DISCLAIMER: I don't own Twilight.

This is a sequel to Shooting Star which you can find on my profile, though you might be able to read this anyway :)

Thank you to my lovely beta and friend, Kallmecrazy! Her stories are amazing, you should go check them out !

Okay, first chapter.. it would be a lie if said that I wasn't nervous about this.. but here it goes ...


1. Pretending

Evelyn's POV

I had been out shopping with my own personal shopper, Angelica, for hours and hours. My model agency required that we had to wear stylish clothes at all times, and we weren't allowed to wear anything unacceptable in the public. If you were caught doing that – meaning if the paparazzi snapped a picture of you not wearing anything unacceptable – the consequence of it could be getting fired. But I'd only seen that being done once or twice. Though I had hired a personal shopper to be sure of always wearing stylish clothes, my legs were sore of walking, my upper body sore of changing and trying clothes so much and my feet literally hurt from wearing high-heeled shoes - another stylish equipment.

"Are we done soon?" I asked Angelica, reminding myself to be happy that I at least don't have to carry all the bags around with me – Angelica had hired a man to carry those.

"Yes, dear, we just need those fabulous brown boots I saw earlier," She mumbled completely absent. She was always absent when she was surrounded by stores – she was looking at the clothes, seeing the many possibilities it had. I didn't see the possibilities. And I didn't see the need any of those boots, because we'd already bought so much, and I always got clothes from all the expensive brands whenever I was hired at one of their runaway shows. So why bother?

I sighed, and walked in a slower pace behind her, desperate to get home under my comforter.

Luckily the boots were quickly found, and Angelica's assistant carried the bags into my boyfriend's car, Jason. For once in a lifetime, he was the one picking me up and not his driver, Charles. Usually, he would send me a text saying, 'Srry, couldn't make it, but Charles could -Jay.' But this time he was picking me up.

I cheek-kissed Angelica goodbye, and slid into the low racer-car Jason loved so much.

"Hey sexy," He said and smiled at me with his perfect teeth. It bothered me. It wasn't because his teeth were too perfect, just the wrong perfect. And it wasn't only his teeth, really. His smile was fake. I could always sense it from a far distance.

"Hi," I said trying to sound cheerful, but truth was, I was close to break down.

"So I see you bought a lot of stuff as usual," He muttered trying to small talk, as he started the engine. I wasn't in the mood for small talk though. I hadn't done anything else than small-talking with Angelica all day. I needed some quietness, but he had never been the kind of boyfriend to care for how I felt. Everything was more about him, but I felt selfish saying that, so I didn't.

"Angelica did," I corrected him; though I knew he didn't like being corrected.

His smile faded, and his usual bad mood came through now we weren't in closeness of other people watching us. The famous Jason Frasier couldn't possibly allow himself to destroy the view the media had of his personality. They thought he was a cheerful enthusiastic kind of person. They weren't allowed to know the truth, which was that he's exactly opposite. "Whatever," He mumbled, clearly, I had annoyed him.

He zoomed through the streets full of traffic, being awfully rued to the other drivers, probably causing some of them to mutter, "Asshole" under their breath, but quickly taking it back, as they see it's Jason Frasier. I could get away from anything, just mentioning his name.

"Won't you please help me carry up the bags?" I asked, insecure of his answer, when he had cut the engine in front of our building.

"No, I have a manuscript to practice," He replied quickly and tossing the keys to me. "Remember to lock the car when you're done."

If I ever get done, I thought but didn't say it. It would only annoy him further.

An hour later I was in the shower, turning up the heat. I always liked hot showers. I actually preferred to be hot always, but I turned it higher up in the hope of getting rid of the soreness in my body and the pain beneath my feet. I could hear the TV getting turned on from the living room.

When I was done carrying the bags up I had checked on Jason, to find out he was sitting at his Macbook. Bet he hadn't practiced a manuscript, but I knew that already. He'd just smiled up at me, with that fake smile which made me shiver and want to run away.

After half an hour, when I was done showering, the soreness and pain was still there, refusing to leave me alone. I found a tank top and some jeans. I would rather have worn a hoddie and jogging pants, but I knew Jason didn't like casual clothes, so I better not.

