HI GUYS! As always, thank you so much for reading and I hope you love it!
Scarlett's POV
"What are you thinking about?" Paul asks, his voice just a whisper in the darkness. My lips are red and plump and chapped but I can't stop. Kissing Paul has become an addition of mine.
"Nothing," I lie, antsy to get back to our previous activity. We are lying on the floor of his living room, the fire blazing and our bodies tangled and the TV on in the background, though it is on mute.
Paul cups the side of my head in his hand and sucks down my neck. My mouth parts are I give myself over to him.
"I know when you're thinking about something," He breathes into my skin and then picks up his head again. "What is it?"
"I'm scared," I whisper in a moment of pure, unbridled truth.
"What are you scared of?" Paul asks gently, stroking his hot fingers along the side of my face. I close my eyes and press myself into him, loving the feeling.
"That," I smile faintly.
Paul's hand is slow as he delicately runs it through my hair and then along my face and then overtop of my collarbone over and over again.
"You never have to be afraid of me," He whispers into my ear.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "I'm not scared of you, Paul," I respond, my voice dripping with honesty. "I'm scared of not being with you."
"That will never happen," He kisses my collarbone and my lips part. "I promise."
"You can't promise that," I argue. "You just, can't."
Paul pulls himself up and then idles with his face right overtop of mine. His face is unreadable as he runs his fingers along my lower lip. He does this for a while before he speaks, never looking away from his movement. "What do you think is going to happen to me?"
I wait for him to look up at me to level my gaze with him. "We've spent so much time fighting the craziest things." I shake my head. "My crazy, abusive childhood and then you being a werewolf and imprinting on me, and," I take a deep breath. "I just worry that something simple is going to happen."
"What do you mean?" His voice is soft and gentle.
"You could get hit by a car," I tell him.
"Cars can't kill me, Scarlett."
"Fine," I sigh. "A bus. A train."
"That will never happen," He kisses me gently.
"One of us could get cancer," I offer.
"Extremely unlikely," He sucks on the edge of my collarbone and my breathing grows heavy.
"I don't know Lahote," I finally sigh. "Just don't die, okay?"
He laughs gently against my skin. "I'm really not planning on it, Scarlett."
"Thank God," I smile. "I'll shut up now."
"Please don't." Paul kisses up my neck and then sucks on that part of my neck right below my ear that I swear to God sends me this close to an orgasm every single time. "Really. Please keep talking; I love listening to you."
I smile. "What do you want to know?"
"Anything. Everything. Tell me more secrets."
I giggle. "I don't give those away for nothing, Paul."
His fingers skim over top of my nipples and I moan deep in the back of my throat.
"Fine," I speak, my voice raspy. He laughs gently against my neck. "I'll tell you a secret if you tell me one."
"Deal." Paul busies himself with running his finger along a particular piece of hair over and over again as I think of what to say.
"Alright," I finally say. "I've got one. But just to warn you it's dark and twisty."
"You're dark and twisty," Paul laughs.
"Good dark and twisty?"
"Sexy dark and twisty," He kisses me gently.
I smile contently and let that lie just sink in; I am especially pleased with letting myself believe that. "You know how I told you my favorite color was orange?"
"Scarlett," Paul isn't able to conceal his laughter. "The kind of secret that I want to hear isn't one about you lying about your favorite color."
"Shut up," I laugh and shove at his chest, though he doesn't go anywhere, not that I want him to. "I told you orange because it was kind of like my last resort. All the other colors, black and blue and purple and red and yellow and green, I was always hiding them beneath my clothes, and checking them to see how long I had before they faded or how bad they were. I always hated those colors, especially blue."
Paul stops moving on top of me and then finally after a moment he brings his face down to mine. He doesn't kiss me, though his mouth is sure close enough to. Instead, he runs his palm over top of my hair on the top of my head over and over and over again, and then he sighs. "You know what?" He begins.
"What?" I whisper.
"I think that blue should be your favorite color."
"You do?" I can't help a smile from forming on my lips. "And why is that?"
"Well it's the color of your eyes," He kisses each of my eyelids softly. "And it's the color of the ocean, and you love the ocean."
"This is true," I nod my head.
"And bruises can't possibly matter more than your eyes. I love your eyes. They're one of my favorite parts of you."
"I like your reasoning," I laugh and wrap my arms around his neck. "You're sweet, Lahote. Am I too dark and twisty for you, though?" I tease.
"I like it," He laughs. "You're mysterious."
"That's a really nice way of saying unstable and unable to deal with my emotions."
He laughs and kisses me deeply. When he pulls away my head is spinning. "You deal with your emotions with me, sweetie… kind of."
