Room 201

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It had been stupid, really, to think that someone like Ben, who would go out of his way to make trouble for her—ignore her wishes in the first place—to listen.

He'd laughed, seeing her, and told her "Just relax, Bella, I didn't mean anything by it."

She'd been enraged. Infuriated. She wasn't the sort to wish harm, but she wanted a lot of it to fall on Ben. And quickly.

He'd fueled her ire by reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear. She had smacked his hand away, and he'd chuckled. "I like angry. There's a lot of passion behind it."

She'd given up at that point and walked away.

Too keyed up to sleep, or do anything productive, she'd gone for a walk along one of the well lit paths towards the library, where she fumed and moved through the stacks, looking for something to distract herself with.

The old main library was one where you could get lost, the numbers bleeding together in their warren-like rows, the five floors similar and confusing. She'd heard the rumours about the homeless people who slept their, blithely undetected by equally lost student librarians.

When she found a copy of Romeo and Juliet on the floor, staring at her accusingly, between the aisles of neatly arranged books, she took it as a sign that she should head back to her room, and did, trying not to read anything beyond the literal into it.

She had left her phone, again, she realized, on her bed, and felt a stab of disappointment when she checked it. No texts. No voicemails.

She was stuck in the limbo of waiting.

It sucked.

The morning brought a sweet form of relief, literally, in the form of Jacob, curled up on the floor by her bed.

"Jake?" She said, not quite believing her eyes.

"Hey," he said sleepily, sitting up.

"What are you doing here?" She was confused, tired, and everything felt hazily unreal.

"Got your message, came right back," he said. "Sorry."

Bella felt a stab of guilt. It was a five hour drive on a good day, and he'd run it three times in the last twenty four hours.

"I'm sorry," she said. "And I'm sorry about the message too, I was really...I was really angry."

He didn't say anything, but picked her up, sliding her onto his lap on the bed, arms wrapped securely around her.

"I love you," he said softly.

She smiled, "ditto."

He nuzzled her neck. "What happened, Friday?"

She stiffened immediately. "What do you mean?"

"You were upset yesterday, and you're a terrible liar, Bella. Something happened. Why won't you tell me?"

Crap.

There were some other words she thought too.

Sighing, she lifted his hand, holding it with one of hers, and playing with his fingers with her other. It was easily twice the size of hers. "Yes, something happened. I just...it wasn't that big of a deal."

Jacob could tell, with a growing sense of worry, that it was, and, that she wasn't ready to talk about it. So, he let it sit, unchallenged, and nodded, waiting.

"On the way back from the party, Ben was kinda drunk, and he tried to kiss me. Well, he did kiss me. So I kneed him—ow, Jacob, that hurts!"

"Sorry," he said, releasing his arms, and standing, "where is he?"

"No way. Uh-uh. No going ballistic wolf on me," she said, shaking her head.

"Fine," he said grimly, "I'll just start knocking on doors."

"Yeah, I'm sure that would go down well," she muttered. "Seriously, you asked why I didn't tell you? Have you figured it out yet?" The anger was building in her gut.

Jacob forced himself to be calm, momentarily, "Bella, he didn't just get drunk and make a pass at you, he got you alone to do it, and then tried to fuck with our relationship. You don't think that deserves some words?"

"I already tried," she said, gritting her teeth. "And he laughed."

"Yep," Jacob said, "sounds like the kinda guy who needs hands to punctuate the message." He stood up, and she did too. "You don't need to come with me, unless you want to watch," he said softly. "I promise not to hurt him, but I want him to understand that he doesn't mess with you, or me—OK?"

"You promise you won't hurt him?" she asked, not sure she quite believed this.

"On the pack, I promise," he said, his voice low and certain.

"OK," she breathed out, "room 201."

She followed him, the banging rattle of his knock loud in the empty hallway. It was just after eight, and the floor was ghostly quiet.

"Hold on," came a drowsy voice from the other side of the door. Bella was grateful that Ben didn't have a roommate they were waking up, at least. She swallowed, when the door opened, and he saw her first, "Oh, hey Bella," he smiled, and then frowned, catching sight of Jacob. "Sorry, baby, don't do threeways," and he turned to close the door.

Jacob caught his arm, pulling him back outside. "Hey," he smiled broadly, his tone light and friendly, "it sounds like you really upset Bella, the other night."

Ben took quick stock of the hand on the arm, Jacob's size, and shrugged. "Whatever," he said.

Jacob's smile made the words all the more menacing, "She made me promise I wouldn't hurt you, right Bella?"

Bella nodded, not liking her part in this conversation. Not liking this version of Jacob.

"So I won't. This time."

Ben was still trying to play it cool. "Uh-huh," he said, eyebrows expectantly up, impatient.

"But if you touch her without an invitation, or upset her again, it's a whole different story. OK?"

Ben rolled his eyes, "fine, dude, whatever," he said, pulling his arm away. "You fricking hicks are so prudish," and then he slammed the door in their faces.

"Are you really going to make me keep this promise, Bells?" Jacob asked, still glowering at the door.

"Yes," she said, pulling him away, "he's not worth it. Come on, let's go to breakfast." She didn't like the anger that was rolling off him. It was frightening.

Jacob's stomach rumbled at this point, and he switched gears, taking her hand, and squeezing it lightly.

She shivered.

He stopped, his face worried. "You OK?"

She looked at him, before she answered, "I don't like violence Jake. Or threats. And I don't need a big, bad, angry wolf to stand up for me. I can solve my own problems."

Jacob disagreed with this point, but kept it to himself, letting the day carry them into more pleasant, and distracting activities.