Chapter Three

It's like we burned so bright …

Bella's gaze shifted away from her best friend as she hung her coat neatly in the closet, effectively closing the door on the piece of clothing that would no doubt lead to a long night of questioning from Angela. It wasn't like there was anything to tell, but having Paul's jacket in her closet was almost like a dirty little secret. It hung there, stark and heavy next to the pastels that made up her everyday wardrobe. It was almost symbolic, but Bella couldn't quite put her finger on the meaning. It felt foolish to put so much stock into a garment. She had talked to Paul for a few hours, and yet she couldn't shake the feeling that it was important… that he was important. Stretching the ache in her muscles, she sighed as she turned back to Angela, who was smirking quietly as she waited for Bella to answer – a technique she had learned in one of her many business classes.

"Paul found me after I left last night and gave me his jacket because I was cold." She shrugged. It wasn't a complete lie, and if Bella told Angela the whole truth, the younger girl would read far too much into it.

"So you're telling me that Paul Lahote – the one that started the fight between you and Edward – just casually gave you his leather jacket and walked away? He never takes that thing off, Bella. Did you fuck him?" The bluntness of Angela's question made Bella choke on air, grasping for the back of her desk chair as she coughed roughly.

"Geeze, Ang!" Bella shook her head, finally catching her breath. "What kind of girl do you think I am?" She reached for her phone as it rang, her brows furrowing at the unknown number above the text.

'Hey, it's Paul. Got your number from Jacob. We still on for tomorrow?'

Typing a quick 'of course', Bella frowned as Angela waved her hands around. "Did you hear a word I just said?" Her friend asked. When it was clear she hadn't, Angela sighed. "I asked if you and Edward were still together or if you're seeing Paul now?"

"Of course Edward and I are still together. It was just a rumor, Angela. You know how gossip gets skewed around here."

Angela's face was thoughtful as her tanned brow knit in worry. "Just be careful Bella. I don't think that many people would all come up with the same story and all be wrong."

"It's called mass hysteria." Bella attempted to joke. She didn't want to talk about what might have happened with Edward and Rosalie. They say ignorance was bliss, and Bella wanted to continue to be blissful for a while. She glanced at her phone as it buzzed in her hand.

'Great! Do me a favor and don't do your hair or makeup. Wear sweats or something.'

Bella frowned at the message. Maybe he had a specific way he wanted to paint her and he needed a blank canvas? Bella hadn't gone out in public without her hair and makeup done since she was thirteen and Renee took her through 'the steps to womanhood', which was just Renee's way of teaching her how to spend hours on her appearance.

"Is that Edward now?" Angela asked. The guilt must have been clear on Bella's face, because Angela's smirk was back. "Ooooh! It's Paul isn't it!?" She jumped up, quickly grabbing for Bella's phone before she could stop her.

She read over the text, keeping Bella at bay with one arm. Thanks to years of basketball, Angela was a lot stronger than Bella. With a shocked expression, Angela handed her phone over. "Why is he telling you what to wear? Are you hooking up with him to get back at Edward? I love it! I love everything about it! How big is his dick?"

"Angela!" Bella gawked as her face reddened, her phone clutched to her chest like a lifeline. "Paul is an art major! I told him he could paint me as the subject of his final as a thank you for lending me his jacket!"

"Paint me like one of your French girls, Paul!" Angela mocked in a high pitched voice as she placed the back of her hand against her forehead. "Paint me wearing your jacket… only your jacket!" She laughed, nearly doubling over at her own joke and how every word she spoke just made Bella blush harder.

"Hilarious." Bella sighed with a shake of her head as she pushed a still cackling Angela out of her room. "Don't ever speak to me again." Bella joked with a small smile as she closed the door on her best friend. Leave it to Angela to make Bella feel better about her screwed up situation without trying.

Locking the door, Bella allowed herself to slump onto her bed, her fingers flying across the screen of her phone. 'You're not going to make me out to look like The Scream, are you?' She didn't realize she was smiling until she hit send. Part of her felt guilty, though she knew she had no reason to. They were just having a friendly conversation, and Paul was a friend… more or less.