"Kind of?" I exclaim. "I practically killed myself trying to open up to you!"
"That's the scary part," He chuckles and runs his hand up my thigh.
"Oh yeah," I roll my eyes. "And you're just mister perfect over there. You know what I think?"
"No, I never do, but I would really like to hear it."
I roll my eyes. "I think that you were just as scared to get close to anyone as I was, but instead of becoming a pessimist without a soul you hid behind your physical... talents."
He chuckles into my ear. "You're right."
My face pulls up in a surprised yet impressed expression. "I am?"
"Of course you are," He sighs. "You went dark and twisty and I went carefree and superficial."
"See, this is why we're so good together! We're like the two extremes! Put us together and you've got a semi-normal person!"
He laughs and holds his hand out to the side. I giggle and high five him.
"So, are you going to tell me your secret now, or did you think I forgot about that?"
"I already told you one," He sighs as he runs his pointer finger along the seam of my dress, trailing his finger down the length of my body and then back up again. I force myself not to shiver.
"N-no," I take a steadying breath. "I guessed one. You just agreed with me."
He moans. "I don't know any secrets, Scar. I tell you everything."
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, right. You don't tell me anything."
"So not true."
"Whatever," I roll my eyes. "You still owe one secret."
"Couldn't I work off my debt in a more… mutually beneficial way?" His hands find the skin of my thighs and then begin pushing my dress up.
I slap his hand and my mouth drops. "You do realize you just basically gave me an example of what we just talked out," I say.
He smiles guiltily. "I'm sorry."
"No you're not," I giggle.
"I'm not at all," Paul smiles and kisses my shoulder. "I just don't know what to tell you."
"What is the worst thing you've ever done?" I ask him.
Paul stiffens above me. "Scarlett," He complains.
"I'm not going to judge you!" I wrap my arms around his neck and brush my fingers along the short hair at his collar. "I'll even tell you the worst thing I ever did so you won't feel so bad."
"Fine," Paul cups my face in his hands and then kisses my cheek once before letting me go.
"The worst thing I ever did," I sigh, thinking about it. "One time I put nair in a girl's shampoo bottle on my soccer team."
Paul laughs. "That's really not that bad, Scarlett."
I contemplate for a moment longer. "Well, once I… I… I,"
"Stop," Paul sighs and runs his fingers through my hair. "It's hard for you to find a specific moment because you're innately good. It's fascinating."
"Fascinating? Hm. Not sure if I like that."
"I meant it as a complement," He sighs. "Unlike me."
I roll my eyes. "You act like you're some kind of monster, Paul."
"You didn't know me before you," He states simply.
"One time I tried to kill myself."
Paul completely freezes above me. He picks his head up and then meets my eyes with his. He looks absolutely terrified. For a second I am taken aback; we had been talking about the worst things that we ever did, right? I was just throwing that out there as a possibility.
"Scarlett," He breathes. "Why would you- Don't- You- You never do that again, do you understand me?"
I raise my eyebrows. "Don't worry I'm not jumping at the chance to kill myself any time soon," I giggle, though his expression doesn't budge an inch. "My life is different now."
"What did you do?" He pushes.
I moan. "Paul. Come on."
"I want to know. Now." His voice doesn't leave any room for argument.
I raise my eyebrows at him. "Well I don't want to tell you."
"I'm serious."
"So am I," I challenge.
"Scarlett," Paul grips my shoulders tightly in his hands and I gasp. "This isn't funny. That isn't funny. Why would you ever try to kill yourself?"
"Paul let go of my arms," I mumble, my voice growing weak and willowy with the tight force.
His hands immediately loosen and then he brushes the back of his finger along my cheek. "I'm sorry," He speaks, his voice sweet again. "That- that just- that's the worst thing I have ever heard in my entire life."
I gulp. "Too dark and twisty?" I repeat, my voice quieter now.
He doesn't respond. Instead, he kisses me, soft and delicate, like he doesn't want to press too hard or hurt me in any way, not that his kiss could ever really hurt me.
"Scarlett," He breathes once he pulls away. "What did you do?"
I sigh and shake my head. "It's really not that big of a deal. It was a long time ago."
"How old were you?" He asks.
"I was twelve," I sigh.
Paul gulps. "Twelve?"
I nod my head. "I didn't really know what I was doing, anyways. I knocked over a vase because I was clumsy, and I knew that when he got home he would be really mad. I was scared." I shrug. "I found a bottle of the pills he was always popping and took like ten of them. I wasn't really thinking that I wanted to die, I just didn't want to get hurt anymore. But he came home early and since he's a cop and all, he knew exactly how to handle that and shoved his finger down my throat to make me puke it all out. With what he did to me after, I can assure you that I never tried that again."
