A/N: Thanks for all the input! It made my New Year... well, that and the fact that the fireworks were pretty. XD Okay, so some are a tad eager about everyone's reaction about Bella being Yasmin... well, here's a sneak preview. At the end, there's Jake's reaction. BUT! No peeking!

Disclaimer: No comment.

Two Worlds: Exposed - Chapter Twenty-one

'I don't think I thought over my sudden 'announcement' quite well,' I thought to myself as I hurried across the horizontal escalator, eager to leave behind the screaming mass of fans outside of the airport. This was the first time I got chased by fans as Bella, and I am totally regretting not having my father - my bodyguard - with me.

"Erm, excuse me," I called to get the attention of the person behind the counter. She was wearing a red blazer, which clashed terribly with her wild mane of ginger hair.

"Hello miss," she smiled a tightlipped smile, "how can I help you?"

I copied her smile, glad that she didn't recognize me.

"Hi, er, I need a ticket," I fished for my wallet inside my handbag, "for Seattle tonight…" I took out my credit card and handed it to her, "and another one from Seattle to Port Angeles."

"I'm sorry, miss," the girl handed me back my card, the fluorescent lighting shining on the gold colors, "but there are no more seats for all the airlines." She shrugged helplessly, "It's the Christmas holidays."

I nodded my head, crestfallen, my hopes of spending Christmas Day with my father - and the idea of escaping the chaos outside - crashing down on me. I sighed and pocketed my card, not even bothering to return it to my wallet. I plopped myself on a seat by the large window, and gazed forlornly out into the runway.

It was dark out, but I can make out the familiar silhouettes of the airplanes, all varying in sizes. As I scanned the runway for the flight I should be taking, if I thought ahead and booked a flight, my eyes fell upon a small plane. It was clearly a private jet, but that's not what caught my attention. It was the familiar design on the tail.

One of Wayne's private jets was on the runway. Well, technically, it wasn't Wayne's but his daughter's, Meagan. Though, she was too young to own a private jet so it was under his name. The private jet was a sweet sixteen gift; I guess, some girls have it all.

I blinked and rubbed my eyes, just to make sure I wasn't imagining things. Meagan's private jet can't be here. She was supposed to be in boarding school! In England! As in, all the way in Europe…!

Yup, there it was, right in my line of sight. The dirty white coat was shining under the waning moon, giving it a sense of ethereality, and the simple 'MEAGAN'S RIDE' was painted on the tail in bright, neon green. I wasn't mistaking it for another plane. This was Meagan Hound's private jet.

I stood on my feet and glanced around, searching for the cropped blonde hair that was Meagan's. After about a full fifteen minute's worth of searching, and making a fool of myself to the passers by in the process, I decided it a lost cause. Meagan wasn't at the airport.

"Excuse me," I said to the woman behind the counter, the same one with the clashing hair and blazer, "is there a scheduled flight for a Ms. Meagan Hound tonight?"

"I'm sorry miss," answered the lady, "but I can't disclose any information about that. Ms. Hound is here for private reasons."

I frowned.

"But, I'm a friend of hers," I said, "can you please get to her somehow? A hotel number or something?"

"I'm sorry miss," she repeated, "but I can't disclose any infor-"

"Yes, yes," I stopped her. "I heard you the first time." I groaned and took out my phone, went to my contact lists and pressed call when I saw Meagan's number of the wide screen. It had rang six times when Meagan finally answered.

"Hello, my life sucks," she said, her voice bored, "speak to me."

"Meagan?" I turned around so that I wasn't facing anyone and leaned on the counter. It wasn't like there was anyone behind me. "Hi, this is Yasmin," I whispered. "I'm at the airport and was wondering if I could…" I bit my lip and crossed my fingers. "If I could borrow your private jet for a couple of days. I need to get somewhere and all the flights are booked."

"Yasmin!" I can hear the smile behind Meagan's voice. "It's been such a long time! How are you? Anything new?"

Er, yes, Meagan. I go by Bella now.

"And sure. You can have the stupid thing for the many days that you need it. I don't really care. It's at the airport 'coz it ran out of gas," she snorted. "I'm asking Daddy for a new one on my eighteenth, which reminds me…" There was some shuffling on the other side. "You, Yasmin Stone, are invited to my birthday soiree this April. It's a costume party and -"

"Thank you, Megs," I cut her off, "but I'm in a hurry so you have to tell me all about it later." I moved to end the call, but I remembered something. "Oh yeah, Megs, can you please tell the people over hear that you're letting me use the jet? I don't think they'll believe me if I told them…"

"Sure," came Meagan's energetic reply. I handed my iPhone to the red-haired lady, and she took it willingly, albeit a little hesitant at first.

