Author's Note:

Turning Pointe was one of The Lemonade Stand's fics of the week! They have some great rec's on their site, check it out! www[dot]tehlemonadestand[dot]blogspot[dot]com

I love my Beta's: Jennrosee and blahblahblah! Dey make me sound all gud n stuff! ;)

Disclaimer: blah, blah... S. Meyer... blah, blah. does anyone read these?

BPOV

I had planned to confront him, ask him what his problem was, but he just disappeared. During the week after our "dinner date" with his parents, I hardly saw Edward at all.

At first, I tried to make polite conversation with him. I asked about his day when I ran into him in the kitchen Tuesday night. On Wednesday afternoon, when I happened upon him in the hallway outside my studio, I apologized for my music being too loud. I knew it wasn't, but I was setting him up, trying to get him to talk to me. I waited for him to tell me the music wasn't disturbing him like he did the last time, but he just mumbled "its fine" under his breath and walked off. He didn't even look at me.

I couldn't figure out what I had done to make him so upset with me. Ever since that moment – that moment - in the parking lot he had been completely ignoring my existence. I kept replaying that entire night in my mind, trying to find any clues as to what went wrong.

Was it because I didn't kiss him? Surely that wasn't it. He couldn't be that shallow - could he? No, that's ridiculous. What were we, like, twelve years old? Running off to pout when we didn't get our way? I had laughed to myself at the mental image that thought conjured up: a twelve year old Edward stomping his foot and rushing to tattle to his mommy that his girlfriend wouldn't play kissy-face with him.

Girlfriend?

That thought wiped the smirk right off my face.

Maybe Rose was right; he's just an ass.

I hated to admit it to myself, but his disregard hurt. I wanted the Edward back that I had spent the afternoon with at the café. The one I had spent the evening with at the restaurant. The one who laughed at my lame stories, asked me about my family, opened up about his life, and looked at me like – like he cared. I knew we hadn't spent that much time together, but I missed that Edward.

I liked that Edward – a lot.

Slowly, as the hurt subsided, I started to get angry. Who the hell did he think he was? I didn't have to put up with this. He's just the guy I had to share the second floor bathroom with. If he didn't want to be friends, then that was just fine with me.

So, by the end of the week when I ran into Edward in the kitchen, or the hall, I didn't even try to talk to him. There was no point; he wasn't going to give me the time-of-day, anyway.

Two can play that game, buddy.

Not that I've had time for friends right now, anyway. Jake and I have been rehearsing an extra three to four hours a night, every night. He got a tip on an open audition for a music video being filmed in Seattle in three weeks. They're looking for a principle female dancer, a lead solo, and if I land this job it would be huge for my career. Not to mention the job pays big money.

The choreography has been challenging with lots of high kicks, double and triple turns, splits and standing leg lifts. The cherry on top was when we learned the costume I will be dancing in consists of six inch 'hooker heels'. I just know I'm gonna break my neck!

I was starting to feel like I'm training for a marathon instead of a dance audition, especially when Jake decided to add a two mile run, three times a week, to our workout schedule. So, after studio class let out, Jake and I would run and work on the audition routine for a few hours and then finish up with 30 minutes of yoga stretches. Needless to say, I would collapse in my bed completely exhausted every night.

Jake was quickly becoming a great friend, my best friend, and truly has my best interests at heart. He is right; this job would be huge for my career, and I wouldn't have a chance at landing the audition if he wasn't training me. He really believes I'm something special, that I have a true gift. It was nice to hear someone say that - other than my dad.

Deep inside, I couldn't shake the thought that I wished someone else thought I was special.

Jake and I worked so hard all week, logging an additional fifteen hours of rehearsal in four days, so I was thrilled when he decided to cancel our Friday night practice. Instead, we were going out to have some fun. Jake seemed to know exactly what I needed. He was treating me to dinner, my reward for a great week of rehearsals, and then taking me to a new nightclub downtown.

