I wrote this chapter a while ago and personally, it's one of the more 'Disney' worthy ones I have locked up so if it's a bit cheesy, understand that I like cheesy and I'm looking for my cheesiness in the world. It doesn't get enough credit these days.

Tress Blues

P.S. to my friends from school who're actually reading this, I am not paranoid. I am merely cautious.


Chapter 6. Nothing More Special

Sophie

I woke up the next morning, the sun spilling lazily over my face and my hair sent a silver shimmer onto the pillow. I smiled, wistfully and heaved myself off my pillow, realising that I had gone to sleep without putting my pyjamas on first. I went into the bathroom and peeled off my jeans and sweater before surveying the damage of last night. My cheeks were less flushed but still a bit tender. My stomach was mottled in a few bruises from where the staircase had hit me and my knee was grazed and going purple. Overall however, it was easy to cover. I found it difficult and severely painful to move my fingers so I managed with stiffly turning the knobs on the shower and slipping on a white blouse and a usual pair of blue jeans with a white knit cardigan. Clothes that made me blend.

I packed my things and stepped out of the house at a quarter past eight, to give me time to walk to school. The entire time I was feeling…numb. I think that's the word for it. I was empty but then again I was empty every time I did something wrong. But maybe it was because it reminded me of Mattie this time…

"Hey!" a voice yelled and I spun around to see a white mustang cruise down to a crawl beside me on the road. And Paul Beckett at the steering wheel.

I turned away and ignored him, carrying on with my walk. He put those dents in my car. He ruined it. He ruined everything!

"Sophie!" I turned to him again, shocked that he knew my name. Who could've told him? He seemed amused by my reaction and chuckled. "Yeah, you're friend, Erika was it? She told me your name. Look, I just wanted to apologize about yesterday, it was kinda…weird to jump out in front of your car and all that…." He trailed off, apparently done with the apology. I simply glared at the ground in front of me. "So where is the famous dented car now?" Was he joking?

I scowled at him. "My father confiscated it thanks to the dents you so thoughtfully made." I said sourly.

"Well, how about I give you a ride to school? Part of the apology?" he offered, brightly. I shook my head tightly.

"That wouldn't be the best idea." I replied, not having the restraint to offer a more reasonable excuse than 'because if I were anywhere near you for a particular length of time, there'd be a need for a coroner'. I looked up then and saw how he was looking at me.

Not creepily, not angrily. It was the same stare as yesterday, when he'd caught me. Paul was simply staring at me with a small look of surprise and…affection? I almost shook my head to get rid of the absurd notion. I was imagining things. But the staring was making me nervous, I picked at an imaginary thread at the hem of my shirt, waiting for him to stop but he just kept gazing at me with a lovesick look on his face. I didn't stare back at him, I tried to stop all eye contact because…well, I really wanted him to stop.

"Umm…if I say yes to the ride, will you quit looking at me like that?" I asked, desperately. I just needed it to end. I didn't like being looked at. If people looked too closely, you could see the sadness and the pain, even the bruises which were always kept covered.

Paul seemed to jump out of a trance and blushed. I think I went into shock. Did I do that? I thought in wonder. Did I just make Paul Beckett blush? He nodded cheerfully though and pulled up to the curb. I opened the door and hopped in, keeping to the door as much as I could. In case of a need for a speedy exit. I have to say, I'd never been this close to Paul before. Any guy before. I could, for instance, had I the inclination, reach out and touch his cheek or run my fingers down his arm…Okay. No. Stop right there Sophie. You don't even like this guy remember?

But my thoughts did nothing to ease the staccato rhythm my heart was pounding at. He was wearing a Guns-n-Roses t-shirt today and jeans that looked as if they had definitely seen better days. We drove in silence for a while until something edged its way into my thoughts. "How did you do it?" I asked, without hesitation. Paul froze, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as if I'd asked a forbidden question. Interesting…

"Do what?" he asked, cautiously.

"Put two great huge dents in my car." I reminded him dryly. He chuckled nervously.

"Well it was an ancient car; I bet you could even put a mark on it." He teased and I smiled a little, even though I recognised his attempt to change the subject.

"That car was a 1985 Mercedes Benz thank you very much." I defended weakly; miffed that he was bagging on my car when he had…a mustang. Life wasn't fair but I wasn't going to admit he had a better car than me. At least mine had character. "Besides it's better than this piece of-"

"Hey, hey, hey! She can hear you!" he reprimanded and stroked the dashboard. I rolled my eyes.

"Well then I hope it knows that it's got a cruddy paint job and probably can't go faster than 60 miles an hour!" I said, cheekily. Part of me was surprised. I only ever joked in front of people I knew. Did I know Paul? No. Did it stop me from relaxing more and more around him? Definitely not. Paul scowled.

