"Try not to focus on how disgusting it is," Claire advised Bella, holding back Leah's hair and looking remarkably unperturbed by the sounds her cousin was making as she heaved into the toilet. "Instead, think of this as an advanced course in your freshman year of college. By the time you actually get there you'll be a real pro."
Bella groaned under her breath. She'd have been more than happy to allow the boys to drag Leah into the bathroom, but Claire had insisted that this was woman's work. "Part of the code of sisterhood, or something like that. A chick must never allow another chick to blow chunks in front of the guys, unless one of them is her boyfriend."
"And when one of them is her boyfriend?" Bella had dared to ask as they had half dragged, half carried Leah over the threshold and into her house.
"Then it's his problem."
Which is how Bella ended up sitting on the edge of the tub in the tiny Clearwater bathroom. Her stomach gave a sympathetic gurgle, and she decided right then and there that if this was the price of sisterhood, she was much better suited to handle the boys' club. When she didn't say anything, Claire eyed her nervously.
"On second thought, maybe this is a lesson best saved for another day," she said, deciding that one sick girl was enough for her to handle. "Why don't you go find her a bucket or something and put it in her room? I think we're almost done here."
It turned out to be a tougher job than originally anticipated, and all Bella managed to find was a plastic garbage can beneath the desk in Seth's room. His sister's bedroom was right next door. Bella had expected it to be a disaster, given Leah's obviously troubled emotional state, but it was quite the opposite. It was immaculate, everything neatly folded and placed and tucked away. She put the garbage can down and, looking at the tan carpet, considered getting a few towels just in case Leah's aim was bad. But before she could do anything, Claire appeared in the doorway, Leah listing awkwardly against her shoulder and looking strangely pale.
"Well, the good news is I think she's empty," Claire said as her cousin flopped into a graceless heap on the bed. "The bad news is she's still completely tanked. I have no idea what was in that flask, but whatever it was, it hit her hard. Quil's a moron…" she said with a strange amount of affection.
In bed, Leah giggled – a disturbing sound coming from her usually pursed lips. "Quil and Claire sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-S-S-G!" she chanted. Her head lolled backwards as she laughed at her own joke.
Claire just rolled her eyes and grabbed one of her cousin's booted feet, yanking at it roughly. "Sure, Leah, you just had to be a lightweight," she murmured. "Apparently I need to work on her tolerance before she goes away to school, too. You two are getting quite the crash course in higher education tonight." She winked at Bella and tossed her a boot.
"You know what?" Leah slurred. "You know what? What – what – what the hell is it with you and school, huh? Is it so good that you just, you just want to stay there and, you know, not be with your family? Huh? You love school more than Quil, and more than us, and more than, you know, more than, than…" Leah's rant trailed off, descending into a mess of inaudible syllables. Claire looked hurt though, and with the second boot in hand, she sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed the hair out of Leah's sweaty face.
"I'm sorry, Le Le," she said, with more seriousness than the drunk girl was probably capable of perceiving at the moment. "I know that's why you're pissed at me, but the school wouldn't excuse me, and it was exams week. I wanted to be here, I just…couldn't. And I know you probably won't remember this tomorrow, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry, okay?"
Leah's only response was to reach up and poke Claire in the nose. "Boop!"
Sighing with obvious frustration, Claire thrust the boot into Bella's waiting hands. "Here. I'm going to get her some water. Just make sure she doesn't try and stumble anywhere."
"Wait, what--" Bella started to protest, but Claire was already through the door and out of sight. She sighed – nurturing wasn't her strongest suit, mostly due to her lack of a strong stomach. She desperately hoped that Leah wouldn't blow again, otherwise she was likely to follow suit. Still, when Leah's soft breathing turned into a pained moan Bella couldn't help but feel bad for the girl.
She hovered by the edge of the bed awkwardly as Leah curled herself into a ball. Tentatively she rubbed her shoulder. "Deep breaths," she soothed. "It'll be okay." She turned, hoping to see Claire coming through the door, and when she looked back Leah was staring up at her strangely. "Are you gonna throw up again?" she asked, reaching for the can.