Paul closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Scarlett," He begins, but I stop him.
"Paul," I speak bluntly. His eyes open at the inflection of my voice. "Don't do that," I speak sternly. "That was my life. I don't need you feeling bad about it, or feeling sorry for me or viewing me as this little flower that needs to be saved. I'm fine. And it's over now. And when you act like that it makes me feel like it's not."
He nods his head slowly and then drops his forehead to my chest. He takes a deep breath before he responds. "I roofied a girl once."
My mouth drops. "Paul," I breathe, my arms immediately slipping off of him.
"I didn't do anything," He picks his head up and shakes his head adamantly at me. "I swear, Scarlett, I didn't. I was in high school and on the football team. The other guys, they did it all the time, and they offered it to me one night. I wasn't going to use it, but then I just… did. And I brought her into a bedroom but when I got in there I… couldn't. I couldn't do it. I pretended like I was taking her back to my place because my mom wasn't home, but really I took her home. I told her mom she had too much to drink. She- she, thanked me."
I gulp, not quite sure how to respond to that. Of course, I am happy that Paul didn't rape anyone. To be honest, I don't know what I would do if he had. But, the truth is that he did drug her, even if he didn't go through with it.
"You said you wouldn't judge it." He sounds like a little boy.
"Yeah," I widen my eyes and swallow harshly. "But that's, that's," I shake my head. 'That's intense, Paul."
He nods his head sadly. "It's the biggest regret of my entire life," He shakes his head. "If I could go back and change it I would; I would give anything to be able to. And I promise you nothing like that ever happened again."
I sigh and nod my head. The truth is, I could hold this over him, I could get scared and run and worry and question his character, but I don't want to. I know who Paul is, and I love him for who he was before, too, even if I don't agree with it. We all make mistakes, like me with those pills, and him with different pills, I guess.
I re-wrap my arms around her neck and kiss him gently. "It's okay, Paul. I know who you are."
"Now," He sighs and rubs my hand that is entwined at his neck.
"You've always been good at your core, Paul, even when you had questionable character. You didn't touch that girl."
"I know," He responds quietly. "But I-,"
"But nothing," I shake my head adamantly, already having made up my mind. "You want to talk about regrets? How about not telling anyone that your stepfather was beating the shit out of you for fifteen years? You'll ruin yourself if you let yourself wallow in what you could have done. Moral of the story is that you didn't and that's it. Period. It's over. Unless of course there are time travelers that I have yet to learn about."
He kisses my cheek. "You're so good Scarlett. I hope you know how much I mean that, and how much I will never deserve you."
"I hate when you say that," I moan.
"And I hate when you put yourself down, call yourself stupid, make jokes about dying, steal the covers in the middle of the night and how you still haven't gone on a real date with me, but I have just learned to live with it."
I burst out laughing, happy that Paul was finally able to break the newly formed sadness between us. "Wow. Anything else you've been holding in for all this time?"
He smiles widely and kisses the tip of my nose. "And you steal all my shirts."
I gasp. "You said it was hot that I sleep in your tee-shirts!"
"It is!" Paul laughs. "But you somehow seem to pick the exact shirt I plan on wearing the next day every single time."
I shake my head. "Fine. I'll stop wearing them."
"Perfect!"
I gasp. "I didn't mean I'd go naked!" I giggle nervously, remembering the one time I had and how Paul threw the covers off of me and had forced me to remain naked and in bed for breakfast and then well into the afternoon.
"Damn it."
I giggle. "Nice try, though. No, I'll start wearing actual pants to bed. How about that?"
"Please don't," He moans into my neck. "I take it back, okay? You can wear whatever shirts you want whenever you want. I swear it."
I giggle. "I guess I'll have to think about it," I sigh longingly.
"Fine. Can you think about it while I make love to you, though?"
I blush. "As much as I hate to say it," I begin, the distaste strong and obvious in my tone.
"You're sore," He finishes for me.
I sigh. "I'm sore.
Paul moans and then flips off of me. "That's okay. I was waiting for it to happen; dreading it, actually."
I laugh. "I'll probably be ready to go by tomorrow, you know," I say, slight panic evident in my voice. It has been three days since we first had sex, and in that time we have practically been living in the bedroom. I can't get enough of him and he can't get enough of me, and it doesn't help that all he has to do is so much as touch me and I am practically begging him to take my clothes off. In every instance, though, Paul has been on top, or I have been in his lap. I am eager to try new ways, every single way, and experience how he can make my body feel, but I am not sure how to ask. I blush at the thought.
"Too long," Paul smiles and kisses me softly. "And besides, tomorrow is your birthday."