'You caught me.' The instant text immediately brought the smile back to her lips, her guilt forgotten. 'In all seriousness, I just like to paint people without any kind of mask. I want to paint the real Bella Swan.' The thought of Paul painting her 'without a mask' made her feel… vulnerable. Even Edward hadn't seen her without makeup. 'So, what are you up to?'

She wasn't sure how she had lost track of time texting Paul, but it was well past midnight when her phone warned her of a low battery. Texting him a quick goodnight, Bella hooked up her phone and made her way to the seldom used wardrobe in the corner of her room. She was sure she had some workout gear somewhere, but she had given up on her dreams of fitness some months ago. With a sigh, she nervously held the oversized ΑΧΩ sweater at eye level. Why did she suddenly feel… nervous?

Finding Paul's place was pretty easy. Everyone on campus knew about that building – the one for the scholarship students. For the last year or so it had been inhabited by most of Paul's 'gang'. It was an apartment building that looked more like something you would see in the south side of some big city than on a university campus. The only hint that it was even associated with Brigeton University was the small sign on the age-worn brick entryway. The front door was barred and had a lock on it, but upon inspection, Bella could see that it had been broken off long ago. She could almost hear her mother's voice warning her away from the shady-looking hallway as she slowly climbed the stairs to the third floor where she knew Paul's flat would be. Doubt checking his texts to make sure she got the number correct, Bella paused outside of a large metal door that looked like it had to be rolled open instead of pushed.

Clutching Paul's jacket in one hand, Bella took a deep breath as she knocked with the other. At first, she was worried that she hadn't knocked loud enough, despite the cold steel stinging her knuckles. After a moment, she heard Paul's gruff voice call for her to come in. It felt intrusive – opening someone else's door even when invited. Biting her lip, Bella pulled on the heavy bar that acted as the handle, wincing as the door groaned and slid across a rusty track. As softly as she could, Bella slid it closed behind her as her eyes took in every square inch of the place.

The walls were mostly brick with exposed piping and barred windows across the far end. On one side of the room sat a large bed, the neutral gray blanket tucked in tight under the mattress. There were no extra pillows or frills, but it didn't look stiff or old like she would have expected from such a place. Not far from the bed there was an overstuffed burgundy armchair that looked like it had seen several years of use, if the mismatched patchwork along the arm and backing were any indication. It stood proudly next to a small round end table piled high with books and art supplies. The floor around it housed even more books, all on different artists that Bella only half knew.

In the corner opposite the bed, just behind some of the exposed pipes, Bella could make out one of those faux fireplaces that she had seen advertised on late-night infomercials. It hummed quietly, keeping the room warm enough to feel comfortable. "I'll be right out." Paul called from behind the only wall in the large room. If Bella had to guess, she would think that the kitchen and bathroom lay just on the other side. Biting her lip, Bella took a few steps into the apartment, her large brown eyes moving over the other half of the room.

A small desk with a single lamp was pushed into the corner, but it looked more like it was used for art supply storage then homework. An easel covered in various colors sat propped under one of the large windows, a blank canvas fitted to it, ready to go. Bella followed the blank canvas up to the bright one hanging just above it between two of the windows. There were several painting scattered along the walls and leaning against various surfaces. Each one was vibrant and coarse, pulling her further into the room. One was of a couple laughing over coffee, the background a well-organized splash of different colors that made up obscure shapes meant to be counters and shelves. She would almost think it a photograph if not for the raised textures along the entire painting. The next was a woman at a bus stop. Her outfit indicated that she was a maid. Her pristine white shoe dangled from her wrinkled fingers as she cupped her stocking-clad foot with her other hand – probably rubbing away the tension of being on her feet all day.

One by one, Bella followed the paintings down the length of the wall until she came to the large one propped up against one of the nightstands. It was tucked away behind the armchair, obviously in need of a home. Bella's breath caught in her throat at the simple but beautiful image. It was a close up of a man's face, wrinkled and aged, but his features were lifted and softened by his nearly toothless smile. The only bold colors in this one were the frazzled red of his old knitted cap and the bright blue of his eyes that shined through even with the heavy lids he bore nearly covering them. His hair was sparse and wild, sticking up from behind his ears and over the collar of his stained coat. Tentatively, Bella reached out to run her fingers along his cheek – just to make sure it wasn't actually a photograph.

