A/N: So y'all made me feel so good last chapter with all your kind words of support. I really do have a pretty great life, I'm just going through one of the really hard times that make us better people by pointing at our weaknesses and hitting a sore spot over and over and over again. Yeah, that's still happening, but my angst provided this little ditty.

MANY thanks go to Marina who got this beta'd in record time, despite her busy week, just so y'all could have it ASAP. She is amazing. You should reward her by going and reading/reviewing her stories if you haven't already. She deserves much love, too.

Okay, time for some Jake angst:


"Jake, that chick keeps eye-fucking you," Paul goaded with an elbow to Jake's ribs. He stood up after emptying the sand out of his shoe and the log they were both seated on shifted a little. "You gonna act on that or not?" Jake had noticed the girl openly staring at him, but he was trying hard to ignore it. It actually wasn't that hard.

The beach football game was over and the rest of the pack of guys were setting up the driftwood fire to roast hotdogs and hamburgers. Jake took his shoes off, too, to empty them out, but just decided to leave them off. The surf crashed behind them and it reminded him of the last time he'd sat on this log with Bella.

"Not." Jake knew Paul was an idiot, but not that stupid. Like he'd cheat on Bella.

Bella.

He missed Bella.

Fuck.

Her mother had called and begged her to come to Florida for spring break. Bella refused to go; that was until her mother pouted, saying she'd bought a non-refundable ticket and that she'd lose all that money if Bella didn't use them. Jake was all set to go with her until Billy's fucking chair rolled off the fucking porch. The trip to the fucking emergency room ate up all the fucking money he needed for his own fucking plane ticket to only find out Billy only had a fucking sprained wrist. They didn't even give Billy a fucking wrist brace. Bella'd almost been gone a fucking week and Jake was not fucking, but completely fucking miserable. He was hoping the football game would cheer him up.

It didn't.

"You mind if I have a go?" Paul asked in that low tone he used when he was appreciating big boobs and round asses.

Fucking man-whore.

"Why the fuck would I mind? I have a fuckin' girlfriend," Jake spat hoping Paul would fucking leave him alone.

"Yeah, a girlfriend who has been gone for a week. I just thought you might be a little lonely and want to take advantage of that," Paul said, pointing to the chick whose jeans looked like they were painted on those long legs. They left nothing to the imagination. "Mmm-mmm! She's fine."

"You're such a fucktard, Lahote!" Jake was irritable. He guessed a week without Bells was affecting him more than he thought it would. He now understood her fears about going off the college and being lonely. It's not that he was tempted to cheat. He wasn't. He just missed her so damn much.

Fuck.

Luckily, she was planning on going to college in Port Angeles; that was only an hour away—not like fucking Florida.

"Who is she?" Paul pressed.

"How the fuck should I know?" Jake asked about done talking to anyone but Bella for the day. "She's probably one of those girls from Forks who come down to gawk at the half-dressed natives. You want to fuck her? Go get her."

"What the fuck crawled up your ass and died, Black? Damn you need to get laid and relieve some of that tension," Paul remarked.

"I don't know Lahote," Jake countered, "your dick's been in so many holes I can't believe it's not fallen off and you're still and asshole."

"Touché," Paul answered proudly, looking down over his bare abs and into the outstretched waistband of his shorts.

"Shit!" Jake exclaimed under his breath as the blonde who'd been checking him out started walking their way.

"What?" Paul asked, letting his waistband snap back into place.

"Your gawking made her come over here."

Fuck.

"She knows where the goods are," Paul mumbled through a shit-eating smile as she got into earshot.

"Hi," the blond said. She was tall and wearing a t-shirt that was way too small. And it was cold. Jake thought that she should be wearing a jacket.

"Hey," Paul crooned in that tone that made most girls drop their panties for him. She didn't even acknowledge the fucktard.

"You're Jake?" she said looking right at him.

Fuck.

"Yeah. How did ja know?" Jake asked, irritated that he was at a loss.

