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Scarlett's POV

I sigh contently as the mid-day sun beats down on my starving skin. The rays of Forks, Washington never seem to be enough to fulfill the deep-seated desire for complete and overwhelming heat to encompass my entire being, but it'll do for now; once Paul took me to the beach, I realized that I never, ever want to leave.

Over the past few days, I have spent every waking minute here; seriously. I find that walks on the beach in the morning are just as nice as walks at night, and there is something uniquely peaceful about staring out at the vast ocean stretching as far as the eye can see as the wind blows through your hair, not a soul on the sand but you. I also love the beach during the day though, too.

I pull the hair that has begun sticking to the nape of my neck up and then quickly twist it into a loose braid. I place a stray, wavy piece behind my ear and then adjust my sunglasses on my nose; I told myself I would study, but I instead decided to read.

After a while I left the already worn and tattered copy of my favorite book crumpled in the sand and then picked myself up. I quickly pull a crew-neck overtop of my head, for the air right by the water is always a little chillier, and then head for my favorite place on earth. I take a moment to sigh contently at the water for a second before beginning my trek along my usual path. I shift my gaze towards the sand to look for seashells.

"Scarlett?"

I pick my head up and immediately recognize the familiar "pack," as they oddly like to refer to themselves, engaged in a game of sand soccer. I wave embarrassingly and then head over to them; I know that I shouldn't, but I can't help myself for immediately scanning the group for Paul. I try with all my might to push down the disappointment when I realize he isn't there.

"Hey guys," I say once I get close enough.

"Hey Scar," Jacob smiles casually. "Hittin the beach today?"

I nod my head. "Yes, sir. Is Paul here?"

I bite my lip and then immediately mentally smack myself in the face; I mean, I couldn't even go two sentences without mentioning him? Really Scarlett? I could at least pretend to be subtle.

"I think he's at school right now." Jacob hits Embry's arm. "He's at school now, isn't he?"

"Who?" Embry seems annoyed that Jacob pulled his attention from the game.

"Paul," Jacob rolls his eyes.

"Oh, yeah," Embry replies. "He's got practice till six."

Oh.

It is actually impossible to keep my face from falling.

Jacob notices my expression and then smiles reassuringly as he makes his way over to me. "Sorry, Scar," He says. "I'm sure Nessie's free if you want to call her up."

I only have to force a smile onto my face just a little bit; Renesmee's boyfriend is sweet, not as sweet as Paul, but he's one of those wholesome, good guys that you just want to, and do, really like; he's one of those guys that you just desire to be friends with, but not really date, at least for me that is.

"No it's okay," I smile. "I was just curious."

"Have you talked to him this week?" He pushes.

I gulp down embarrassment. "Who?"

Jacob shoots me a condescending expression. "Scarlett."

I roll my eyes. "Leave me alone Jacob."

Before Jake has a chance to respond, I barely have enough time to dart out of the way before a soccer ball goes smashing into the back of Jacob's head, not that he had must of a response. My mouth drops as I stare in awe at the way that Jacob is still staring at me, almost like he hadn't even felt it. I look from the soccer ball to his head, and then back to the soccer ball again, and wonder if the thing deflated. Jesus Christ, he really gives a whole new meaning to being thick headed.

"Are you okay?" I gawk.

Jake looks at me funny for a second before spotting the ball on the ground. "Oh," He says as he picks it up. He takes a second to examine it in his hand, almost as if he is looking for any dents in the ball and then tosses it back towards the group.

"Real funny Embry!" He calls out.

"Stop flirting with Paul's girl and get over here!" Embry calls back. I take an immediate step back- oh no, is that what Jacob is doing? Renesmee is my only friend in school, and not only that, but I genuinely like her; I am not about to ruin that because someone got the wrong impression. Also, "Paul's girl?" What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"He's kidding," Jacob reassures me. "Shut-up Embry you're freaking Scarlett out!" He calls back.

"Dude," Jared begins, "Get over here the game's about to start!"

Jacob looks apologetically at me for a second though I look towards what I now know to be an actual soccer game about to begin. I have to bite back a laugh; these boys are all in their early to mid twenties, yet they still play sports together like they are in their teens; it's surprisingly endearing. Honestly, the only thing that would make this even more endearing is if Paul was here too.

