Chapter 5: Movie Night
Oh God what was she going to do now. She didn't necessarily hate hanging out with Bella and Jacob but why did Jacob have to bring him. Although from the way those two bickered she thinks he invited himself, he seems like the type to do that.
Charlie had grounded Bella over her falling grades in school, all leading back to her breakup with some asshole who probably didn't deserve her anyways. Jacob had asked Charlie if he could come over and watch a movie with Bella and got a yes out of Charlie in a matter of minutes. Charlie really liked Jacob, he probably would be overjoyed if they started dating, well as excited as Charlie could get, cracking a smile or too, maybe.
Paul seemed to follow her wherever she went. She started out sitting on the couch but Paul sits right next to her, a little to close, the heat of his skin and scent surrounding her. When she moves to the DVDs to pick out a movie, he was right there on the floor with her, couldn't he just back off a little. She looks over at him, eyes narrowed as she silently asks what he wanted with her eyes. Paul has the audacity to look innocent and pick up a movie from the stack absentmindedly, some romance that she was sure he wouldn't like, she didn't like romances, so she was going to veto it. Oh God, it was Titanic, 3 hours of God help me.
She taps the DVD and looks into his eyes, with a 'you're kidding me, right?' gaze. He looks down and mumbles what sounds like a quick, "Fuck." She can't help but smile at his back as he moves away, leaving poor Titanic behind.
She picks one and picks up Paul's pick. Turning to the group she says with all sarcasm, "Paul picked one of my absolute favorites." She holds up Titanic and smirks at him, he sighs and rolls his eyes, but says nothing. It was like picking a bear and she loved it.
"No romances," Bella says quickly vetoing the movie.
She turns her gaze to Bella, rising an eyebrow. Only Bella would take what she just said seriously, but she smirks and feigns offense and continues with, "You dissing the Titanic, Bella? This is the Love Boat of our generation."
"No, I have that upstairs," Charlie says pointing to the ceiling.
"Charlie you just showed your age. Stop it, before we have to kick you out," she says indignantly, pointing at him. Charlie just laughs, he didn't have the Love Boat.
She plops down on the couch next to Paul, because that was the only open spot. She turns to her pick and says, "I never heard of this one," she turns it to Charlie and the others, Interview with a Vampire. She wondered how accurate it was.
Bella's violent reaction catches her completely off guard as Bella jumps up and grabs the DVD from her hand and throws at across the room. It hits the wall with a terrible thwack, the case opening as the disc falls out. She watches the DVD with undigested shock, then turns her eyes up to Bella, who stands next to her by the couch, her mouth thin with displeasure.
Daiane stands up and says, "O… K…" through tight lips. She quickly turns away from Bella and walks into the kitchen as Charlie and the other try to convince her to stay.
"Daiane, wait," Charlie says, trying to be the good peacekeeper, "Bella that was uncalled for. Daiane, it's ok. Bella apology now."
"Nope, Charlie it's really ok. I have something else I wanted to get done," she says, hiding her angry as much as possible, to make the others leave her alone. She walks into the kitchen hearing the other talking and telling Bella that what she did was not ok. But they do pick a movie, some silly horror movie. She didn't notice Paul following her until she turns around at the counter to compose herself and get her angry under control.
"Holy hell," she says alarmed. "What are you doing?"
"Just coming to see what you're doing," he says, with a shrug of his shoulder. She glares at him not answering his question as screams from the horror movie came through the doorway leading to the living room.
She busies herself with prepping the recipe she wanted to make for days, as Paul leans against the counter watching her. He crosses his muscular arms over his chest as he watches her with his penetrating eyes; he wears his usually style, a gray tee shirt today with jean shorts.
She can scent him in this small space, he smelled like the woods today. She loved the smell of wood, cedarwood especially. Why did he have to smell so damn good, all the time?
Her eyes dart over to his from, catching glimpses of his neck and chest. He had a strong form, well-muscled and defined. She wanted to bite that neck and then kiss it to lessen the pain. Why did he have to draw her eye so much?
"You can go watch the movie, this will take a while," she says as a way to get rid of him. They were alone in a kitchen again, the last place she wanted to be alone with him again.
"I don't like that movie," he says, deflecting her. She rolls her eyes and takes out a large bowl from the fridge. She had soaked some dried hominy earlier today; it should soak longer but she needed an excuse to get out of the living room and away from Bella before she hurt her.
"Don't worry, I have no intentions of kissing you again," he says right next to her ear. She falters with the large bowl thankfully she was only an inch or so from the counter. She turns her furious gaze on him, to which he smirks and leans closer to persist, "Unless you ask me too."
"Not likely," she growls. She turns back to the fridge to pull out more ingredients, milk and coconut milk than over to the cabinet to grab cinnamon, cloves, sugar, and a can of sweetened condensed milk. All things she got a few days ago so she could make her grandmother's canjica, hominy pudding.