Leah giggled manically, her discomfort evidently passed or simply forgotten. Bella felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the other girl grinned up at her, a smile more sinister than friendly. "Poor, poor, baby Bella," she chanted, her voice hoarse and broken. "My mother says you're possessed. Poor, poor Bella…" She laughed again, an eerie sound that rang through Bella's ears and felt as if it were boring straight into her brain. She jerked back from the bed like it was on fire.
"What are you talking about?" she demanded, her voice nothing more than a harsh whisper. "What the hell are you talking about?!" But Leah just continued to laugh, too intoxicated, too far beyond reason, to answer.
Bella couldn't explain why, but her body felt like it was reacting on its own. Blood pounded behind her eyes as her entire system was flooded with adrenaline. She clenched her fists involuntarily, willing them to stop shaking and twitching, to no avail. She didn't know why, but she was suddenly deeply afraid. Afraid that Leah was right, afraid that Sue knew something she wasn't saying, afraid that she'd give in to the one thing she feared would lead her into madness: the belief that whatever was wrong with her wasn't rooted in science and medicine.
Once she had believed in monsters and magic – she'd had to. But they weren't real, not in this world. Not in her world. And yet she was plagued by nightmares full of things no human being should be able to know, to predict. What if she was looking for answers in the wrong place? What if, beneath the surface, something more than…normal was going on? Something that couldn't be explained in charts and graphs?
Bella wanted to be healthy. She wanted to be sane.
If she couldn't be that, she at least wanted whatever was wrong with her to come with a name, a diagnosis, a pill.
But what if it didn't? What if whatever was inside her head was bigger than that, darker than that? It wasn't possible; it couldn't be. Not in this life, not in the world as she knew it.
Leah was just drunk. And her mother was superstitious and creepy. Bella willed herself to believe that.
She stumbled blindly towards the door, just needing to be anywhere else. Away from Leah, away from her own, trembling hold on her sanity. Instead all she did was crash into Claire, head on.
"Jesus, Bella!" she exclaimed, one hand precariously clutching a glass of water, the other trying to keep them both from falling over. "What the hell is the matter with you?" Miraculously she managed to deposit the glass into Leah's waiting hand without upending it on anyone.
"She's…she said…she told me that I--" Bella stammered incoherently, hovering in the doorway.
"She's drunk. She doesn't have a clue what's coming out of her mouth except vomit."
Claire regarded her nervously, and grabbed her frantically fluttering hands before Bella accidentally whacked her. "Seriously, you're white as a ghost. You sure you didn't drink some of Quil's crazy juice too?"
Bella shook her head frantically, forcing herself to listen to what Claire had said. "No, she just…spooked me is all."
"Well, relax. Take it from someone who knows. First time I went to an on-campus cast party, my roommate told me I wound up singing the greatest hits of Menudo out of a third story window. Couldn't remember a thing the next day…"
Bella snorted, surprising even herself, the image of that breaking through the wall of paranoia and panic she was hurriedly building around herself. "Sounds…um, interesting."
Claire nodded in agreement. "So I'm told. I have a horrible fear one of my friends has it saved on a camera phone somewhere, just waiting to whip it out during a speech at my wedding or something. So just chill the fuck out and take a deep breath. Remember that she doesn't irrevocably hate you for missing her father's funeral, so you're already doing better than I am in her book."
Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Bella felt the panic recede. Her heart calmed in her chest. It was better, now that she wasn't trapped up here with Leah, just the crazy and the drunk. It was nice having a voice of reason in the room as well. That reassurance that everything was going to be okay was something she wasn't used to having.
It was something that, more and more, she realized, she was coming to rely on Jake for.
"I'm just gonna go outside and get some fresh air, okay?" she stammered, at least managing to put together full sentences again. "I mean, if you don't need me anymore and-"
Claire had moved on, and was busy helping Leah drink without soaking herself or her bed. "Go," she muttered. "I got this."
She retraced her steps outside, where Jake and Embry were verbally berating Quil.
"What do you mean you don't know what was in it?"
