II
The second time I saw Bella Swan was at her house about a week later, when I drove Billy up to Forks to make up with Charlie.
I'd been a thorn in his side since the beach, begging him to apologize to Charlie so Bella would have a reason to come back to La Push. On the second day, I pulled a few cables out of the TV, stuffed them on top of the kitchen cupboards, and told him it was broken. Billy was pissed about missing the pre-season highlights, and after a few days of assuring him I couldn't – wouldn't – fix it, he had to seriously consider missing the first game of March Madness. Finally, after a week of my shenanigans, he asked Old Quil if we could borrow his car for the night.
By way of explaining, Billy handed me the keys and grumbled, "Let's get this over with, then."
There was a car parked on the edge of the lawn at Charlie's house. I watched as Bella jumped out, looking embarrassed, while the driver scowled at us through the heavy rain. We could see him in stark relief from the headlights, making the shadows under his eyes more menacing. His skin was so white it almost glowed against the high beams.
I was happy to intrude on his time with her. I couldn't ignore it; I'd been imagining seeing her again since the minute she left. If I cared enough to worry about it, I probably would have stopped myself from getting so obsessed with a girl I'd only met once. But for some reason, the memory of the beach kept popping up in front of my thoughts, the strange change in atmosphere hanging around transported me back to the feeling of safety hiding under old quilts used to give me; like coming home.
I had it bad. Quil and Embry were starting to notice my distractedness, and even guessed it was because of a girl. My face had gotten hot enough to toast bread when they finally discovered the source of my distraction. They knew me too well.
I got suspicious when the car squealed recklessly out of sight on the slick road, then looked over at my father and groaned. His eyes were wide, nostrils flared, staring fixedly on where the car had been.
"Don't embarrass me, Dad." I begged.
Without waiting for an answer, I hopped out of the car and called to Bella, a smile pulling my face up.
"Hey, Bella."
She squinted through the rain. "Jacob?"
Just then, Charlie's cruiser swung around the corner, his lights shining on us. I was already climbing out, a wide grin stretching my lips. I was excited to see her again – and to make sure she didn't forget about me with all of the boys at Forks seemingly tripping over themselves to get her attention.
"Billy!" Charlie called as soon as he got out of the car.
Bella turned on her heel and ran towards the house, motioning for me to follow her when she ducked under the porch.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you behind the wheel, Jake," Charlie exclaimed, but his voice was more teasing than scolding.
"We get permits early on the rez," I responded, prepared with a lie.
"Sure you do," Charlie laughed.
"I have to get around somehow," Billy chimed in from the passenger seat. I was glad to see he had recovered from whatever spooked him before.
Charlie and I helped Billy out of the car and back into his wheelchair, then hurried inside. I shook off the rain from my jacket on the porch, then rung out my ponytail.
Charlie's house was familiar, but it felt different now. I hadn't been there since Bella moved in, and the difference was obvious. The kitchen hummed with activity already. She had turned on the overhead light, casting the room into sharp shadows of yellow haze.
There was a towel hanging on the oven door, a pair of mitts on the counter, and a napkin holder actually containing napkins on the table. I didn't believe at first when I looked down for the coffee stains on the counter – years ago I made a joke about it to friends, saying, "I think they look like boobs," to a very receptive group of eleven-year-old boys – that they had disappeared completely. I was under the impression those would have to be taken out with a hammer. But no, for the very first time, Charlie's kitchen counter was staring right back up at me, daring me to compare it to the caked-on grime of fermented coffee spills sprinkled in crumbs that I was used to. I was half-convinced that residue possessed sentience by now, and was crawling around the city dump with a vendetta.
"This is a surprise," Charlie said, sounding excited.
"It's been too long," Billy responded. "I hope it's not a bad time." His eyes flashed over to Bella.
"No, it's great. I hope you can stay for the game."
I grinned. "I think that's the plan – our TV broke last week."
Billy made a face at me. "And, of course, Jacob was anxious to see Bella again," he added.
I scowled, touching my chin to my chest while studying the floor as if I had just noticed the patterned linoleum was horrifically ugly.
"Are you hungry?" Bella asked, feet headed toward the kitchen.
"Naw, we ate just before we came," I answered sheepishly, still unable to look up.
"How about you, Charlie?"
"Sure," he replied.
We moved over to the living room. Charlie plopped on the recliner next to Billy and turned on the game. I sat on the couch for a while, still too embarrassed to try and talk to Bella. Then, when my mouth started watering, I was forced to follow the smell of grilled cheese into the kitchen.
Bella was standing next to the frying pan on the opposite side of the kitchen, slicing a tomato. She had her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail, exposing the graceful curve of her neck as it slid into the towel tossed over her shoulder. After a moment, she stood up straighter, turning her head slightly.
"So, how are things?" I asked when she noticed me standing behind her.
"Pretty good," she replied, smiling delightedly. She glanced up at me again quickly, eyes alight with enthusiasm. "How about you? Did you finish your car?"