It was nice to get dressed up. The loose fabric of my blue, crinkled-silk dress was a welcome contrast to the tight leggings and tank tops I had been living in for the past week. I even fixed my hair for the first time since this weekend, wearing it down and adding some extra styling products to turn the waves into thick spiral curls. Jake had never seen my hair out of the buns and ponytails I wore for dance class, and over the course of the night he would find reason to run his hands through it. I teased him that he should transfer to cosmetology school instead of becoming a professional dancer.

We had dinner at Elliott's Oyster House. The restaurant was very touristy and the decor a little generic, but the food was amazing. I had salmon while Jake slurped down two full orders of raw oysters. When he learned I had never eaten oysters before, he tried to get me to taste one. No way in hell was I gonna put that slimy thing in my mouth.

After dinner, we walked along the pier, talking about school and our families and nothing particularly important. When Jake asked me about my home in Phoenix, my mind flashed to the similar conversation I had with Edward the weekend before. Jake must have mistaken the sudden shift in my mood for homesickness, and he took my hand in his and quickly changed the subject. We continued that way, walking hand in hand along the pier and talking for another hour before we decided to make our way to the nightclub.

The club was apparently the new "hot spot" downtown, and the dark room was filled to capacity with people. Jake's friend was a bartender there, and he continued to slip us free cocktails all night.

Even on our night off from dancing, we couldn't stay away from the dance floor. We danced the night away only leaving the floor to refill our free drinks. We hooked up with a group of girls, their dates refusing to leave the comfort of their bar stools, and Jake took turns dancing with each them. It was the most fun I had had in a long time.

Then the tempo changed and a slow song replaced the grinding techno music. Jake announced the love songs were only for "my girl" and swept me up in his arms to the collective "awwwws" and "that's so sweet" from the girls around us. That's when the blonde announced she was going to get her date so they could dance together. My stomach dropped to my feet when she returned, pulling Edward along behind her.

I couldn't tear my eyes off of him. I watched in horror as he wrapped her in his arm and she buried her face into the crook of his neck. I'm glad he didn't see me at first, my expression likely betraying the emotions I tried so hard to keep repressed all week. Luckily, when his eyes found mine, the mask was firmly back in place.

He hadn't so much as glanced in my direction all week, yet there on the dance floor he continued to stare. I thought for sure he would look away once he realized it was me, but he didn't. We seemed to be locked in that moment with his eyes boring into my soul. I felt as if he was silently trying to convey something to me with his stare, but I knew that was only wishful thinking - and the alcohol. Jake must have sensed my tension because as soon as the song ended he whisked me out of the bar and back to the comfort of home.

Jake picked me up again this afternoon so we could rehearse for a few hours. We wanted to spend more time perfecting the beginning of the audition routine, but our practice had to be cut short.

Esme is cooking a big family dinner tonight and everyone is required to attend. She's leaving for three weeks to promote her new book and wants to see all her "kids" before she leaves. She invited Jacob too and suggested we could rehearse at the house after dinner, but he declined, saying he should spend some time with his dad if we had the night off. I have a feeling he's going to force us to make up all the rehearsal time we missed, and I cringe at the thought.

Jake and I run through the choreography three or four times before we have to stop so I can get ready for dinner. I jump in the shower and quickly wash my hair. I have just enough time to throw on a tiny bit of makeup, some jeans, and one of Charlie's old dress shirts before I start to hear people gathering downstairs. I guess my damp hair will have to do.

I pad down the stairs in my bare feet while rolling the long sleeves of Charlie's shirt up to my elbows.

"Hey, Bells," Emmett calls out as I reach the bottom step. "Nice to see you own something that's not made of spandex."

I approach the table and take the empty seat next to Edward. He doesn't even bother to look up and acknowledge my presence.

"Hey, Emmett, what does it say about you that you know so much about spandex?" I tease.

I love Emmett. He's the big brother I always wanted. Since moving in with the Cullens, I probably spend more time with him than any other member of the family. We eat breakfast together most mornings, and Thursday night Must See TV is quickly becoming our weekly ritual. Some afternoons he runs with me and Jake. He even put together a weight lifting routine for me, inviting me to use any of his equipment. I still haven't found the time to work it into my schedule. That's my excuse anyway.

And just like any brother and sister, we childishly and relentlessly tease each other.

"Hey, Bells, ever heard of women's clothing?" he snickers, taking in my oversized shirt obviously made for a man.

