A/N: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only making her characters do my bidding for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thank you to my wonderful beta/prereader/sister, Shelljayz, my beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock, and my prereader and friend juliangelus. I love you guys with all of my heart.

Thank you to everyone that has followed, favorited and reviewed. You are wonderful and I cannot even tell you what your support means. I didn't get to respond to reviews before this post, but I will in the next couple of days.

A note: I have changed the name of Emmett's sister from Sadie to Etta. My reasons have everything to do with his back story, which I didn't think much on beyond his sister until recently.

And now I think we should check in with Bella to see how she is coping with her fight with Jasper and its aftermath.

oOo

Friday, December 4th, 2080

BPOV

Jasper was gone.

After I left the day before, he'd left as well. The only difference was I had come back ... he hadn't.

Alice had no idea where he was; he wasn't making decisions, so she couldn't see him, and if Peter knew where Jasper was, whether through his gift or because Jasper had let him know, he wasn't saying. Jasper hadn't told anyone else where he was going, and he wasn't answering his cell phone. I didn't know that because I hadn't tried to call him myself. There was no way in hell I would do that. I knew because when I'd finally come home in the wee hours of the morning, I'd kept my door cracked in the hope that, as pissed as I was with him, I would be able to hear Jasper's voice when he returned; instead I'd overheard Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, Rosalie, Edward and Alice as they attempted, in vain, to get ahold of him. Eventually Peter and Charlotte had told them to give it a rest, that Jasper needed time to decompress and would call when he cooled off. According to them, their collective incessant calling wasn't helping matters, and he took off sometimes, apparently. He hadn't even been gone for a full twenty-four hours. It was too early for them to crowd him.

They had all tried to approach me when I walked through the door. Peter and Charlotte were the only exceptions, somehow knowing I needed to be left alone to process things, just like their brother, without needing to be told. I was appreciative of that and tried not to be annoyed with the others for not knowing, but failed. I had been standoffish and curt, though not outright rude to them. I had nothing to say about what happened, and I not only needed to be left alone but wanted it too.

The only question I'd bothered answering was when Rosalie asked about Jasper's motorcycle. I had hotwired it and taken off on it but returned on foot, and Rosalie, as the resident family mechanic and car enthusiast, had wanted to know what I'd done with it. I merely told her it was safe and left it at that. It was the truth in short. The more detailed truth was that I had stashed it in the vacant storage unit in Port Angeles I'd kept all my files and boxes of evidence pertaining to Layla in, and it was going to stay there for the foreseeable future. I knew that if I brought it home, there was a good chance I wouldn't be able keep Rosalie from fixing it. If anyone was going to fix it, it would be me, but only after I cooled down enough not to want to dismantle it into itty-bitty pieces and then smash them every time I looked at it.

Jasper was gone.

Jasper was gone, nothing made sense and my chest ached.

Things between us were finally good and now … well, now they sucked again, and I didn't get it. I wasn't used to not understanding the things that were going on around me, and I especially wasn't used to not understanding something that directly involved me. How had things gone from solid to shit in the span of five seconds? How could a high school dance, of all things, spoil how much progress Jasper and I had made?

That was what I was contemplating as I sat, alone, at a table in Forks High's cafeteria, picking at the poor excuses for macaroni and cheese and lasagna on my plate. The table I inhabited was one that was far more to my liking than the ones I sat at when I ate with Mike, Jessica, Tyler, Lauren, Angela, Ben and Eric or with the Cullens. It was in a corner of the room, so I could finally sit without my back being open to attack in this God-forsaken place, not that I expected any threats to make themselves known in a room full of teenagers. That didn't really matter because it was comforting, and I could never let my guard down. It was also near a large window, so if a physical threat appeared that it would be better for me to bail on than fight against, I was close to a means of escape. My table was empty save for me, and that was the way I wanted it.

