A/N: Hi, guys! I don't have very much to say this time. I had a little fun while writing this chapter. I hope you enjoy. :)

Chapter Seven

So maybe I was wrong; maybe Jacob was into pretending as much as I'd thought. Being completely moved in must have meant nothing to him. We were two lonely people in a timeless place (we'd called ourselves the Lonely Hearts Club, for fuck's sake), so why weren't we less distant? I didn't get it. Maybe he was too obsessed with his three jobs; maybe I was too obsessed with my books and television.

It was like I missed him without even knowing him in the first place.

Sometimes between jobs and trips to the gym, I would try to do favors for Jacob. It was only to be nice, but he would never let me. He liked doing things by himself, and he never liked to have help. So closed off, so hard to hug, and so tough to talk to… That was Jacob Black in a nutshell. He was just like Edward in the way, only he wasn't lazy. At least there was hope for us. I just didn't know what I was trying to reach.

Okay, Jacob being gone all the time was a bit of an exaggeration; he was around sometimes. He was around enough to help me find a job. I tackled a few odd jobs from sign-holding to dog-walking to garage-organizing, and eventually ended up with a job at a local movie theater by the first week of October.

I was grateful to get a job, but to keep things plain and simple, I hated my job.

Take a shopping mall in South Everett. Attach a movie theater to it. Throw some obnoxious teenagers in the mix. Now make it seven o'clock at night to ten, where the teenagers were their worst because there were so many of them. That was my job. Oh, and I wasn't selling tickets or ushering people to their theaters; I worked in concessions and I also helped clean up. The smell of buttery popcorn and sticky soda followed me everywhere, and it felt like people dropped all their garbage on purpose because they could and because desperate people like me had to pick it all up. And for another thing, I didn't even watch many movies. I'd never really gone to the movies as a teenager, and when I had, I'd never paid attention to the movie. I honestly didn't care for anything having to do with cinema, so I was stuck with a job that held no interest for me.

Now try tackling that every single night.

Today was Halloween. I'd thought there would be less people going to movies tonight because they would be out taking their kids trick-or-treating or something, but I was wrong. I was always wrong. I was wasting away, too. I felt super, super, super suicidal due to a sudden realization.

A new ghost movie had just come out and tonight—a Wednesday, of all nights—was the night that just everybody and their families had to see it.

I stood behind the counter now, waiting for more orders to take. Only one thought could course through my mind. Why am I here? And then I remembered the answer that was the same every time: You need the money, you stupid whore.

I was almost at rock bottom—at least I got to work the register. Some people only got the food, but I had to hand it to people. My boss had told me a week ago that I'd been "improving" with the customer service. I always had to be nice and helpful, which I really wasn't, but at least I didn't have the crappiest job.

I greeted the next customer now, a brunette teenage girl that looked about fourteen, and took her order. As I waited for one of my coworkers to get the girl her popcorn and frozen yogurt (I didn't know people ate that at the movies either), I tried to make small talk with the customer.

"So what movie are you going to see?" I asked easily.

The girl shrugged and chomped on her chewing gum, reminding me very distinctly of a cow. "Paranormal Activity 4."

I put on my talking-to-children voice. "Are you excited?" I ask.

The girl couldn't have looked any more bored. "Not really. I heard it sucks. I'm just here with my boyfriend." She gestured to a much older man (with a beard, mind you) sitting on a bench, his eyes down at his cell phone.

"He looks a little old for you," I remarked.

The girl raised a thin, brown eyebrow. "So?"

"Shouldn't you be out trick-or-treating or something?" I asked. "I mean, don't kids still do that?"

"Shouldn't you be out on the street corners?" she asked in response. "Don't sluts still do that?"

Not gonna lose my cool, not gonna lose my cool… "Look, kid, I'm just saying if the movie sucks then you shouldn't waste your money. You're not even old enough to see it. It's rated R. And for your information, it's not nice to call people sluts. It's very rude."

"I call it as I see it," she replied with a smirk.

"I guess I can call out rude little girls when I see them, too."

"Could you just give me my fucking food?" she snapped. "I don't wanna miss the movie."

I scoffed. What was the little girl trying to prove? Her independence? "Don't be a bitch," I told her. "We're working on it."

"Work a little harder, then," she said slowly, like she was talking to a child. Her eyes were wide, and there was a slight smile upon her lips.

One of my coworkers eventually set down the girl's order next to me, and I tried to keep myself calm and composed. "That'll be seven twenty-five," I told her. Why movie theater concessions were so expensive never failed to confuse me.

The girl shoved a ten dollar bill in my hand. "Keep the change."

Flustered, I gave a small smile and slid her popcorn and frozen yogurt over the counter just a little too hard, causing just a little (or a lot) of her order to spill all over her shirt. Bits of popcorn stuck to the thick, pink frozen yogurt, and it all stuck to her. Fantastic.

The girl gasped. "You're such a cunt!" I wasn't surprised she possessed such a vocabulary.

I grinned at her. "Enjoy your movie."

