Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
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My sheets are twisted around my legs as I open my eyes, reminding me of the other set of legs they were tangled with last night. I find my phone and text Edward a good morning from a bed that still smells like him. It's really early on a Saturday, but I know he won't mind.
I smile at his, Hey, what are you up to today?
It may seem like a simple question, but I hear the tone of his voice through his text, hear feelings in his words, and hints of something between the lines. I laugh at myself. I'm so far gone over this guy, but at least I realize how bizarre my thoughts are. As warm as this all feels though, I can't seem to mind how silly he makes me. I wrap his hoody tighter around me, as I tell him about the plans I have today to cook with my dad.
A car door closes, close enough to be coming from my driveway. Somewhere between texting Edward and reminiscing about him, I try to remember if my dad was planning to go anywhere this early. Edward is as distracting as ever though, so as he keeps texting me, whatever my dad is up to flees my mind.
How was your night?
After we left his family's dinner party, we were here, in this very bed until just before my dad got home. I feel flushed from my cheeks to my toes. The only thing that could have made last night better was if he didn't have to go.
You already know.
Metal creaking hinges vibrate through my walls, and it feels like ice water has been dumped on my overheated skin. I jump out of bed, take off Edward's hoody, and pull-on actual clothes. I know that sound, but I have no idea why I'm hearing it right now.
I hear the shower running down the hall as I make my way to the stairs. My mind is moving faster than my feet, when I step wrong on the last few steps. As I grab the banister to steady myself, I curse Jake for the pain radiating from my ankle.
I hobble out the front door without shoes. I don't have to look to know that there is a bright orange vehicle at the end of the drive. Gravel digs into my heels, but I keep walking until I'm standing beside my truck and smacking the side of it. "Why are you here?"
Jake doesn't look at me as he keeps working under the hood. "I love you too."
I smack my truck again. This time, it stings. "Stop saying that. Why are you here?"
He's wearing nice jeans and a gray, long-sleeved shirt that buttons at the cuffs. "Your truck was due for a tune-up."
"Is this how you dress to do tune-ups nowadays?"
"It could be. You really wouldn't know, would you?"
I look toward the house, annoyed that my dad would just let him work on my truck without saying anything to me. "Give me my keys and leave."
"I don't have your keys. I have a spare."
I stare at him, blinking rapidly. I can't even begin to describe the thoughts running through my mind now that I know he's kept a spare key to my vehicle this entire time. "You are deranged. Give me the key and go. My friend's family has an auto shop, so we are no longer in need of your help."
He pulls the key from his pocket and dangles the single ring from a finger extended my way. "Your friend, huh?" He looks at me, and he knows. There aren't many auto shops in Forks. It's enemy territory, and I've crossed it. I barely gave a second thought to how he'd feel about me befriending Edward and Emmett, but I can tell it's like a slap in the face to him now.
I'm not going to feel guilty though. Whatever issues he has with Paul and his friends has absolutely nothing to do with me. I take the key. "How's Leah?" I ask, not from genuine concern, which is sad because I do care, but right now this is only because he's making me so angry.
He winces, like he's been caught, but a blush creeps up his cheeks before he gets his accusing scowl back in place. "Fine. Can we talk, please?"
"I don't know. Can you go five minutes without yelling at me?"
"Can you?"
In a different world, I'd be teasing him over that blush because that's the kind of relationship we should have had. I know that. I hate the sharpness in our tones, so I adjust, going for sickly sweet instead. "I can try. What is it that you'd like to talk about, Jacob?"
He sneers, but when I scoff at his expression, he says, "I just want to know what happened, and you won't tell me. We were good, Bella. We were really good, and then we just weren't."
"We were better as friends. Why can't you get that? I don't know how else to say it. We were friends. That was great. We dated. That wasn't so great."
"Yeah." He exhales, shaking his head. "You keep saying that, but what it seems like is that we had sex, and you had some problem with it. Instead of telling me what happened, you bailed, and now, I don't know what the hell I did so wrong. I don't want to fuck things up again." He slams the hood of my truck. "Whatever, Bella. I told her you'd be like this."
As he walks away, I throw my elbows on the front of my truck and lean forward as I rub my eyes until they burn. I never wanted to give him some weird sex complex, but I don't know what he wants from me. We were better as friends, and if he's referring to Leah, it's completely weird that they still talk about me.
