I
carried on with my painting. Jasper had knocked on my door after I bolted from the scene. There was no way of knowing what I would do next. He made my blood boil, my teeth ache from the intensity I had them clenched. It wasn't even his fault. It was mine. I was becoming too wrapped up in old mistakes and disappointment.
How was he to know how much I hated Daniel? That I loathed him with every cell of my being?
How was he to know he was a traitor I could never forgive for taking away Alice? The only good friend I ever had? The sister I would always cherish even though she was gone? He took every piece of me that mattered the most.
Yet there was more to me. There had to be. There was no denying I was unwisely attracted to Edward. I wasn't totally anaesthetized by his abusive arrogance or his erratic motives. And those eyes of his. I couldn't help re-imagine them. They seemed so haunted, so disturbed yet magical and purified with a million colours I could never blend together to create. They were eyes that didn't want or need anything it did or didn't see. There was nothing they didn't capture within the gaze of their secrecy.
But what did he hide? Why did he hide it? Revealing something only to me? I knew he listened, watched me when he thought I wasn't looking. Maybe gathered information he could use against me in an argument, berate me with taunts about my personal life.
It didn't feel like that was the reason why he felt the need to discreetly spy on me.
A part of me couldn't help but feel there was some kind of attraction on his part, except he was distracted by the way I bounced back from every aggravated conversation that passed between us. My message to remain unaffected was clearer than his decision to remain distant.
My option to crack him open was invariable. He had to let me in, take me as his prisoner as such. I was ready to be taken over to a place I had to enter before I could escape.
My painting was drying in one corner. My portrait of a single night companion almost did it justice. Only the shimmer of his impassive soul was missing from the round white gaps for eyes. They were going to be painted last and with extra precision, without instilling what I had seen in person, would leave it just a picture without a meaning, a face without a name.
And it had a name. It told me. Savrin. No. Savril. That was it. Savril.
I remembered now. How could I have forgotten a name so enigmatic?
The clock chimed five. I bolstered up my elation from the memory and hummed my favourite tune as I spun and trotted barefoot into the bathroom, dropping my clothes and stepping into the shower cubicle.
The hot water sprayed my face, warming my frigid skin as I lathered up my arms. I breathed out a sigh, enjoying the moment of completeness as the water rain on my head. The gentle pressure massaged my scalp and the numb ache in my neck and shoulders.
I washed my hair then grabbed a clean towel from the shelf as I stepped out and wiped dry, wrapping it around me as I tip toed into my bedroom and picked up the nightshirt lying on the end of my bed, chosen in advance to my fixed decision not to attend tonight's dinner.
But before I could change my mobile bleeped. There was a message.
An unwarranted excitement unbalanced me. It was always good to receive outside correspondence. It reminded me there was a world outside of the box I was now sealed in.
I was even more excited to see the name Jake flash on my cracked screen.
"Meet me in five, on the stairs."
And that was it. An order to meet, in five short minutes, as if I wasn't bedraggled and wet and half way into my bed clothes. But I couldn't turn him down. I'd waited too long to see him, exchange one word via mouth or text. It never came and now he was ready, somehow adamant I turn up without questions, and like the doormat that I was becoming, I listened.
It took me ten minutes to dry my hair and beautify myself without looking like I had been trying too hard, only to fail at it.
I was late too, but so was he. My butt had become cemented to the stone steps as the wind kept blowing my hair across my face, smearing my lip gloss across my chin. My fifth application was in progress when I saw a figure walking toward me. At first, I thought it was Edward, but the walk was different, just as upheld and dignified, but lacking in casual step.
It was as if a soldier marched down the drive, yielding a rifle and leading a troop.
It wasn't something I had noticed before, but for Jake it appeared normal, a common regularity to walk with so much…superiority and strength.
My hand lifted to wave as he approached. He didn't smile back. Then again, I couldn't see his face in the dark. It made me feel less irrelevant.
He stopped a foot away beneath a whistling tree, its leaves hanging just above his head that was bowed down in what looked like a timid prayer. Not him too.
He didn't look set to move, so I stood to walk towards him, gingerly taking each step as if I was walking into a trap, a carefully hidden cell I would fall into and regret the day I trusted him with all my heart. But I did trust him. The realisation unnerved me as well as brought me a much needed calm.