Quil threw up his hands in defense. "I mean I don't know what was in it! Look, if you take a lot of liquor from one bottle, it's easy to see that it's missing," he explained, shooting hurried looks back and forth from one boy to the other, as if waiting to see who might swing first. "But if you take a little from the top of every bottle, it's way harder figure out. It just so happens my old man has a lot of liquor bottles."
"That's…well, actually that's kind of horrifically brilliant," Embry admonished him. "But thoroughly disgusting."
Quil ignored him, pleading directly to Jake. "Look, I swear I was only planning to spike the coolers in the gym, otherwise I wouldn't have made it so strong. How was I supposed to know that Ms. Martin would stand by 'em all night long? I only gave it to Leah cause she knew what I was planning and she asked. I didn't know she'd drink it all, or that she'd have no tolerance." Quil looked nervous. "Please don't make me walk home, dude. It's like eight miles from here."
Jake glanced up when he heard Bella's footsteps approaching, and Quil looked thoroughly relieved that his attention was focused elsewhere. "How is she?" he asked.
She just nodded grimly, trying to look as if nothing was wrong. She was getting pretty good at it. "Leah's fine. Claire got her into bed, but she doesn't seem to be sick anymore."
"How are you?" he asked under his breath, pulling her closer. "You look like--"
"I'm fine," she cut him off. "Just not good with…well, vomit, is all."
He nodded and leaned in towards her ear. "I'm sorry this all happened. Think you can hang in there a little longer? I've still got a surprise for you."
"Don't you think there've been enough surprises tonight?"
He chuckled. "I promise this one won't get sick or involve human remains."
"Well, when you put it that way." Truth was Bella was in no hurry to be away from Jake's side. Not when her brain still felt like it was whirling like a top. Already she felt more grounded, centered, calmed, just because he was there. Just because he was there and sweet and thinking about normal kid stuff. "I think I can last a little longer."
"Good. And you," he told Quil pointedly, "Are just fucking lucky she didn't actually throw up in the truck."
Quil's look of relief was brightly illuminated as another set of headlights suddenly hit the driveway. Jake took a deep breath and steeled himself for the punishment he knew he was about to receive from the eldest member of the Clearwater clan, walking out to meet Sue as she got out of the old Chevy.
Bella crawled into the cab of her own vehicle and laid down on the seat, sure that if she had to face Sue again, Sue and her haunting looks, any chances of having a normal night would disappear completely.
She was grateful that when Jake eventually found her laying there, he didn't ask who exactly she was hiding from, or why.
"Well, that was a cluster-fuck if I ever saw one." Jake drummed in time to the Billy Joel that was blasting through the speakers as they turned down the narrow lane that led to his house. "Trust me, this was not what I envisioned for the evening."
Bella just shrugged. "I know I said I wanted to get out and experience more things, but that was just…"
"Crazy? Yeah, tell me about it." He cut the lights at he pulled into the long drive, winding up past the house and back towards the garage. "Trust me, you holding back Leah's hair tonight was not what I had planned."
"Well what exactly did you have planned?" Bella felt physically and emotionally drained, but she also didn't want to ruin whatever it was that Jake had put together for her. She was tired of being the spoilsport. Jake killed the engine outside the garage, a mischievous look in his eyes.
"C'mon." He kicked his door open. "I'll show you."
"Jake…" she said warningly, reluctantly following him out into the darkness. Without the lights from the truck, it was pitch black. The rez didn't really have a lot of streetlights, and the house was dark behind them. Bella could hear Jake in front of her, his feet clattering loudly on the loose gravel, but she couldn't see him at all. She kept one hand on the truck, following its contour around to the front bumper. "Where are you?"
"Right here," Jake said, only inches from her. Bella flinched, and his eyes must have adjusted quickly enough to see it, 'cause he laughed.
"Jerk," she muttered, reaching around in the darkness until her hands connected with the rough fabric of his shirt.
"Aw, don't say that now." He started to move in the general direction of the garage, pulling Bella along with him. "You haven't even seen your surprise yet."
"Jeez, Jake, out with it already," she pleaded.
