CHAPTER SEVEN

I was instantly uneasy again in Paul's company. If I was right and he did like me, what was I supposed to do with that? Ignore it and pretend I hadn't guessed, obviously, but in the meantime I was unsure how to behave and had completely run out of things to say. I knew all too well what it was like longing for someone who didn't want you back and I wouldn't have wished it on anyone. Maybe I had just read it all wrong; put two and two together and come up with five or six.

I was saved from having to make conversation by the pizza guy arriving and I paid him, collected a couple more beers from the refrigerator and carried everything into the living room. I switched on the television and discovered one of the channels was showing re-runs of the Police Academy movies back to back. We watched for a while and Paul glanced at me a few times as we sat at opposite ends of the sofa with the pizza boxes in the middle; I knew he noticed I had suddenly gone quiet. He probably thought it was because he said he was gay and I wasn't comfortable with it.

'Say something, for God's sake,' I thought to myself. I asked him about the rest of the pack; that way he would talk. It worked and quickly we were chatting again. He told me what everyone was doing, even Bella.

"She came to see Sam once to find out what happened to you after Billy died. He just told her you left town. No one's seen her since; the bloodsuckers are all holed up together in that weird glass house."

Hearing about her didn't bother me at all; I even joked about how I had driven the pack mad with my pining for her. By the time we went to our rooms to sleep, I had relaxed again. I slept like the dead and when I rose in the morning, Paul was already up making coffee.

"Here." He passed me a mug. "This is what it's supposed to taste like."

I grinned at him. "I like it strong." I sipped the coffee and raised my eyebrows. "Actually...this is better." Another mouthful. "How long are you staying?"

Shit, that probably sounded like I couldn't wait for him to leave. "I mean, I have to go to work for a few hours so should I leave you a key?" I added.

"I have to be back Monday," he said. "I'll just go and look around the town or something while you're working."

In the end he rode to the shop with me and then set off on foot to explore. For once I didn't have any jobs in and I started work on the engine rebuild, hoisting it out of the car and beginning taking it to pieces. The time flew by and Paul appeared just before one o'clock. We returned to the house again and then went wandering in the woods, following a path until we came to the place I'd been shot on the other side. A broken bush indicated where I had thrown myself out of reach of the beam of light when I phased back. I shuddered as I remembered it and quickly turned to lead the way back to the house.

"You know, you should probably give Sam a call," Paul said. "I talked to him this morning."

"Yeah. Ok."

I immediately began to feel nervous again, even though Paul had told me more than once that they all missed me and wanted to hear from me. I felt that I should have let at least Sam know where I was instead of making it impossible for anyone to contact me, but a year ago all I'd wanted to do was hide. Now I took his number from Paul and went to my room to call him. He picked up on the second ring.

"Yeah? Sam Uley."

"Hey, Sam, it's..."

"Jacob!" He sounded delighted. "I was hoping you'd call. Are you ok?"

"Yeah."

"Not fighting with Paul, I hope."

"No."

I talked to him for maybe an hour. Emily came on the line too for a few minutes and everything was exactly the same as it had always been with them. Sam said nothing about the fact that I had left and cut myself off from them, but only wanted to know how I was doing, if I made friends, whether I was happy. Talking to him made me long to see him and the others and when we finished the call, tears welled up and spilled down my cheeks. For the first time in months I felt lost again and I knew I would go back to visit before too much longer.

I sat there sniffling pathetically, feeling like letting go and sobbing like I had at the cemetery right before I left La Push, but not wanting Paul to hear me. However, a couple of minutes later he caught me anyway. He knocked on the door and opened it before I could say anything. I jerked my head up and scrubbed my hands over my face, embarrassed.

"Hey, are you ok?" He came over to where I sat cross-legged on the bed and sat in front of me.

"Mmm...yeah." I took a deep breath and tried to get myself together. "Sorry. Talking to them brought back a lot of memories. I guess I miss them more than I thought," I said shakily.

He reached out and gave my shoulder a squeeze and much to my annoyance another tear escaped.

"Shit," I muttered.

Paul's hand slid from my shoulder to the back of my neck beneath my hair and just rested there. He didn't say anything, but continued to sit there with his hand on me as I struggled with my emotions. Curiously his touch comforted me and I tried a rather watery smile. A second later his lips touched mine. I suppose I should have seen it coming, but I just didn't. One moment he was just sitting there and the next he leaned in and kissed me. I was too stunned to do anything; I didn't even pull away and his lips clung to mine for a long moment. I noticed how warm and soft they were and then I pulled back quickly. What the hell was I doing?