I cock my head to the side. "I want birthday sex, Lahote."
Paul bursts out laughing. "How could I deny the birthday girl?"
"You can't," I giggle teasingly. I go to poke him on the nose but he grabs my hand and pretends to bite it. I squeal and try to pull my hand away, though Paul just laughs that breathtakingly beautiful smile that makes my world stop turning and then kisses my palm tenderly.
The only distraction to what otherwise would have been a perfect moment, are the thick, jagged and deep scars suddenly staring me in the face. I bite the inside of my cheek and pull my hand away, swallowing down a lump in my throat.
"What's wrong?" Paul asks, ever perceptive to my feelings.
"Nothing," I lie quickly. "Kiss me."
"Not until you tell me what's wrong," He smiles a teasing smile at me and then reaches his hand out for mine. I slide my left hand farther under the blanket and out of his reach, and then place my right hand into his. Our fingers press out together and then our hands entwine, but this is almost absentmindedly; Paul's face is squinted in the middle and his eyes are examining me. Though the more I am with Paul the greater my life becomes, I find it harder and harder to keep anything from him when he knows me so well.
I sigh. "Does my hand bother you?" I ask finally.
Paul looks down toward my hand with a confused expression. He picks my uninjured hand up in the air and examines it closely. "Is it supposed to?" He finally asks, obviously not understanding my question at all.
I roll my eyes. "Nevermind."
"Were you flicking me off or something and I didn't catch it?" Paul teases, a laugh slipping through his lips.
"No," I giggle. "I wasn't talking about this hand."
I sigh as he finally understands; though the look of understanding isn't that bad, it is the sympathy that makes me want to throw up.
"Don't," I moan. "You know I hate when you do that!"
"Do what?" Paul asks quietly, running his fingers up my arm.
"Feel bad for me. It's annoying."
"Let me see your hand," He tells me with a sigh.
"No."
"Scarlett," Paul shakes his head. "You could either hold it out for me or I'm going to grab it. Your choice."
"Actually I think I'm going to knee you between the legs if you're going to threaten me like that."
"Do it."
"Fine," I moan and then lift my hand out from underneath its solace. I force myself not to react to the way that the side of my hand is so deformed, that if someone was just to see it from that angle, they would probably have no idea what it was. The back and my palm are filled with cuts, some tiny and jagged and others long and thick and unmistakable. I bite the inside of my cheek whilst taking it in.
In the short time in which I have been back, I honestly have pushed the thoughts of my hand away as soon as they came about. Besides, I can still use it- no, I have full function of it, so what the hell is there to complain about? Though, the vein part of me yearns for it to be perfect like it was before.
"What's wrong with it?" Paul asks softly, kissing it gently, staring at my palm and then making his way around all the way to the front.
"Paul," I moan.
"I'm serious." I stare at the way that his eyes hold a little confusion though much more certainty; he is telling the truth.
"But-," I twist my hand in front of my face in wonder. "I mean, look at it."
Paul gently pulls it into his grasp and then tenderly holds it in his hand. "I am looking," He kisses my palm. "I love your hands."
"Paul," I begin.
"Your hands touch me, and I love when you touch me." He looks up at me, his eyes burning that flaming red heat that makes me blush and want to rip my clothes off at the same time. "Your hands reached for me when you came to sleep here before we left for Florida, do you remember that?"
I giggle, unable to stop my cheeks from reddening at the memory. "That was the night I threw shampoo at your head, wasn't it?"
He laughs. "I remember thinking, 'She's in my bed. Scarlett is in my fucking bed!'."
I blush and bite the corner of my cheek, trying to remember how I had felt as well.
"And then you reached for me," His voice quiets. "And you ran your hands down my arms when you pulled away, really slowly, like this." Paul takes both of my hands and then slowly slides them down the sides of his arms.
I gulp. "You have a really good memory."
"And your hands were what you gripped my hair with on top of the desk in my bedroom at my mom's house. Do you remember that?"
I gasp- I can't help it. "Paul," I giggle nervously. "Yes. That was crazy. I still can't believe we actually did that."
"So what is it about these hands, again?" Paul's lip pulls up at the corner.
I wrap my arms around his neck and internally smile, because Paul can do that to a girl. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
"Much better." Paul rubs my arm as he leans down to kiss me tenderly. I sigh into his mouth and give into him, powerless to escape from the contentness that floods through my entire body in a rush when he holds me like this.
I hear a howl in the distance and then Paul pulls away. I frown and open my eyes at him in an accusatory manor. I notice him press his lips tightly together and gently rub the skin between my eyebrows. I drop my frown and he actually does smile now.