"Of course," the lady nodded, impatience lining her pale face. It looked like she's not the patient type, and that's an observation I chose to not voice.

"I'll make sure of it… yes…" the lady hummed every now and then in agreement, her sharp nails tapping the marble counter I annoyance. "I'll do it personally… I'm terribly sorry…" she apologized, but I doubt that she meant it. "Monique Lhuillier? Oh, right… in the closet, you say?… Of course. Thank you, Ms. Hound. I'll get right on it." The lady ended the call and handed me back my phone. "Ms. Meagan informed me that you will be riding the jet instead of her once it's gas tank is full."

I smiled at that, "Great."

"She also informed me to tell you that the red Monique Lhuillier dress was for you."

My eyebrows rose at that. Meagan loves her clothes, why would she give one to me willingly? Only one logical answer crossed my mind: it was Christmas, and Meagan felt like giving. I mentally thanked her for the gift. I really should send her something nice back. Perhaps a Bella Swan original? I toyed with the idea of having my own fashion line. I mean, I already had one a couple of years ago, but that was more for Yasmin than Bella.

But hey, a new year's coming soon. I can do whatever I want… I've revealed to the world who I really am, and so basically, I'm starting from the beginning, so to speak. I'm building my career as Bella from scratch, but f course, I'd be using my Yasmin credibility.

The lady asked a passing coworker, a tall man with dreads, to escort me into the luxury waiting room. It was a large enough waiting room, with plush carpeting, a mini fridge and a music corner. I found it amusing and slightly disconcerting to hear myself singing 'Last Christmas' from the stereo. When I was thirteen, I released an album entitled, 'Sounds of the Season'. it wasn't a best-seller, though I had enjoyed being dressed up in Santa garb for the photoshoots.

It only took half an hour for the private jet to be ready, and before I knew it, I was on my way to Forks. I told the pilot to head straight to Forks, Washington, skipping Seattle and Port Angeles to save time. I was sure that there'd be a wide enough expanse to accommodate the jet. If push comes to shove, then we'd just have to land on First Beach.

The journey was long, but I didn't notice it since I spent the whole time asleep. So, when the pilot shook me awake and greeted me, "Merry Christmas!", I was at a loss for words. My eyes searched for a clock and landed on my iPhone. The time read 3:27 - it was Christmas Day!

I hopped off the bed and stretched my aching muscles, having slept in my jeans and t-shirt. This might be a private jet, complete with bedroom en suite, but it can never substitute for a hotel room. Besides, it sounds weird to have a shower while flying in the air, so I decided to forgo it.

"Hey Fred," I addressed the pilot who woke me up. "Where are we?"

"We're a couple of miles from Forks," he said, walking towards a small window and opening the latch that blocked the view outside. "We're in La Push, to be exact, at First Beach. There was a large field in the middle of some forest, but then Frank asked me how you're going to get to the main road, so we chose the beach instead."

I hummed, agreeing with their logic.

"Hey Fred," I called again, "do you mind telling me where Meagan's closet is? She said I was to get a dress from there." I shrugged helplessly while Fred laughed, and pointed to a small cabinet. Only, when I opened it, dresses upon dresses fell outward and nearly crushed the life out of me.

"O-kay…" I said to myself. Fred helped me up to my feet. "Thanks, Fred."

"You're welcome, Yasmin - er, I mean Bella." The man turned away, muttering something about helping Frank with something in the cockpit and starting up. I sighed and just shook my head, turning back to the masses of dresses. How am I supposed to know which one was the Monique Lhuillier?

I picked up a random dress, a golden one, and studied every inch of it. On the clothes hanger hung a small tag. It read: D&G, in Meagan's unmistakable fancy, wide handwriting. So, she must've labeled the dresses. Well, that's good news. It sure saves me from hours of work searching for just one dress. It's like Meagan has her own shop in here.

I searched for the red dresses first, and then read the labels for the designer. Thankfully, there was only one red Monique Lhuillier. I swear, if there was another one, I would've thrown a hissy fit. Had Meagan ever heard of having too much dresses? Quickly zipping the dress up inside a nylon bag, I grabbed my things and bid the pilots goodbye, along with a, "Merry Christmas and a prosperous New Year".

