Twenty minutes later I am walking beside Jacob – each of us with a fishing rod resting upon one shoulder – feeling relieved that the robin's songs have been replaced by sea gull cries. He swings a small cooler with his left hand, likely jostling the bait and other nonsense; I say nothing. In all honesty, I almost feel irked that I am the one Billy requests to go fishing with Jake, because I take it as a personal reflection upon their views of me. Am I worth nothing but serving as an errand boy? In my heart, somewhere, I know that it isn't true; he wants me to feel included and knows Jake does not mind my company. But to one who agonizes so often as myself? Though my pains are self-inflicted, I still take it far too personally for my own good. This exclusively brings me to be silent as we walk together along the dunes.

Finally, he breaks the silence. "I thought you were happy I came back."

I glance at him, furrowing my brows. "What?"

He returns my glance, eyes rolling in annoyance. "You heard me the first time, I know you're not deaf."

I pause. "What?" This brings no smile to his lips, to my frustration – or disdain, I'm not sure which – and I choose wisely my words. "I am glad you are not wandering around in the wilderness anymore, John the Baptist." It isn't exactly a good crack, but it's something less harsh than the words that dance along my sharp tongue. When he says nothing, I shrug. "Why wouldn't I be glad you're back?"

Now it is his turn to think for a moment. "I don't know, you seemed angry to see me today. Like I interrupted your daily visits with Billy. He's so glad you've been visiting, you know, he bragged about it nonstop last night. Seems you all did well without me."

Part of me wants to slap him. Is he serious? Billy only spoke of Jake on my visits, and he had given up all hope a long time ago. Yet he prayed, as did my mother (as did I, though I tell no one of this) for Jake's return. I also feel a portion of myself cringing in guilt; my earlier words and actions had not provoked him to physically portray any negative reaction, yet he is now sulking. Such a stupid, selfish bitch you are. "Look, I'm sorry Jake," I begin slowly. "I just – I don't know. Wasn't having a good morning. I didn't mean to take it out on you." Actually, I had; his smiling face, his positivism despite his heartbreak, is almost as frustrating as the birds' songs. Not that it is a fair justification, but we have already established my sense of rationality.

"Okay," he says simply, shrugging. "I just thought maybe it was better without me here."

Fighting an outburst, I grit my teeth and then attempt to speak. "Don't be stupid Jake. Having you here is a bigger blessing than you might ever realize." Sure, that is convincing; the snarling half-grin and strained words that sputter forth from my lips. But he oddly seems to accept it – perhaps knowing me far too well, more than I wish he did – and nods. His demeanor then shifts to light-hearted once more and as we finally reach a secluded, calm portion of the water he sets down the cooler.

"This place looks good, right?" he asks. "Tidepools will be nice to cool our feet as we wait."

I glance around us and nod; it's better than we'll do anywhere else. The surf is calmer here, meaning less likely to disrupt the fish and frighten them into the deeper seas. A few large rocks dot the area; most half-submerged by the lulling sea. They'll be great points from which we can fish. "Looks good," I verbally agree, in case he doubts my nodding acceptance. We both sit for a moment, busying ourselves with unwinding fishing line and selecting bait. I slip a few pieces into a small baggie, seal it, then move behind a large rock. "Stay there," I instruct him, stripping down and phasing into wolf form – but not before I ensure that my shorts and bathing suit top are tied to my ankle. I leave the shirt behind – at least I can tan while I'm out here.

Trotting out from behind the rock, he stares at me, clearly confused. However, not about to swim through the surf – although mild – in my human form, I take my rod and bait in my mouth (trying not to think about the fact of how disgusting this is, baggie or not) and then back up a few paces. Taking a running start I leap and manage to land clinging to the side of one of the large rocks – the closest one – and scramble to the top. Hardly graceful but what do I care? I then glance back, realizing that however ideal this had seemed at the time, I was now on a stage in plain sight – left to be a canine or be naked. He doesn't seem to get the evil glare I give him, so I sigh and phase; lying as close to the rock as I can.

Though it's impossible for him not to see me, I pretend this does not bother me and slip on my shorts and bikini top with subtle speed. I dare not look as though I'm ashamed; he can't know that weakness of self-consciousness within me. Oblivious to his entranced stare I manage to dress and settle on the rock with my feet dangling over the edge, refusing to meet his gaze. After a few moments of me fiddling with untangling my line again, he calls out to me. "That was impressive; I think I might have to follow your lead." I merely flash him a superior smile and then go about putting bait on my hook.

I do not notice him leaping – now in wolf form – until his body collides with a rock that is a few yards from mine. I glance upward then, admiring the manner by which he maintains his balance and remains upright. He then phases back to his human form – naturally not shy as opposed to my faking it – and I do not realize I am staring until he slips on his shorts. I flush and glance away before he can notice; mentally chastising myself. How crude could I be? He is just like every other male of the pack – all of whom refuse to care about my presence when they phrase – ripped, perfectly built and beautifully tanned. Nothing separates him from the others.

Yet in my silence I continue to wonder, picturing him over and over in my mind. How had I never noticed before yesterday – and now today – how simply beautiful he is? Shaking the thought from my head I focus on the fishing endeavors at hand; I have no time to waste on such petty ponderings. Vulnerability does not suit me and lust only carves within our hearts an intensely exposed state. Hooking a piece of bait I stand and then cast, settling back against the rock to soak up some sun.

Within my mind, though, his image never fades; that perfectly sculpted physique…truest perfection.