"I have to run patrol tonight, sweetie."
I frown again.
"What?"
Paul sighs. "I haven't in a long time, Scar. The other guys picked up my slack, but they're tired. It's a pretty mathematical rotation; if one person isn't helping than everyone else has to cover twice as much territory, and do it more often too."
I nod my head. "I understand," I say, because it is what I have to say, though my arms snake their way up to his neck and lock themselves there.
"Will you be okay?" Paul kisses my shoulder gently.
"I'll be fine," I lie again. Quite honestly, the fear that comes at the realization that I will be in this house alone tonight absolutely shocks me to my core. I have never been afraid of being alone; in fact, I have always found a solace in it. But remembering how he had been lurking in the shadows, and how there was no one around to save me as he… no.
No. I am fine.
I am fine.
"Are you sure?" Paul asks, and I notice the way his voice is questioning at the end. I know that he can sense my unease, and just a simple "no" would be enough for him to force his friends to do overtime like they have been doing all month just to accommodate my idiotic, little-girl fear that I just need to get the heck over.
I plaster the most genuine smile on my face that I can muster and make sure not to lie, for I know he can sense when I do that. "I don't want them working harder than they have to for one more night. Seriously."
Paul smiles and kisses me softly. "Can I carry you up to bed?"
I bite the corner of my lip. "Could I sleep on the couch and then you'll bring me to bed when you get back?"
"It's going to be a while, Scar." He scoops me up into his arms and then stands. I gulp down the irrational fear and force myself to relax. Something about being all the way up in his bedroom, unable to hear or see if anyone came through the door is frightening me- but that is just ridiculous.
Paul places me into his bed and then smiles down at me as he reaches for his tee-shirt, the same one I wore last night, from where he had previously discarded it on top of the sheets. I stare up at him and just have to bite my lip. He looks so sexy from this angle. I want to know what it would feel like for us to have sex like this: Him standing and me lying down. He could pull me to the edge of the bed and… whew, Scarlett. Relax your hormones.
"Are you thinking bad things, Scarlett baby?" Paul teases as he unclasps my bra and lets it drop the floor.
"What?" I nearly choke on the word.
Paul bunches the tee-shirt in his hands but ignores me. It isn't until I move my face in the slightest that I realize just how hot my skin is there, and conclude that I must be beat red- good Lord.
"Arms up," He instructs me. I notice his jaw tense and then his eyes drop to my chest as I do as I am told. He makes a certain sound that I have grown to conclude as restraint, out of the back of his throat as he slips it overtop of my head. As Paul slides his hands off of my body, he pulls my panties off too, and discards them on the floor as well.
He pulls the covers up to my chin and then kisses me softly. "I'll be back."
"D-did you lock the front door?" I look up at him nervously, my eyes growing wide.
"Yes, I did," He runs his finger along the side of my face.
"O-okay," I nod my head. He stands up and I suddenly can't let him leave. "Could you close the door?"
He stares at me a second, nods and then does as I ask.
"Actually, open it."
He opens it.
"Could you crack it?"
"Scarlett," Paul speaks gently, though he does in fact, crack it. "Are you too scared? I won't go. I- I'm not going to go."
"What?" I gasp. "No. No! You have to go! Your friends are not catering to me any more than they already have!"
"It's not a big deal," He sighs, "Really."
"Yes it is," I argue. "I just was confused on how I wanted the door, is all. Now it's perfect." Yes. Perfect. Now I can hear if someone is coming but am safely concealed in Paul's bed sheets.
"Are you sure?" He doesn't seem convinced.
"Yes!" I turn over in bed so that I am on my side and bury my cheek into the pillow. "See!" I slam my eyes shut and only open them when I hear a slight chuckle.
Paul examines me for a while before he finally nods his head and seems to make up his mind. "Alright. But I'm staying close, do you understand?"
"Yes," I smile.
"You have your phone, right?" He frowns.
"Yes," I nod to its position, still plugged in on the nightstand; neither Paul nor I have really had much time for electronics as of lately.
"Call Jake if you need me. He's off tonight so he'll phase to tell us and then I'll come back. Okay?"
"Okay," I answer, knowing that full well there would have to be a break in before I ever woke Jacob up because I was scared.
"I'll be right outside," He tells me, suddenly looking uneasy again.
"Paul," I force a laugh, though it is slightly more believable because my face is covered. "Go."
"Okay." Paul nods his head adminatly and then heads for the window. "I'll be back soon. Sleep well. Love you."
"I love you t-,"
By the time I finish my sentence, he is already gone.