"Sorry," Jacob says, pulling my attention back to him.

"Oh no," I hold up my hands. "Don't worry about it; wouldn't want to keep Embry waiting."

Jacob laughs. "Definitely not. Hey, you don't want to play, do you?"

My eyes go wide on instinct. It is as if all these guys have ridiculously amazing hearing, because I swear all their movements idle the split second those words leave Jacob's lips.

"Ugh," I begin, panic slowly seeping into my veins as I stare at the way that I am obviously not wanted by a huge group of guys and their soccer ball. "N-no. T-that's okay."

"You sure?" Jacob pushes.

"Yes?" I answer uneasily.

"Oh come on," Jacob shoves my arm and I wince. "We want you to play! We want her to play, right guys?" He asks, turning towards the group.

Crickets.

I swear I must turn bright red.

"Ugh," Embry scratches his head.

"Yeah," Jared speaks with obvious fake enthusiasm.

Actually, out of Embry, Jared, Seth, Sam, Quil and Brady watching us, I think Seth is the only one who shows even a little bit of excitement by a smile.

I actually frown at this. "I don't think your friends are interested in being beat by a girl today."

This seems to peak their interest.

"Oh, okay," Jared nods his head. "So that's how it's going to be."

I roll my eyes. "Well I already beat you all at pool, it would be cruel of me really to show you up in a physical sport now too."

Quil laughs and shoves Jared, who mutters something to himself and then starts kicking the ball around.

I giggle but stay where I am. "But really that's okay," I wave my hand. "I don't want to impose. Have fun."

"Awe but you have to play now!" Jacob argues, a huge, and I think ridiculous but Renesmee says cute, smile on his face.

"Unless you're scared," Quil counters, a smirk on his cocky face.

I match his eyes and then take a step forward.

Game on.

"Jesus Scarlett," Jared falls down in the sand next to me and I giggle and blow some of the hair that came out of the braid during our soccer game out of my eyes. "You're incredible." He offers me his knuckle and I giggle and pound it.

"Yeah," Quil comes on the other side of me. "You're our new secret weapon."

"You're only saying that because she was on your team," Seth huffs as he crosses his arms a few feet away.

"Boys please," I joke, flipping my hair to the back.

They chuckle and I giggle myself. To say that Paul's friends had been impressed by my soccer skills would be an understatement; it practically took them half a game to recover from the shock that I could actually beat them in speed and agility before they actually started trying.

"Just wait till Paul hears about this," Embry begins. "Whew," He finishes with a whistle.

"Yeah," Jared laughs. "At least she had a shirt on."

"What?" I question, my cheeks heating up at the reference of me in third person.

"Nothing," Jared answers quickly, while everyone else moves onto a new subject.

"Yo I'm leavin' because I've got plans with Nessie tonight, so whoever's coming with me let's book it."

I am pretty sure every one of those boys moans consecutively.

"You're always with that little pixie," Embry sighs, and then he makes his voice go real high like a girls, "I remember what that used to be me," He says with a fake tear at the end. I giggle.

"Hey Scar, you need a ride?" He raises his eyebrow at me. Poor Jacob, he has practically become a chauffeur for Renesmee and I; somehow it just became routine for Renesmee to pick me up in her car on the way to school, and then for him to take both of us home after- I need to reevaluate my treatment of friends.

"No that's okay," I stand and then brush the sand off of my legs. It may just be my imagination, but I swear I noticed Embry staring.

"I've got to get going anyways," I lie. "Thanks for the confidence boost, guys."

They moan and I giggle. I wave goodbye and then head off towards my towel a little ways down the beach. It is only once I reach the safe confides of my secluded area that I finally allow myself to pull my sweatshirt overtop of my head and drop into the sand.

"Whew," I sigh and then lay down, spreading my arms and legs out as I let the cool ocean wind glide over my hot skin. That was fun but it sure was a workout. The one thing I can say about that little impromptu soccer game though, is that it really did make me miss sports. The thing about sports is that they are such an outlet; for that hour, or however long it may be, I don't think about anything else- I can't think about anything else; my competitiveness takes over and all of my problems fade into my innate desire to beat my competitor. I have missed that feeling.

