Chapter 4: In The Taj

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight.


Bella was exasperatingly quiet ... I mean you know ... she was always kinda quiet, but jeez, now it was like pulling teeth to get a word outta her. Good thing I was a nonstop chatterbox, or the air would be minus any conversation. As patient as I was, even I got tired of her one word responses. So to fill the Taj up with some other noise besides my breeaaathing, I turned on the radio. That got her attention but fast. She actually stood up and turned it off—without bothering to ask me if it was okay! There was a good song on too. I was really getting worried about her. Was she afraid to listen to music now?

I peered over my shoulder at her. "What's the matter, Bells? Why'd you turn that off? You know, if you didn't like the song, you could've just changed the station."

She shrugged her shoulders, and bit her bottom lip—again. Damn, girl, would you please stop doing that? Have mercy, for Pete's sake.

"I don't really listen to music anymore. It gets on my nerves," she explained.

What kind of an explanation was that? I didn't get it, but what the hell ... she wasn't making any sense at all today. First she brings me a truckload of rusted old scrap metal and then she doesn't like music? Who doesn't like music? Bella Swan, apparently.

"Okaaaay ... no more music. So, what've you been up to lately?"

I was making what I considered polite conversation, but man, you would've thought I'd asked her a personal question, like What's your bra size or somethin'. Jeez, then I got to thinkin', I wonder ... oh god, don't go there, Jake. Crap, my mind was drifting into dangerous waters.

Anyway, she'd turned several shades paler if that was even possible. Man, she looked pretty distressed, and put her arms around her chest like her heart was about to fall out of her rib cage. What did I say to bring on that reaction? She looked so vulnerable—a wounded doe came to mind. God, I wanted to fold her up into my arms, and protect her, even if it was from herself. Bella needed someone to hold her up and tell her everything was gonna be all right. I hoped that someone would be me some day.

I felt bad ... I didn't mean to upset her. Okay, forget what I said. I changed the subject in a hurry. Think, Jacob, think!

I've got it ... I knew there was no way in hell that fragile little Bella Swan would have the slightest idea how to ride a motorcycle. So, with one hand patting what was left of the first chassis I asked her, "You don't exactly know how to ride one of these motorized beasts, do you?"

The viselike grip she had on her mid section loosened slightly. She looked down at the garage floor and shuffled her feet nervously. "Um ... not really. I was hoping you could give me some lessons?

Sweeeet ... a whole freakin' sentence greeted my ears. I was beginning to wonder if she'd forgotten how to talk. Charlie told my dad that she wouldn't start any conversations, and only spoke when someone asked her a direct question.

I turned myself ninety degrees to face her. Her color had improved, but not by much. It was now back to that sickly grey hue, if you call that an improvement.

"Sure, sure," I told her. "I can teach you. When I get these bikes runnin' I'll give you a call, and we can start in on Motorcycling 101." I smiled, but she showed no emotion whatsoever.


With her sitting beside me on an old wooden crate, I continued removing parts from the bike. I named each piece, and described its function to her. Bella organized them on the tarp. This couldn't have been entertaining in the least to a girl—let alone a girl as depressed as she was. And so I blurted, "Hey, Bells, we don't havta sit here like a couple of vultures picking at these bones. Do you wanna do somethin' else?"

She gazed at me blankly for a flickering moment. "Like what?"

Crap, I was hopin' she would tell me. I scrunched up my face, wracking my brain. "Well ..." Music was out, video games—out, movies—out; my dad being glued to the TV set in the living room. Let's see now, what did girls like to do? Oh no, I wasn't about to paint her fingernails. Bella wasn't the hair gelling, lipstick wearing, nail polishing girly-girl type anyhow.

Thinking about that glorious day when she couldn't stop battin' her long lashes at me, I crossed my fingers behind my back and asked, "You wanna take a walk with me on the beach?"

This time she maintained some eye contact with me. There's a first. "Maybe next time," she replied softly.

That I could live with. That at least was encouraging; there was actually gonna be a next time.

"Are you sayin' you're gonna be back here again watchin' me play, Name this part?"

Her lips upturned in a half-hearted smile. "Sure, I'll be back tomorrow and every day after until you get sick of me hanging around."

Was she kiddin' me? There was no chance of that! I could almost feel my body starting to float heavenward. Houston, we have lift-off. I only hoped I didn't crash land. Barely beginning to hover, my imaginary balloon popped. Bella hauled me back down to earth with, "I better go. Charlie will be home soon. I should get dinner started."

That being said, she rose from the wooden crate, and turned to leave.

Damn, did he really havta eat?

I stood up and after dusting off my jeans, walked Bella to her truck. She got in as I waved goodbye. Rolling down her window, she stuck her head out. "Tomorrow at 3:30?"

I stood there like an idiot with my hands in my pockets. "All right, then. You know where to find me."