I quickly rush over to the window and close it tightly, and then I tiptoe downstairs to turn all the lights on and then re-check that the door is locked. Once I have finally checked and then rechecked the place, I go back to Paul's bedroom and crack the door just how I want it. I turn the lamp next to his bed on and crawl underneath the covers, knowing that I probably won't get the best of sleep with the light on, but knowing that it is better than none, which is exactly the amount I would get if it wasn't.
The wind makes a squeaking noise against the window and I gasp and jump up.
With a moan I roll my eyes and lie back down in bed. I huff and throw the covers back on top of me. This is ridiculous, I think. It's not like Paul and I have been together 24-7 since I got back from the hospital; he has left me for work and some errands and I have left him for Nessie and some errands of my own, but something about the night is teetering me on the edge of panic.
I force my eyes closed and then take a deep breath.
I am going to sleep if it is the last thing that I ever do.
My screams lull me from unconsciousness with a bang.
I sit up in bed and gasp in thick, heavy breaths of air as my mind immediately slips into the mindset of not having a panic attack.
I close my eyes and place my head in my lap and rock back and forth frantically.
No, not now. Please not now.
"Scarlett?"
I jump up and go to scream but my breath has been captured from my throat and all that comes out is a wheezing gasp. My panic subsides, if only slightly, when I realize the person that has entered my room is none other than Embry.
"E-E-Embry?" I manage to squeak out.
"Are- Are you okay?" His eyes are wide as he looks at me gasping for breath and I force my heavy head to nod up and down and blink my eyes rapidly when blackness begins spotting at the corners of my vision.
"I-I-I'm, f-f-f-f-i-ne," I somehow speak between gasps.
Embry's eyes soften and then he cautiously comes towards me. I drop my head into my hands and focus on my breathing- this is so embarrassing I could cry, but even more embarrassing would actually be passing out.
My head is swarming with panic that is overtaking my veins and only making me panic more. Breathe, I am demanding myself. Fucking breathe! But for some reason I just can't. It has been so long since I have had one of these, so, so, so, so long, though I can't think about it; thinking about my panic attacks coming back makes me want to die, and right now, wanting to die makes me want to panic more and then I surely will pass out from lack of oxygen to the brain.
I wheeze in a breath and then jump when I feel Embry's hand on my back.
"It's okay," He tells me cautiously. Embry's hand begins moving in a small circle and I claw at my throat, though I know that I shouldn't. I just want to breathe, for God's sake. I am growing frustrated, but I know that I can't; I can't because growing frustrated will only make this worse.
I let out a sort of strangled moan from the back of my throat and then suck in a quick breath. I close my eyes and press my hands to the sides of my face. Slowly, oh so slowly, I begin to feel myself coming out of it.
I take as deep a breath as my body will allow me to and hold my hand to my heart, trying to slow it.
Embry is still rubbing my back, and it honestly is comforting to me. Now that I am not trying to contain my full-blown panic attack, I am able to actually feel him touching me. It isn't the same as when Paul touches me, that is for sure; when Paul touches me it is an overall feeling of wholesomeness and love that illuminates inside of me almost immediately, making me want to crawl into his lap and have him hold me. With Embry comforting me I feel safe, content and calm, but he smells different. It's hard to explain, because it feels good, but he is not the person that I want right now.
I finally sit up and then feel his hand pull away from my back. I twist and then offer him a timid smile, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry."
Embry shrugs. "Don't be."
I gulp. "Do you know- have you- like, have you seen me have those before?" I manage to get out, though I cringe at that last part. Even thinking about the other guys seeing me have a panic attack through Paul's eyes makes me want to start crying. Then I suddenly think about Paul letting our recent sexual exploits slip and want to actually die.
"Yep," Embry states, his voice causal.
I raise my eyebrows at him. Paul would definitely have said something like, "Oh, Scarlett, don't worry baby, I haven't seen anything. No one has seen anything. You're perfect. Say you're perfect. Say it now. Yada, yada."
I am suddenly laughing hysterically.
"What's wrong with you?" He asks suddenly, peering at me as if I have lost my mind.
"It is so refreshing not to have someone tell me the truth about how psyco I am for once."
Embry's lips pull up at the corners and I can't help but smile myself.
"So you're okay?" He asks, lifting his eyebrows at me in question.
I nod my head.
"Good," Embry sighs and then ruffles my hair. "Enough of that, kid. You hear me?"
"Yes," I slap his hand away and narrow my eyes at him.
Embry laughs, and I suddenly realize how odd it looks to see someone who looks kind of like Paul sitting on Paul's bed next to me; it is like my mind is mind-fucking me or something.
"Wait," I frown, finally coming to rational thought. "What are you doing in here? Where is Paul?"