"That's old man Grant." Paul's voice made her jump, causing Bella to clasp her chest as she turned toward him. Her heart rate only increased at the sight of Paul. His hair was a mess, like he had just rolled out of bed despite how neatly it was made. He didn't wear a shirt – which Bella thought on Paul should be illegal. His tanned skin shone and rippled over muscles that before now, she didn't know existed. Each ab seemed to twitch under her gaze as his hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his paint-stained sweatpants. As she caught his sparkling onyx eyes, she realized she had been caught.

A pretty blush colored Bella's cheeks as she turned back to the painting. What was a captivating masterpiece to her just a moment ago struggled to hold her interest now that she knew what Paul looked like standing just behind her. "It's amazing." She struggled to speak, clearing her throat. To Paul's credit, he didn't tease her. "Did you paint this?"

"Yeah, it was last year's final piece." He offered as he moved to stand beside her. Despite the cold, she could feel the heat radiating off of his skin. "He's homeless. He lives under the bypass north of campus. Grant's a good guy. Hits the bottle a little hard, but always has a story to tell." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"It's amazing, Paul." She breathed, her eyes tracing every wrinkle of the man's face. "I feel like his face tells a story – especially his eyes." She remembered what Paul had said – about being able to see a person's soul through their eyes. With his paintings, Paul could tell the world someone's story. It was remarkable. "He's beautiful." She nearly blushed at her thoughtless words, but Paul simply chuckled.

"Yeah?" He offered as she finally turned to look at him. "I thought so too." It was obvious that he took pride in his work, and got satisfaction from knowing it was appreciated. "Faces like that… they're worth so much more to me than just a mask of pretty."

Bella bit her lip again, remembering how he had put down the idea of painting Rosalie Hale. She hoped her face didn't hold as much character to Paul as Grant's did – at least not for the same reasons. Fumbling slightly, she held his jacket out for him. "I brought your jacket."

"Want to wear it?" He asked, and Bella's mind immediately flashed back to Angela's words. A blush heated her cheeks as an image of being painted in nothing but Paul's leather jacket crossed her mind. "You look cold." He clarified.

"Oh, sure… thanks." She shook the image away as she carefully slid the jacket over her shoulders. It nearly swallowed her whole, but there was something comforting in that. "You really are an amazing artist, Paul." She chanced a glance at his dark eyes again, noting that his jaw was covered in light stubble now. Again, it should have been illegal on Paul.

To Bella's surprise, she could have sworn she saw a light blush painting Paul's cheeks as he chuckled and swiped a large hand through his short yet unruly hair. "That means a lot, Bella." His smile could bring someone back to life – she was sure of it. His teeth were stark white – all aligned perfectly behind plump lips and accented with deep dimples. She was almost sure he could hear how loud her heart was beating. "Should we get started?"

AN: Everyone should have a friend like Angela lol. I was super excited to write this chapter because I'm really digging artsy Paul. When I started, I wasn't sure how I would feel about an AU long term, but I'm seriously loving the freedom I have with some of these characters.

I know Bella pissed a few people off during the last chapter - trust me, I'm a 'take no shit' kind of girl, and I can relate. The thing about Bella and Edward's relationship is that in a way... it's abusive. She has this picture of what she wants in her head, and he knows that, so he preys on it. At this point, she and Edward have been together for years, and she just met Paul. She believed Edward because she wants to - because it falls in line with what she thinks her life should be. Anyone that has been in that kind of relationship will tell you that it's not always easy to see or to handle. Above everything, I wanted to make the relationships - the falling in love, the interactions with Edward - everything, realistic. I wanted this to be a love story, but I also want Bella to have a lot of personal growth. Paul is going to give her the opportunity and freedom to really find out who she is - an opportunity no one has given her before this point. But, just like real life, it's not going to happen over night. I know it's frustrating, and it will just get worse before it gets better (sorry), but in the end, I think it will all be worth it.