Through the darkness she heard him laugh again, followed by a rattle as his hands found the garage door. "Well, I'm not going to just tell you. That would kind of ruin it. Now, close your eyes."
"Are you kidding? It's pitch black out here. I can't even see you!"
He sounded exasperated. "But it won't be when I turn on the light. C'mon, Bella – humor me?" She felt his hand brush her shoulder as he reached around and gave her hair a playful tug. "Please?"
Suddenly he was six years old again, plaintive and mischievous. He was tugging on her hand urgently because he had to show her a really cool bug or a rock or a crab he'd trapped in a tide pool. He was pulling her along because there were pirates after them, and ghosts that needed to be chased away or alien invaders from Mars and they had to hide. And they had to do all these things because it was more fun than playing with stupid old dolls. And, of course, she was too grown up for that, and angry he'd pulled on her ponytail and run away – the process repeated again and again until Bella was forced to chase after him, and the game was on whether she wanted it to be or not. And he would laugh, and she would too, and eventually she'd be agreeing with him that yes, the crab was very pretty, or hurling pebbles out into the surf to keep the pirates at bay.
Jake was six, and she was eight, and he had something secret that she just had to see. "Alright," she acquiesced, closing her eyes – the difference of black on black indefinable to her limited senses. "They're closed."
"…I don't know. Are you sure?" he teased. She felt the breeze as his hand passed back and forth in front of her face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"No clue," she shot back. "But I'm thinking of holding up one."
"Alright, alright. Keep your panties on." She heard the balky garage door protest nosily as Jake shoved against the rusty hinges. A second later the black world glowed amber behind Bella's eyelids as Jake managed to locate the switch to the bare bulbs that lit the garage. His plans apparently in place, Jake grabbed her hands and led her forward slowly. In all honesty, Bella reasoned she could probably have managed without his help; her feet seemed to know where they were going on instinct alone, but it also seemed unwise to tempt fate by trying.
When it felt like they were in the middle of the room Jake stopped and guided her hand down until she felt her usual milk crate and plopped down gracelessly, trying to keep her dress from landing in any number of unflattering positions. From in front of her came a series of terrifying noises: shuffles and clangs, the sound of something heavy being moved. Bella winced involuntarily.
"Okay," Jake told her after a few minutes. "On the count of three you can open. One, two, three…"
It took Bella's eyes a second to adjust, and then another second to make sure that what she was seeing was real. She got to her feet and crossed the room with shaky steps. To anyone else - anyone in their right mind - what Jake was presenting with his arms outstretched might have just looked like junk. But as far as Bella was concerned, it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, a metallic piece of art.
It was the most dilapidated motorcycle that Bella had ever laid eyes on.
And it was all hers.
She reached out and touched the bike with reverence, hands trailing over the torn leather of the seat, the rough rust patches that ate at the handlebars like a cancer. Her fingers mapped every plane, traced every contour, as if she could somehow draw magic from the bike that only she could see.
And it was magic, she decided as she swung onto it. The feel of it beneath her legs awakened something in her senses – chilled ocean air as it rushed into her lungs and whipped through her hair, the world flying by until her vision was nothing more than a palette flooded by an insane array of watercolors. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and stood on end, as if her body itself was trying to will that memory into being. God, how she ached – physically ached, somewhere deep in her chest – to know that feeling again. That rush, that recklessness, that…that freedom.
Only now, she wouldn't have to wish for very much longer.
"I-" she finally managed to choke out, but she was unsurprised to find her throat constricting on its own. She felt the bevy of tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. "I don't-"
"You don't have to say it," Jake told her. He was watching her every move with a triumphant glint in his eyes. "I can already tell."
But Bella just shook her head in disbelief, desperate to find some way to give a voice to that warm, wondrous glow that was building inside her. "This…this has got to be the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me," she told him breathlessly.
"Hey now, your dad bought you a truck, remember?"
"It…it doesn't mean what this means…to me, that is. I mean…" She twisted the useless throttle beneath her hands, delighting in how smoothly it turned, imagining how fast it could go. "This is wonderful, Jake. How did you ever afford this?"