After a few more minutes I decide to head back home. Although it actually pains me to leave before it gets dark, I know that I actually do have a few things that I need to catch up on tonight, and that I could always just come back later.

The walk takes about a solid twenty minutes, but I really don't mind; I am honestly not lying when I tell people that I genuinely enjoy walking. Once I get back into my aunt's house, I run up to my room and plop my beach bag on the floor, not worrying too much about the sand that I probably just scattered on the white carpet, and instead just telling myself that I will vacuum it later.

I let my sweat-shirt and shorts and then my bikini top and bottom litter the ground on my way to the bathroom, and then I step into the shower. As soon as the hot water pounds against my skin, I sigh a breath of pure contentment. I have never really enjoyed showering before. I never understood it when girls would joke about how they couldn't get out of the shower in the morning and hence missed class, but that is probably because they served a much different purpose to me.

I always showered after the blunt of whatever pain I was receiving on that particular night was over. Something about it washing everything red down the drain was a necessary evil, but it also was a time when I couldn't hide the blue and the black and the swollen. I hated looking down. I hated seeing myself without clothes on.

Even now, I find myself subconsciously keeping my gaze straight ahead, not letting it drift down to my exposed body, even though I know that there is nothing there. Once I let my eyes look down, though, I am still surprised when I see nothing but smooth, even skin below me. I don't look like myself without bruises.

I press my forehead into the tile wall and take a slow, deep breath. I search for a strength that I do not acquire as the memories begin to overtake me; I have spent way too much time alone this last week.

I am beginning to notice how every week away from him makes me able to last longer without thinking about him, but that doesn't mean I never do. In the beginning I couldn't go one night alone, and now I am going three, four, five days, but then it hits, and when it hits… it hits hard.

I clutch my stomach in my hand and press my eyes tighter together. No I command myself. No! I beg myself not to do this, but I can't help it. That anxiety that came only after years of walking on constant eggshells, engulfs my stomach, and then I throw up.

My throw-up splashes against my feet and I press my eyes tight, tight, tighter together because I hate hate hate myself for not being able to control control control it and being stupid stupid stupid.

He's not here. He is not here.

I keep screaming the truth in my brain but my body doesn't care. My brain knows not to panic but I can't help myself- it is second nature.

I stumble back until my bare back hits the tile and then slide down onto my floor. I rest my head between my legs and begin rocking back and forth.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

I know what is coming, but I have no idea how to stop it.

And suddenly, I can't breathe.

I make a sound that comes out entirely foreign to me and then rock myself back and forth faster now, and more violently too.

I need to breathe- I know I do. I hate when I pass out from panic attacks, especially because in my brain I am screaming, yelling, demanding myself to breathe but I just forget how.

When I begin gasping for breath is when I stop thinking altogether.

My lungs constrict.

My joints tense.

My panic reaches my throat but it has nowhere to go.

I can't breathe, and so I gasp at the air, wanting, needing, demanding it but not getting enough to sustain my body.

I grasp my head tightly between my hands and shake it back and forth and I need to breathe and stop and I need to breathe and stop and I need to breathe and stop and I need to breath I need to breathe stop I need to breathe stop breathe stop breathe stop breathe.

Blackness spots at the corners of my vision and it only aides in my panic attack even more. I know what is coming, and my unwillingness to allow it to occur drives it to actually happen.

I lose consciousness all at once, but it is just enough time for me to tuck my head between my legs, and make sure that I don't slam it against the tile.

The dial-tone rings only twice before I hear that annoyingly perfect sing-songy tone of Renesmee Cullen.

"Hello," She sings across the line.

I roll my eyes as I run a towel through my damp hair.

"Hey Ness, are you free tonight?"

"Yes ma'am," She actually does sing this time.

"Super," I reply sarcastically, although I actually am happy. "Be over in 10?"

"Perfect."

"Bye!"

I press end and then quickly get throw a super soft, red tee-shirt dress on; this time, I make sure not to look down at myself as I do so.