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My dad crosses his arms. "Stop, you're ruining it. Are you even paying attention? Your notebook is still blank."
"Why would I write this step? Boiling water is a given." I look down in the pot as steam hits my face. "Is this basically what a facial is?"
"I wouldn't know. Now, would you stop that?"
"A watched pot never boils," we say in unison. He's been saying that since the moment he set the water on the stove, so of course, I'm not going to take my eyes off of it.
"You're being too literal. Eventually, it will boil. Trust me."
He sets a few cans on the counter. "Maybe you should at least write down these ingredients."
"Good idea." I write at a slant that I hope is legible, since I don't stop looking at the water as I write it all down.
He gets out a can opener. "Well, I'm just going to go ahead and open these myself because if you're not going to look, you're going to hurt yourself."
I laugh as I watch tiny bubbles form, but I only started doing this, so I could lean against the counter and try to keep my weight off my ankle. It doesn't hurt all the time, but the longer I stand on it, the more I notice just how tender it is. "I was thinking I could try making this for Edward, but do you think I should just make it, or should I have him make it with me?"
"Make him help." His voice is gruff as he starts cranking the can opener, but then it softens as he adds, "How about you let me know when you want to do that, and I'll get out of your hair?"
"Okay," I say, holding in my surprise at his offer. I should be mature about this, but inside, I'm squealing. "Boiling! Ha! Now what?" I look around, but we never got the noodles out. "Noodles. We need noodles."
"What's wrong with you?" he asks when I fail to cover my limp as I walk over to the pantry.
"Stairs are tricky."
"Did you ice it?"
That might have helped. "It's fine—barely hurts."
He shakes his head and tells me which shelf to look on. After I get the noodles in the water, I get more serious about my notetaking, but I'm not sure exactly what a little of this and a little of that will translate to when I'm making this without my dad's direction.
"Are you all set for Phoenix?" he asks as he taps oregano into the sauce.
"Sure. I have a good idea of what I'll pack when I know when it actually is that I'm going to go." I scrunch up my nose. I should want to see my mom, and it will only be for a few days, but I can't say that I actually want to go. Now that I'm eighteen, I don't technically have to see her, but I also know I'll feel really bad about it if I don't. While we're onto matters of uncomfortable subjects, I say, "By the way, I asked Jake to stop working on my truck this morning. We're not really friends anymore, so I don't want him doing me any favors. I'm going to get a job, and the McCarty's run a shop, so I'll figure it out."
He makes a humming sound as he pulls out a couple plates. "What's wrong with your truck?"
"Nothing. He said it needed a tune-up, but he was dressed like he was going to a church or something."
He hums again. "Well, did you let him down easy?"
I look at him with creased brows, not entirely sure what he's talking about.
He strains the noodles and asks me to grab some drinks. It's not until we sit down that he says, "I'm pretty sure that kid was in love the moment he heard you were moving back here, but you knew that, didn't you?"
I roll my eyes and start twirling spaghetti. "Yeah, I guess I picked up on that." It's not like I can say I let the guy down easy. What happened with Jake would probably be considered the opposite of easy.
After dinner, I grab my phone from where I left it charging on my nightstand and sit on the edge of my mattress as I turn the screen on. A weight is heavy on my chest when I see that I've missed a few calls and have several new text messages, mostly from Alice.
Hey, can you talk?
Jasper asked me to hangout.
Answer your phone please.
I'm kind of freaking out.
Rosalie is still out with Emmett.
Bella, I need you!
And now Cullen's car is in my driveway.
Emmett took Rosalie to La Push. They want us to meet up.
Should we get you?
Um…Cullen says there's no point asking you.
What the hell, Bella? Where are you?
I throw myself back on my bed and close my eyes as my throat threatens to close. After seeing Jake this morning, La Push is the last place I should be going but imagining Alice and Rose in La Push with the guys, while I'm at home, avoiding La Push at all costs, doesn't feel right at all.
After taking thirty seconds to steady myself, I get up and start moving. I grab a sweater and look for my keys. I text Alice, letting her know I'm on my way, and let my dad know I'm meeting up with her and Rose and will try not to be back too late. He mumbles something about ice and anti-inflammatories, but I don't have time for such things.
I've got my hand on the door handle on my truck, when headlights blind me as a car turns into my driveway.
