I have never had so many mixed reviews before! I was either cringing or smiling in relief with each one. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore your amazing opinions and love when ppl compare me to Stephenie Meyer herself. But as you know, I am not Stephenie Meyer and am only 17 with especially bad grammar, so you should know, I will be a little OOC sometimes, (no matter how much I try not to be.) I appreciate when I'm told that I may have strayed from that character, in fact I welcome all critiques…but please no more comments on my incapability and how I should stop, this is still just practice for me, and I'd hate to disable anonymous reviews, because that would just plain suck. If you hate it - well no one is forcing you to read it!

I know big rant, but it had to be said, I welcome any critique. But that's just it, if you have a correction on my writing, by all means, please tell me. But if you just want to tell me how much I suck… well that's your own prerogative and your own conscious. Please try to be helpful in any critique. Thank-you

Chapter 16

JB

The room settled in the same dim darkness. Every line visible, every hushed giggle and small whisper, loud in my ears. Bella's heart sped; it pounded in the darkness, the darkness that would seem black to her, but was so minuscule to me. I could see her perfectly; I could see how she slyly shifted her eyes to greet mine.

The same craving flamed within me, the fierce desire to touch her, just to brush her fingers with mine, to feel the indescribable warmth radiating off her. The heat almost seemed to have heightened, boiling in a gust of perfumed air to touch me and make my struggling craving build. The same inexplicable electricity began to ignite the airwaves passing in-between us…

I knew I was on edge, on the brink of impossible treachery. Fantasies began to swirl in my unwilling mind. I carefully slid away from her, allowing the points of my chair to align with the farthest legs of my desk.

Bella moved as well, leaning forward on the table, while placing her head on her arms, her eyes glued to the screen.

The same arguments as before began to slither in my mind. How horrible would it be just to hold her hand? I could control my urges even if I knew it wasn't enough, even if I craved more of her than just the curl of her fingertips… No.

I knew if I took her hand, that it would just be the turning point of every buried longing. I would just justify another misplaced hand, another unfathomable desire…

Bella shifted, a quiet sigh escaped her. I could see the profile of her face, and couldn't decipher her expression. She looked, conflicted? Or maybe I was only hoping that she was holding the same cravings as me…

The electricity between us managed to crack, and muddle my thoughts. I had to ball up my hand in a tight grip in my lap, knowing how close I was to losing all control and doing the inconceivable — allowing my fingers to snake around hers…

Keep your hands to yourself. I repeated, over and over throughout the buzz of the movie.

Mercifully the hour ended, too fast, my irrational self concluded. I would have to leave her…

The lights flashed on. Groans and hisses echoed throughout the room. Like the flashbulb of a camera, burning the pupils of each student.

Bella looked quite adorable as she shielded her eyes, and then squinted to allow her eyes time to adjust to the harsh light.

I stood, silently waiting for her.

Bella looked hesitant as she met my gaze and stood. Conflict began swirling in my mind again. Even though the lights extracted the electricity that existed in the dark, I still experienced the same itch to touch her.

I reminded myself of the danger, of the restless longing it would ignite in me, and now —as if I knew it all along but just tried to ignore it —I knew Bella wanted me in that way as well.

It was as painful as the fire she brought to my throat, and as completely satisfying as knowing how she perceived my eyes. Knowing that she wanted me brought such painful happiness — selfish happiness — trumped from the knowledge that I could never offer her anything of what we both so obviously wanted. I could never offer her what all humans craved, what they all needed in any physical or emotional relationship, intimacy. If she decided to stay with me, I would be stealing yet another dominant part of any human life. And yet, I still couldn't even begin to imagine leaving…

I couldn't seem to control myself. Not while she stopped and turned to me at the awning of the gym's door. Her dark eyes were almost expectant, almost wistful, almost sad. She hesitated, and for one wild second I thought that she might just touch me.

The longing in the mirror of her eyes reflected mine. And again, without conscious giving reflex a second to waver — I reached out and stroked her face.

The fire of her blood kissed the back of my hand, from where I gently stroked her from the curve of her temple to the apex of her jaw. I lingered, allowing the pulse of her blood to thrum uninterrupted from her cheek to tingle each nerve ending in the back of my hand.

Enough! Just as before, her cheeks flamed under my touch. The pulse of her blood quickened under my touch, and to my immense satisfaction, venom didn't linger in my throat. But the same electricity from biology flashed like a whip before us. I so wanted to curl my fingers under her chin, to pull her face closer, to have no space between her lips and mine. Stop!