"I was running patrol and heard you scream," He answers easily. "Paul and I's shift overlaps in this area. He's east now, though."
I look towards the door to where it is still partially cracked and then frown. "But how did you, like, get in?"
He nods his head towards the window and I blink a few times at the window that is now wide open. I rub my eyes and pinch myself. Nope, definitely not dreaming.
I moan and sit up in bed to get a better look. "I know Paul jumps out there all the time, but how the heck did you manage to climb up? What, did you scale my house?"
I smile, awaiting a laugh or a snide comment or sarcastic remark, but nothing comes. I look back at Embry with confusion, to see his eyes focused on something else. I am kneeling on top of the bed, peering out towards the window, and Embry is sitting on the side of the bed behind me. I suddenly remember I am not wearing pants, or underwear, and though Paul's shirt is enough to cover my butt, it doesn't manage to cover anything else.
"Oh!" I pull the shirt down as far as it will go and sit back down with flaming red cheeks and sudden embarrassment. "S-s-sorry," I mumble.
Embry clears his throat and then forces his eyes away. "I should probably go."
"What?" Panic suddenly surges through my veins at warped speed. "No! Why?"
Embry smiles his signature crooked smile, seeming to find something about that question very humorous. "Because if Paul comes back and finds me in bed with his half-naked girlfriend I am as good as dead."
I roll my eyes. "I can handle Paul, and I'm not naked."
"You're half naked," He grins at me.
"You shouldn't be so happy about that," I scold him.
"So you and Paul finally pulled the trigger," He sighs and rests his hands behind his head, seeming to get a little bit too comfortable on top of Paul's bed.
"We are not talking about this," I dismiss immediately.
"Oh come on," Embry laughs. "I thought I was your best friend!" He hits my shoulder a little bit too hard, forcing me to rub it.
"Not my best girlfriend!" I laugh. "And besides, I'm sure this isn't your favorite subject to discuss." I mumble that last part, looking towards the sheets and immediately growing uncomfortable from bringing up Embry's feelings for me.
"Nah I'm trying to get over that, actually."
"Oh, really," I raise my eyebrows at him.
"Yep," Embry smiles widely at me. "I've decided that it isn't the best idea to fall in love with your friend's girl and to never do that again."
I giggle. "Don't be too hard on yourself. Should I ask how you plan on doing that?"
"Certainly. By having a lot of casual sex."
My mouth drops and my eyes suddenly grow wide. "W-what?" I manage to get out.
"Alright don't faint on me again." Embry sits up, laughs at me and then begins fanning me off. "Come on, lay down," He shakes his head, still laughing, as he lowers me back down into bed and scoots a little farther away from me.
I clear my throat and gulp. "I-I'm fine," I squeak.
"This is healthy, Scarlett," Embry reassures me.
"Well, maybe," I can hear the uncertainty in my own voice.
"Maybe?" Embry questions.
"I just- I don't think it's necessary to sleep with all these girls just to get over someone. Everyone kind of saw how that worked out for Paul."
"Yeah but Paul wasn't trying to get over anyone, Scarlett."
"That's kind of even worse," I roll my eyes.
"I'm really not following here."
"Nevermind," I huff and cross my arms angrily over top of my chest. Ugh, Scarlett, what the fuck are you doing? I know that these feelings are entirely ridiculous, but I can't help but wonder what girls would be hotter than me, better than me, more sexy than me, that would successfully work in taking Embry's mind off of me.
"Scarlett," Embry begins, all the teasing having left his tone. "Are you… jealous?"
"No!" I scream.
Embry jumps and I cower down into myself. "I'm not," I continue, quieter this time.
"Okay," Embry's eyes are wide as he holds the word out.
"I'm not jealous," I insist.
"Obviously," He shrugs.
"Seriously," I narrow my eyes at him. "I'm- I'm happy for you. I think you should totally go out and have sex with a ton of bleached whores with fake boobs dipped in desperation as perfume. Great idea. Try not to get chlamydia while you're at it!"
"Okay." Embry pats my leg and then stands up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't talk to you about this kind of stuff. I just thought that, maybe," He runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a long sigh. His demeanor changes from teasing to something deeper, just like his voice. "Maybe it would make it easier, if we could… talk about that together."
I gulp, and suddenly I feel like I want to cry. I sit up in bed, pulling the covers tight overtop of my chest and hoping that I look at guilty as I feel. "I'm really sorry, Embry. I think that might help too, and I hope that we can do that. I really do. You're my best friend and I want you to be happy. Ugh, God, I'm so selfish."
"You're not selfish," Embry sighs.
"I am incredibly selfish," I argue. "You should be getting over me. You should be going out and having fun and hopefully meeting a girl ten times prettier than me."
