Chapter Fourteen: Carlie

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I said.

Had I been paying attention then I might have seen it coming but as it was, I was almost completely unaware that Jake was about to kiss me. It came out of no-where, much like my fist. I didn't mean to hit him. I guess my reflexes were quicker than I thought. I was just so taken aback by his advance that I couldn't help myself.

For a couple of seconds I sat completely shocked on his bed, then I jumped up awkwardly and started apologizing again. My hands, which had been folded up neatly by my sides now fumbled with my jacket and I averted my gaze to the carpet. I waited for Jake to say something but instead he just watched my reaction carefully in silence, which made me feel even worse.

"I'm gonna go." I reached for the door, and tried to make it out of the house as quickly as possible.

"Don't be silly, Nes— Carlie," he said, chasing to catch up, and then more forcefully, "I'm taking you." This time I didn't argue.

I power walked down the street ahead of him, debating whether to just make a run for it or not. I knew the embarrassment I felt now would just culminate if not addressed and so I jumped red-faced into his truck.

The engine started with a crackle. I had part-hoped it wouldn't start at all. Jacob turned the truck around on his street before pulling out onto Chemsy Avenue. Streetlights dotted the road, paving our exit onto the highway. He fiddled with the radio until he found a familiar tune that he started whistling to as he drove. He never whistled, yet somehow with every pause in the music the silence in the car seemed more pronounced.

It took only a few short turns before we were out of La Push and cruising towards the main road that led back to Forks. The thick web of houses were soon displaced by trees as we drove away from civilization and soon even the streetlights disappeared like beacons behind us. Several minutes went by before the next car passed.

"I'm sorry," Jake said finally, piercing our uncomfortable silence.

"No, I'm sorry," I responded, shifting on the seat.

"I didn't mean to act out of line." He looked over at me, before diverting his attention back to the road. "Are you okay?"

I thought of the kiss and then the punch. How disconcerting. How could he possibly have thought that me confessing my deepest, darkest fears to him would warrant a kiss?

"I'm fine," I responded. But I didn't feel fine. "I was just worried about… you know, doing something I can't control," I continued. "And then I did something I couldn't control." My mind began to swim with the scent from my dream. He'd no doubt think about the punch. A bump was already forming on his cheekbone. He healed quickly. With any luck it would be gone by morning before questions were raised.

"Are you thirsty?" He said.

I stared at the blank road ahead. "No." What a ridiculous suggestion.

"Well, what is it? Is it me?"

I cringed. My silence only seemed to perturb him but I didn't know what else to say. Was it him? I had just been caught off guard. Maybe it was just a bit too soon? Maybe like Alice said, the love would grow when I was least expecting it?

"You're distant Carlie," he pushed. "You've never been like this before? You've never been like this with me.. What's changed?" I watched the road keenly. "You can barely look me in the eye." He paused. "You know if something is wrong, you can talk to me. That's what I'm here for. I'm here for you; to look after you.. to be with you."

I studied my sneakers. One of the laces had started to fray and I brought my foot up to the edge of the chair to twist the end of it. I heard him sigh; the distraction seemed to irritate him. The thing was, if he hadn't started with the hand-holding and now the kissing then I wouldn't have become so uncomfortable around him. It was all a vicious circle.

"It was the kiss. I should never have tried to kiss you. And I should've known by the way you've been so cagey around me with this damn prom thing that you weren't ready. It's my own stupid fault." He looked over, desperation poured through the fine lines that had gathered across his forehead.

"It's not you," I said, carefully.

"Then what are you thinking?" He said, voice softened.

Against my better judgment, I pressed my finger to the back of his hand, which was resting on the gear stick. There was always a sharper tingle when I touched Jake and it gave him the chance to pull the car over to the side of the road to concentrate. Our hands radiated at such different temperatures; mine always rested on the cool side of average while Jacob's were abnormally hot.

The vision I portrayed took a few seconds to start registering in Jacob's mind. He waited patiently. First, I channeled the time when my mother had explained imprinting to me. This held feelings of happiness and elation, which I hoped Jacob would take as a compliment. I was sitting on my mom's knee, at age three or thereabouts, and I'd just asked her how we were related to Jacob.

"Uncle Jacob is very special, Nessie," she said in a soft, comforting voice. "You'll find out one day." She smiled and the pearly whites of her teeth dazzled me.

"But I want to know nooow," I whined looking up at her with wide innocent eyes. She melted in front of me, like I knew she would.

"Well..."

"Go on Bella, you can tell me," I said. Even at three years old I addressed her by her first name, and was as articulate as any adult, hidden behind the high-pitched voice of a child.

"Jacob is not one of us," she said, "I mean in the way that we like blood." I knew that. He actually ate the flesh of the animals we hunted - we could share the prey we caught; economical but rather sick all the same. Jacob forced a weak chuckle as it played out through his mind.

"No, I mean he's not family like we are." She thought for a moment before continuing. "Jacob is a bit like Prince Charming."

I beamed; this was the type of story I liked.

"And guess who his sleeping beauty is?" She said.

I looked at her incredulously before answering, "Meeeeeeee!" shrieking as I said it.

"Yes you are my Nessie, yes you are!" She exclaimed pulling me into a tight hug, before tickling me. I screeched with delight at her story.

After that I continued to send memories of our happy times while I was growing up. Still a child, I would sit on Jake's knee, and play hide and seek with him around the house. He smiled as he watched the memories dancing through his mind. It must be weird not to be in control of what you're thinking in the way I took over his thoughts, but he looked eager to see it all as I had seen it.