Jumping off the small plane, and grateful that I was wearing converse, I took a deep breath. I missed the salty scent that only First Beach can provide. I don't know why, but there's something about it that made it different from the beaches in California and Miami. Perhaps it was the biting cold that nipped at my face and hands, or maybe it was because it was currently 3 in the morning, and on Christmas, no less. Still, I missed First Beach.

"Wait," someone called from a few meters away. It was a tall and dark silhouette, and if I do say so myself, quite muscular. My first thought was that it was Emmett, running to crush me into a bear hug, but then more rational thoughts invaded my mind: this could be an assailant, waiting to kidnap me or something.

My heart thrummed against my ribcage. Adrenaline coursed through me as I readied myself, my lungs full of breath to shout for help. Fred and Frank were only in the cockpit. I'm sure they'd hear me. Though the silhouetted figure seemed stronger than the two pilots, I was sure that in a two versus one fight, the side with the two fighters will win. Unless this stranger was a highly skilled ninja, which I doubted very highly.

I poised myself to run - I didn't want the pilots to be beaten up by a ninja - but the voice rang again, freezing me to the spot. "Wait…" The voice was coming closer, making the silhouette bigger. "Hold up a minute there… is that you, Bella?"

I relaxed when the person knew my name. This person, whoever he was, can't be a stranger if he knew my name. News of my being Yasmin can't have reached this far yet… I hope. The figure stepped forward and into the light that the jet provided. I smiled widely when I recognized the face.

"Jake!" I screamed, delighted. "It's been so long! How've you been?!" I ran to him and jumped, encircling my arms around his thick neck. Man, can't the boy stop growing? Was he on steroids or something? I can't help but think that if I go away again for some extended period of time, I'd half expect a beard or a moustache, or some kind of facial hair to be growing on Jacob's face. It's like Brad Pitt in the Curious Case of Benjamin Button, except backwards.

"Whoa there, Bella," he chuckled and wrapped his sinewy arms around my thin waist, "or should I say… Yasmin?"

He put me down and I looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. So he knows. He must've seen the Oprah show with Charlie. I mean, he spent Christmas Eve at the Black's place, so it was a plausible idea. I wonder how my dad handled it. I mean, he knows that I was planning on telling the world my secret, but so soon? He'd be worrying his socks off, wondering if I was taking the whole incident well.

I sighed when I saw Jacob looking down at me. He must hate me, keeping this big a secret from him. Though in my defense, the topic of my superstardom was not something you can just talk about offhandedly like the weather. Plus, I don't think my friendship with Jacob was at the point where we could share secrets with each other, not like with Angela - except, she did find out my secret by sneaking into my dressing room. But, something's telling me that Jacob wasn't the kind to sneak into people's dressing rooms.

My things dropped to the floor as I flexed and unflexed my hands, anxious. I didn't particularly care that everything would be covered in sand. It's not like I didn't have a vacuum cleaner back home.

"Hey, hey," Jacob whispered, tucking my hair behind my ears. It was a windy night. "Why the puppy eyes? You're not crying on me, are you?"

I sniffed and tried to hide away the telltale signs of tears. "You don't hate me then? You must've seen the Oprah show with Charlie, right? Oh man, does anyone hate me? Anyone from Forks High? What about Sam and Emily and everyone? Do they hate me?"

"Bella," Jacob soothed, grabbing my flailing arms and pressing them to my sides. "No one hates you. They all understand. Though, I can't speak for anyone from Forks High, seeing as I don't know anyone from there, but they have to be pretty cuckoo in the head if they hate you, y'know?"

I laughed feebly at the funny way his voice rose pitches higher at the word 'cuckoo'.

"There's nothing to about you to hate…" Jacob continued, "so you better turn that frown upside down…"

My feeble laughed came back, only louder this time. "Jake," I murmured, "you're so cheesy… but thanks." I looked up at him and beamed. Wrapping my arms around him again, I whispered, "You're a godsend, you know that, right?"

"Oh, I know," he replied conceitedly, which, I thought, deserved a smack upside on the head. So I hit him. Upside on the head, I mean. "Oww," Jacob howled in pain, sounding like some injured stray. "That hurts…"

I rolled my eyes. "It was supposed to hurt, you steroid junkie."

"Steroid junkie?" Jacob guffawed. "Where'd that came from?"