She probably didn't enjoy her movie, and I didn't enjoy the rest of my shift because there wasn't one. My boss—this tall, awkward, Hispanic twenty-four-year-old named Eleazar—made me go home. He told me to take the rest of the night off, and the rest of the week (and Sunday), too. I couldn't understand why, though; he needed employees. He should have been desperate for them. Since I'd been hired, four people had left. He couldn't afford to lose any more workers, and he was basically pushing me out the door now. He knew he couldn't take it, which was why he hadn't fired me on the spot. I couldn't be fired, though. I just couldn't.

I mean, it wasn't like I was particularly mad about missing work for the next four days, but I needed to get paid. The second Jacob had set me up with a job at the theater, he'd laid down the law. "You live here; you pay rent." I'd agreed, and now half of my (minimum wage) paychecks were being wiped out by default.

Anyway, I asked Eleazar if this was a paid vacation, and he'd told me yes. He was probably lying just to get me out of the area before I wasted more cups of frozen yogurt and cartons of popcorn, but I nearly danced out of the theater once I was ready to leave. I was free for four whole days.

I nearly cheered for joy by the time I reached my trunk, but the joy ended the second I tried to start it up. It wasn't starting up.

Don't let me give you the wrong impression; I loved my truck. It was the one thing in my life that hadn't changed since I'd moved to Forks. It was always there and for the most part, it didn't judge me. It was kind of cute, too; it was a vintage (as in 1963, as in old as hell), rusty red, Chevy pickup. It was cute in an old person kind of way. The truck was gorgeous and a little sturdy (but mostly somewhat frail) and overall perfect from me. I'd loved it from the moment I first saw it. You know the feeling you get when you find your kind of car? The Chevy was definitely my kind of car.

It was still a piece of shit, though.

The truck didn't go very fast and it was annoying to maintain, but I hadn't been hoping it would die on me. Especially now. It was Halloween, dammit—I was not going to walk home and risk a load of snotty-nosed children asking me for candy, or immature teenagers throwing eggs at me. Nope. Never. Cursing at my truck, I went back into the theater and behind the counter for the thousandth time. Before Eleazar could tell me to leave again, I spoke. "I need to talk to Carmen," I explained. He nodded in agreement.

I found Carmen, another one of my coworkers (whom I was pretty sure was dating Eleazar), back near the kitchen, just exiting it. "Oh, hello, Bella," she greeted me. "Weren't you going to go home?"

"Kind of," I replied. "I got sent home. But the thing is, my truck's not starting up. Can I use your phone for a second?"

"Okay." She dug into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. Handing it to me, she looked in the general direction of the mess I'd made. "Eleazar's not making you clean up your mess?" she asked.

I shook my head as I dialed Jacob's home phone. He had to be home—the high school he worked at was long closed as it was seven-thirty at night. "No," I told Carmen. "I guess he just wants me out of here."

"I pity whoever has to clean it up, then," she said.

"Yeah, so do I."

I brought the phone up to my ear and waited as the line rang and rang. On the fourth or fifth one, someone finally picked up. "Hello?"

"Jacob?" I asked.

"Bella?"

"Yeah, it's Bella."

"What's up?"

"I need a ride home."

"I thought your shift ends at ten."

"Mine ended early," I tried to quickly explain. "I'll tell you the rest later, but I need a ride. The truck, like… died on me. Can you pick me up?"

"Sure, sure."

"Thanks, Jake."

"No problem."

He hung up, and I handed Carmen her phone back. "I think he's mad at me," I said.

Her eyebrows knit closer. "Why do you think that?"

"He wasn't really talking with me, and he sounded annoyed."

"Maybe he was doing something," she suggested. "He has a life, too, I'm pretty sure."

"I know, but it just sucks," I replied. "It feels like I'm holding him back from things he wants to do. He's always picking me up and doing things for me because I'm such a fail."

"Is he dating someone?" Carmen asked. "Or is he in a dedicated relationship?"

Jacob never dated or even brought home girls. I never brought home anybody either but it was different with him. It was like he was opposed to dating people. I shook my head. "No."

"Maybe he had somebody over," she advised easily.

I bit the inside of my cheek. "Maybe," I agreed.

Was it bad that I didn't want him to?

Jacob eventually picked me up at the front of the theater, and he didn't even look that mad at me. So I'd been wrong about one thing.

I slid into the seat of the Rabbit, and closed the door a little harder than necessary.

"So what happened?" he asked me as he started driving back to his—or was our the correct word?—apartment.

"This stupid girl was messing with me and I ended up throwing her food at her," I said bluntly.

Jacob's eyes widened. "Wow. How old was she? Seven?"

"Stop," I said. "And she was, like, fourteen."

His eyes remained wide. "Seriously, Bella? Throwing shit at a kid at your job?"

"You should've been there, though," I tried to say in my defense. "She called me a slut. Oh, and then a cunt."

"Was that before or after you threw food at her?"

"The 'slut' part or the 'cunt' part?"

"The 'cunt' part."

"After," I clarified. "She had it coming, though."

"Damn, I just hope you don't get fired." He glanced at me at the stop light. God, he had some beautiful eyes… except that wasn't entirely true; he had beautiful everything. His looks were my weak spot, and I wasn't afraid to admit it to myself.