"Yeah that's pretty impossible," Embry rolls his eyes. "You're perfect."
I gulp. "I'm Paul's," I whisper.
"I know, Scarlett, okay? I know." Embry's voice is so harsh I wince.
"I'm sorry," I whimper.
Embry lets out a long, loud sigh and then roughly rubs his forehead in his hands. He sits back down on the edge of the bed and kisses me roughly on the top of the head. "Relax, okay," Embry rubs my shoulder in his hands. "I'm not mad at you."
"I'm terrible. You don't have to hangout with me anymore if you don't want to."
"Would you stop," Embry moans. "You're my best friend, you idiot."
I giggle, finally feeling the awkwardness slip away from us and our usual teasing banter taking its place.
"Oh!" Embry's lip pulls up into a grin that I know I am not about to like. "Happy birthday by the way."
I moan. "He told you?"
Embry's eyes widen. "You could say that."
I moan again, louder this time. "How bad?"
"Scale of one to twenty?" I nod. "Mmmmm, about an eighteen."
I smash a pillow overtop of my face and scream into it. "I begged him not to," I cry into the fabric, my voice muffled.
"I think the fact that you used to get whipped every year for your birthday has something to do with it, but that's just my best guess."
I giggle, pulling the pillow away from my face and lying flat on the mattress as I cross my arms over my chest. "I freaking love you for being so brutal about all the shit I went through, you know that right?"
Embry smiles, but there is a sadness behind my eyes that is impossible to ignore. I gulp and drop my gaze.
"I'm going to get going. Believe it or not that are other mortals to protect."
"You're leaving?" The panic is practically coming off of me like water vapor.
"You'll be fine, Scarlett," Embry gives me a reassuring smile but it does little to aid my fears. He takes a step towards the window but then looks back at me, seeming to hesitate when he notices my face. "Scarlett?" He questions.
"Can't you just stay until I fall asleep?" I ask before I realize how damn embarrassing it is to be newly eighteen years old and needing a babysitter.
I am about to take it back when Embry goes over to the other side of the bed and then climbs on top, sitting up as he rests his back against the headboard. "Fine, princess."
"Don't call me that," I narrow my eyes at him.
"Whatever you want, princess."
"Embry!" I snap.
"Shut up and go to sleep before your crazy boyfriend gets back and kills me!"
"Fine." I huff and lie down in bed, reaching for the lamp and shutting the light off at the same time. I close my eyes but the darkness is still breathtaking. With my eyes closed, it is hard to believe that Embry is even here at all.
"Embry?" I question, my voice pathetic.
"I'm here, Scarlett."
I follow his voice and scoot in just a little bit closer to him. I rest my head back down on the pillow and then cautiously press my wrist into his thigh, just to be sure that he is there.
I feel heat radiating above my hand for a moment, and then the faintest brush of his fingertip against my hair.
He clears his throat and pulls away.
Neither of us say another word as I fall into a deep sleep.
The next time I awake Embry is gone, and Paul is gone too. The light prickles at my eyes behind my eyelids and welcomes the morning with the sun peaking through the window across the room. I am pleased, entirely and completely content, as I roll onto my stomach, hug the pillow in my hands and then lay my head back down on the delicate plushness. I take a deep breath and then suddenly frown, whereas I had thought Paul must have been in the bathroom or something similar, the sheets have no remnants of his scent.
I pick my head up and blink my eyes rapidly, adjusting to the brightness of the morning. "Paul?" I speak out, my voice raspy from sleep. "Paul?" I ask again, louder this time after no answer comes.
I hear the door creak open and then feel the bed shift under the weight of him. I smile to myself and lay my head back down on the pillow.
"Hi, birthday girl." His voice is sexy and calming and makes my entire body pulsate with happiness. My Paul. He slowly slides my hair off of my shoulder onto my back and then kisses the skin there tenderly.
"Good morning," I sigh.
"Good morning," He repeats with a laugh, though I can't tell what is funny. "How do you feel? 18?"
I chuckle. "No."
"Oh no." Paul's voice feigns sadness as he flips me over in bad and then climbs underneath the covers. Before I have a chance to even wonder what is going on, I feel his mouth between my legs.
My eyes pop open and my mouth drops.
Happy birthday? Yes. Yes it really is.
Happy freaking birthday to me.
Sorry this is kind of a filler chapter before the birthday festivities! I am also really curious what everyone thinks of the confessions Paul and Scarlett made to each other, and even more so what you all are thinking about Embry! I kind of really love Embry and Scarlett's friendship... Anyone else?
Please follow and favorite if you haven't already, and review too because it makes me happy! Thanks for reading!