I don't even knock as I enter Renesmee's house this time, but that is only because her family scolded me the last two times I did. Even though it is still rather uncomfortable for me to just barge right in, I really find it that much more uncomfortable to sit through a lecture on how it is rude for me not to walk right in, as confusing as that is, so I force myself to go along with it.

"Hey Scarlett!" I hear Mrs. Cullen call from the living room.

"Hi Mrs. Cullen!" I call back as I head up the stairs.

I pass Alice on the way up to Nessie's room but then am quickly turned around.

"Scarlett!" Alice quickly hugs me. "Nessie and Jacob just left for the other house."

"Got it!" I turn on my heel and run just as quickly down those stairs as I ran up them.

"Bye Scarlett!" Mrs. Cullen calls again.

"Bye!" I laugh as I close the door behind me.

I practically sprint into the cottage. "Ugh!" I moan as I throw the door open and jump on her on the couch. I honestly just need to cling onto someone and never let go, even if that person is as tiny and bony as a tree-stump.

"Wow! Ugh, this is- I mean, okay?"

Wait.

That is definitely not a female…

"Ah!" I scream and jump off of them. "Good God what the hell did I just hug?"

Renesmee rolls her eyes as she climbs off of Jacob and adjusts her shirt. "Oh relax, my clothes are still on."

"Dear Lord in heaven," I murmur.

She stands and then smiles widely as she goes to jump on me, but I take a step back and hold my hand up. "No thank you."

"Oh come on," She places her hands on her sides and then pops her hip. "Stop being so dramatic."

"I will gladly take the label of dramatic if it means not getting scary bodily substances on my body that belong to Jacob Black or Renesmee Cullen."

Jacob laughs.

Renesmee narrows her eyes at him.

"Fine," She states, her lip pulling up into an evil grin. Oh no, I have come to expect some very bad things when it comes to that grin… "Would you prefer Paul's bodily substances instead?"

My mouth drops. "What?"

"He's coming over," She sighs and then sits back on the couch, although thankfully this time I can see both sets of their hands.

I blink at her a few times, sure that she will give some sort of explanation for this, but of course being left with no other choice than to ask. "Why?" I begin slowly.

"Jacob said you asked about him today," She nods her head.

"You did," Jacob pipes in.

I narrow my eyes about him.

"One time," I correct. "And I was just being polite."

Renesmee actually scoffs.

I death glare her too.

"Hey, ugh, by the way, if it wasn't for my completely overstated self-confidence and knowledge that I am amazing, I would seriously have an issue with you playing tackle football with my boyfriend in a bikini."

My eyes practically pop out of my head. "Tackle football?" I gasp. "We played soccer." I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks. "And I had clothes on!"

"He's not going to care," She laughs, and then Jacob joins in on an inside joke that I seem to not be apart of.

"Who?" I ask, feeling like an idiot for not understanding what is just o funny.

"Paul," Nessie speaks between giggles.

"What about him?"

There is a knock on the door.

"Are you going to let him in or should I?" She sighs.

I swear if I didn't love her as much as I despise her in this moment, I just might have lunged at her. Instead, I hesitantly walk towards the front door, and open it.

Paul Lahote is standing in the doorway, looking extremely uncomfortable. Don't get me wrong, he looks hot, extremely uncomfortable, but hot none-the-less.

"Hi," I smile and rest my body against the doorframe. I don't know what it is about him that makes my body feel to heavy to hold up.

"Hey," He smiles, that tension that mad been making him appear so out of place fading almost instantly as he smiles at me.

I melt.

"How are you?" He asks gently.

"Fine," I bite the corner of my lip. I nearly asking how he is, but then I realize that that would just make this conversation even more awkward; Paul and I aren't strangers, but I can't just reach across the doorframe and kiss him either.

"Are you going to let me in?" He asks after a moment.

"Wh- oh!" I take a sudden step back and then watch with embarrassment as he laughs and steps inside of the Cullen's much smaller and more homely, second house. "S-sorry," I bite the corner of my lip.

Paul smiles widely and then shakes his head at me, almost as if he is holding back saying something.