"Hey, Emmett, ever heard that steroids are bad for you?"

"Hey, Bells, ever heard of a hair dryer?"

"Hey, Emmett, ever heard of… of… dang!" I hang my head in mock shame. "I got nothing," I mumble. I know what's coming next.

"YYYEEEESSSSSS!" he celebrates. "That's one for Emmett and zip for Bella!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Edward smirk. The anger I thought I successfully repressed rages inside me.

I wanna slap that smirk right off his face.

I can't help myself, and I twist in my chair to face him.

"Hey, Edward." His head snaps toward me, likely shocked I'm addressing him after all this time. He looks almost fearful at what I'm about to say. "Ever heard of -"

"Dinner's ready!" Esme interrupts, carrying a large casserole from the kitchen and placing it in the center of the table. "I hope you guys are hungry. I cooked enough so there will be plenty of leftovers. You know, with me being gone and Carlisle working nights, you'll have to feed yourselves."

"Ah, Mom!" Emmett whines like a child. "You can't abandon me! I'll starve."

Their conversation goes on, everyone completely oblivious to the heated staring match between Edward and me. He's looking intently at me, and I'm glaring right back at him. I'm sure he can't miss the anger in my eyes.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, bud.

"Emmett," Esme says. "I'm sure you are more than capable of taking care of yourself. If not, Rose knows how to feed you. And maybe, if you quit picking on Bella, she'll take pity on you. I hear she makes a mean lasagna."

The mention of my name shocks me back into the conversation. I look away from Edward, but I can still feel his eyes piercing me as I turn back to Emmett. "Um… sure. I mean, we'll see. My car is getting a bit dirty. I might be too busy washing it to cook… unless there was someone here who could wash it for me." I shrug, trying to reign in my irritation at Edward and keep my tone casual.

Esme giggles and goes back into the kitchen to fetch another dish.

Emmett rolls his eyes. "Oh, I see how it's gonna be," he says in a fake, exasperated tone. Then he winks at me.

I should be rejoicing in my victory; I'm totally getting my car washed. Instead, I look down at my hands now folded in my lap. I can still feel Edward starting at me, but my resolve from a few moments before is now gone. I'm starting to regret drawing attention to myself.

I fiddle with the hem of my shirt for a moment before I shyly glance up at him. I expect him to be angry, maybe even snap at me for having the nerve to speak to him, but the emotion I see when I look into his glorious, green eyes is not at all what I'm expecting. He looks – hurt, sad, regretful even.

I draw in a sharp breath and open my mouth to apologize, for what I'm not sure. In that same instant, he looks away, effectively closing himself off from me - again.

He doesn't utter a word during dinner.

EPOV

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then the look in Bella's eyes is worth a novel.

She's angry – beyond angry. Whatever emotions I thought I saw from across the dance floor last night are long gone. Rage, fury and hate have taken their place. She opens her mouth to speak to me again, but I look away before she can say anything. I can't bring myself to look at her again for the rest of dinner. I can't look at what I've done.

She despises me.

I thought shutting her out would be easy, and my infatuation with her would have lessened by now. But when I chased after her last night, I realized my desire for her has not diminished in the least. Honestly, it has grown immensely over the past week. My thoughts are consumed with her; where she is, what she's doing, all under the pretense of keeping my distance from her.

The one thing I never considered: her reaction. I just assumed she wouldn't care, maybe she wouldn't even notice, but clearly I was wrong. My actions over the last week were obviously upsetting her. It's one thing that I'm making myself miserable, but to see her so unhappy is something I don't think I can endure.

I hurt her, and now she wants nothing to do with me.

Congrats, idiot. Mission accomplished.

I excuse myself from the table as soon as it's polite to do so. I thank Esme for dinner, wish her a safe trip tomorrow, and seclude myself back in the shelter of my room. I throw myself down on my bed with a groan and furiously rub my eyes with the heel of my hands, trying to wipe her look of resentment from mind.

My plan, my stupid plan, has once again jumped up to bite me in the ass. I start ticking off a mental list of my epic failure.