"My cousin," she turned around and pointed to Tanya who was shuffling back and forth by the fire next to Lauren, "pointed you out to me."

"I'm Paul. And you are?" Jake could tell that Paul did not like being ignored. The blonde finally looked over at him and recognized his presence.

"I'm Irina," she said flatly, dismissing him by looking back at Jake. "I'm visiting for the week." She smiled coyly and ran her finger above the waistband of her jeans calling attention to the strip of exposed skin there. Jake repressed the need to roll his eyes. Why didn't she just go with Paul who would obviously give her what she wanted?

"And you know me, how?" Jake asked as dryly as she'd answered Paul.

"I asked about you. Why are you over here all by yourself?" She gave a little pout by sticking out her bottom lip. Jake had to repress his need to gag by that point.

F.U.C.K.

"What the hell am I?" Paul spat. "Chopped liver?" Irina did roll her eyes and looked over at him.

"No," she answered. "But that Lauren girl over there," she pointed, "basically made it known that you were hers. Why don't you go talk to her?" Her eyes roamed up and down Paul's form, seemingly to assess him further. That made the anger in Paul's face about being dismissed soften a bit. He liked be appreciated. But he knew a lost cause when he saw one. He headed off towards the fire.

"Fuck, you eat a girl out once and…" the rest of Paul's sentence trailed off on the breeze out to sea.

"So," Irina walked over to where Paul had been sitting and sat in his place. Except she sat much, much closer. Like, touching him closer.

"So, what?" Jake said moving away a bit. If he moved much further he'd fall off the log. And that was his log. He wasn't going to leave it.

"So I was just wondering if you wanted to have a little fun," she said running her index finger in circles on his knee. Jake didn't know what the fuck was up with this girl and what the fuck made her think he'd fucking just fuck around with her without knowing any fucking thing about her.

Fucking, fuck.

"I am having fun, so you can go back and join the rest of them," Jake replied, waving his hand indicating that she should run along and hoping she'd get the point. He was in a fucking pissy mood and he didn't think it'd be kosher to make everyone around him pissy, too. So, he thought giving her a not-so-subtle hint would suffice.

It didn't.

Fuck.

Irina giggled one of those girly giggles that Jake would have thought was cute about two years ago. No, he wouldn't have. Because, she's not Bella.

"You have some," she reached up to wipe sand off his cheek, "sand right there." Jake's reaction was immediate.

"Get the fuck off me! Look, I tried to be nice, but I have a girlfriend. I suspect you know that since Tanya and Lauren both know her. I'm not interested." Jake was already standing and bent over to pick up his shoes. "Paul is. Go have some fun with him."

Jake was fucking done. He didn't turn around to see the wounded look on Irina's face and he didn't see the look fade into fury. He just trudged as fast as he could to his fucking car, not caring how much fucking sand he fucking dragged into it. He'd just fucking vacuum it later while he was waiting for Bella's fucking plane to bring her back from fucking Florida.

Fuck.

He'd made himself a fucking promise that he could only have one texting conversation every three fucking hours so her mother didn't think he was a fucking co-dependent pussy. He only called her once before he went to bed and once in the morning when he got up. He had another hour before he could text her according to his own fucking rules.

Fuck.

He went to the little rez car wash, which was rarely used since it rained all the fucking time. Who the fuck wanted to wash their cars when it was just going to fucking rain the next fucking day? Fucking weather! But he wanted to use the vacuum. He spent twenty minutes washing and vacuuming his little fucking rabbit, trying not to remember the number of times he'd literally fucked in it.

Fuck.

When he'd finished and got back in his car he checked his phone to see if it was time to text Bella and he found he'd missed a text from her about ten minutes ago. Just his fucking luck. The fucking reception fucking sucked in his fucking shit-hole town.

Fuck!

His thick fingers entered his password; he almost dropped his phone he was so excited. He knew that whatever she had to say was going to be music to his eyes. Until the message opened. His eyes ran over the letters and he could barely believe the message. His heart stopped and dropped into his gut.

