I stared down at my hands, which were folded in my lap

I stared down at my hands, which were folded in my lap. They were almost completely enveloped in the sleeves of my sweatshirt, since they were so long. I always had this problem, since I was so small compared to everybody else. And, yet, I still wore baggy clothes; my step-mom had told me once that it could possibly be because I didn't want anyone else to notice me or the fact that I had such a petite figure. I wasn't sure how that could possibly be true, since I wasn't insecure about myself, but, whatever. She always tried to shrink me and act like I'm one of her patients and, even though I love her, she sure can be annoying sometimes.

I glanced over at the guy, and realized that I didn't even know his name. I studied his face, and, I realized that I had been so caught up in my daydreams about his face that I didn't even notice his eyes gazing down at me as well. I quickly looked away, and willed the blush away from my face. I didn't want to look like a complete idiot in front of him, now, did I? As I glanced over at him once more, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the smirk that had now formed on his face. Hmm, maybe it should be no surprise that he's good friend with my pig-headed cousin. I finally mustered up the courage to talk, and asked him, "So, do you have a name?" It was the only thing I could think of, really; how else was I supposed to get to know him?

"It's Paul," said Paul, turning his eyes away from the road and looking back down at me. And, the smoldering look in his eyes made me want to melt away right in that very seat. I had never felt so vulnerable to such a gaze, and I was sure that he had noticed my vulnerability as well, seeing as how a smirk had now returned to his face. "And, if I remember correctly, you're Charlie, right?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, looking out the window, relieved that my hood was still covering my scarred face. I wasn't sure if I was comfortable having my driver staring at me and my scars like I had just sprouted five heads and had fangs. "So, you're friends with Bryan, huh? I pity you, I really do."

A grin appeared on Paul's face, and I couldn't help but smile in return. It was just a smile that I would have returned in a heartbeat; it was almost like an instinct, one that I wasn't really too sure about. "He's not that bad," said Paul, shrugging lightly. "But, he does get really annoying sometimes with his brooding. And then I have to listen to it everywhere I go."

I glanced over at him, my eyebrows raised. "He's constantly talking about his problems?" I let out a little laugh, and added, "He doesn't really seem like the confessing-type of guy." I glanced over at Paul, only to find that he had a frown on his face, and he looked pained, almost strained about something. His hands began to clench around his steering wheel. An awkward silence followed, before I decided to break it this time.

"You didn't have to do this, you know. Driving me home and stuff. I could have walked by myself." My damn independent streak always came out at the worst time; my kinder, more respectful side was yelling at me for being so rude and not thanking him. I ignored her, of course; why should I deal with her this time, when I didn't even bother with her tons of times before?

"You know, a thank you would suffice," said Paul, and he sounded irritated now. I raised my eyebrows at his sudden mood change; his fists were clenching the steering wheel, and he didn't look all too happy with me. If I didn't know any better, I would have actually thought that he was actually trembling. Wow, this guy must have a serious anger problem. Of course, it would just be my luck to get into a car with a lunatic psycho. A very hot lunatic, my more boy-crazy side pointed out. Shut up! I thought to her, hoping that she would leave me the hell alone. Wow, I was definitely going insane if I was talking to my different emotions as if they were actual people. "Of course, I wouldn't expect that from you."

I narrowed my eyes at him, and turned so that I could face him. I was sure that he couldn't see my glare, since my hood was blocking my eyes; who knows if that saying about looks can kill is actually true. "And what is that supposed to mean? What, did my annoying cousin tell you that I was a spoiled brat who lived in New Hampshire and always got what she wants? Oh, let me guess: he told you that I always complain about everyone and that I'm the outcast of the family, which makes me public enemy number one?" I have to admit, I was letting off some steam during that little rant, but, still. Paul had no right to judge me just because of what my cousin told him.

"Actually, I was talking about the fact that you were really rude to my friends back there," retorted Paul, and I stared at him, ready to pull the damn car over just so that I could slap him without worrying about getting into an accident. Of course, I doubt that would be too good, since I'd probably just get even more scars, and I've gotten kind of sick of the staring.

"Oh, really? Tell me, then, o' mighty one, what would you do if you had a group of huge guys staring at you because you look a bit different from everybody else? I had every right be to rude back there, since they were the ones who were staring at me like I was some sort of freak," I snarled. Right now, I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Paul was silent for a second, just staring at the road. His shaking—which I had finally acknowledged—had stopped, and he was acting as though he was thinking. Just as I had started getting used to the silence, he broke it. "I'm sorry. I actually forgot all about that. My mind was on...something else." He looked uncomfortable for a second, while all I did was watch him like he was an idiot. How could he have forgotten that they had been staring at me? Which was why I knew that he was lying about something. But, more importantly, I knew that he had something on his mind, which made me even more curious about what it was. But, before I could ask him what was wrong, he stopped the truck.

Looking around, I was shocked to find that we had already arrived at my house. I looked back at him, opened my mouth, shut it, opened it again, and then sighed. "Thanks for the ride, Paul," I said to him, giving him a small smile, though I was sure that he couldn't even see it. But, what I didn't see as I got out of his truck, was the smile that appeared on his face. If I had, I'm sure that I would have actually swooned, because his face became at least three times more handsome with that smile, even if it didn't really need it. And, believe you me, swooning was not a normal thing for me.

Just as I was about to shut the door, I felt something stop me shutting it. Looking up, I was surprised to see Paul leaning over, his door on the handle. His body was so long that he could easily place his head close to mine. I looked into his eyes, wondering what was going to happen. This was just like one of those cheesy romantic novels where the guy kisses the girl and sweeps her off her feet. A million thoughts ran through my mind in that one second. Was he going to kiss me? What should I do? Hit him? Run away? Kiss him back? Well, that certainly couldn't have happened, since I had no idea who he was or what was wrong with him. There was no way that a guy like him could be actually nice and good-looking. He may have been a bit odd, but he did help me, didn't he? I watched him, sure that he could hear my racing heart beat.

"See you later, Charlie," said Paul, and he shut the door, leaving me sitting there like a fish out of water. All I could do was sit there and watch as he pulled out of the driveway and drive off; if I didn't know any better, I was sure that I could have seen an arrogant smirk forming on his lips. Jack ass, I thought to myself, ignoring the fact that I was now, for the first time since I had arrived at La Push, Washington, smiling.