First, I manage to royally fuck up my life and piss off my adoptive parents. My mother forgives me, but my father hates my guts. So what do I do? I drag an innocent girl into some sick, twisted game with him to try and win him over. And when that doesn't work, I drop the girl like she is yesterday's trash. Oh, and let's not forget – this girl is probably the kindest, most compassionate, most amazing person I have ever met. And now she can't stand me either.

Awesome.

I roll off the bed and start pacing back and forth, my hands tugging at my hair. I'm so angry at myself I can scream. Instead, I grab the first thing I see, a book on my night stand, and throw it across the room with all the force I can muster. It slams into the far wall with a thud and tumbles to the floor.

I chuckle humorlessly as I realize how quickly my priorities have changed. It seems like ages ago that my focus was solely on gaining Carlisle's forgiveness. Now his hatred seems insignificant, stupid even. Carlisle's resentment is the furthest thing from my mind. The idea of trying to win back his approval has taken a backseat to regaining Bella's friendship.

I scoff. Friendship. I'm not delusional enough to think that I just want to be friends with her. I want more than her friendship. But after the look she gave me tonight, even gaining her friendship is going to be a long shot.

God, I'm such an asshole. I've gotten exactly what I deserve. As I continue to pace, the anger and rage build inside me with every pass. I'm desperate to find an escape from this fury.

I grab my iPod from the dresser, shove the ear buds into my ears and crank the volume as loud as it will go. The song blares in my head, but I hear nothing.

Back and forth, I continue to pace. With each pass, the room seems to gets smaller. I have to get out of here.

I toss my headphones on the center of my bed and walk through the balcony doors into the cool night air. I stagger to the railing, grasp it with both hands, and lean against it like it is my lifeline. I take several deep breaths, filling my lungs in an attempt to clear my panic. I stare into the distance and try to think of some way to make the future bearable. Hurting her anymore is not bearable, and clearly my actions are doing just that.

I'm startled as the air is filled with loud, powerful music. It sounds as if the source is right here on the balcony with me. I turn back to the house and notice all the doors of Bella's studio are wide open, the gauzy curtains floating in the night breeze.

I'm drawn to the open doors as if in a trance, my feet moving forward toward the sounds coming from inside the room. I duck behind the first open door, shielded by the curtains and the dark shadows outside. Bella can't see me, but I can see her standing next to the stereo, searching her iPod for some song. She's changed out of her jeans and into black leggings and a black tank top. Her long hair is pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her neck. A song starts and she listens for a few seconds then skips to the next. Finally she stops, finding the song she's looking for, and takes her position in the center of the room.

The song is slow, menacing, and ominous. Bella begins to dance, and I can't take my eyes from her.

This is how I show my love

Made it in my mind because

Blame it on my A.D.D., baby

This is how an angel cries

Blame it on my own sick pride

Blame it on my A.D.D., baby

SAIL!

She moves across the floor, her body stretching, reaching, giving life to the lyrics of the song.

Maybe I should cry for help

Maybe I should kill myself

Blame it on my A.D.D., baby

I've never seen anything like the way she dances. Her movements are graceful but powerful. Every action is filled with emotion, every step an expression.

Maybe I'm a different breed

Maybe I'm not listening

Blame it on my A.D.D., baby

SAIL!

The song ends, and Bella rises from her final position on the floor, breathing heavily from the exertion of the last three minutes. I don't move a muscle, frozen like a statue in the shadows. She walks back to the stereo, selects another song, and soft music fills the air. I recognize this song in the first three notes and my heart begins to thump hard in my chest.

Claire du Lune.

My mother loved this song. She played it over and over for me on her piano when I was a child. The same piano is now covered by a sheet in the corner of this very room. It was this song that drew me to Mrs. Cope the day I met her. It was the first song I reconstructed by ear. It's the most powerful reminder of my mother that I have. And now, Bella is dancing to it.

The coincidence is not lost on me. What are the odds that I'm standing here, this night, scrutinizing my relationship with Bella, when she decides to play my mother's favorite song? I roll my eyes and glance up at the sky with a smirk. OK, Mom, I hear you.

