are both silent then and it is just now that I notice how close we are standing. We have slowly inched closer during our argument, and we are nearly toe-to-to. The tension is crackling between the two of us, and for a moment I thought I saw Paul glance down at my lips, but I couldn't be sure.
The rain is pounding down on the both of us, and thunder rumbles above our heads. I shiver and Paul sighs quietly, "Please, Bella, get in the car."
"Okay." I appease.
"Thank you."
P ~ B
Paul's car certainly isn't the cleanest that I've seen.
The interior smells like him though, which is a bonus. He has the heat cranked up high, and I can't help but inch closer to the vents. I was freezing in my wet clothes and couldn't wait to get home so that I could change. I glance at Paul from the corner of my eye, and my heart tightens, my stomach does this weird flip thing. I quickly look away when Paul catches me, a smirk sitting on his full lips. A blush creeps its way up my neck, burning my cheeks.
He chuckles and I my cheeks burn all the more.
Since I am a nosey little passenger, I glance around me and see that Paul has CDs everywhere. They form a sea at my feet and there are some scattered along the dashboard, there are even more in the back seat. I smirk, "Not one for an I-pod?"
"Huh?" Paul asks, frowning.
"The CDs. Most people have an I-Pod now and forgo it by downloading." I supply, nerves fluttering in my stomach. For some reason I felt nervous around Paul, like I didn't want to sound stupid or something.
"I'm not most people." Paul replies, only adding to his lack of being normal.
"I never said you were, Paul. I was just trying to make conversation." I muttered, looking out the window.
Paul remains silent, effectively ending our little chat. I don't know why but I felt the need to make conversation and fill the silence, but something told me I shouldn't even bother. Paul seemed like one of those quiet guys that didn't enjoy a girl's incessant chatter. So I remained quiet and instead sifted through his CD collection.
I was on my fifth CD when Paul asked, "Find anything you like?"
Paul's voice seemed so loud after the long stretch of silence that I dropped the CD, "Sorry. I didn't mean to be nosey."
"Do I really make you that nervous, Bella? I was actually asking you if you found anything that you liked." Paul chuckled, glancing at me form the corner of his eye.
There was that damn blush again, "No. You don't make me nervous."
Then he laughs, like full out—not just a chuckle—laughs at me.
I giggle with him and soon we're both laughing and it's contagious. Our laughter dies down and I go back to looking through his CDs and for a moment, I find myself thinking that Paul could be nice when he wanted to be. The only trouble was—how did I get him to be nice to me all the time? I didn't know, and something told me that this little window of Nice Paul was something to savor and not consider a commodity. That thought made my heart hurt for some reason, because I liked this Paul. The one he wasn't being an ass or scaring me.
I feel my eyes light up when I come across a Kings of Leon CD and I sigh, "God, I love these guys. They're amazing."
"Yeah?" Paul smiles at me, glancing down at the CD in my hand.
My heart flutters in my chest and a smile stretches across my face as I smile back at him. Soon, before I even know it, I have entered into an actual conversation with Paul about one of my favorite bands, Kings of Leon. Paul is actually really smart and funny when he tries, and I had a funny feeling that not many got to see him like this. He even offers to fix Bessie again, and promises that she'll be ready by the end of the week. I feel this feeling start to build and immediately find that it is the beginnings of a crush.
Here in the car with Paul, talking to him, laughing with him, it is easy to forget about today. I find myself thinking that this day wasn't so bad after all. Before I know it Paul has pulled up to my house, and I grab my school bag (I got it out of my truck earlier) and have my hand on the little handle that'll let me out.
I hesitate because I don't want this to end. I'm afraid that as soon as I open this door, this Nice Paul was going to disappear and never be seen again. So I made the biggest mistake in my entire life when I bit my lip and asked, "Do you want to come in, get dry?"
I look at Paul and my heart drops because I know that Nice Paul has officially left the building. Something has changed, I know this just by the look on Paul's face and he coldly says, "We're not friends, Bella. I gave you a ride home. It doesn't mean anything."
"I know, I just thought…" I mumble, feeling like a fool.
"Just thought what?" Paul asks, his eye brows rose, and it has never been clearer—I am such an idiot.
"Nothing. I made a mistake." I quickly get out of his car, and slam the door behind me.
P ~ B
I am lying on my bed all alone and I still feel the burn of my embarrassment when I go out of Paul's car. At the time, I thought foolishly just for a moment that Paul might actually be a good guy. I had never been more wrong in my life. His quick rejection and dismissal of me hurt, but nothing irked me more than my own disappointment in myself.
I was such a fool to think that Paul actually might enjoy my company. My little crush on him just got hit by a truck (and died); I refused to get fooled again. I wouldn't let myself get stuck wearing those rose colored glasses ever again. I needed to stop trying to make Paul into something that it he wasn't. He was an asshole who didn't go for fat girls like me; he just gave them a ride home.
I now knew not to let myself get involved with Paul. He could bother me all he wanted and I would refuse to acknowledge it. I figured if I just ignored him and let him get whatever the hell was going on out of his system that it would go away. That's what I hoped at least.
But I knew, somewhere, deep, deep, deep down that that wouldn't happen. Based on Paul's possessive attitude and his conversation with Sam yesterday, there was a lot more to this than what I wanted.
I could be wrong though, right? I mean, maybe, just maybe, this was much simpler than I thought it was. Then again, something told me that nothing was exactly simple with Paul. But right now I only had two questions:
What had I gotten myself into and was it too late to get out of it?
P ~ B
A/N: Once again sorry for the slow update, however like I said I posted chapter one of White Blank Page just before I left for a ten day vacation. So I hope this chapter did not disappoint, and was worth the long wait.
Thank you for all the support that you have all given White Blank Page thus far. Thanks for all the reviews and favorites! I truly appreciate it. So, please let me know what you thought of this chapter.
Playlist:
Broken Boy Soldier—The Raconteurs
Call It a Day—The Raconteurs
Take a Vacation—The Young Veins
California Paradise—The Runaways
I'm Not Your Toy—La Roux
BIG NEWS:
Both stories, White Blank Page and Boarders are nominees of The Jacob-Black-N-Pack Awards!
White Blank Page has been nominated for All Eyes On This One Award-Fav Work In Progress
Boarders has been nominated for SM4LAward The Best All Around Story This Year
You guys can check this out here
Special shout out to zdra8351 for making the nominations!
If you all could go check it out and show some love by doing so that would be great. Spread the word as well!
Until next time
-beavoicenotanecho