His hair was different, cut shorter, making him look younger, even boyish, but solid and masculine all at the same time. The stature of the person standing before me wasn't that of a boy, but a young man with a hard earned right to be feared by anyone might try to oppose him.
A breeze blew his bangs across his forehead, revealing an incision that sliced from temple to temple, as if it was purposely engraved into a perfect straight line.
"Jake what happened?" I stepped closer.
Both hands were in his pockets, two green eyes lifted to mine, glistening almost white.
"I fell," he murmured, the words spoken too softly.
I stepped closer and touched the scar. He closed his eyes. My hand flinched back. I didn't want to be hurting him. But when he opened them again, he didn't look hurt, not physically anyway.
"Did you get my texts, calls?" I asked, trying to resist the urge to touch him again
He shook his head without looking at me. "No, there's been no connection where I've been." The answer was blunt, withdrawn. Maybe he had tried to contact me too.
"And where was that?"
"I told you, with my Uncle." The tone was definitely irate.
"How long are you going to be here?" I didn't want to keep asking question. But it was kind of difficult to do with someone who wasn't initiating the conversation.
"Not long." He shrugged, looking up to see my reaction.
"Long enough to talk, catch up. Get a bite to eat?" It felt like a long shot to gain any interest. Maybe he was still offended by our last meeting.
"Aren't they expecting you?" He asked lazily, nodding at the Manor.
"Not really. I think I've had it with their minimalistic talk over dinners." I smirked.
He rolled in his lips, probably trying not to say something humorous, insulting or both. It felt like a long time had passed before he spoke. "I know a place we could go."
"You do? Where? The Diner?" My question was over enthusiastic. He looked at me, properly, as if he'd found me at long last and was taking me in, feature to feature, limb from limb.
I'll show you," he said. Then he actually smiled, briefly, leading the way.
We crossed the hill past the meadow and cut through the graveyard. It was eerily quiet and even more despondent during the night. The headstones overshadowed the humps of dirt we stepped on, and the statue looked freakishly taller and observant, as if following our every move with blind solid eyes though it was headless. It grew difficult to see where I was stepping clumsily. I stumbled a few times into Jake's back as we approached the other side of an entrance.
His mind seemed somewhere else. My further stumbles in the dark didn't do much to make him react or help me to my feet with more than a brisk hand to my shoulders. The way he handled me seemed too scarce, lacking in anything more than an acquaintance.
I tried to conjure up some likeness to the person I met only days ago. What had changed in him so rapidly? Nothing was addressed with his usual eagerness to please, and nothing, not even my offered brush of hand could make him smile at my hints to bring us close, compact in this crazy world I had to call home.
When we reached a clear opening surrounded by Mulberry trees and short ferns, the centre was free of anything else. The soil was smooth and supple, with a wafting scent of weed repellent.
Jake switched on torchlight and aimed it at my face. I blanched.
"Sorry," he muttered, aiming it down at a pile of twigs arranged within a circle of rocks.
"Who made that?" I asked.
"Me." He kneeled down to start the fire. "It can get a little chilly at night."
He lit a match and threw it into the half burned logs. I was kind of disappointed he wasn't going to rub two sticks together to ignite flames. I had always wanted to see that happen when they showed you it on outdoor survival programmes.
"It's quicker this way," he uttered, with his reserved smile.
I kneeled down beside him, watching the blue flames change to a ferocious orange.
"Any other tricks up your sleeve?"
He just smirked as I rubbed my hands over the rising fire. Not that it was that cold. I just wanted to try it, see myself as an outdoors type, camping out for the night.
He opened his backpack and slid out a small saucepan and a can of Spaghettios.
"Food." He waved about a tin opener.
"Great!"
"It's nothing much."
"I love Spagettios. It was pretty much all I ate until I was five."
He smiled quickly, looking begrudged to believe a single word I saying.
"What's for dessert?"
He threw me a twin pack of Oreos.
I grinned like an idiot. "Wow you read my mind."
This time he chuckled as if I'd stepped on some secretive joke. I didn't want to ruin it with another lame question at what he found it so funny.