Bella moves across the room to the steel barre, grasps the top rung with her left hand and extends her right arm in the opposite direction, away from her body. Her eyes follow the fluid movements of her hand as she bends forward, almost brushing the tips of her fingers against the floor. She lifts her body up again, standing straight and tall, her right arm now over her head. She takes a small breath and bends slightly backward. Her eyes still follow her hand and her head twists back to look over her shoulder. She repeats the same movements over and over with small variations in the placements of her feet. She looks like a typical ballerina, poised and graceful as she stretches and bends.

Absolutely beautiful.

I know in this moment I don't have the strength to stay away from her any longer.

~o0o~

Esme left the next morning for her book tour, and Bella spent another long day at school. She doesn't come home until well after dark. I can hear her and Emmett eating dinner together in the living room while they laugh at an old rerun on TV. I stay in my room, still keeping my distance from Bella. But now, it's not because I need to shut her out, it's because I don't know how to repair the damage I have already done.

After dinner, Bella spends the rest of the evening practicing in her studio, just as she did the night before. And like the night before, I watch her from the balcony. This became our routine every night for the entire week. Bella would dance and I would observe from my hiding spot on the balcony.

Oh, who was I kidding? I was spying on her like a creepy pervert, but I can't help it. I'm addicted to her, and this seems like the safest way to get my fix until I figure out what to do.

Some nights, when the weather is nice, the balcony doors would be open. I can hear the music clearly, watch her bare feet pad across the floor, and see the sweat glisten on her skin when she worked on demanding routines. There was only two nights when the doors are closed, but I still remain at my perch, listening to the muffled songs and trying to imagine her movements in my mind.

She always surprises me with her musical selections. When she is at the barre, stretching through a warm up, the music is usually classical or instrumentals. When she is working on techniques, likely perfecting something she learned at school that day, the music is more modern or new age. But when she's dancing for herself, the music changes with her mood.

A few nights the songs are dark and depressed, and I worry something happened at school to upset her. One night she is irritated and so the music is heavy metal and louder than she ever played it before. I try not to imagine those feelings might be directed at me. But the nights when she is happy, the songs are current pop songs or hip-hop. Those are the best nights. She would start goofing on the dance floor, mimicking moves she'd likely seen in a music video, laughing at herself if she'd miss a step. From the shadows, I quietly laugh along with her.

The days flew by and before I realize it, it is Saturday morning. My last Saturday before the school year starts. Senior year. How did I get so old?

I let the entire week go by without making any headway in repairing things with Bella. She gave up trying to talk to me long ago, and I could never seem to find the right moment to approach her. She is spending long hours at school, and when she is home, she is either hanging out with Emmett or locked in her studio. Even if I caught her alone, I don't know what I'm going to say.

Hey, Bella, sorry I've been a total ass the last two weeks. Can we be friends? Well… you see… I think I like you, a lot. Oh and by the way, I watch you dance like some kind of pervert through the balcony windows at night. Wanna go out sometime?

I groan and lug myself out of bed. It's early morning, well, early for me. I pull on a shirt and my grey sweatpants and head to the kitchen to find some food. As I pass Bella's bedroom, I notice her light is on and the door is open a crack.

There's no time like the present.

I take a deep breath and gently knock. No answer.

"Bella?" I call out, pushing the door open a little more. The room is empty, and the bed is made. She must have gotten up awhile ago - like a normal person – but she has to be around here somewhere.

I make my way to the kitchen, fix myself a bowl of cereal and settle at the bar to eat. I riffle through the stack of mail on the counter next to me as I shovel the cold cereal in my mouth. I pick up the newspaper and mindlessly skim the headlines.

I'm halfway through the article on the front page when the front door quickly opens and slams shut. Bella rounds the corner into the kitchen wearing hot pink sweatpants and a tight, black tank top. Her hair is pulled through the back of a baseball cap and a light sheen of sweat is glistening on her exposed skin. Her iPod is strapped to her forearm, and I can hear the loud music in her headphones from across the room. She's winded, trying to catch her breath, having obviously exerted herself on her run.

I know she sees me sitting here, but she doesn't bother to acknowledge my presence. Instead, she walks straight to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of neon blue sports drink. She slams it back, chugging half the bottle in one gulp. She takes another deep breath and turns toward me. Her eyes meet mine and she realizes I'm actually looking back at her.