"Just because she's a little rough around the edges…" he muttered. I rolled my eyes again and laughed. He perked up immediately, smiling like it was Christmas and he was five years old. I frowned, confused.

"What?"

"You laughed." He said, smugly. I raised an eyebrow.

"So?"

"So, I made you laugh." He stated, still smug. I wondered briefly why that was so important but I shrugged it off, a tad nervously. It was an odd reaction to laughter to say the least.

"No. Your car made me laugh." I joked softly and Paul frowned.

"Well damn. I guess I'll just have to try harder next time." He sighed, mock-remorseful. I looked around at him.

"Next time?" I was surprised to say the least. What made him think there would be a next time?

He looked sort of offended. "'Course. Sophie, I got your car confiscated from you. Consider me your personal chauffeur." I started to shake my head but he cut me off. "Believe it or not, this is my weird way of saying sorry." He laughed. I liked Paul's laugh. It was loud and bass.

"Okay, I can accept that. But can I ask why you were staying back after school so late? I'm pretty sure you didn't spend it in the library." I said, knowing that he wasn't there for two reasons: one, guys like Paul Beckett, wouldn't touch the library with a ten foot pole and two…I would've noticed if he was there.

Paul chuckled, nervously. "I sorta had detention."

"Why?" I asked, enjoying the way he was squirming under my interrogation.

"I'm bored of talking about me. What about you?" He said, brightly, changing the subject yet again. It did distract me though.

"Me?" I repeated, dully. What about me? My parents? My home life? My school work? My one friend? "Nothing to tell. There's nothing special about me." I said, flatly. I point blank refused to look at him but something in his voice made me glance.

"There is nothing more special than you." He said, quietly. I barely heard it, it was so soft that at first I thought I hadn't heard it, that my mind had finally snapped but when I looked up he was staring at me again, sincerity burning in his eyes. I couldn't take my eyes away from his. But his words brought me to my other thoughts…

"Why?" I whispered. Paul looked confused as he turned his gaze- almost reluctantly- back to the road.

"Why what?"

"Why are you talking to me? Driving me to school? Jumping out in front of cars to find out my name? Why me?" I clarified, slightly flustered about the attention. I'd never had anyone pay such careful attention to me before and I hated it, hated that I was being looked at. Don't look at me Paul, I begged inside my head. Don't look at the marks. Don't look at all. Paul frowned.

"Why not you Sophie?" He said and I could see he was about to continue when he suddenly looked down at my fingers and (get this) growled

I'm dead serious.

A loud, thick growl erupted from his chest as he looked at my hands, which were folded in my lap. "What is that?" he growled again and I looked down before flushing with embarrassment.

The bases of my fingers were ringed red and raw from the other night where my dad bent them backwards. I pulled down the sleeve of my jacket trying to hide it from Paul's furious gaze. We'd pulled into school by now and I could see that we had arrived maybe five minutes before the bell, with everyone crowded around the car park talking. A few people stared at me in surprise. It wasn't often that Paul Beckett showed up with anyone in his car besides his friends let alone a girl.

"Nothing." I mumbled, looking away, slightly checking my face for any more wounds I'd missed. I felt slight cut under my right eye and cursed myself. Then the whole car frame began to shake. It was like our own private earthquake and I looked to Paul in alarm, only to find that he was shaking too. That he was shaking the car. It was insanely strange, like his form was blurring, he was moving so fast. My heart started pumping like a machine gun because, although I wasn't used to talking with guys, I was pretty sure this wasn't a normal occurrence. His face was snarled in anger although his eyes were closed. "Paul?" I asked, in shock, putting a hand out to his shoulder.

I wasn't a doctor but it looked like he was going into an epileptic fit or something from the way he was shaking. But under my hand the shaking slowed and suddenly he was looking at me with burning eyes again. Which was when I realised my fingers were still on his shoulder and that for some reason he was burning up like he had a fever. A really, really hot fever. He was probably sick or something, I thought. The tiny voice in my head told me that with a temperature like that he should be dead. Or dying. I tried to pull my hand away in shock but he caught mine in his and inspected it gently.

Paul's hand was soothing, like a heat pack that moved around mine. I winced slightly when he moved my fingers but it wasn't as painful in his warm grasp. He looked up and scowled at the cut under my eye but he didn't shake again.