Paul snatched his hand off me and jumped up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that." He left the room quickly and closed the door after him.

I licked my lips and gulped. Shit. Now what? My heart hammered and my stomach filled with butterflies. Somehow I would have to go and face him again and I had no idea what I would say. I found I wasn't horrified that he'd kissed me, only surprised that he had. Obviously I had been right and he did have feelings for me, but I hadn't thought he would do anything about it. Maybe it was just that I'd been crying and he wanted to comfort me. He probably felt just as nervous as I did now - wondering if I would stay in my room avoiding him or go out and maybe ask him to leave.

I got up and opened the door. I could hear the television on in the living room and I went to the bathroom first and quickly washed my face before I went to join him. He was sitting on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table, biting his lip and looking as miserable as I'd ever seen him. I sat down quickly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he said again.

"Don't worry about it. It's fine." I shot him a smile.

"I was just...you looked so miserable."

"Yeah and now you do," I blurted out.

His lips curved up at the corners just a touch. "I thought you would probably come out and ask me to leave."

"I'm not going to do that. Do you want a beer?"

"Yeah."

I fetched a couple of bottles and later ordered Chinese take-out. I usually made an effort to cook things for myself or alternatively went to the diner, but it occurred to me that doing either of those things with Paul would be kind of weird; the first option seemed oddly intimate and the second too much like a date. I frowned at myself. Such a thought wouldn't have crossed my mind if he hadn't kissed me.

We spent the rest of the evening watching television again. We ate the food right out of the cartons it was delivered in and washed it down with more beer. I never really drank that much, only the occasional bottle on a Friday or Saturday night. After three my head felt a little fuzzy and everything that Murtaugh and Riggs did in Lethal Weapon 2 seemed far more hysterically funny than usual. Paul was laughing just as much as I was and I was relieved that there was no tension between us.

I leaned forward to grab my beer from the table, took a swig and put it back just as he reached out for the other bottle. His knuckles bumped my wrist and suddenly my hand was in his without me realising how it had got there.

"Hey..." I heard myself laughing again. "...let go."

He didn't let go and he leaned closer to me. Suddenly I was sure he was going to kiss me again and I sucked my breath in and held it. I knew I should pull my hand free and move away, but I couldn't seem to make myself do it. He halted a couple of inches away from me and met my eyes, almost like he was asking if it was ok to kiss me. I had no idea if it was ok or not; my heart was racing and I couldn't seem to make sense of my thoughts. I dropped my eyes away from his and parted my lips to let my breath out, vaguely aware that I was probably giving him an invitation.

A second later his lips touched mine and I stayed still as he kissed me warmly, softly, caressing my lips with his. I didn't think about whether it was right or wrong or whether it mattered that it was Paul kissing me. I found I liked it and after a moment I began to respond. I kissed him back and after another minute he let go of my hand and slid his arms around me instead. I held onto him too and his tongue plunged into my mouth, exploring, making me do the same. I could barely breathe and I shivered as his hand ran down my back and then slipped under the bottom of my t-shirt. I heard myself whimper and I lost myself in the kiss until suddenly he stopped, pulling back and then resting his cheek against mine.

"Better stop this while I still can," he whispered, so quietly I barely heard it.

He let go of me, got up quickly and went into the bathroom. I stayed where I was until he came out again and went into the guest room. I didn't know what to think. I was both scared and excited. I went into the bathroom to clean my teeth and glanced at myself in the mirror, noticing my flushed face and eyes almost black where the pupils had dilated. Shivering, I went to my room quickly, stripped off and dived into the bed, my heart thumping wildly.

What just happened? I kissed Paul and liked it. Was I gay now? Just like that? I realised I hadn't even got anything much to compare it to. One kiss with Bella who I'd been crazy in love with for ages and then two weeks kissing Jodie and jacking myself off thinking about her. Other than that, I had never been one to eye people up, fantasise about them. I'd never really had the opportunity. I fell for Bella when I was barely fifteen, then I was too miserable to think about it and then I was with Jodie, in a kind of half-hearted way I realised now. Maybe I liked both - girls and guys; maybe it was just that I needed somebody and Paul was here and it didn't matter who it was; maybe I wanted comfort and I was clinging to him because I knew he cared about me; maybe I had too many beers and didn't know what I was doing. No, it was nothing to do with the beer. Whatever it was, it had turned me on and I was still trembling, my heart still hammering. I had never been kissed like that in my life. I rolled over and pressed my face into the pillow.