He shook his finger at her sternly. "Now that's just rude. You're not supposed to talk about how much a gift costs."
Bella did her best to mimic Angela's look from earlier that evening -- that commanding, yet soft expression that compelled you to speak (and, if Bella's outfit was any proof, to do what she told you). It didn't seem to have the same effect on Jake; he'd had too many years around big sisters, she supposed. "I just know that money's tight for you, and you should be saving it for college and stuff like that…"
"Actually, I was saving it for a car," he confessed, rolling his eyes at her persistence. "That's how I found this. Your Dad paid me for fixing that damn truck, so I went to the dump after school on Tuesday to see if I could afford anything worthwhile. Tripped over this baby walking in." He patted the handlebars affectionately, the way you might pet the head of a faithful dog. "It's like she was waiting there for us. It's not the same year as the one you described, and it's a Yamaha, not a Harley, but it's not far off, and with a little work I can…" His expression suddenly became stricken as he watched the smile melt off Bella's face, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. "What?" he demanded.
"You spent your car money on this? On…for me…oh, Jake…." Bella couldn't fathom him sacrificing so much just for her, her peace of mind.
As if sensing that she was about to protest, Jake cut her off with a wave of his hands. "Okay, first, this is why you never ask how much something cost. Second, it's in crap shape and wasn't nearly as expensive as a quality car body to begin with, so stop worrying. And third – there'll be other jobs. Something's bound to break around here sooner or later, and then I'll be right back where I started. So let me splurge on my friends and just enjoy something without worrying for once, okay?"
"I-" but the protest died on Bella's lips. "Thank you."
Jake just stood there with his arms crossed, beaming. "I told you you didn't have to say that either."
"Yeah," Bella nodded solemnly. "I did. I mean, you have no idea how much this means to-"
"Yeah, I do." And she knew he was right. Out of everyone in her life right now, he was probably the only one who got just how special a place a bike like this held in her heart. "But it's only part of my gift."
"Jake," Bella muttered, dumbfounded. "Seriously, this is too much."
He had the audacity to wink at her. "No, trust me, this is the most important part. It's a package deal." He turned around, rifling through one of the large storage cabinets in the back corner, and Bella closed her eyes without even being asked.
"Okay, hold out your hands," he told her a moment later. And she released the handlebars somewhat reluctantly.
"You know, last time I did this was in the fourth grade when Tommy Christopherson handed me a dead worm."
Jake chuckled from nearby, his laughter bright and ringing in her ears. "Well, I can promise you it's not a worm, living or otherwise."
He pressed something into the palms of her hands, hard and kinda heavy, his fingers brushing against her own. She waited for his hands to move, but they didn't. A moment later his lips pressed against her own without prompting or protest or warning. Briefly he squeezed her wrist, like he was holding onto the moment. It was soft and fleeting, all panic and warmth and the barest brushing of skin on skin.
In that moment Bella's heart stopped beating, and the world inside and outside of her body seemed to freeze. Everything imploded on that tiny encounter, in that tiny garage in the middle of nowhere. Bella's world imploded, and she waited for it to come back together again, hoping it would make sense when it did. But all she knew in that instant, that heartbeat, that split second of time, was that he tasted like Tic-Tacs and smelled like the cologne he stole from Billy, that his hair had come loose and was tickling the side of her cheek, and that Jake was kissing her and she didn't know what to do.
Then as suddenly as it had begun, it was over, and everything worked again, and the world spun, and Bella continued to exist in it, against all odds. Jake's eyes were panicked when she slowly opened her own.
"I…oh shit, Bella I…shit." He looked down, and seemed to realize that he was still clutching her hands in his own. He leapt back like he'd burned his fingers, leaving Bella to stare down at where they'd been.
Her mind felt blank and heavy, words slow on her tongue. "You got me a helmet?" she asked dumbly, saying the first thing that seemed to register. It was black and worn and seemed to be from the same generation as the bike.
"What?" The question seemed to snap Jake back into reality. "Um, yeah. You don't exactly have a great track record with vehicles and grievous head wounds and stuff, and I saw this at an old resale shop and thought it would be a good idea and…Christ." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Do you want me to take you home?"