When I was done drying my hair, and putting on my clothes, I went to the kitchen for some dinner. I knew Jason had already eaten because of the dishes in the sink, that he obviously hadn't bothered to put in the dishwasher, though it was empty. I ate some lasagna from yesterday, a plate of salad, some potatoes, four glasses of Coke and two pieces of cake. Wow, I hadn't realized I was that hungry, probably the outcome of the horrid shopping I did earlier. But a few minutes later, after staring out in the empty air, I realized how many calories I'd just swallowed. With a sick feeling in my stomach, I rushed to the bathroom and threw up, being careful to remain silent. I didn't want Jason thinking I was sick or something. It was usual for me to throw up after eating. Nothing to get all stirred up about. I feverishly brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth twice, to be sure the disgusting taste in my mouth was gone. I wiped the tears away from my cheeks, making sure that there were no more visible signs of my sickness – though he probably wouldn't care - and slumped into the couch at the seat beside Jason.

"Just in time to see my show," he mumbled and smiled to himself.

"Wouldn't miss it," Which was a lie. I'd seen so many episodes of that stupid show, that it had now become so predictable and monotone and it wasn't really worth watching. But I did it for Jason's sake.

The intro music began, and I pulled my legs up to my chest wrapping my arms around them. As we'd watched it halfway – with constant comments and complains from Jason about his co-stars – I leaned into him, completely aware of the consequence, but not bothering to worry about it now. I just needed the closeness of someone. Anyone.

As the credits rolled across the screen, I snuggled closer to him, just enjoying the silence from him, but also knowing what's yet to come.

He always starts out carefully, like messaging my shoulders – a rare thing for him to do – but then sliding his fingers up under my shirt, opening the clasp of my bra and pulling the tank top off of me.

But this time it was different. He wasn't all gentle and soft as he usually was. His fingers crawled down to my pants, but I put a hand down to stop him, knowing it wouldn't make any difference.

"What's wrong?" He whispered urgently.

"I just don't want to,"

"What?" He asked in disbelief, his voice getting a few octaves higher.

"I don't want to," I said again calmly.

His expression turned incredulous, and I didn't reach to react before his hand hit my cheek. When his hand was removed, it felt like it was still there, burning its way into my skin. He started to soothe my cheek now, with soft strokes across the burning. It was like putting an ice-cube into a lake of liquid, burning lava.

"Honey, I don't want to hurt you. I want to make love to you." He cooed like I was a little child.

It wasn't the first time he'd hit me. It was the third. I was sure one day I would lose count of it. The first time was when I had been eating dinner with one of my male friends and first gotten home a little later than promised. He had hit the left side of my stomach, and the blue mark was still visible, along with the shock that still echoed in my mind. Second time it was because I refused sex with him as now. And now this was the third time.

It wasn't the first time either; I had refused to have sex with him, but had given in anyway. I didn't want to upset him, because I knew how hard life as an actor could be. I didn't want to make it worse. I wanted to think of myself as the one who improves his life, but not sure if I would ever become that person to Jason.

The people who didn't know Jason's true self, were totally jealous and thought that I was the luckiest girl on earth, to be having such a handsome man as my boyfriend. But those who knew him, all wondered why I was with him, and I was sure they thought that maybe then, it was because of amazing sex. But that wasn't even it, because I had never enjoyed sex much. It was because I loved him. Right?

I remember so well how we fell in love. I was at a club, where only the 'cool' people were allowed entrance. Apparently I was one of them. Every girl I knew was interested in him, and I was the only one who didn't bother. But he found me irresistibly mysterious because I didn't want him, and then I was the one ending up with him. Quite ironic, actually. The first time we kissed it was raining a lot, and our clothes were completely drenched. The first time we had sex was in the back of his limousine. The first time we said "I love you" to each other it was in Paris on Arch de Triumph at a special night opening. I miss saying that. I was so happy back then, and he was too. He hadn't always been this grouchy and selfish. He used to buy me flowers, unexpectedly take me to lunch, kidnap me picnic in a park and other romantic stuff like that. Now it was gone, and every day was a gray day for me.

I sighed, settling myself down as comfortable as possible on the couch, pulling my top off along with my jeans, giving him the pleasure of tearing off my panties and bra himself. He grinned down at my almost naked body, and pulled off his shirt, jeans, socks, and underwear, seeing how hard he already was just by the sight of me. He opened the clasp of my bra quickly and cupped my breasts with his hands. I remained quiet.

He started nibbling and kissing my neck, while he pulled down my panties. Only a few seconds passed, and then he thrust into me in one quick move, causing my whole body to sting in pain, because of the soreness in it. He pulled back, to thrust into me again, this time not as painfully, although I couldn't say it was that pleasurable either.

"Uh..." Jason moaned. "Yes. You're so... Eve!"

He thrust into me again, but I just stayed still, eyes closed.