I could tell almost every single one of the Cullens wished I was sitting with them. Even Rosalie, who was still treating me with civility. She had even managed a modicum of warmth towards me a time or two. Still, I did not care. I still had nothing to say about what had happened, and I still needed to be left alone. The space was welcome.

I wasn't annoyed when another tray touched down on the surface of my solitary eating place though, and that had everything to do with whom the tray belonged to. My nose told me who it was without making it necessary for me to look up from my craptastic lunch.

"Mind if I sit with you?" her soft voice questioned.

"I would like it very much if you did, Ange," I responded, still without looking at her. Angela didn't know about the fight. She wouldn't ask awkward questions I didn't want to answer, the answers to which I didn't have even if I was willing to give them.

I heard the slight thump of my quiet pseudo-friend taking the seat across from me and finally brought my eyes to her. Angela gave me a kind smile that I didn't have the heart to return because I would have had to fake it, and I wasn't in the mood. I always had a smile for her, she was too damn sweet for me not to, so when I didn't return it, her lips twisted down.

"What's eating you, Bella?" she asked in concern.

It was only a semi-awkward question, but it was still one I didn't want to answer. I opted for humor instead and gestured at my plate. "Give it a few more minutes and this nasty ass mac and cheese will be."

Angela was unaffected by my attempt at a joke.

"Why does something have to be wrong?" I asked, studying her closely.

"It doesn't," she responded as she dug her fork into a tomato from her salad and brought it to her lips. "But I've never seen you eat alone."

Angela watched me as she chewed, and I wanted to wring her neck. Why couldn't I have felt more of a connection to Jessica, the girl who only paid attention to the shit that was directly related to her and wouldn't have bothered questioning my motives? Oh, right. That was precisely why.

Unfortunately, Angela was annoyingly correct. I never ate by myself, though I often found the idea appealing; it was always either with the Cullens or what Jasper referred to as "The Idiot Table," the table that included Angela, though he had no clue I knew he called it that.

"Are you trying to imply I'm not secure enough to be by myself?" I cocked a brow and made sure to add a joking tenor to my voice.

"That is the last thing I would ever imply," Angela replied with a very uncharacteristic snort. It was kind of cute for that reason alone. "But I have a hard time believing you're sitting by yourself for no reason."

"I don't want to talk about it. Not now and definitely not here," I stated flatly, glancing towards the Cullens' table. They were being covert about it, but they'd been watching me all day. Now was no exception. I could always feel it when I was being watched, and it wasn't paranoia. It was because of where I came from, what I was. I couldn't always discern the intent behind it but I always knew.

Angela noticed the direction of my gaze. "Okay," she responded slowly. "What do you say to a sleepover?"

"A sleepover," I echoed, confused.

"You know, a girl's night," Angela said.

"Why?"

"I don't know," she answered with a shrug. "It might help with whatever's wrong."

"How could that possibly help?" I asked, still wondering what the purpose was.

"Well," she began. "We watch romantic comedies or dramas, anything that fits into the general chick flick genre. We stuff ourselves with ice cream and pizza and other junk food, and eventually, if you want to talk, you talk and I listen to you vent or I let you cry on my shoulder or whatever it is you need me to do. If you don't want to talk, then at least you had the ice cream."

"Okay, yeah, sure," I conceded curiously. I'd never been to a sleepover before. "I don't have to work tonight, so why not?"

She grinned. "Why don't you come over around five?"

I saluted her sarcastically and we went back to eating our lunch in silence.

oOo

Angela's House …

Emmett and I were sitting outside Angela's house, the car idling as I lingered awkwardly. He was the one who'd volunteered to drive me and I had reluctantly agreed. I could have received a replacement for my car days ago, but I didn't want just any car. I wanted my Shelby, so Jacob and the rest of the crew at Black's Auto Repair & Restoration were dutifully putting it back together for me, but the Shelby was decades old. It would take a little while to acquire the new parts and return it to it's former glory. That meant I still had to put up with the Cullens chauffeuring me around town. I could have continued to abuse Jasper's motorcycle, but I was still too pissed at him to fix it. Unfortunately, I felt bad enough about defiling that beautiful piece of machinery not to traumatize it any further.

