A/N: Hello, beautiful people. I'm back. BUT you should probably listen closely, because this chapter is structured differently. The rest of the story won't be like this, but I felt it would be better if it was told this way. This chapter—chapter ten (already!? I don't get it)—will be told in reverse. It starts on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and the previous days get told in all backwards, ending in what happened on Thursday night. Bear with me? Okay, good. I promise it won't be that confusing… I hope. It's really just one collection of memories.

Have I ever let you guys in on my writing playlist? Well, I will now. I listen to "Lana Del Ray AKA Lizzy Grant" by Lana Del Rey, and "Electra Heart" and "The Family Jewels" by Marina and the Diamonds. Give 'em a listen. This chapter was especially inspired by the song "Obsessions" by Marina. It gives me life.

Enjoy!

Chapter Ten

The art and poetry of not lighting cigarettes quickly dissolved. Maybe Jacob had been right; maybe none of it was artistic or poetic at all. There was nothing inventive about holding an end of a cigarette between my lips and not lighting it. It was just a waste.

As I stood on the balcony, I knew that I should have been asleep—the blue dawn was barely rising, after all—but I was positive of one thing and that was that sleep was not my friend.

Cigarettes were, though. They would soon become my best friends because the creativity of not smoking them had quickly come to a halt.

So, naturally, I retreated back into the apartment from the balcony to look for my old lighter. Rummaging in dresser drawer in my bedroom, I tried to not wake up the sleeping man in my bed that Sunday morning. No, he couldn't have even been considered a man. He was just last night's love affair. The love affair slept in my bed, looking as vulnerable as ever. That was how they always looked; even after not sleeping with anybody for months (yeah, I wasn't sure how I'd survived, either), I hadn't forgotten what things looked like the next morning.

I eventually found the lighter I'd been looking for, and I quickly went back to the balcony. It was like my new home since I no longer felt wanted in my real one.

Looking down at the rest of the lifeless apartment complex, I carefully lit the cigarette. I hadn't smoked a cigarette since I'd been nineteen. I'd decided that it was better the drop that than to drop weed.

Stupid.

I hadn't known things would come to this, but I guessed that was what happened when two lonely people did senseless things.

I wasn't sure if today was going to be better than yesterday. It was hard to determine how the rest of today day—Sunday—would go based on how stagnant it started. I took a long drag of the cigarette and tried to wrap my head around the last couple of days…

"Are we together?" I'd asked yesterday—Saturday. It had been a simple question. I hadn't asked it with feeling. If I had wanted to express my feelings, they would have torn through my chest because I'd been so mad. I could totally admit to myself that I did, in fact, have feelings for Jacob, but I couldn't have let him know now.

Jacob had looked at me with those lovely, unraveling eyes and gave a slight nod, only it hadn't matched his words. "Are we?" he'd asked.

I'd wanted to punch him.

I'd never wanted to punch Jacob until then, because he just hadn't understood.

He hadn't allowed himself to see what had been right in front of him, and he still wasn't. He didn't know the first thing about being open, and it was like television had taught him how to feel, and that was nothing. He naturally let himself feel nothing towards other. Of course, I was the same way. We were more alike in ways that I couldn't believe… but maybe he was just a little too much like me.

I'd really wanted to punch him, though. Instead, I hadn't. I had just mumbled, "I don't know" and left.

I had eventually come home with a guy. I'd given in to the kindness of strangers before all of this; Jacob hadn't been the only example.

I couldn't have been bothered to know what Jacob had thought of me as he'd laid alone in bed, just across the hall.

Things around the apartment had been even quieter—conversation-wise—on Friday. Jacob had been gone all day, I hadn't been able to imagine why. It had been Black Friday and everything, but he'd had nobody to shop for and nobody to impress.

Or maybe I'd been wrong; I wouldn't have known since he'd never liked to open up to me.

Jacob had been gone all day, the air had grown colder, and I'd needed the warmth. I hadn't expected Quil to come over with Jake gone, and I hadn't expected him to be there for me. I hadn't even expected Claire to be at work.

I certainly hadn't expected to sleep with him, but there wasn't such a bad thing as giving in to the kindness of strangers was there? It had all been just too convenient.

My time with Quil had been quick. It had been easy and not bad, but a little uncomfortable. We could have gotten done in the amount of time that was my lunch break. He'd arrived at ten in the morning and gone back home fifteen minutes later. Quil hadn't been very different from the other men I'd been with, and the strange—or was it really?—thing was that he'd reminded me of Garrett, and he still did.

No, Quil hadn't moved like Garrett. He hadn't lit my joint like Garrett, either. Quil was nothing like Garrett and he would never be like him. They were each their own person, but their similarities bugged me, and they wouldn't stop. The nasty thoughts tainted my mind even more.

Quil hadn't been like Garrett at all, but he'd liked me, just like Garrett had. Quil had liked me—or the idea of being with me at least once—and he had liked quick, one-morning stands. He had also been too good for me. Too good and too similar. The worst part, though, was that both Quil and Garrett had girlfriends. They both had dedicated, beautiful, caring girlfriends that were left in the dark, all because their boyfriends slept with me.

I was a homewrecker in Forks and Everett, and that wasn't anything to be proud of. It hadn't made me feel powerful or feministic or strong. It had made me feel guilty, and it still did.