As soon as I close the door though, that same expression is on his face, like he just smelled something rancid. "Are you feeling okay?" I ask slowly, for I am thinking he may just be ill.

"Ugh," He shakes his head and then takes another breath, trying to hide the slight look of disgust although I sure notice it. "No I just- I've never been here before."

It takes me a moment to understand what this means. "Like, you've never been to Nessie's house before?"

I look towards the couch where Jacob and Renesmee were just sitting but then find that spot empty. I am honestly half surprised to find that they aren't in fact in her bedroom doing God knows what, but instead in the kitchen, eating something as they sit next to each other at the island.

"Yeah."

"How come?" I ask, for this seems kind of impossible to me. For how much all the "pack" members and their girlfriend's hangout, you would think that they would have been over to Nessie's house countless times.

Paul smiles at me but ignores my question. "How was your day today?"

I sigh, and once I do I suddenly realize that I just sighed in front of him, and then I realize that for a split second I had no inclination to lie and tell him "fine," which is my answer to any and all questions. It shocks me so much I am not able to answer.

"Not good?" He asks, his voice quieter and his eyes deeper this time.

Okay, I can't help myself.

I let my shoulders fall and then press my hands tightly to the front of my body; I walk into him and then rest my forehead against his chest. It takes him a second, probably adjusting to the shock of my action to be completely honest, before he wraps his arms around my back and presses me tightly to him.

It is weird, because you would think with him holding me this tightly it would make me feel trapped, but I honestly feel like I can breathe again.

Perhaps I hadn't been allowing myself to feel the weight of my panic attack in the shower today while I was so busy trying to distract myself, but as soon as I saw Paul, it was like I just wanted to be comforted; I wanted a hug, but I didn't just want any hug, I wanted his hug.

I have honestly never felt this before, but I suddenly realize what it is about Paul that sends me practically being thrown in his direction; with his arms wrapped tightly around me and his ridiculous and impossibly-human warmth engulfing me in heat, I feel something that I have never felt in my entire life: I feel safe.

"Not that I'm complaining," I hear Paul's cocky voice, forcing me to roll my eyes, "But is everything okay?"

I sigh. "Now, yes."

I feel his arms tighten around me and I can't help but smile. "Did something happen at school?"

"No."

"Home?"

I stiffen. "No."

"Scarlett," He scolds.

I moan, for all I want to do is stand here with his giant muscles around me, breathing in his scent and pretending for a second like my life doesn't' completely suck. "Paul, would you stop ruining this by talking?"

"I'm not ruining anything," He argues, "I'm just wondering what's wrong."

"Paul," I moan and begrudgingly push away from his chest. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You never want to talk about anything," He states, his expression colder than I am used to.

I try not to take it personal. I shouldn't even care.

"I'm fine," I bite the inside of my cheek.

"You're obviously not fine," He states bluntly.

"Okay," I sigh.

"So something did happen?" He sounds more pleased that he is right than anything.

"Yes Paul," I can't help myself from growing agitated. "You're right. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Chill out," His voice is cutting and I wince away, and then, "Why do you always do that?"

I freeze.

He reaches his hand up, fast and quick and I jump back, my eyes growing wide and my joints tensing and waiting for the blow on instinct. "Yeah, that," He repeats, louder this time, as he lets his hand fall to his side.

"I-I," I begin, my voice quieter than I wish it was.

"Do you honestly think I would ever hurt you?" He pushes

"I" I stammer, flustered now. "I don't want to talk to you anymore," I mumble. I cross my arms overtop of my chest as I head for the kitchen, where Nessie and Jake are both staring at me with concerned expressions. Paul wasn't exactly being quiet, but he wasn't shouting either.

"Scar," Paul enters the kitchen and I stiffen. "I just want you to answer my question. I'm sorry I got loud with you."

My hands shake as I grab a glass from the cabinet and begin filling it with water. "W-well, I suggest you stop expecting to get everything you want all the time."

"What the hell?" Paul's hands form into fists at his sides and I completely freeze. My eyes can't stop looking at those fists, so familiar looking, so tight and tensed and powerful and ready. I feel sick. "I am interested in your life, is that okay?"