"I know," I agreed.

"You're not a robot, though," he said, turning back to the road. "People can't expect you to be perfect."

"Yeah. How was your day? I mean, I know I asked you this earlier, but still." I was such an idiot around him. I never knew the right words to say because he was so smart and I was so nervous with him. He was as sharp as a knife.

"It was alright," he answered. "I guess we both dealt with stupid kids today."

"You're much better at it than me, though," I pointed out. "You deal with them almost every single day."

"Sure, but I do kind of like the kids."

"Why?"

"Some are really special. Talented. Ya know."

I'd never really been able to see that in people. "That's nice," I replied.

"Yeah." He started pulling into the apartment complex, and once we finally got out, I looked at him. Carmen's comment still lingered in my mind. "Yes?" Jacob asked.

"Did you have anyone over today?" I asked. "I know it's not my place to worry, but I was just wondering because you sounded kind of pissed at me on the phone, like I was butting into something."

He chuckled. "No need to worry, Bella," he said. "All you really butted into was me and The Walking Dead."

I must have made a really stupid face because he laughed. "It's not funny!" I said. "I seriously thought you had someone over."

"Bells, you'll never have to worry about me having girls around, and if I did, I'd tell you." Hearing Bells was like music to my ears.

"Why don't you ever have girls around?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not really quick to sleep around. I guess I'm just waiting for the right girl."

"Are you with anybody right now?"

"You'd know if I was."

That was all I wanted to hear. I bit my lip and nodded. "Okay."

After changing into pajamas, I decided to watch The Walking Dead with Jacob. He had the first two seasons on DVD, and we were just on the mid-season finale of season one. I was so confused, but during the beginning of the episode, Jake and I kind of just talked. I put my feet up on the couch and curled into Jacob's warm body, my head resting on the side of his arm. He was still sort of at a distance with me—still sort of guarded—but at least he was letting me rest here.

"Why is the guy in the hat being so rude to Rick and his wife?" I asked.

"The guy in the hat is Shane. Lori—the wife—was sleeping with him because she thought Rick was dead, but now that Rick's back, she's guilty."

"Oh."

"She's a pretty big whore," Jake concluded.

"But she thought Rick was dead," I reminded him.

"That doesn't give her an excuse to mess around with his best friend," he said.

"We've all got our obsessions," I told him.

"That's not an obsession, though—it's called being a whore."

"Maybe she found safety in Shane," I said in Lori's defense. "Being with somebody new doesn't make you a whore at all. It's called opening up and letting people in. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from Lori."

"Okay, that's not even fair," Jake replied. "The zombie apocalypse hasn't happened yet."

"Well, fine," I agreed. "But Lori's not a whore for accepting kindness."

He sighed. "Sure, sure."

Things got quiet as we paid more attention to the show, and there was a sudden ring of the doorbell that startled both of us.

"Fuck," I groaned. "Trick-or-treaters."

"They're not that bad," Jake said with a shrug. He got up, picked up a bowl of candy from the kitchen counter, and went to the door. As soon as he opened it, a unison of "Trick or treat" erupted from outside. "Hey, guys," he greeted the kids. I heard plenty of "thank yous" as Jacob dropped pieces of candy into their bags, and once he was done, he closed the door and walked back to me, the bowl of candy still in his hands.

"You're so good with kids," I observed.

"I've gotta agree," he said as he sat back. He took a piece of candy and handed me the bowl. "We're probably not gonna get too many trick-or-treaters," he said. "Only two other sets of kids came up here all night. The rest of the candy's yours."

"Thanks."

I had more than my fair share of candies, and for one thing, I didn't feel like throwing them up. I hadn't felt like this for about a week and a half now. I could safely say that I didn't feel regretful for eating anything. I felt good and free.

"You know what?" Jacob asked.

I looked up at him. "What?"

"I think it's time to make this place feel like home," he suggested. "What do you think?"

Am I hearing this correctly?

Did he just say that?

Yes. He did say that.

Not only did he want me to live with him, but he wanted to make things feel like home.

"I think that is fucking fantastic," I replied.

"I know I've been kinda away lately. I think it's time for a change. I barely even see you, and I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay."

"Really?"

"Really."

He smiled at me. "Aw, thanks, Bells."

It was safe to say that I melted, and any sense of protection I had over myself had far disappeared. Jacob wasn't a heartbreaker, but he could be. I was a heartbreaker, but I could be willing to give it up just to be happy. I mean, sure, I could admit it: I was still clueless. I didn't know what I wanted from Jacob, exactly, but I knew that I wanted to be happy. Maybe I even wanted him to be happy. I had not even the slightest idea of what I wanted to attain from Jacob, but I might have wanted something.

I might have wanted him.

I sunk into the couch and leaned a little into Jacob. As I watched (the very bad-ass, I might add) Rick Grimes shoot zombies in the head, a sense of relief and realization washed over me, all in one.

Maybe Jacob is who I want.

A/N: There ya go! Now, I'm curious as to what you guys think. I always am.

Have a fantastic day/week/month/year/life,

MTL. xo