I then channeled more recent images; him, a wolf, me... a vampire. The corners of his eyes drooped slightly. I pulled the vision to a close and braced myself for his bruised-ego response. Like Alice had said, these things don't just develop overnight, and I was willing to let them evolve naturally. I hoped he'd see that too.

But the vision didn't stop.

Usually I would just pull away, physically severing the link but with these deep thoughts I liked to close them in my mind first before letting go. I found that this bridged the shock between the vision and reality for the recipient. But this time when I tried to dull my visions till they went blank, I was met with a resistance coupled with the strangest feeling running up my hand. The tingle where our fingers touched had started off feeling perfectly normal but now seemed somehow intrusive, like some kind of force was pulling at my arm keeping our connection open.

I tried again to let my mind blank out but strangely, fresh visions started appearing, and not ones of my choosing. They were of other guys. They were thoughts that I had discarded but that wasn't how they communicated now. Harley, James, Adam, Jackson - guys stored in my memories. Guys I had met, maybe attended school with, certainly not thought about in any great way. It showed how I'd contemplated whether they were attractive or not. Then the memory moved on. I detested all the guys from school, but all he saw was their faces and how I'd looked at them with animation. I would have replaced animation with thoughts of curiosity if I'd had any control over what Jacob was seeing but somehow I didn't. Was it possible that Jake was controlling what he saw?

Then Jake appeared in my vision. Naturally I had always looked up to him with the respect he had earned over the years; this was latent. But again the scene corrupted. From happiness, it showed the trepidation I had built up over his sister's wedding, which somehow seemed to look like revulsion. The embryonic longing that we would eventually come together was twisted into my hoping that our fates would be driven apart.

It's not true. I tried to object but my mouth wouldn't move.

Jacob's face was staunch as the pictures danced in front of him, not even a twitch. I tried to look away, tried to block him out. Nothing. All the hours I'd spent practicing channeling with my parents seem to evaporate and it seemed the more I tried to block him; the more the images seemed to come.

I thought back to a memory exercise that Alice had once explained and imagined my brain as a database, with long aisles of thoughts and memories all stored in their own safe drawers. In my mind I imagined drawers opening involuntarily. Perhaps this was what was going wrong; memories were escaping. Or worse, Jacob was manipulating them.

Confusion swept across his face as he watched the scenes unfold in his brain. He observed the unknowing I had felt, creeping between the two of us, pulling us apart.

My hand felt stuck in the same way that contact with raw electricity pulls you in even though you know you must let go.

Then the worst images came; pictures of me with other men and then, the other half-blood from the Amazon, Nahuel; a flash of his evocative native attire. They were merely thoughts that had crossed my mind at some point or another. But now they were much more vivid, they almost seemed real. He saw children that were perfectly human, living a normal life that was not torn between natural enemies. The expressions Jacob wore seemed to blur.

It wasn't until I felt the sharpest jolt that I realized I was free. Jacob snapped his hand away, wiping it on his jeans. The face he wore was sour, disgusted; a map of despair. I watched his reaction from my frozen position; his face looked like thunder, contorting in a way I hadn't seen. I pulled my arms in around me and stayed desperately still.

Jacob said nothing, but checked his mirrors and pulled away from the side of the road as if I wasn't there. What had he done? My emotions swirled like a tornado inside; confusion and anger colliding.

We drove in silence, choking in an atmosphere tarred like oil, so thick. No words were spoken until we turned into the overgrown driveway that wound through the trees to the Cullen household. I opened the passenger door before the car had come to a stop.

"I'm sorry," I muttered under my breath, desperate to flee.

He said nothing, looking the other way like he couldn't wait to get rid of me.

"It's not supposed to happen like this," I heard behind me as the tires spun on the gravel. I looked back to see his forlorn expression, eyes averted from me, and felt his heart fall apart in front of me. Had he really waited nearly seven years for the wrong person?

I ran around the outside of the big white Cullen house stirring up the undergrowth and the branches as I went.

I didn't stop until I was through the small hallway and well within the confines of my bedroom and I shut the door tight. Like a child, I jumped into bed, pulled the covers over me, and hid from the world. The tears that streamed down my face were hidden now and I let them cascade.

What had happened? All those things Jacob saw; were they true? Did I subconsciously belong to someone else? Or worse still, did I secretly long to be with someone else? I couldn't think of one person I would want to be with and half the figures in my visions were certainly not ones I recognized, merely figments of my imagination. I'm sure I would be happier to share eternity with my parents and the rest of the Cullens than anyone else. I prayed for it not to be true.

My mind whizzed with the thoughts that would be plaguing Jacob right now. What did imprinting feel like? Had anyone ever rebutted an imprinting? Was it even possible?

Maybe.

That is, if we're talking about a werewolf and a vampire.

Imprintings had always been between two of a kind, of his kind, and what kind did I have to compare myself to? There was no one; no lessons to learn, no predecessors to teach.

There were kids, human kids. What if my thoughts were true? What if I knew the future after all, and it was buried so deep inside of me that I just never saw it? Had the imprinting clouded my judgment all these years, replacing my natural instinct for love? I felt puzzled, strained, and drained, almost limp. Was I meant for another path in this life I lived? I stayed under the covers all night; eyes squeezed shut long before sleep came for me.