It had been two weeks since that day at Jacob's house, Paul had shown up at the coffee shop almost every day in between. He only missed three days, not that she noticed, she didn't watch the door and search for his scent after work on those days, not that she would admit it. She had grown a little accustom to him sitting at the same table in the shop, always by the window. He ordered the same thing every time, Mocha-licious and a muffin, she was a little pride of herself for finding something that he liked.
"What are you making?" he asks, looking over her shoulder. She put the hominy and water into a pot and puts it on the stove over medium heat, it had to simmer for about an hour.
He stands right behind her, "None of your business," she returns, pushing him away.
"Come on," Paul says opening his arms in welcome, "I just want to get to know you."
"Well, I guess you are going to have a lot of one-sided conversations," she says, busying herself with the other ingredients, but not really doing anything just moving them around on the counter.
"Great," Paul says with false joy, "I love talking to myself. I'm a wonderful guy."
"Oh, come on," she says, annoyed by his attitude at her rejection. "You don't really like me. And I'm no one special."
"You are to me," Paul whispers and her heart skips a beat.
"I'm making canjica. It's my grandmother's recipe," she says, turning down to the counter and the ingredients, because she didn't want to acknowledge his last statement. "It's a Brazilian dessert that is typically served during Brazilian winter festivals, in June."
"You know it's March right," Paul smirks.
"Yes, but it's good and Brazilian winter only get about this cold anyways, well in some places. I guess the temperature made me want some," she tells him, even though she didn't owe him an explanation. Just like before she just started telling him things she shouldn't.
"Oh yeah, Brazil is in the Southern Hemisphere," Paul says. "It's kind of hard to wrap my head around the seasons being at opposite times of the year. Hey can I ask a silly question?" She nods. "Do the toilets flush the other way then from up here, like for real?"
She rises a brow and stares at him with a look that says 'are you serious.' "No, that has nothing to do with geographic location," she tells him. "And what's all this about up here, just because you Northerners decided to make yourself superior. The Southern hemisphere is where all the action is."
"Oh," Paul says leaning in to listen more, now that he got her talking.
She starts telling him of the Carnaval of Brazil, the biggest and most colorful festival in the continent, firework, parades, dances, music, and beautiful art all around. It was held annual the Friday afternoon before Ash Wednesday, huge organized parades were led by samba schools come through the city; some with over 3500 members participating, 8 huge flouts that take up over three blocks and that was just one school. She would watch the parades from her father's shoulders, before he died.
Paul made a silly comment that it sounded like Mardi Gras. How dare he compare it a little thing like Mardi Gras. Carnival was the most popular holiday in Brazil, huge. But he just laughs and jokes, not truly meaning it.
She remembers going with her mother and grandmother to shops around the time of Carnaval, it was a great time to found deals and gifts for people, and it was just fun. It was like the Black Friday of Brazil but so much more fun. Street food everywhere you turned, she tells him about all the food she and her brothers would gorged themselves on.
He said that the New Year's celebrations in Seattle are fun and that he would love to take her there sometime. He talked about how he went to the Make Music Day in Seattle a few years ago and how it could be similar to what she was telling him. She just narrowed her eyes, and said, "I don't think anything you guys have up here can come anywhere close to Carnival." He didn't take offence just smirked and leaned closer to her, like he likes her defiance.
She smells something burning and look over at the stove, jumping away from Paul she shouts, "Oh shit. It burning." Her grandmother would be so disappointment if she screwed up her recipe.
Paul follows her and asks, "Can I help?"
"Get me the coconut and regular milk," she orders. He jumps to her bidding and hands her both items quickly and a measures cup. She smiles at him quickly in thanks before quickly working on the canjica, she didn't really need the measuring cup, her grandmother taught her how to eyeball the amount to get the recipe right. She always said that this was the best way to do it, it was an art you had the learn and pass down to the next generation.
"Open the can of condensed milk, please," she says, stirring the mixture. Paul was so kind to just do what she needed and not ask any questions about anything, so she could focus on the canjica. She mixes in the last of the ingredients and stirs it until it thickens.
"It smells good," he says next to her, cinnamon and sweeten scent the air around them. "Did we save it." He continues as she playfully pushes him away. Paul reaches for the spoon to start eating, but she quickly moves it out of his reach and pushes him away.
"I think so," she takes a spoon to the pot and after blowing on it, takes a quick taste. It's good, not like her grandmother's but she was the master. She looks at Paul, who looks hungrily at the pot, "Would you like to try it?"
Paul nods enthusiastically, she takes another tiny bite from the pot, it was very hot and after blowing on it quickly, offers it to him. She thought he would just take the spoon from her, but instead he opens his mouth; his eyes stare at her as he takes the bowl of the spoon between his lips slowly, as she still holds it. She couldn't help but stare as he did it, his lips looked soft and kissable, a perfect cupid's bow, shaking her head and looking away with a deep blush, stocked by her thoughts. She jumps back, dropping the spoon, "I'll get some bowls," she says quickly, to cover her surprise and excitement.
She liked to eat canjica cold but it was just as good warm, she grabs two bowls and loads them up. She tries to make a mental note not the watch him eat or look at his lips ever again. She wasn't going to share with the others if she didn't have too, she was still a little upset at Bella but she would get over it.