"What?" Her tone is harsh and her voice is loud, compensating for the volume of the music blaring through her headphones.

"Training for a marathon?" I ask with a smirk.

"Excuse me?" She pulls the ear bud from her right ear. "Did you actually say something to me?"

I decide to let that one slide. "I asked if you were training for a marathon."

She gives a humorless chuckle and takes another chug from her drink. "Feels like it sometimes," she mumbles under her breath.

I keep my eyes on hers, hoping she'll expound some more, and shovel another bite of cereal into my mouth. She rolls her eyes and continues, "Jake says I got to tone down my fat ass if I want to land this audition."

I laugh. "Jacob doesn't know anything. Your ass isn't fat. Maybe a bit… juicy… but I wouldn't say fat."

Bella's eyes grow wide, shocked at my assessment. I throw my head back and laugh at her expression.

"Your pants," I clarify.

Bella twists around and looks toward her backside, the letters J-U-I-C-Y plastered across her hot pink butt in contrasting white letters.

"Ha, ha," she deadpans. "Very funny."

She strolls past me and takes the stairs two at a time. A minute later I hear the shower turn on.

Hey, it's a start.

~o0o~

Jazz is determined to make the most of our last day of freedom. We spend Saturday afternoon roaming around the city, including a stop at his favorite music store. Alice has gotten tired of waiting on him to ask her on a real date and she takes matters into her own hands. She informs him that he will be taking her to dinner tonight when her shift ends, so Jazz drops me back at the house early.

Fine with me. Maybe I'll get a chance to talk to Bella again - really talk this time.

"Whose car is that?" Jasper asks as we pull into the driveway. Parked behind Bella's car is an old, beat up piece of shit.

"I have no idea." I shrug and move to get out of the jeep. "Well, good luck tonight, man. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Jazz leans toward me. "That doesn't leave a lot of options you man whore."

I laugh and make my way to the porch, bounding up the steps two at a time, excited about the possibility of talking to Bella again. I can hear the music pulsing from upstairs before I even open the front door. I make my way inside and up the stairs to the second floor. Bella's bedroom door is open, but her room is dark and empty. The studio door is shut, and the loud music is blaring from behind it. I press my ear to the door and try to make out what's going on inside. Finally, the song ends, and I can hear two muffled voices – one female, one male.

Jacob.

I head to my room and close the door as the same song starts up again. The sun is just beginning to set, so it's too early for me to investigate from the balcony. I'm left to pace around my room and piece together what's happening next door from the music and muted voices.

An hour later, it's finally dark enough to venture into the shadows outside. I quietly make my way to the hiding spot I've been occupying all week, thankful the balcony doors to the studio are open, granting me an unobstructed view inside.

My eyes fall to a large, burly guy, almost as big as Emmett, sitting on the floor in front of the stereo. His short, dark hair and dark complexion remind me of the Quileute boys from the reservation in the northern part of the state. I examine him further and realize it's the same guy Bella left the night club with last weekend. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or bothered by that discovery.

His feet are bare and his muscular arms are wrapped around his knees pulled tight against his chest. In his hands he holds Bella's iPod tethered to the stereo by a long white cord. His whole body bounces in time with the beat of the music until the song abruptly stops in the middle of the chorus.

"Nope. Nope. Do it again," he barks, shaking his head. Bella is standing in the center of the room facing him, breathing heavily with her hands firmly on her hips.

The music starts again. Bella waits for her cue then begins to move. She spins on one leg several times, kicking the other out and throwing her head back before dropping her body into a tight ball on the floor. She rolls on her side, throwing her legs in the air as she moves, tucking them under and standing again. As she steps into her next movement, the music stops again.

"No! No, here… back up." Jacob rises from his seat and joins Bella on the dance floor. He stands behind her, and they both turn to face the mirror as he places his huge hands on her hips.

"And… 5… 6… 7… 8…" He continues to count as Bella twirls, his hands balancing her in place as she repeats the same movements from before.

"Feel the difference?" he asks.