Bella continued to stare down at her hands, at her gift, in some kind of a daze. Her brain felt like it was trying to reboot. "No!" she said a little too harshly, her voice rough and ragged. She wanted to sound calm, she wanted to wipe that look off his face and tell him it was all okay, even though she wasn't sure that it was. "No, I…I don't want to go home yet." She wasn't ready to be alone with this experience, not yet. It was still too strange.
Jake didn't seem convinced though, and his hands wrapped around hers again. "I swear, it was just an impulse – I was on such a roll tonight, trying to make all this…this imaginary stuff real, and after the dance and all…" He shook his head, forlornly. "It just sorta happened on its own."
"Really?" He nodded, and something inside Bella quickly devoured the idea that this was just a misunderstanding and clung to it. She tried to make her body respond in turn, but it rebelled against her. Nothing seemed to fire correctly. She blinked and curled her toes and eventually managed to squeeze his hands back like she'd been trying to do all along. "Jake, it's…okay. I'm…I'm okay." And she was, technically. Her heart was still beating, her lungs were still filling, her eyes were still seeing.
All things considered, she'd been through worse.
But her brain felt as thought it had suddenly switched back on, and now she was reeling beneath the onslaught of her own memories.
For once Bella was grateful that her mind was an absolute blur, racing in too many different directions for her to make sense of what she felt. It was a blessing in disguise – it kept all those confusing and…and painful thoughts at bay. They were moving too fast to settle and sprout roots, the kind that would invariably grow and infect her dreams, pumping them full of more doubt and fear and ice cold lips that were suddenly ripped away in the darkness. It was a self-preservation technique, and Bella leaned on it, losing herself to that flurry of pain and predilection, letting the chaos deafen that little voice in the back of her mind. The hurricane winds whipped at it, drowning it out, making it almost inaudible as it pleaded wait, wait, wait…stay to a memory of searing heat, and the scent of pine.
Wait. Come back. Stay.
The house was dark when they slipped in the back door, cutting through the kitchen. "Dad must already be asleep," Jake whispered.
"What," Bella muttered. "You mean he doesn't set an alarm for you?"
"Shhhhh. That's no excuse for you to wake him up."
"Sorry."
Jake grabbed her hand before she could run into the tiny kitchen table and guided her to the couch. A second later she was blinking in the glare of the television. Iron Chef, the actual one with the subtitles and the tofu. Jake grinned as her eyes adjusted and plopped down beside her. "Nothing like the Food Network after midnight. Unless you'd rather I go dig up a movie…"
"No, this is fine." And the choice of television was, but they weren't. They sat awkwardly, side-by-side, so unlike the closeness they'd shared tonight. The feel of his hands around her waist as they danced…or tried to, anyway. The feel of his lips against hers, when he'd…when they'd…
The pinpricks of untruth, betrayal, were starting to creep down the back of her neck. She shivered beneath Jake's coat. "Still cold?" he asked incredulously. He must have felt her twitch. "I've worn that thing through blizzards…" Still, he made as if to get up and give her the faded afghan he was lounging on.
"No, I'm fine." She grabbed his hand. "It's just…Jake, I don't want you to get the wrong impression. I think there's something I need to tell you."
He smiled at her reassuringly in the flickering glow. "No, you don't. It's alright – I understand, I really do. And I really am sorry. I was just riding on a romantic high, I guess. Personally, I blame Quil. Though I could probably blame you too, after last week when you told me about all the sex coma-dreams you had about us."
"I told you they weren't sex dreams," Bella said abrasively, refusing to take the bait he was teasing her with. This wasn't something that could just be laughed off.
Jake just rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, fine, Ms. Semantics. All those 'romantic' dreams you had about us," he said, air-quoting the word romantic. "And-"
She cut him off, before her nerve escaped her. "That's the problem, Jake."
He shook his head slowly, teasing smile still firmly in place. "What?"
"What I said...about us? There was no…us." Her voice cracked, faltered, and failed her. It died on her tongue.