They sit at the table, Paul thankfully ignoring her change in demeaner. They sit in awkward silents, before he says, "we have better food."
Her eyes go wide, in shock, "What did you just say?! This is my grandmother recipe."
He smirked at her and continues, "Are you kidding me! My people invented corn." He make a gesture like he is dropping something and mouths 'boom'.
And the argument ensued, he goes into the fact that all corn is Indian corn and that Native Americans discovered a way to make the corn more edible and bountiful, and they made over 250 different kinds of corn of all different colors. She told him that the Inca, which she was descended from, were a planting culture and corn was their life blood, not to mention that she was Native 'South' American so her people probably were the ones who made at least half of those 250 different kinds of corn.
"You're welcome then," Paul says, ceremoniously, after she made that point.
"And why should 'I' be thanking you? The South is where all the greatest empires were made, like the Mayans and Inca," she returns, needing to win. "Did your people have empires."
"Well, one - empires are over rated," he says holding up one finger. "Second – the Mayans were in Central America so you can't claim them, in the Yucatan I believe. And third, this is the most important one by far, and holds up my first point; didn't the Inca Empire fall apart in—I don't know—less than 100 years. So really empires are over rated."
"And here I thought you were just a dumb brute," she says smirking, she liked sparing with someone. Someone who didn't take himself or his culture to seriously and could argue with her about nothing.
"Oh, I freely admit that I am a dumb brute, ask anyone. I just like reading history books," he smiles and leans into her. "Especially about Native America history, that includes South American history too." She knew that, he usually had a history book or something with him when he came to the coffee shop. His shoulder presses into her sending a warm tingling feeling through her body.
"I like history too. But I never focused on North American cultures," she tells him.
"I can tutor you," he smiles and starts telling her about the Quileute and their stories. He told her one about a raven and a bear, and how the raven got it curling black feet. He told it the way his father told him as a child with voices and gestures, he made her laugh out loud with some of the actions of the story, of the Raven and his burnt feet.
She decided to tell him about the story of her people too, of Jaguar Godfather, the Sun. The sun would be born in the East and die in the West to fight the Lords of the Underworld. Jaguar Godfather was the revealer of evil to her people, the one who revealed Vampires for what they were. She leaves the vampire part out but she conveyed the important message, that Jaguar Godfather was a wise and kind protector of her people.
"Grandpa Jag," Paul says, rubbing his chin. "Sounds interesting."
"He is a wise godfather to my people," she says defectively. "Not a grandpa."
"Do you see him as your Godfather?" he asks.
More than he would every know. "A little," she says.
Charlie walks into the kitchen, he looks a little annoyed and tried, and maybe a little creeped out by the horror movie. "How are you two doing?" Charlie asks. "I can't take any more of that movie."
"I understand. I hate that movie," she agrees.
"It's almost over if you want to catch the end of it and change your mind," Charlie says, in his dry sense of humor, walking over to the pot of canjica. Charlie takes a spoon full and eats it, he doesn't seem to like it, and doesn't take another, oh well more for her.
"No thank you," she smiles.
"You're not missing much," he says chewing his food.
Jacob walks in next, looking a little green but holding it together. Why did they put up with Bella and her weird mood swings, she wonders? Charlie she could understand, he was her father and he loved her, but Jacob was just a friend, right? She really needed to stay as far away from that relationship as much as she could.
"Ok Jake," Charlie asks, Jacob just nods. She and Paul smile to each other knowing that those two didn't enjoy their night at all, but they did. She really liked Paul and hanging out with him was more fun than she thought it would be, maybe he wasn't such a bad guy. But she still wondered if he even had a job or just love coffee shops that much. Paul got up as Bella walks in to join them, she looks depressed but tries to hide it.
"Ok, time to go guys," Charlie says, in his best dad voice. "No men in the house after 8."
"Doesn't that count you, Charlie," she jokes.
"I'm a dad, not a man to you," he says. "Boys out." Charlie points to the door; Jacob and Paul walk to the door a little disheartened but Paul looks back at her with a wink, making her stomach flutter. Oh, she was in trouble if he ever found out what she was. Or maybe not, her mother married a human maybe she could be happy with him. After Paul and Jacob drive away, she heads up to the guest room that was acting as her room for now.
It wasn't big, a small office with a desk and an ancient computer that no one used and she wasn't even sure if it still worked. A futon on the other side of the room acted as her bed, it did have a window facing the woods behind it. There was no dresser, but she didn't need one, she just folded her clothes in piles on the floor. She didn't want to asks for anything more then what Charlie had already given her, she really couldn't ask for more.
She lays in bed thinking about Paul and all the things they talked about and how much she had grown to like him and grown accustom to him at the coffee shop over the past few weeks. She would have like to hang out with him more, but deep down she knew she couldn't be around him. She was a hunted woman and one day she would have to leave this place. She couldn't sleep with all the thought running though her head, she should leave now and rip the band aid off, to protect Charlie and Bella from her past. She made the decision to leave by the end of the week and no later, she couldn't procrastinate any longer.