I dropped my hand, against every nonsensical instinct in my body, screaming for more. Again the fire in my throat seemed to have vanquished altogether, and all I could concentrate on was the desire. The most human want, pulling all fantasy and all irrationality into the most inconceivable hope for reality.

I turned, speeding too fast away, before I had a chance to allow my want to vanquish all that was supposed to be right, all that I knew I could never have, and for once, it had nothing to do with her blood.

Through the droning monotone of Mrs. Goff, I contemplated the strange incapability to truly know her. My questions had only begun to scratch the surface of who she really is. There was still so much to decipher, to place, to begin to imagine. I was shifting in my seat, on edge, wanting my other numerous questions answered. If only I could get inside her head to really find out her true thoughts, bare and full of the piques and flaws she couldn't revise. But I knew that wouldn't be enough, I could never guess what she'd do next or what she'd say or elaborate on. I would never be able to quench this unfathomable need for her.

I waited outside the gym doors. Anxious for her reveal, I held my breath, each time the door opened, just to render a faster girl then Bella. It was unbelievably disappointing, how long does it take to change? I was almost tempted to invade a mind of one of the lingering students trapped in the locker room with Bella, but killed the thought as soon as it surfaced.

I would never invade Bella's privacy like that, I vowed. Ignoring the temptation swirling deep in my mind, a twisted offering only alluring to the sick self that held the desire to touch Bella, closer then a shy caress on her cheek, but to take her in my arms and feel the heat of her lips warm mine…

The door opened only to reveal Jennifer Ford. I sighed, my impatience continued to climb.

My breath caught as she finally stumbled out of the door. A wide smile pulled at her lips, her eyes lighting in a spark of mystery.

I continued on with quick questions, as I walked her towards the parking lot, wondering about her favorite subjects, hobbies, and what shows she watched, (English, reading, and usually sports.)

I snorted when she said this. "Sports? I find that hard to believe." I chuckled, remembering the embarrassing escapade of her sports endeavor in gym yesterday. Careful not to mention the peeks I contended today, consisting of her trying to blend in with the wall which was clearly impossible, managing to trip twice, while standing perceivably still.

Her expression was untroubled as she climbed into the car, clearly expecting my reaction. "I watch sports occasionally with Charlie. Its not that I particularly enjoy his choice in TV… it's just comfortable. I can be with him, without the pretense of making small talk, trying to search for something viable or interesting to say." She turned her wide eyes to me.

"What sort of television do you enjoy?" she asked, cocking her head to the side in the most adorable manner.

"ah, ah, ahhh." I shook my head smiling reminding her of our previous agreement; today was still mine. I sped out of the lot shifting through different questions. The air between us hummed in unmentioned desires.

"Why do you hate Forks so much?" I asked suddenly. Coming to a silent lurch outside her house. She looked up, the furrow between her eyes puckered as she contemplated the question.

"Its not that I hate Forks." She said pensively. "Don't get me wrong, I hate the wet, it gets dark way too fast, the sun is always vacant and the vegetation is far too evident…" She added curtly. "It's just that, I really miss Arizona."

"What do you miss about it?" I whispered, caught in the glow of her eyes. I realized I was close, so close that the heat of her breath managed to brush my lips. I moved back a quarter of an inch, and my body barely allowed that much space between us. Bella shifted in response, angling her body more inclined towards me. I swallowed, as a wave of sweetened air crashed into me with her position change.

"I dunno." I would die, I really would. I could not seem to control the raging curiosity that assaulted me, almost as strong as the scent now winding its way through the car.

She raised her eyebrows at my expression, smiled, and then answered. "The world is so much different here then there. I never appreciated it, but now, I can see how I took it for granted. Call it nostalgia, but the dessert, the sights the sounds, everything I grew up with, all have a strange, almost comforting feel of familiarity. Even the air, the dryness the smell…"

She looked so sad. I wanted to reach out and smooth the lines in her forehead. I knew the subject was sore, but my curiosity won over customary politeness, and urged her to continue.

She'd draw out the description of each memory she revived to me. Explaining her fascination, pondering each question, and filling each silence with a clicking of her tongue as she searched for the right adjective to use.