"Pretty much," he gruffed out, heating the hoops. They began to sizzle and burn around the edge of the pan as he stirred with a stick. I was going to have to remember to bring him some cutlery next time, I thought, sinking my butt into the soft soil.
Something howled. It sounded like a coyote.
"Relax, it's probably just a cougar," Jake said, his tone teasing.
"There aren't any cougars in Virginia," I swatted him. He didn't react, only settle the pan down between us.
"Could be, you never know what's out there." He sucked his thumb, looking up to catch my eye. It lasted no more than two seconds, but left a lasting effect on pulse, soaring higher with every anticipated glance.
I mentally kicked myself for being attracted to two very different guys. Both of whom were abnormally exalted in behaviour. I was in over my head.
"Careful, it's hot," he warned as he handed me a bowl of hoops, turning to fish two plastic spoons from his backpack. So he had heard of cutlery.
We waited for the food to cool down with only a few exchanges of words, then ate sloppily.
It tasted great, like smoked tomatoes and pasta, nothing like the hoops I usually heated back home. Besides, I hadn't felt so in place and together for a long time.
"Thirsty?" He asked, standing with an empty bottle and traipsing over to the west wing of fluttering bushes, disappearing toward the sound of a distant stream.
He returned a good five or so minutes later, carrying a full bottle of water, just when I'd began to worry he'd left me in the lurch with a hazardous forest fire.
"I thought you'd left me," I joked, half serious enough for him to get I wasn't totally impressed
"As if I could." He grunted, completely ambiguous with his meaning. The way he looked at me as he sat down suggested I count myself lucky though. He cared more than I took for granted.
He handed me the water and I chugged on it for a while. The water was the freshest I had ever tasted.
"Taste good?"
"Mmm." I hiccupped, wiping my lips.
I picked up my mini Oreos and ate them in a record breaking time of fifty seconds. Usually it took me at least a minute and twenty. Jake was watching me with maybe adulation, either that or disbelief. Although nothing was said, I could tell he was somewhat impressed with my indulgence to overeat without a calculation of calories. I didn't tell him that the calculating was something I did later.
He leaned on his elbow and picked a red berry from the mulberry bush, inspecting it before plopping it into his mouth, then handed me a couple. But they were kind of bitter and dry. I threw them into the fire when he wasn't looking.
"So…," I began nervously. "How has it been with your uncle?"
He shrugged and blew a berry into the fire. "Busy."
"How's that?" I kept my eyes on his broad hands, rather than the glowing shade of his skin, the muss of hair around his crown begging to be combed with my fingers.
Besides, the gash on his head made me want to cry with a jolt of some phantom pain, like some delayed reaction to his feelings.
"With plenty of farmland comes plenty of work."
"Is that." I hesitated "How you cut your head?" I sounded upset, which I guess I was at this point.
His eyes found mine flitting over to his face. They seemed to hold me there, with his internal misery. The sadness broke my gaze. It was too difficult to see, and my own proclamation of it dampened my mood.
"Yeah," he replied, with a light treble in his voice. He wasn't about to reveal much more. I didn't want him to. I wanted to apologize, but why? Was it even my fault? Or was I sorry I cared so much.
It grew silent as I looked up at the starless sky, pitch black and full of promise of a new day, a new slate, a change of circumstance.
"How about you?" He croaked, clearing his throat. "How've you been?"
It was hard to believe it was two days since I'd last seen him. It felt longer. So much had happened. Evolved, and part of me wanted to spill it all out to him. Every detail, every aspect of my confused feelings that had me crushed, ready to explode the moment I was questioned or doubted by a member of the Cullens.
"You can tell me," his voice hummed, synchronised with the hush of a gentle wind. It was as though he could read my mind. Understand me, even when I didn't understand anything at all. Not even what I wanted, where I wanted to belong.
"If I was in danger would you help me?" The words trailed out of my mouth in an instant. I gasped, afraid I'd said too much.
He twirled a berry between his fingers. It burst and deep red liquid trickled down his hand, reminding me of the dream and the river of red, of everything associated with that image still rotating in my mind.
"It's ok," his voice echoed.
My eyes opened. I hadn't realised they'd been closed.
"I would help you." He paused, avoiding my gaze. "If I could."
"That night when you left, I dreamed of you," I admitted. He didn't seem surprised.