"No." I frowned. "I still need parts. We borrowed that one." I pointed with my thumb at Old Quil's weathered Ford.
She smiled amusedly. "Sorry. I haven't seen any… what was it you were looking for?"
"Master cylinder." I grinned, leaning forward subconsciously.
"Is something wrong with the truck?" I asked with sudden inspiration – if I fixed up her car, she would have to come to La Push to get it, right? The monstrosity was old enough to be in a museum, so I could probably drag out a repair long enough for her to come and visit a couple times.
"No," she snuffed out my idea quickly, poking the sandwiches with a spatula.
"Oh. I just wondered because you weren't driving it."
She nudged one of the sandwiches up to peek underneath, then put it back down, looking disappointed with its progress.
"I got a ride with a friend," she said, standing up straight and raising her chin defiantly.
"Nice ride," I admired. From what I had seen, it was a newer Volvo. "I didn't recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around here." I added.
She nodded as if half-listening, flipping over the sandwiches.
"My dad seemed to know him from somewhere." I continued, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.
"Jacob, could you hand me some plates? They're in the cupboard over the sink."
"Sure," I replied, eyes falling to the ground in a confused grimace.
I tried to think objectively about the situation. She had been alone, in a car, with a guy… Oh.
Maybe Bella wasn't all that into me on the beach, and I had misinterpreted the signs. Had one of her other admirers gotten the guts to make a move before I did? Had I thrown our conversation way out of proportion? At the time, it felt like some sort of turning point; knocking over a row of dominos, setting events in motion.
No, I had not imagined anything, I decided; no one could convince me our words hadn't held something important, something vital. I wanted to know why it suddenly felt like we were talking through a glass wall. There was a juicy secret attached to this, I could tell, because Bella was fidgeting like a restless animal, eyes darting around like she expected an attack at any time. Even when I knew she wasn't being honest with me, I wasn't mad. How could I be? It was so glaringly obvious she had a secret it hardly counted as a lie.
The realization that I did not care whether or not she was telling the truth dawned on me, and I began to wonder if she'd put me under some sort of spell. I was usually a strict tell-it-like-it-is type of person. There's no time to beat around the bush, get on with it, y'know? But now this girl had me wondering whether or not I should call bull or let her keep whatever skeletons hid in her closet. Maybe I didn't want to know.
What gave me the balls to think I had a right to know? Did making mud-pies together when we were kids make me anyone at all to her? Dropping in had seemed like a normal, socially-acceptable thing to do, but maybe I was woefully wrong. Maybe I didn't want to be a part of this story.
No, that wasn't it. I didn't want to be in a story where I played the pawn. I always felt like a side-character, a plot device, a convenient explanation for the audience. This felt like being used.
Why didn't I care? What in the world had gotten into me! Was she just a naturally compelling and engaging person? Did she have this effect on everyone?
My chest felt heavy, but I liked her too much to give up. I was willing to be an old family friend until this guy messed up, when I would be waiting in the wings for my next shot. Besides, Bella was good company. She was easy to talk to. I didn't mind just being her friend.
But I was ever so curious.
"So, who was it?" I asked, feigning nonchalance as I set two plates on the counter next to the frying pan.
She sighed in defeat, shoulders shrugging. "Edward Cullen."
I laughed. Of course, she wouldn't want to tell me that! No wonder I had to coax it out of her. I'd accused him and his family of being vampires little more than a week ago. She must have seen Billy through the windshield – with his flared nostrils and angry eyes – and assumed I felt the same way.
"Guess that explains it, then. I wondered why my dad was acting so strange."
"That's right," she said innocently. I saw through her right away. "He doesn't like the Cullens."
"Superstitious old man," I muttered.
"You don't think he'd say anything to Charlie?" She whispered, words coming out in a rush.
I paused. It was clear she was hiding this boyfriend from Charlie, which I didn't really care about. What she told him was her business. But was I going to be let in on the secret?
"I doubt it," I finally said, unknowingly answering both our questions. "I think Charlie chewed him out pretty good last time. They haven't spoken much since – tonight is sort of a reunion, I think. I don't think he'd bring it up again."
"Oh," she breathed, leaning forward with the weight of her relief. I watched her carefully for a minute, trying to decide whether or not she was going to continue. Then, I got distracted by the smell of food. I stared at the ground sheepishly when she carried out a plate for me, too.
Bella and I chatted on the couch during the game, though I did most of the talking. She was somewhere far away, lost in other thoughts. When the game ended, she followed us to the front door, still seeming out of touch with her surroundings.
"Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?" I asked, trying not to sound desperate.
"I'm not sure," she hummed, eyes falling to the floor.
"That was fun, Charlie," Billy said.
"Come up for the next game," Charlie encouraged.
"Sure, sure," Billy said. "We'll be here. Have a good night." His eyes shifted to Bella, and his smile disappeared. "You take care, Bella," he added seriously.
"Thanks," she muttered, looking away.
I pushed Billy back to the car in silence, wondering if I had missed my shot with Bella Swan.