However (plot twist), Jacob had brought home a girl that night. He'd turned the tables. As I—in my fresh, clean, untainted form—had watched as nothing more than a shadow, I'd finally figured Jacob out. It had become totally clear to me then.

Jacob had been into the same games as I had. Of course. I'd watched enviously as he'd brought home a stick-thin ginger into his bedroom and locked the door. Even as I'd known that she most likely hadn't been his type, Jacob had only done this to get back at me for some crime. Had Quil told Jake? I hadn't known—and I still didn't—but I'd been broken. As I'd listened to the sounds of new, temporary lovers, I hadn't seen the cleverness, all because I was totally selfish. Jacob's getting back at me hadn't made me see my own faults; it had made me cry.

It had all ended almost as soon as it had started. Before I'd known it, the ginger girl had left the apartment with barely a word to Jacob. She'd been like the Quil counterpart to Jacob's imitation test. I'd known it was a test all along when Jacob had sat in his bedroom alone. I'd cracked open the door of my own bedroom just so I could see out of it as much as I'd need to. Jake had been sitting on the corner of his bed in only his boxers, staring right at me. I'm sorry, he'd mouthed.

I hadn't been strong enough to admit that I'd been sorry, too.

It was funny how quickly things had shifted in so little time. I'd been perfectly fine with Quil on Thanksgiving and every other day before Black Friday. There had been zero sexual attraction in me making small-talk with him and occasionally purchasing a taco. Jacob had changed between Thanksgiving and Black Friday, too. He'd barely even touched me before Black Friday, but just the next day he'd brought home the skinny ginger.

Things had been okay on Thanksgiving, though. At least, when the guests had been there.

Still confused and angry over the whole engagement secret being blown by his sister, the second that everyone had left, I'd asked Jacob if we could talk about his previous engagement. I'd just wanted answers and honesty.

Who would have thought that I hadn't received any, and especially from Jacob? Not me.

"Don't worry about it," he'd told me. He'd sounded just like Rachel, telling me that. It hadn't been my job to worry, but it was now.

"No," I'd said. "No, Jacob."

He'd moved from the living room to the kitchen easily, and he'd started cleaning up everything. He hadn't said anything to me.

"Don't be so pathetic," I'd told him. "Just open up."

"How much more open could I even be?" he'd asked, getting out various containers to store Thanksgiving leftovers for the next ten years.

"Jake," I'd said sternly. "If I was ever previously engaged, I would have told you."

His eyes had been boring into mine. "Bella, you don't—"

"I get it perfectly!" I'd exclaimed. "You're afraid, Jacob. You're just as afraid as I am, but the difference between us is that you never tell me what makes you strong and what makes you weak."

He'd shaken his head at me. "Did you read that in one of your books or something?"

"Did you turn this way because of your TV shows or something?" I had dared.

"That doesn't have to do with anything."

"Jacob, you lied to me." The tears had started burning into my eyes. "That's not fair."

"I didn't lie to you," he'd outright told me. It had been a total lie. "I can't lie about something I never even said."

"Well, you hid things from me. What happened to letting people in? What happened to not be a fucking robot? It's really hypocritical, Jake. I mean, you made me open up and things got a little better, but you can't do that for yourself."

"I think you're confused," he'd said, dumping more food into a plastic container. "I'm just fine. And besides, we always hide and we always pretend."

My next words had come out only as choked sobs. If I'd blinked, I'd have exploded. "That's only for other people."

Still more silence from Jacob.

I'd had to make my last point. "You don't have to pretend for me."

He hadn't said anything else to me; he'd only continued scooping and packing, packing and scooping. Instinctively, I'd flipped over the container he'd been putting together. Its contents—either turkey or stuffing, since I hadn't been able to really tell with the tears clouding my vision—had spilled onto the floor and his shirt.

"Go on and try to hide that," I'd told him. "It's what you do best."

I'd always known that we'd (the fucking Lonely Hearts Club) be heading for a meltdown of some sorts. I'd just never thought it would happen so soon.

I nearly burned my fingers on the butt of the cigarette. "Fuck," I muttered, dropping it clumsily. I squatted down, smushed it against the pavement of the balcony, and sighed as I got back up. No wonder I'd stopped smoking cigarettes; I'd never been good at it.

The late-November air bit, and it bit hard. It was time to go back inside before I literally froze my ass off in my thin camisole and shorts.

Last night's love affair was waiting for me, after all. I could feel the vulnerability from all the way out here.

Then again, perhaps it was just my own vulnerability that was so overwhelming. As if anyone would notice, anyway.

A/N: And that was the tenth chapter. It was really a series of vignettes, but the next couple chapters won't be. Now, what'd you think? And omg. I'm already three quarters done with my promise of four chapters before the 18th and I still have 11 days left. I think I'll be pushing my deal of four chapters the six instead, and trust me, you will very much so enjoy chapter thirteen. ;D

But seriously. What did you guys think? I meant to not include the Bella and Quil bit, but then it popped up and... welp. So, anyway, yeah. That was that. I can't wait to share the next few chapters. I'll be writing like a crazy woman.

Stay rad (yeah, I do use that word; everyone makes fun of me for it),

MTL. xoxo