Emmett had been shooting these sad, concerned looks my way since my fight with Jasper, and I couldn't stand it anymore. I needed that shit to stop before I snapped at him, so I was going to let him say whatever it was he wanted to say, assure him I was fine and lay his concern over my welfare to rest because his worry was annoying. Sweet in a misguided sort of way, but annoying.

It was one minute and forty-seven seconds before he said anything. He turned to face me and studied my profile before he uttered, "Are you alright, Bellybean?"

I met his gaze and cocked an eyebrow. "Bellybean?"

Emmett shrugged and gave me a slight smile tinged with worry and sadness. "I'm trying it out."

I shook my head in amusement. I always found it amazing the way Emmett could lift my mood, even if it was only a little. "I'm not a sugary snack food, Emmett."

"Actually ..." he trailed off. A shadow of his usual mischievous grin ignited his features and his tone was a subdued sort of playful.

I socked him in the shoulder lightly.

"You know, most people don't get to pick their nicknames," he huffed in mock-exasperation, crossing his arms over his chest. "Someone dubs a person something and it sticks. That's generally how it works."

"I am not most people nor does anything I do usually fall into the 'general' category, Em," I reminded him. "And you love me, so you'll do whatever I want."

Emmett rolled his eyes and mumbled some derogatory things under his breath that no human should have been able to hear. His expression turned hesitant then. "Hey, Bella?"

I raised my eyebrows.

"I know you're pissed, and you should be. Jasper was out of line but try not to be too hard on him," he pleaded. My eyes narrowed, and he hurried to continue. "It's just ... he's had it rough. He gets mad sometimes, but he doesn't always mean the things he says, and you know he's not a bad guy. You said so."

I mimicked him, crossing my arms over my chest, and glared at him. "Forget what I said. I don't care what I said. Stay out of it, Emmett."

He sighed in defeat before his features morphed with determination. "Just have fun, Bella," he ordered sternly and then sighed again in contradiction, that determination deflating abruptly.

I grabbed my overnight bag, the backpack I'd used for my road trip to Salt Lake City, and closed my fingers around the door handle of his Jeep but paused before I opened the door and hopped out. I didn't want to take my frustration and confusion over Jasper out on Emmett, even if he was nudging his nose where it didn't belong. I took special care to soften my tone as I said, "Eh, I'll try. This whole sleepover thing mystifies me, so I'm making no promises."

"Mystified or not, do your best," he responded, still watching me.

I finally exited his car but turned back to him before I shut the door. "I never do anything less," I informed him. "Bye, Emmett."

"Bye."

And then he drove off and left me alone to face an entire night of girly shit with Angela Weber, but that was better than spending it at the mansion and enduring the tension of the family and their silent worry, speculation and poorly masked longing to ask me about what had happened between me and Jasper the day before.

oOo

I had just spent the past three and half hours watching My Best Friend's Wedding and Never Been Kissed while gorging on half a pepperoni pizza, a liter of Coca-Cola and a whole bag of Doritos and listening to my only pseudo-friend outside the Cullens besides Leah Clearwater regard me with shock as I did. I believe there was even a mention of me being a gluttonous food whore with a hollow leg and an extra stomach in my right ass cheek. In other words, I'd just wasted two hundred twelve odd minutes of my life on pointless romantic fluff and consuming empty calories while being mocked by a peer about my impressive ability to shovel shit in my piehole. It wasn't that the movies were bad, I actually kind of liked them even, but they were about relationships and kissing and all sorts of stuff I couldn't have. They made me feel the same way The Notebook did—uncomfortable.

"So," Angela prodded. "What did you think?"