I couldn't breathe. My heart was going a mile a minute, so fast it felt like it wasn't beating at all, my cheeks were going tomato red but I couldn't think of anything except that he was touching me, as he moved his fingers from my hand onto my cheek, stroking the length of the cut. It was so stupid of me to like it but I did. Way, way too much. "Sophie," did I mention how nice my name sounded when Paul said it? "What happened?" his voice was strained and so…caring that I wanted to tell him. I wanted to blurt out my entire life story but some old habit saved me and I immediately went on the defensive.

"Nothing. I fell down yesterday after school and my fingers got jarred trying to break my fall. I'm just clumsy." I reassured him. He seemed a little doubtful but he just nodded and slowly took his fingers away from my face. Then he smiled weakly and became the regular Paul Beckett again.

"Clumsy huh? Well that would explain things…" he chuckled. I let my breath out slightly, relieved. I smiled a little and started to open the car door when Paul grabbed my wrist. It was a hard grab, but gentle, like a mother pulling their child away from the street...or the way someone would pull a loved one in for a kiss. He just smiled at me lightly, not as intense as before. "What time should I pick you up?" he asked, casually, but there was a strange, fascinated undercurrent to his words that made it anything but casual. I stumbled for a moment before answering.

"You don't have to…I have extra studying time after school." I fumbled for the right excuse although part of me wished I wouldn't. Part of me wished that I would just accept his lift from school. And that part needed to be gagged and shoved in a closet for the time being or I would do something really stupid, I thought angrily.

Paul shrugged. "Where?"

I frowned, my eyebrows pulling together. "Why do you care so much Paul? A few days ago we had never spoken to each other and now you're offering me rides to school? What's up?" I asked, suspiciously. Paul's shoulders sagged. "Not that I'm complaining about your offers but I just want to know what's going on." I hastened to reassure him. I surprised myself. Why did I do that?

Paul looked exasperated but amusingly so. "Can't you just accept it and move on?" he sighed. I crossed my arms and stubbornly waited for an answer but he just chuckled at my pose. "I just…I don't know. I wanted to try and be…friends. With you." he ran a hand threw his hair, frustratedly. "I mean…Where are you studying?" he asked again, trying to stop the ramble of words jumping from his lips…his soft, warm looking lips…

My god, I've turned into Erika.

I sighed this time, whether in frustration or weariness I didn't know. To be honest, I was still a little hung up on the image of Paul's lips. "Paul, it's better that we not be friends. I mean, it's complicated. Can you just leave it alone now?" I asked, slightly sad. There was a reason Erika was my only friend. I was too shy, too introverted to make any new friends and I was simply lucky that Erika had been there from…before. Besides, she was used to my personality.

Paul shrugged and grinned. "Probably not." I hadn't noticed before how handsome he was. Well, lie, I knew but I didn't really think about it. He was just…a Paul. Paul Beckett, the guy that girls wanted and boys envied. Handsome. Popular. Not exactly the type of person that I hung out or associated with. But I could see and certainly appreciate why he was that person. Paul was…hot. Not cute, not slightly good looking, but smoking, light-your-heart-on-fire-with-one-look hot.

He was tall (as were all his friends…something in the water in La Push) and certainly well built. But there was something subtle in his face that made people look again. His jaw was hard and squared off but his skin was soft and smooth, rough brown in colour. He was more silent than some of his friends but I guessed that was due to his famous temper. I wondered why I had yet to see it but then I moved on to his eyes and well, let's just say his temper was the last of my worries.

Huh…

They were chocolate brown with lighter colour around the pupils and almost a freckly green sort of pattern amongst the lighter section. They were beautiful. Part of me wondered when did I start caring what Paul's eyes looked like but the bigger, less coherent part just said shut up and look. But I saw that whilst I ogled at them, they ogled back so I blushed and opened the car door again. People were beginning to file into school, apparently the bell was about to ring. I guess time flies when you're with incredibly handsome guys, I thought slightly dizzy.

I closed the door and looked at Paul across the roof, who was standing outside his door too. "Seriously though. What time do you get out of studying?" he asked, making a face at the word. I giggled and Paul smiled.

I shrugged. "Around about five." I mumbled, trying to control the raging blush creeping up my cheeks. Paul grinned.

"Five it is."


Aww. Cute huh?

I almost forgot to mention:

To all people, young and old, of all races and both genders, this is a direct order from the Powers That Be. GO SEE TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN!!!! E-X-C-E-L-L-E-N-T!!! I saw it this weekend and immediately went home and downloaded New Divide by Linkin Park to my iPod.

I am obsessed and proud to be so.

Tress Blues

P.S.

I just noticed that I got a review from…MYSELF.

Let me clear up that this is not in fact me. I am not that sad. This is my officially DEAD sister Olivia for going on my account and messing around without my PERMISSION!!!!

Olivia- You Have To Sleep Some Time