If I wasn't satisfied with an answer, she'd try to retell it, to reach deeper and find other means of conveying. Often she'd lift her hand — subconsciously — swirling her scent to replenish the venom that hung permanently at the base of my throat.

Her eyes and voice were both animated as she told her inexplicable love for the barren wasteland. Describing how the toothed mountains made shapes out of the horizon, cutting out pieces of the never ending sky. How the feel of the sun felt on her skin. The smell of sunscreen mixed with sand.

I learned what school she attended, what her favorite hang-outs were, and what her home looked like.

She described each place with the same sad smile, her eyes vacant, deep in the depths of her mysterious mind. Unraveling what she seemed to miss so much, and what she preferred to forget.

The world around us settled underneath a faint blanket of darkness, the clouds cloaked the orange of the setting sun. I had lost track of time, living in Bella's memories, lost in the warmth of her tone, the enthusiasm in her body language. I never wanted to leave.

"Are you finished?" she asked in audible relief.

I smiled. "Not even close—but your father will be home soon." Did she hear the regret betraying my causality?

"Charlie!" she gasped, glancing at the rain soaked windshield, squinting her eyes to see the sky. "How late is it?" she asked, glancing at the clock on the stereo.

"It's twilight," I answered, while detachedly glancing at the sun that began its descent past the horizon, obscured by a swirl of dark clouds.

"It's the safest time of day for us," I explained. "The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way…the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don't you think?"

"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars." She paused, her wistful smiling falling into a frown. "Not that you see them here much."

I chuckled, watching as her frown suddenly lifted into the promise of a smile.

"Charlie will be here in a few minutes," bitterness, distorting my mood. "So, unless you want to tell him that you'll be with me Saturday…" I ventured, hoping that she'd change her mind so I could draw out the last plausible second with her.

"Thanks, but no thanks." She smiled cheekily, while gathering her books in a neat pile. "So is it my turn tomorrow, then?" She asked.

"Certainly not!" I teased. "I told you I wasn't done, didn't I?"

"What more is there?" She wondered, her eyebrows pulling low over her eyes.

"You'll find out tomorrow." I replied coyly.

The chocolate in her eyes burned. I could feel the anticipation of the electricity brimming in the air between us. I wanted so badly to touch her again… Twice was enough, I reminded myself.

I knew it was an excuse even before I made the rationalization in my mind. I shouldn't be looking for reasons to touch her. But I needed to feel the heat of her, wanting any justification for her proximity. I reached across her under the volition of opening her door.

An unfocused thought, close to the house pulled me out of the bubble that existed with only Bella and me in it. The voice unfamiliar, but loud and dark, a spinning web of indignant queries and qualms.

"Not good," I said under my breath.

"What is it?" Bella asked, alarm closing in on her expression.

"Another complication," I answered. I opened her door.

The voice was vaguely familiar. Almost as if it existed in another life. I could make out through the junction of thoughts that the concerns attributed from a worried Quileute. I didn't want to stick around and see if my observation was correct.

A car pulled around the corner. Holding two passengers, undoubtfully from the Quileute tribe. The colour of their skin was recognizable through the two sheets of glass and a storm in-between.

"Charlie's around the corner," I whispered not taking my eyes off the older Quileute who was slinging a row of mental curses at me. It was as if he knew I could hear him…

How dare you! You have no right. Bella is a good person and doesn't deserve to live in the darkest shadow illuminating from a demon like you!

I knew that his words were true. But I couldn't help how I jutted out my jaw and fixed him with a daring stare of slight defiance.

Bella tripped from the car, her hair soaking through within seconds of exposure in the rain. I clenched my teeth, hoping she wouldn't get sick.

I glared at the offending car; the old man fixed me with a heated gaze and another flare of profanities. But the old man suddenly lost the folly of my notice.

Instead the little boy, nearing — at the oldest, — 16? Captured my interest. He wasn't staring at me, but goggling Bella.

A surge of painful jealously wove like a fire through my veins. More staggering then Mike Newton's pathetic advances or Romeo's non-existent threat. Fore, he was reliving a memory. A memory all too vibrant and all too pleasing to be relived in strictly aspiration.

"Oh I won't tell anyone, I'm just curious." Whispered Bella, her voice peaked with interest, and a small coy smile masked with a hint of seduction. Her dark eyes, elusive in the blur of the memory.

With that, I pressed my foot down hard on the gas pedal.

So that was Jacob Black.


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