I blushed as I muttered my explanation. I tried my hardest to eat my words, but Jacob must have super hearing because he heard them word for word. I blushed even more when he repeated my words to me, even going as far as doing a creepily accurate girly voice. I swear, if I hadn't known better, I would've mistaken him for one of his sisters.

"Whatever, Jake. Listen, I need to get home now, seeing as it's too early in the morning for even the early birds to be awake, so goodbye." I hugged him one last time before turning away and made my way home, only to stop when I realized something.

The familiar laughter of Jacob Black assaulted my reluctant ears.

"Okay," I turned around and faced him. "So I need a ride home. Care to help out the damsel in distress?"

"Sure," Jacob smirked. He waved his hand towards him, the universal motion for 'follow me'. "I've got my Rabbit in my garage," he said, "'coz I'm sure if I try to rev up the ol' Chevy, the dead will start to wake up."

I laughed nervously. Huh, if only he knew that some 'dead' people are awake right now. I mean, vampires can't sleep, so technically, they're awake.

Jacob entered the garage and came out moments later, dragging a motorcycle along with him. So that's what he meant when he said rabbit… I thought he meant the literal Bugs Bunny, which was kind of weird and irrelevant to the topic.

The rabbit looked great. I mean, I'm no biker or some kind of motorcycle specialist, but the thing was standing on two legs - er, wheels - so that meant it was great, right? The body was slightly rusty, and from the looks of it, the parts were from other bikes, but the thing still looked great. I don't know, maybe I just have a penchant for rusty vehicles. Rusty vehicles were a far cry from shiny silver Volvos.

"Just hop on," Jacob ordered, noticing that I was staring. He was straddling the bike, and I saw that he was wearing my leather jacket. And man, did he look good. "I promise to not crash or anything," Jacob added in a persuasive voice.

"It's not that," I laughed, grabbing the offered helmet, donning it and climbing on. I wrapped my hands around his waist. "It's just that I saw that you're wearing my jacket and uh, you look great."

"You're jacket?" He spluttered. I giggled when I saw the traitorous blush gracing his russet cheeks. "Oh, I meant to return it, y'know…"

"Oh, sure you did, Jake." I nodded my head convincingly, my brows knitting together in mocj understanding. Now it was his turn to be embarrassed "I totally believe you…" I snorted, failing to hide my laughs.

"I really did mean to return it!" he exclaimed, indignant. He kicked the motorcycle to start and before I knew it, we were flying on the road, the wind stinging my exposed cheeks. "But, you know how cold it is up here… it's not like we can take a quick vacation somewhere south with our private jet, unlike some people."

I noticed the bitterness in his voice. I frowned. Jacob Black better not be jealous. I thought him better than that.

"Just FYI," I whispered just loud enough for him to hear. "I was in Florida because I had business to do, and that private jet? Well, that's not mine. I don't even have a car, let alone a private jet. I borrowed it from a friend because there were no more seats left in all the flights to Seattle, so you better get your facts straight before you make comments like that."

Silence met my words.

"It's still me, Jake…" I closed my eyes and squeezed harder on my embrace. "I'm still the same Bella you met at that barbecue party.."

The hum of the motorcycle was the only sound in the silence of the night. I sighed and buried my head in what used to be my leather jacket. He might not hate me, but he thinks that I've changed. I just hope that he believed me, about not changing. I really was still the same Bella he met at First Beach.

I blinked away the tears in my eyes. If Jacob, of all people, reacted to my wealth like this, then how would everyone else react? Jacob, as far as I know, was probably the most understanding person in this town, except maybe for Angela. So, if he can't understand that my being famous can't have changed me, then… dare I think it, what about Lauren or Jessica, or Mike or Tyler? What would they think?

I need to prove to him that it's still me. That nothing has changed. My friendships with Lauren and Jessica, and everyone else in this town will always be the same, superstar Bella or not… I hope.

A/N: Just a little tidbit: Charlie had Christmas dinner with the Blacks on Christmas Eve, but then went home and slept at his own place. I'm just saying that to avoid confusion, because even I'm confused when I read over the chapter. XD

And just FYI, I was just making up the first part of this chapter, having no knowledge about what happens in airports - I'm totally ignorant about stuff like that o.O

Please review!

=]

PS. Did you like the Meagan Hound thing? You guys might not find it funny, but I've based the name from Megan Fox… =D