"Oh, God," I groaned quietly.

What was I supposed to do now? The only thing that was certain was that I felt weak and shaky and I wanted him to kiss me again and that scared the hell out of me. Why was I scared? Because he was a guy? Because he was somebody I'd never really got on with up to now? Because I didn't want to risk feeling anything when he was leaving in less than two days? I had no idea.

"Jacob, you jerk," I muttered. "Why do you have to make everything so complicated?"

I tossed and turned, trying to make sense of my thoughts and failing miserably. I kept thinking about Paul lying in the next room and wondered if he was sleeping or if he was lying awake like me, thinking about me. Everything I had already thought rolled around and around in my mind and I didn't come up with any answers. I finally fell asleep and when I woke up I was no less confused. I didn't know how I felt or what I wanted, but I was decided on one thing. There was only one more day before Paul left and during that time I needed to keep a distance between us or I'd only screw myself up even more.

I got up and took a shower, then went to get some breakfast. There was no sign of Paul and I guessed he wasn't awake yet. I made coffee and toast and went to sit out on the porch while I ate. I was still out there an hour later when Paul appeared wearing only jeans, his hair wet from the shower.

"Hey." He sat down on the other wooden seat a few feet away.

"You want some coffee?" I offered. "I was going to get a refill."

"I'll make it," he said, getting up again and grabbing my mug. "I want it drinkable."

He grinned and went back into the house and I relaxed. I had thought things would be awkward again, but they weren't at all. He came back minutes later with two coffees and a slice of bread wrapped around some cheese for himself. He passed me my mug and sat down. I had to admit his coffee was about ten times better than mine.

"Mmm," I murmured as I swallowed some.

Paul smiled. "Do you live on take-out?" he asked me.

"What? No, why?"

"Because if your cooking's as bad as your coffee you'd starve otherwise." He snorted and shoved a bite of bread and cheese into his mouth.

"Hey, I can cook," I protested. I was actually pretty good, or at least I liked to think I was. I'd got plenty of practise at a young age, looking after Dad after my Mom died. "I cook a mean steak," I added. I was sure there were steaks in the freezer. Maybe I should cook after all. The idea didn't seem so weird as it had done the day before. "How do you eat steak?"

"Raw," grinned Paul.

"You mean rare."

"Whatever, as long as it's still bleeding."

"Fine, I'll make raw steak later and you can tell me whether it's as lousy as the coffee."

We spent most of the day just lounging around at the house except for a quick drive out to a supermarket to grab some salad to go with the steaks and some more beer. It almost seemed like nothing had happened; that he hadn't kissed me and I wondered if he regretted it or maybe just thought the same thing I had - that he had to leave in less than twenty-four hours. Whatever the reason, he didn't come near me and I almost - not quite, but almost - stopped thinking about it.

Later I made potato wedges and salad and fried the steaks for about five seconds on each side so the outer was just a little bit brown, but the meat itself raw all the way through. We ate with the plates on our laps on the sofa and washed the food down with more beer.

"Well, you ain't dead yet so it couldn't have been that bad," I commented, when Paul finished eating.

"Hell, Jake, you sound like a hick," he smirked. "Ain't?"

I grinned. I hadn't even realised I'd picked up some of the things Hank and a lot of my customers said.

"At least I don't drawl."

"You haven't heard yourself. A year down here, you're bound to turn into a redneck eventually." He gathered the plates up and headed for the kitchen. "The steak was great, by the way," he called over his shoulder. He returned a moment later with a couple more bottles of beer.

"You're a worse influence than the hicks here," I said. "I never drink like this."

"Maybe you should, you might lighten up," he teased, his eyes twinkling as they met mine.

I laughed awkwardly. Something had changed again, just in the last second. I told myself to stop looking at him and back away as he began to lean towards me. I licked my lips nervously, lowered my eyes and began to shuffle backwards, but his hand had already crept around my waist and I realised it was too late for me to do anything about it.