My phone chimes with a new text, but I blink and try to make out the color of the car in the dark. Once I do, I head toward the car just as Edward cuts the ignition and opens the door.
"You're leaving?" he asks as he moves around to the front of his vehicle and sits on the hood.
"Just to find you," I say as I stop right in front of him.
"I was in La Push, so…"
"I know."
He tilts his head, and stares a moment, as if I require studying. "You don't go to La Push."
"I know." I don't have much explanation for the change of heart because with time and rational thought, my decision to avoid La Push still stands. "But that's where you were."
He reaches for my hand. "Can you come find me at my house instead? I'll drive you."
I say, "Yes," before pressing my lips to his.
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The ride to his house is quiet, but every once in a while, he lifts my hand and presses lingering kisses against my knuckles.
"How was dinner?" he asks as he pulls into his garage, slipping between a black car and a pillar with ease.
"It was good. We made spaghetti, so I know how now. I thought we could try to make it sometime, if you want to."
He nods as he puts his car in park. "When?"
I shrug. "Whenever you can. My dad said he'd leave."
He smiles. "Really?"
"Well, he said he'd get out of our hair, so maybe he'll just go mow the lawn or something. I'm not sure."
He caresses my face from my check to my ear. Another night in the garage would be great. When his hand cups the back of my neck and pulls me closer, nothing else matters.
When he says against my lips, "Let's go in," I nod even though it means losing the privacy in the garage. Once outside the car, I take his hand as we walk inside. I catch a glimpse in my mind of walking the same way in a more public type of hallway.
"Are you home for the night?" Esme calls from another room.
"I have to take Bella home later," he calls back.
"Hi, Bella!"
"Hi!" I call back, hoping I'm loud enough for her to hear me.
He holds the saloon-style doors open for me as we head into the game room. We take off our shoes and settle on the couch, a routine we seem to know well. This time, I let him pull me to lie down beside him without protest.
It's dark and quiet. He doesn't bother with the TV. His fingertips glide up and down my arm a few times before he says, "Tell me something."
"Like what?"
"Anything, I don't know. Tell me something that bothers you."
He moves his leg over mine, and I wince at the movement, causing him to move back.
"I hurt my ankle earlier. It's okay, but it's sore."
He moves down to my ankle and checks it for himself. "Do you want one of my parents to look at it?" He lifts my leg and rests it back down with a pillow under my foot.
"No, it barely hurts, so when it does, it surprises me. Don't worry. It's not something that's a problem for me right now. I have to go to Phoenix soon, and I don't even know when exactly. My mom says she's buying me a ticket, yet she doesn't do it. My dad has no reaction to how unreliable she is." I stop when I realize I'm rambling. "Anyway, eventually she'll buy the ticket, and I'll go and get it over with. Tell me something that's bothering you."
"I'm bothered that you're bothered."
I lean my forehead against his. "I'll work on being less bothered then," I say. "Anything else?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I don't know what's going on most of the time, so I don't know how worried I should be about anything."
I stare at him, because… "What?"
His phone buzzes from his pocket and he sighs. "Nothing. I don't know. It's been a long night. Let's forget about it."
I don't think he's referring to me because I'm either with him, talking to him, or waiting to be with him again. Even my time with my friends is pretty much all about him too.
When his phone starts buzzing again, his annoyance heightens. I try not to imagine who might be trying to contact him this time.
He pulls the phone out of his pocket and powers it off before dropping it behind the couch. "I need a new number, but my parents won't change it anymore. They want to talk about it or put me in therapy." He shakes his head. "Fuck it. I'll just pay for my own."
He puts his arm over his eyes. I look at him, but as I think about everything that we seem to be troubled by lately, sitting in the silence of it feels too heavy.
I lean forward and kiss his jawline. "Talk to me."
He moves his arm and tilts his head until he's kissing me. "I work in the morning, but I can come over after."
"To my house?" I ask as our breaths mingle with as close as we still are.
"To cook or whatever, if that works."
"That works."
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Hi!
Getting to this point of the story feels like all the little pieces I've created are finally coming together! I don't want to have delays between the next few chapters, so I'll be working on getting them finalized before I post again. Watch out for teasers on Mondays on Facebook. I'll post one when I have the next group of chapters ready and then post on the following Wednesday. Hopefully, soon! Thanks so much to YourVixen and dazzled eyes22 for all your help on this!