"About the movies?" I stalled. She knew I'd never seen them, and I didn't know what to tell her. Did she want me to gush or do something really girlie? I'd never been to a slumber party before.

"Well, yeah," she said. "Did you like them?"

"Sure," I answered noncommittally. I held up the movie I brought. "Can we watch this now?"

Angela rolled her eyes and gave me a pointed look. Damn, I'm really rubbing off on her! "That does not qualify as a chick flick, Bella."

"What?" I cried defensively. "Iron Man 3 has romance!"

Her expression may as well have said, "Really, Bella?"

"So it also happens to have action, adventure and superheroes," I conceded, throwing in a little self-aware guilt for good measure even though I didn't feel it. "It also has humor, and there is romance between Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, no matter what you say!" Twenty solid minutes, at least, but it's good romance, I think. What do I know about romance? "And Robert Downey, Jr. … as Tony Stark … wisecracking … in a metal suit … kicking ass … and wooing Gwyneth Paltrow. That totally qualifies!"

"Sure, it does," she agreed just to shut me up.

I narrowed my eyes at her in annoyance.

Then she wiggled her fingers at me. "Hand it over so I can put it in."

The next one hundred thirty minutes were much better. They were filled with everything I was familiar and comfortable with: explosions, fighting, death, altered soldiers, dry humor and so on and so forth. The best part was that Angela wasn't disappointed. She liked the movie and even approved of the romance part of it, though she still adamantly refused to lump it into the chick flick genre.

She let the end credits run and left the room, returning only a couple minutes later with a half gallon of chocolate ice cream, a pint of cherry garcia, two spoons and paper towels.

I gave her a suspicious look when she handed me the chocolate. "Is there a reason you're giving me the half gallon?"

"It's for the extra stomach in your right butt cheek," she informed me with a serious expression but a twinkle in her eye. "When we finally do go to sleep, I don't want to be woken up by the howls of its hunger pangs."

I just grinned in approval of her humor and tore the container open.

Angela waited until I had a huge spoonful stuffed in my mouth before she spoke again. "Are you feeling any better?"

Oh, so that's what the ice cream was for. Angela was gauging whether or not I was ready to talk. I grimaced. "Well, I'm sufficiently distracted … or I was."

Angela only nodded and left the subject alone. She didn't want to push me to talk if I wasn't ready. I could see it on her face. Now I had to decide what to do: to confide or not to confide. I probably needed to, but I wasn't sure what purpose it would serve, and I wasn't keen on feeling exposed. Then again, talking to Charlotte had helped me ... oh wait, no. No, it hadn't. Talking to Charlotte had fucked me over, the decision I'd made at her encouragement resulting in my current clusterfuck. I wasn't exactly sure what had gone wrong with it all, but I did know that Charlotte wasn't to blame for any of it. Even on my best and clearest day, I wouldn't have seen the point in getting all share-happy. This wasn't my best and clearest day.

Angela, however, decided to take my choice from me. "I'm really not going to push you, I swear," she assured me. "But …"

"But …" I prompted when it seemed her hesitance had gotten the better of her.

"I just need to know, the Cullens are still treating you well, right?" she questioned, an anxious expression on her face and her ice cream-filled spoon hovering in mid-air halfway to her mouth.

"Yes, yes, of course," I hurried to confirm. The last thing I wanted was to give off the impression that the Cullens were treating me poorly, especially considering the potential for the Quileutes to hear rumors like that through the grapevine. Even though Angela wasn't a gossip, it was almost like Forks had ears that allowed it to hear things it shouldn't know and a voice that was constantly whispering the things it overheard to people that shouldn't know them. "The Cullens are great."

"But?" Angela questioned astutely.

I sighed, wishing she wasn't so damn observant. Why did I have to gravitate towards people who picked up on things when I didn't want them to? And why was I still doing a relatively shit job of concealing my emotions when I needed to? This spending time with people thing was clearly not good for me.