Jake's smiled flickered. "But I thought you said-"
"You were there for me," she said, her voice barely audible. "When it felt like I had nobody else in the world, I had you. When…Edward left me, it was you who picked me up and help me put my life back together again. And something happened in the process, something between you and me. But…then Edward came back and…" She tried to steel herself for that final blow, but Jake stepped into it willingly.
"You didn't pick me." It wasn't an accusation, or a question. She could only nod in response. "Well…that explains a lot."
Bella had expected him to get upset, not for him to respond like she'd just asked him to pass the salt. "You don't…you don't hate me?"
"How could I hate you for something that never even happened?" he asked softly. "And here I thought you were just subconsciously attracted to my charm and scintillating wit…"
"I…was, once," she confessed. "We even kissed, too. But I wasn't ready then. And now…I'm not the kind of girl who can feel those things anymore."
He hesitated for a second, like he wanted to argue that point with her. But the fight was gone from his face as quickly as it had come. "It's okay. Really. It's nothing that can't be cured by watching people hack apart live octopus."
Bella forced a chuckle past her lips, but still felt like something was amiss between them. That tiny, persistent raincloud still felt like it was hovering over her shoulder, even if she couldn't see it. They watched the judges consume tofu baked with octopus, and Bella tried not to grimace, both at the food and the silence that stretched between them. Fortunately for both of them, Jake was kind enough to break it.
"I never understood how some people can eat tentacles like that. Hey, can I ask you a question?" It was possibly the worst conversational segue in human history, but his contemplative expression kept Bella from mentioning that.
"Sure," she said hesitantly, afraid that the pain she'd been expecting was finally upon them both, that torrential wave of emotional destruction that she had coming in more ways than one.
But Jake's voice was calm, controlled as he spoke. "Does it…" He faltered, and tried again. "Is it hard? Being stuck here with your second choice, I mean? Metaphorically and all." And though he was trying to sound nonchalant, Bella could feel something lingering in his voice. Something deep and sweet and shy, flavored with orange soda, warm and straight from the can. It was a hurt that instantly felt more familiar than almost anything about her warped little world ever had.
"No," she breathed quickly, knowing that there wasn't enough force in creation that could fill her answer with any more conviction. "And if I ever hear you refer to yourself that way again I will beat you bloody with a tire iron, you understand?" She couldn't see him clearly enough for her own satisfaction, so she stretched out her hand until it pressed against his cheek. He nodded into her palm.
"I was just wondering-"
"Well, don't," she cut him off sharply. "Jake, you were never…even in my fucked up dreams, you were never second fiddle to anyone. You were too good for me. You deserved someone better than me. Someone functional and whole, who could love you back the way you deserved. By the time you found me, I was already damaged goods. Just like-" she hesitated, trying to find her voice. "Just like I am now. And some things even you can't fix. And sometimes you have to learn when to stop trying." She sagged beneath the force of her own words, as that overwhelming weight began to press down on her again. Her fingers began to slip from his face, but Jake captured her hand in his own.
"You don't need fixing," his voice assured her thickly through the darkness. "Don't you get it? We're all damaged. No one's perfect."
"You deserve someone perfect," she muttered sadly.
Jake laughed outright and a second later his arms were around her waist, and he was pulling her up against him on the couch. He leaned against the armrest, and snuggled her body against the contours of his own, still chuckling lightly. "You think way too highly of me. But thanks, I guess. It's nice to know someone does."
"Nice," she countered. "And true. Jake, you and I-"
"We don't have to talk about it anymore, Bells." He buried his face in her hair, that name, her name, rolling off his tongue like it belonged there. With a start she realized it was the first time he'd called her that. "I just needed to know that I'm not making it any worse for you."
"Are you kidding?" she demanded. "You're the only one making it better most of the time. Who else would take me on such…such grand adventures?"
"Oh, I think grand it a bit of a stretch. But it was a good night. Sort of." He chuckled lightly, and her hair fluttered in response.