Embry's POV

It was today; exactly three years since my mom had died. Being at her grave didn't make me sad or happy. It made me feel numb, just the way I'd felt during her funeral, just the way I'd felt when I held a speech, and just the way I'd felt about her. I couldn't tell if she loved me. Or had, at least. I had no need of getting to know either. Unlike me, she wasn't good at expressing her feelings. She was always so formal, so careful, and so neat.

I was pretty much alone now. I had no family left. Not that I knew of.

I had Sam and his family, but I didn't want to steal it from him, though I knew he was more than willing to share. He wanted me to be happy too.

The reason why Sam, was sort of the only family I had left, was because that he was my half brother. Sam's father is my father too. Mom had told me that just before she died. As the last thing, making it impossible for me question her about it, but maybe that was exactly why she had waited such a long time – because she didn't want to talk about it. She probably felt embarrassed – it had shocked people enough that she was pregnant and alone, why shock them further and embarrass the Uley family by telling who the father is? No, she would never give anyone such guilt on their shoulders. Not even me, though she knew I was aware of it was me who should feel guiltiest. After all, I was the one who had stopped her from getting an education. I was the one who had stopped her from building up a family. It bothered me a lot and sometimes I was on the edge of crying. Stupid, I knew. It wasn't my fault I was born. But still, I felt so damn guilty.

I walked away from her grave, trying to collect myself. The thought – the guilt – in my mind was too much, and I needed a distraction. I went to my car, realizing I was starving. I ended up stopping by McDonald's for takeaway food, and flirting with the girl reaching me the paper bag of fast food. It felt like comfort eating as I was settled down in a wooden chair to myself, nothing but silence to fill in the air. It was stupid, but to honor my mom who was always so neat, I always kept my house, which once had been hers, organized and clean. But it made my house seem cold too, which sometimes made me want to get all messy and dirty, just so it would look like somebody was actually living there.

I slumped into my couch as I'd finished the two Big Mac's I'd bought, closing my eyes, to open them quickly again, as I heard a car nearing my house.

I shook my head and snorted, as I saw Quil's car pull into my garage. From my couch, I could already hear him and Claire fighting over who sang the best. Though I must admit that both of them sang like shit.

Claire was thirteen now, and extremely conscious of that she had her own personal living three dimensional teddy bear, who would do just about anything to make her happy.

"Claire, c'mon, I won Singstar four times against you," Quil argued.

"Yes, but that was because it was grown-up songs I've never heard!" Claire protested.

"Okay next time we'll buy High School Musical edition,"

They both burst into laughter.

"I hate that edition, you idiot," Claire grinned at him.

Quil grinned sincerely back at her. "Yeah, yeah, kiddo. You say what you want but I'm still the best,"

She rolled her eyes at him and opened the car, only to take a few steps in direction of my house, before shouting, "Uncle Embry!". She knew I could hear her already. She'd grown used to our improved senses, but she had never questioned it. She knew nothing about wolves though.

I stepped out the door, meeting her with open arms. I hugged her little body tightly, her short arms only reaching halfway around me, but she was only looked small because I was so over-sized.

"How are ya, beautiful?" I chuckled and pulled her out to look at her properly.

She blushed slightly. "Fantastic, though Quil thinks he sings better than me. What do you think?"

"Um," I mumbled. She pushed her eyebrows together, looking expectantly at me. "You do, honey."

She spun around and smiled up at Quil.

"Hey, dude! I thought you were my friend," He complained to me.

"Well, Claire is just so much nicer," I said and winked at her.

She grinned at me, and her lips pouted. "Could I go watch TV? You have all the good channels,"

"'Course. Make yourself at home," I told her, and she ran inside, eager to watch her channels.

Quil watched me for a while, before saying anything. Our eyes met, and the look in his eyes told me, he knew what day it was today. Bet it was to cheer me up, they'd stopped by. He hadn't called before coming, knowing I'd just say no. I knew it was good for me to have them here. And it worked. Kind of. The only thing that could cure my agony completely was to go out tonight – it was Friday night - find someone hot, fuck her, and get home.

Quil asked me if I wanted to go to Emily's place along with all the other wolves, but I already had plans. I was going to a club in Seattle. Fuck a random girl. Leave before she could reach to ask for my name. Quil and Jacob were the only ones allowed to tease me with it. They called me a "man-whore" whenever they got an appropriate time. But I didn't really care, because if that was what it would take to drown my agonies, then I would keep doing it. At least it wasn't junk food or alcohol or drugs. Sex was pretty harmless against that.

When Quil and Claire had left, I called a friend. Her name was Britney. And she was hot.

Review and hold up my motivation :)