"Th-th-that's fine," I mumble. I look towards Nessie and Jake, honestly terrified and flustered and just wanting this to end. Nessie pops off Jacob's lap in a mili-second.

"Hey Paul, I think maybe you should leave," She begins hesitantly. "Cool off a little bit."

"No, it's not fucking fine." Paul completley ignores her as he takes a step closer and I take a step back. "What the hell, Scarlett. Why do you do that? What the fuck am I supposed to do when you act like this?"

I shift my gaze to the floor.

"Scarlett," He begins, his voice still hard. I bite the inside of my cheek and wish for this to be over.

Suddenly, his feet take a step forward and I jump back, dropping the glass in my hand onto the ground and then wincing as it completely shatters all over the tile floor.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," I stumble nervously.

"See, that's what I'm talking about!" Paul continues, completely ignoring the broken glass. I finally look up and see that although his body is tensed his eyes are soft. "You think that I'm going to hurt you? Why would you ever think that? I wanted to hold you Scar, I'm not going to hurt you."

My brows crinkle and I bite my lip so hard that I taste blood. I want him to do just that, more than anything, which doesn't even make any sense because I am terrified. In this moment, right now, I am terrified of him but I also know he is the only one that I want to comfort me- I am confusing even my own self.

"Scar?" Paul speaks, and I watch as the tension leaves his shoulders completely in one short breath. I begin to step forward but he throws his hand out.

I immediately gasp and wince away. My back is pressed up against the wall and then I open my eyes that are slammed shut to see him holding his hand out with wide eyes. He looks completely freaked out.

After a few seconds of us staring at each other with equally as wide eyes, Paul is the first to speak. "I was just going to tell you not to move. There's glass everywhere."

"Oh," I gulp and then look towards my hands, suddenly feeling very ridiculous.

This is Paul, Paul, he may have just been a hot head, but I know he would never actually hurt me. It's just, I am so used to it that I don't know what it feels like to believe in someone caring enough about me not to hurt me.

"Did you think I was going to hit you?" Paul asks bluntly, and that is right when his body begins to shake. I stare at him in confusion and honestly some fear and then look towards Nessie and Jake, only to see their spots vacant; I don't even remember them leaving.

"Scarlett," Paul demands when I don't respond. "Answer me right now."

I stammer with my words for a second before I finally give up. I let my arms and my eyes drop to the ground and lose all the fight I have left in me; I am much too tired to be on guard anymore. "I can't talk to you Paul," I speak, my voice thick and heavy with tears that suddenly begin to flow out of me. "I want to but I just… can't."

I hear glass crinkle as he walks right overtop of them, and am about to ask if he is crazy because even with shoes on he surely could get cut, when he wraps his arms around my back and pushes me to his chest.

I grasp a fistful of his shirt and cry into his hot chest.

I hate crying; one thing that I have learned over the years is that crying doesn't help anything, so I continue to gasp in sobs, attempting to hold them in, which just ends up in me gasping about every two seconds.

"Just let it out," Paul kisses my hair and I shake my head into his chest.

No one has ever told me that before.

He laces his fingers in my hair and I suck in a few more sobs. "Why do you think I would hit you?" His voice sounds hurt.

"It's not you Paul," I manage to cry out. "It's me. I'm sorry. I- I'm messed up- I,"

"No," His arms tighten around me. "You are perfect. I have a temper. I need to control myself; you shouldn't be afraid of me."

"But it's not you," I sob, suddenly feeling so much worse than before. Paul shouldn't feel responsible for this.

"Don't cry Scar," Paul grunts to himself. "I'm an idiot."

"No you're not," I whimper, clinging tighter to his tee shirt.

"Do you want me to take you home?" He asks, beginning to pull away from me.

In that very moment, a panic hot and fresh and devitalizing begins to take over my entire body. I don't want him to let me go, and I know that I need to give him something, even if it scares me.

"No, Paul. Please." I cling onto his shirt tighter, searching for something, anything to say that my brain will allow my mouth to speak. "I feel very, safe with you."