"I was attacked and you wouldn't help me." My teeth chattered. He kept his head facing the ground. "I begged you to save me, but you wouldn't move. You watched while I was attacked," I continued, angry at the near stranger refusing to look up at me, pay any attention to anything other than the rotted ground.
Silence enunciated the pounding of my heart as he sat up and curled his knees up to his chin. The flames began to crackle and spit particle of yellow ash that fell like gray and dull lint.
"Maybe there was no choice," he finally answered, stoking the fire energetically with the wing of a large branch.
"Isn't there always a choice?"
"Not when it's your choice to make."
"How would I know?" I wasn't sure if we were still talking about the dream.
"You just would." He looked at me fleetingly, then threw away the branch. "Maybe in your dream I was restricted from entering." That answer pleased him more than it did me. I looked away before I lost my temper…again.
He watched me. I could see his head turn frequently from the corner of my eye. He was intent on reassuring me, but also reluctant to delve any deeper.
Then he caved. "Was it Edward who attacked you?" He asked me casually, like ordering coffee with no milk. Except his tone was coarse with an emotion I couldn't name.
"Yes," I admitted, finding the truth made the weight much easier to carry.
He shuffled and fumbled in his luggage. "Maybe you should listen to what your dreams are telling you."
I turned to look at his back arched over his belongings. "You think he's dangerous?" Whatever his answer was going to be I knew what I believed.
"I think he's…" He stopped rifling to think. "Uncontrollable," he said, with a passionate detest.
"I don't think he's all that bad," I confessed.
"I don't think he's all that good either." It was said with so much hatred I almost wished he hadn't spoken.
A few trees rustled. There was a faint crunch of twigs snapping beneath heavy feet.
Boots came into the light, followed by tall, long legs and a fitted zip jacket. The shades were a dead giveaway.
"You best head back," said Edward, pursed lipped and irked into nothing new. "They think you've hitch hiked back home," he muttered on, still vexed and ready to implode.
I stood quickly, realising I hadn't told any of them where I was going. I felt such a flake.
But my blushing began for another reason, and Jake noticed with a frown in Edward's enticing direction.
"I'll take you back," said Jake, turning awkwardly to look at me. Another emotion swept across his face that I couldn't understand. I just knew he was peeved at my response to Edward's arrival and my need to defend him. It made two of us.
"I'll take her from here," was Edward's hard tone from behind.
My own response became stuck as Jake turned to face him. "I'm sure you will."
I sensed a double meaning. Especially since Edward's jaw locked and cracked. Then something unkind passed between them, a warning on both sides.
I stepped around the fire. I wasn't sure I wanted either of them to walk me back to the Manor. Although if I really had to choose. It wouldn't have been Edward. Only because he made my nerves stand on end.
But seeing as though I had no choice, I had to make a reluctant move toward him.
"Will you visit again?" I asked Jake.
He simply nodded. I stepped closer and he took me into his arms and held me there. Unwilling to let go. And I didn't want him too. It felt strangely too good to be near him. A shaft of hope washed over me as his heart thrummed against me like a trapped butterfly. I smiled into his hair, inhaling the scent of peppermint and smoke.
A cough made me pull back. Edward had stepped back into the shadows. Yet I could still see the silhouette of his lean frame.
"Remember what I said," whispered Jake, kissing me gently on the lips. It lingered, but I couldn't enjoy it like I wanted to. I could feel Edward's eyes burning through the back of me, almost tearing through my shirt. His footsteps began to fade as I pulled back.
"I've got to go Jake." I said.
He held my hand and I felt guilty, anxious to leave and follow Edward. Why was Jake choosing now to be so affectionate? It seemed deliberate, for Edward's benefit.
"I'll call you," he hummed into my hand. Where had I heard that before?
I pulled away and stepped back.
"I'll call you too. Take care of yourself." I smiled, wondering why I felt so torn.
"You too," he called back as I ran into the forest, my feet rushing ahead of my mind, racing without thoughts and deliberation. My heart was telling me to stop, that I didn't have the energy to finish what I wanted to start. Wanting to be alone with Edward was inadvisable, reeked in havoc and immeasurable disappointments. But I had to have him to myself. If only this once.