"It was," Bella agreed, and it was true. It had been a strange night but not necessarily bad. She felt like there was more to it, though. Some hidden message, some deeper meaning that she'd see, if only she analyzed it closely enough. But she was tired of the details, the scars, all those little, dirty things that became evident only upon closer inspection. But there would always be tomorrow and the next day to over think it. She just wanted tonight…it was all too heavy to handle tonight.
Jake's breath was warm against the top of her head, and his coat was warm around her shoulders, and she suddenly felt absolutely and utterly weary. "You can close your eyes," he told her, as if he knew what she was feeling before even she did. It always seemed to be that way lately. "We've got an hour before I have to have you home."
She didn't want to. She knew the dreams would come – especially tonight – and she didn't want to scare him. But her eyes absolutely refused to stay open. "You'll wake me up?" she asked, her mouth barely opening with each word.
"'Course." And so, just like the first night they'd met, Bella rested while Jake kept watch. And in the flickering light of the television, in the arms of this strange boy, she dreamed.
"Bella, if you don't stop fidgeting, I'm never going to get this finished," Angela chastised gently.
"Sorry." She stopped bouncing her feet, and Angela quickly resumed painting her toenails. Blood red paint shone brilliantly in the bright light, freshly wet.
"You were right about the color," her friend murmured, humming softly to herself. Her green dress billowed out around her as she sat on the floor, waves of taffeta and lace concealing her legs. "The blue would have clashed." With a flourish she finished, then blew on Bella's feet gently.
"Stop it," she squealed. "That tickles."
Angela ignored her and slipped a glass flip flop carefully onto Bella's foot. "There," she said deftly. "The total package. Wanna see?"
She got to her feet and pulled Bella carefully to hers, leading her over to the gilded antique mirror on the wall.
"Oh my stars, Bella," she exclaimed softly, pushing her friend to stand in front of her. "That dress…you look fantastic!"
Bella's breath caught in her throat as her reflection peered back at her. Her dress was a swirl of reds and purples, composed entirely of Barney-themed Band-Aids. They covered every inch of her skin, clinging to her every curve with lithe grace. She twirled around once, and the skirt billowed out around her knees, exposing the Ace Bandages around her ankles, and her delicate glass flip flops.
"Wow," she said in a breathless whisper. "I look…wow…"
"You're perfect. You're ready for the ball." Angela leaned her head on Bella's shoulder, a soft smile on her lips as they both stared into the mirror.
Suddenly, Bella was confused. "Wait, what ball-"
"Shhhhh. Don't worry about it," Angela interrupted her, leaning in and pressing her lips against Bella's ear. "And by the way, in case you were wondering, this is the hint you've been waiting for…"
It was…dark. Dark and voices, and dark. There was no light from between the trees tonight. No moon? Her eyes were heavy. And the voices…
No, and the voice.
"…of course it's only sleeping. What kind of a parent do you think I am?"
Her chair was soft tonight. Softer than usual. And warm. She burrowed.
"Hey, you think I'm in a better position to be chasing after grandchildren? I don't think so…"
She leaned back. Eyes would adjust, the trees would be clear soon. But her eyes were heavy tonight.
"…just come by in the morning. And bring coffee. And don't show up at dawn to go all Chief of Police on my ass. A man needs his beauty rest, after all…"
Police? Like her dad? Bella tried to blink. There was something she was supposed to do… But the voices were gone and the blackness was there, amongst the soft and warm things, and it was so hard not to blink and…
She closed her eyes and let the soft, echoing, bumping beat against her ear carry her away.
A/N: You're all sick of hearing me make the same excuses, so I won't bore you. Thanks for being awesome readers. Thanks for getting me through the semester. Blue and Ceci, thanks for being awesome beta-type people.
So yeah, I recently got named one of A Different Forest's VIP authors. They're equal opportunity Twi-Fans, and I'm thrilled they decided to lend a podium to J/B fans like myself and Blueandblack. So swing on by and check it out at adifferentforest[dot]com. Sometimes (when I'm actually being a responsible writer) I even post excerpts and stuff in my cabin *wink, wink*
And with that, I wish you all a Merry Christmahanukkakwanzayuledon! Stay safe, and I'll see you in the new year!