Paul's arms wrap tighter around me and I finally feel like I can breathe again. I take a deep breath of his scent that smells just like spices and fire and lose myself in his embrace.

Paul will never hurt me. I tell myself over and over and over again.

He will never beat me or kick me or call me names.

Paul will never hurt me.

"I'm sorry," I sniffle into his chest, pressing my cheek into the muscle and letting my hand rest against his abdomen. "I swear to God I never cry; you are the only person that I cry around."

He laughs gently and the feeling of his chest vibrating soothes me in a way I can't quite explain.

"Don't worry Scar, you're perfect."

I roll my eyes. "You just feel bad for me."

"No I don't," He sighs into my hair. "I was already in a pissy mood before I came over here; I should have known it and controlled myself."

I sigh. "What were you upset about?" I ask, finally ready to talk about someone else's problems for a change.

He grunts but doesn't respond. I squint my forehead in confusion, though because he is still hugging me he can't see. "Nothing," He grumbles. And then a second later, "What is it I hear about this naked football game?"

"A what?" I almost spontaneously combust right then and there. I pull away from him with wide eyes and a blush that must be turning my face a different color.

Paul stares at me for a second before swiping his thumb underneath of my eye. Oh yeah, in my embarrassment I had nearly forgotten that I had been crying a few seconds ago.

"Yeah." Paul's hands trail lower so that they are wrapped around my waist as he continues to hold me to him, although in this moment a small part of me wishes for some space because I am utterly and entirely embarrassed. "Embry was getting on my nerves," He finishes with gritted teeth.

"Okay, first of all how do you people get your information? Because it was soccer not football, and secondly I had clothes on!" I exclaim.

"A bikini is not clothes," He tells me sternly.

"Uhm, excuse me, you bought me that bikini if I do remember correctly."

"Not to be worn for Embry," He mumbles angrily to himself.

"What?" I blurt.

"Nevermind."

"I had a sweatshirt on the entire time," I huff.

"Scarlett, your legs are like crack cocaine for some of those boys."

My eyes widen into saucers. "What?" I squeak.

He shakes his head and then looks up towards the ceiling. "You have no idea. God," He begins again, looking back down towards me. "You're so cute but have no idea."

"Thanks?" I reply hesitantly.

He sighs and gently swipes a piece of hair behind my ear. "Next time you decide to get involved with any sporting event with all guys, could you please just be sure to have pants on? That is really all I ask."

I press my lips tighter tightly when they start to pull up into a grin. Is Paul trying to say that the reason he was so on edge was because he was… jealous?

"Did they tell you that I kicked their asses though?" I ask brightly as I smile up at him.

Paul rolls his eyes. "Yeah well I didn't ever doubt that."

I smile and bite the corner of my lip. "It was super fun."

"You should join the soccer team," Paul sighs, seeming to give up this battle with the pants and instead trying to do his best to push the conversation to a lighter tone.

"Eh," I shrug, "I'm probably not good enough; they weren't much competition."

Paul raises his eyebrows at me. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," I giggle.

"I'll play you if you want some real competition."

I shake my head at him. "Oh how selfless of you."

"I try to give back when I can," Paul flashes me that cocky smile that makes me roll my eyes but also want to kiss him at the same time.

"I shall take you up on that one day Lahote."

He chuckles and then reaches out to run his hand along the side of my hair.

"Are you better baby girl?" He asks gently.

I bite the corner of my lip and will myself, will myself, will myself not to blush, although from the way that Paul laughs and then rubs the back of his fingers against my cheek I know that I fail.

God, it's just something about that damn nickname.

I nod my head. Paul rests his back against the cabinets and then reaches for me again. I smile shyly as I place my hands in his and then let him pull me back against his chest. I like this position much more, with his legs wide so that I can fit between them and the way he is leaning making me able to fit into the curve of his shoulder when I normally would only make it to his mid-chest. I bury my forehead under his chin and close my eyes.

"We should probably clean up that glass," I sigh. "You keep making me break things."

"Shh," Paul laughs as he runs his fingers gently up and down my back. I sigh contently.

Paul rocks me back and forth gently, and I am safe again.

"Pafety" at its absolute finest.

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