Why did I just get a picture of you, from Lauren, showing you about to kiss some blonde slut on OUR LOG?

Fuck.

FUCK!

Jake didn't know what to write or how to respond. Those fucking bitches! What was he going to do? He had to just tell her the truth. That's what he had to do. Would she believe him? As he sat there in the little, red rabbit and in the not-so-hot sun of a spring La Push day he got another text. This one was the actual picture.

Fuck.

She'd forwarded the picture, too. From the angle the picture was taken, the fucking bleach-blonde bitch looked like she was sitting on his lap touching his face. Well, she was actually touching his face—but she never sat on is lap. Her face was upturned with a little smirk and Jake's eyes looked serious, like he was invested.

Fuck!

He'd been set up. Fucking Lauren. That's who had to be fucking behind it. This did not help his fucking mood. Should he call Bella? Should he text her back? He realized then, that every second he hesitated made him look more fucking guilty.

Bella, it's not what it looks like.

He typed it quickly and made sure all the fucking grammar was correct. She liked that shit. But then again, it may make it look like he was sucking up because he had something to hide. But he didn't have anything to hide.

Fuck. Fuck, fucking shit, FUCK!

This was exactly what Bella feared most. And here, on their first time apart, she gets sent this shit. If Lauren fucked this up, he was going to have to do something drastic like pay Paul to fuck the shit out of her and then post it on YouTube. Of course, maybe Paul would do that for free. And who was this Irina chick, anyway? Maybe he should call that hipster, Edward, and have him tell his girlfriend to control her cousin.

Oh, I think it's exactly what it looks like, Jake.

Came the response. How was he even going to explain this? Every possible explanation just sounded stupid. He needed to have her here so she could look at him, hear him, feel his sincerity. Maybe they could Skype.

And because I'm 99.999999% sure it is exactly what it looks like, when you get home, you're going to get this.

Jake was stunned. He didn't know what to think. She was sending a picture, but it was slowly downloading. The little reception icon on the corner of the screen changed to that fucking circle of little lines that then started going around and around as the fucking data started fucking buffering. "Stupid fucking cell reception," he mumbled to himself as he waited impatiently.

His mind told him he needed to get pissed that Bella didn't trust him; that Bella already assumed that he would cheat on her. His head told him that, but his heart was just too scared to lose her over something this fucking stupid. But how could she be so unsure of his love for her after all they'd said and done? All those years?

The picture finally fucking loaded and flashed its brigh, fleshy colors. Jacob's jaw dropped.

Fuck me!

In the palm of his hand was photo of Bella, in her blue bikini laying on her bed in what must be her mom's apartment. That's when he noticed it wasn't a photo at all—it was a video. His thumb landed on the arrow that acted at the play button.

"Jakey," Bella's voice was matter-of-fact as her big, brown eyes took over the screen, "it looks like you're completely pissed off that some hoe-bag is sitting that close to you on our log." She sat back again revealing her creamy skin and those lovely blue triangles that didn't cover too much of anything. "I am that sure that, if she would have been a dude, you would have decked her." Jake watched as her hand slid down her stomach and to the side on her hipo where the hickey he'd left several months ago used to live.

Fuck.

"I miss you here," she said pointing to the spot. "We'll have to take care of that when I get home." He saw her smirk at the top corner of the screen.

Jake was hard.

His eyes were pulled back to the movement of her hand as it dipped into the front of her bottoms.

"Fuuuuuck."

The last expletive was audible as he imagined what her fingers were doing under that fabric.

"And I really miss you here." Her hand stopped. She sat up and looked into the camera. "You should call me right now." Her eyes flashed down as if she could see his raging boner. "And I'll help you with that. Now. Before my mom comes back home."

FUCK!

He was in his car in a fucking parking lot. Did he want to do this in a parking lot?

Fuck it.

His fingers dialed the number.

"What took you so long?"

FUUUUUCK!


A/N: So, leave me some love if you felt love.