"Yeah, you're right. Let me try again."

He takes a step back, hands on his hips as he watches her from behind. Bella repeats the turn again, but only at half the speed as before.

"Better. Try again with the music." He returns to his seat by the stereo and starts the song again. Bella waits for her cue, repeats the steps, and lands her spin. The smile that spreads across her face tells me she did it perfectly.

"YES! That was it!" Jacob cries over the music. Bella flows through the rest of her routine without interruption. The song ends, and from the look on her face, Bella is clearly pleased with her performance. I can't help but smile along with her.

Jacob gives her a short round of applause as he moves to stand in front of her. "Babe, that was much better. You had that move down perfect last night. What happened?"

Babe? Last night? What is he talking about - last night? She was here with me last night, like she has been every night this week.

Suddenly it hits to me – her late nights away, her time at school, the night club – she's with him. She's always with him.

"Oh, gee, Jake, I don't know," Bella responds sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Could it be that my legs are exhausted after all our late nights?"

I suck in a sharp breath.

"Aw, my poor baby." Jacob's tone is teasing.

He closes the distance between them and snakes his arms around her waist. He pulls her close to his chest as she wraps her arms around him and nuzzles her head into his neck. His burly hand begins to stroke her hair as he rocks her gently from side to side. "I didn't realize you were so out of shape. Maybe we should add another mile to our run tomorrow morning."

They ran together? Was he with her this morning before I saw her in the kitchen?

Bella lifts her head, her eyes wide with mock terror. "No, no! Please, Jake. I'm fine, I promise. No more miles. Please? Please?"

Their banter is playful, but I'm not paying much attention to their conversation; my eyes are glaring at his arms wrapped around her, holding her body tight against him.

Jacob appraises her for a moment with a critical eye. "All right, babe. You're safe… for tomorrow." He cocks his head to the side and taps his cheek twice. Bella rises up on her toes and plants a gentle kiss on his cheek.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

When I open them again, Jake has let her go and taken several steps back toward the stereo, "OK! Enough with all this rehearsing. It's Saturday night. It's time we have a little fun!"

Jacob kneels down in front of a large duffle bag on the floor and unzips the front pocket. He retrieves his iPod and replaces Bella's so his is now connected to the stereo. It takes him a few seconds to find the song he's looking for, but once he does a loud, a pulsing beat fills the room.

Bella recognizes the song and a wicked smile plays at her lips. With one hand, she reaches behind her head and loosens her ponytail, seductively shaking her hair so it falls freely down her back. She lifts her hand, and with one finger, motions for Jacob to come to her as the lyrics begins to fill in the song. He stalks to her, gripping her hips and firmly pulling her body to his.

Yeah, yeah

Get your ass up and hurra – Uh

Ice Cube baby

Ninety-nine baby

I'm on the grind baby

All the time baby

Show me something

Jacob's hands firmly grip Bella's waist as their hips grind into one another. Bella intertwines her fingers behind his head and brings his foreheads to hers, their eyes locked on each others. His right hand moves slowly up her back and twists in the loose hair at the base of her neck.

You can do it put your back into it

I can do it put your ass into it

You can do it put your back into it

I can do it put your ass into it

Bella spins around and Jacob's hands move back to her waist again. Her back is pressed against his chest and she rubs against him. He bites his bottom lips as he looks down at his crotch grinding into her ass.

Put your back into it

Put your ass into it

I can't watch anymore.

I back away from my hiding spot and stumble to my room in a daze. I close the door, slam my back against it and slide down to sit on the floor. I balance my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. I try to ignore the vibrations of the music through the walls and the images my imagination continues to conjure up as to what might be happening next door.

It's clear their relationship has blossomed into more than just classmates and dance partners. I should have known it that night at the club by the way he held her on the dance floor.

I feel sick.

I feel numb.

I'm too late.

She has someone else.

Author's Note: Now, now hold up before you go posting all kinds of hate comments on my review board. I don't like Jake pawing on Bella anymore than Spyward does. Just hang in there and I think you'll be glad you did. ;-)

"I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You know what they say about eavesdroppers." ~ Bella Swan, Twilight

Links to the music from this chapter are on my profile.

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