The old wheezing truck pulled out onto the road. I returned to the garage, whistling all the way and finished pickin' off the remaining pieces from the bike frame.


That same night, Embry and Quil dropped by coincidentally (yeah, right). They dove in immediately to grill me about the red truck that was noticeably parked in my yard for the whole afternoon.

"Bella Swan, huh?" Quil goaded, his smirk taunting me to knock it off his face. Man, was I ever tempted too. He was leaning against the Rabbit just waiting for my reaction.

I kept my cool though. He was just jealous, seein' as he thinks himself to be such a chick magnet.

Embry was sitting on the tarp helping to separate some of the parts from the second bike. Then he piped up, "You can't deny it. We got eyes. That was her truck in your yard. I recognized the clunker from a mile away, not to mention I could hear that loud engine rumbling clear down the street." He demonstrated the truck's slow motion by bouncing his hand up and down in front of him, and following with his head bobbing in sync. Then quirking an eyebrow he smugly added, "What were you two doing out here in your garage ... alone ...all that time, as if we didn't know?"

I put on my most menacing look to warn the two idiots to back off.

"Yeah, as if," Quil interjected. "C'mon, Jake, don't be like that. We know she got dumped by her boyfriend, plus we saw how she flit around you that day at the beach. And we all know how you're stuck on her, so spill already. You can tell us. We're your best friends. Now give us all the details." He jiggled his head in anticipation.

I got up, wiped my hands off on a rag, and began to pace. "Guys—there are no details, 'cuz it's not like that. Bella is a friend that just happens to be a girl. So that makes her a girl-friend. Get it?"

"Whatever you say, man," Quil snorted.

What more could I say to convince them that nothing happened? I pointed a finger at Quil. "For your information, I was doin' her a favor. We were doin' exactly what we're doin' at this moment—taking a bike apart."

Embry glanced at Quil and winked. "Sure, Jake, we believe you. You were doin' her—a favor."

Quil moaned her name aloud, "Bella Swan ... mmn, mmn. Oh, honey—don't stop, don't stop."

That did it. I chased him around the Rabbit, while Embry hooted at him in encouragement. "Go, Quil, go!"


When the gruesome twosome left, I went inside and made dinner for Dad and myself. My father kept his eyes on me the whole time. Jeez, I didn't know anyone could stare that long without blinking. I placed the food on the table and sat down across from him, trying not to meet those all seeing eyes. He cleared his throat loudly. Damn, here it comes—words of wisdom from the great one—aka, Billy Black.

"You and Bella were alone together for a long time today," he commented dryly.

I started in on dinner, concentrating on cutting into my fried chicken to avoid his penetrating gaze. "Yeah, so?"

He took a sip of his drink, and continued. "So, how did she seem to you?"

"You know ... quiet, shy, not too—I don't know—lively."

I could feel his eyes burning a hole through my head. "Not too lively, eh?"

I put my fork down, and sighed. "She was a walking corpse, Dad, all right? She looked like hell, and acted like she was in hell, too."

"I see."

Okay, I was steeling myself for the kernel of truth he was gettin' ready to lob at me. And I had a feeling I already knew where this conversation was goin'. Hormone control—as if I would ever force myself on her, especially in her condition.

His mouth formed an "O" as he got ready to deliver his lecture. "You know, Charlie is beside himself. He doesn't know what to do to help her. Coming here today was a big step for Bella; maybe even a giant step toward her recovery. Now, I'm not blind—yet. I see how your eyes light up every time you're around her. But Bella is my best friend's daughter, and I'm cautioning you that even though she may look to you for comfort, I don't believe she's anxious to start up another relationship so soon after her breakup. She's really fragile right now, so I expect you to control yourself, and act the responsible person I know you are. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Jeez, why didn't he just come right out and tell me to keep it in my pants. "Sure, sure, Dad. I'd never do anything to hurt her. I'm not that stupid."

Dad smiled at me. "Good, because I'd hate to punish you for being in love."

Was Dad right? Was I in love with her? How could I tell for sure?

I leaned back further into the chair, and flipped my hair over my shoulder. "Hey, Dad, can I ask you somethin'? How do you know if you're really in love with a girl?"

"That's a tough one, Son." He placed his hand over his chest. "The heart can be deceptive sometimes, so I would say that when you care more about the needs of the other person rather than yourself—that's love. Putting another's desires above your own can be hard, but it also shows maturity. And well, I guess that's what real love is all about."

We ate the rest of our dinner without another word. I cleaned up the kitchen, and helped my dad shower and got him in bed. That night I pondered the words of my father. How'd he get so smart? I stared up at the cracks in the ceiling. I figured that for now, I'd be Bella's friend no matter how much I wanted it to be more. She needed me to be there for her, to wipe away her hurt, and like Dad said, I should put her needs first. And after all that, maybe the day would come when I would know for sure that she was the one, and hopefully Bella would feel the same way about me.