I decided I may as well spill. I didn't have to tell Angela everything, and for all I knew, it might actually help. I was new at all this friend crap even if I wasn't genuine friends with anyone; I did have to stick to the rules, after all. She was the only person I felt comfortable mentioning any of this to besides Leah, and I couldn't exactly talk to my shape-shifting co-worker about my Cullen troubles. And I sure as hell wasn't going to discuss my fight with Jasper with any of the Cullens themselves.

"But sometimes I need space from them," I told her, shrugging as I took another bite of ice cream.

Angela took a hesitant bite of her own sugary, dairy goodness, regarding me with an expression that suggested she wanted to ask me something but wasn't sure if she should. I knew she wouldn't without permission.

"Go ahead," I encouraged. I was sure I wouldn't want to answer whatever her question was, but I had gotten myself into this mess, and I didn't have to answer her question if I didn't like it. "Ask. I know you want to."

"Why do you need space?"

"They make it hard not to care," I admitted hesitantly but honestly. "So do you. Sometimes you all even succeed in making me."

That didn't mean I loved Emmett though, despite that I told him I thought I might.

"Caring is a bad thing?" She frowned, confused, but it was obvious to me what I'd said about her had touched her. That made me glad at least, which was the problem.

"Absolutely," I answered firmly.

"Are you going to explain that?" she continued to question me.

I paused, debating. "I don't do attachments. Attachments and caring never lead to anything good."

Angela raised her eyebrows. "That makes no sense, Bella."

"It does," I insisted. Of course, she hadn't experienced the shit I had. I sighed. "I care about people in general. I'm not a heartless bitch, but I do my best not to care about people specifically." Angela's eyebrows rose higher. "The last time I gave a shit about someone in specific, it nearly cost me the ability to breathe, and I don't mean that in an emotionally 'it hurts so bad, I can't breathe' kind of way." Though it had hurt, physically. "I mean it in a literal, nearly landed me in a morgue kind of way," I shared with reluctance, my lips twisting sardonically. So I tweaked the truth on that a little. She didn't need to know it actually had landed me in a morgue. How would I ever explain that? And if I did, Edward would be able to pick it out of her mind. It was totally out of the question. It had never actually been an option in the first place.

Angela's eyes widened in alarm at that news, but I pretended she hadn't reacted at all. "I don't like morgues. I do like breathing. I'm a big fan of it actually. Besides, caring about people just opens a person up to a world of hurt."

"It doesn't have to," Angela said quietly, a pall of sadness settling over her.

"But it always does."

Angela sighed, her sadness deepening. "That is a very dark view of the world."

"My world is dark," I said as I shoved my spoon in my ice cream and twisted it, churning the surface as a way to keep my hands busy. I forced myself to stop the motion that was suspiciously like fidgeting. I didn't fidget, especially not about something like this, something that was such a stark reality for me. Reality was nothing to fidget over. It was something to embrace, even if it did suck. "Always has been, always will be. The fact of the matter is, people always leave."

Jasper left. So I left first. It still stung, and at least I'd come back. I ignored the fact that I would soon be leaving for good.

"Sometimes they leave you, sometimes you leave them," I continued, banishing those thoughts. "One way or another, someone leaves and it hurts. That is reality, so why bother?"

"That hasn't been my experience," Angela responded, frowning.

"No offense, Ange, and forgive me for assuming, but I get the feeling you've lived a sheltered life," I posited with near-certainty. She didn't contradict me or make any outrage over my statement known. Only Angela would not be offended. "And there is nothing wrong with that. I actually love that that's the kind of life you've had, but as unfortunate as it is, that isn't going to last forever. One of these days, the fact that people always leave is a lesson you will learn. It's unavoidable."

It killed me that I would be the one to teach it to her.

"That makes me really sad, Bella," she said, still with no resentment in her tone.

"I know," I told her. "But that doesn't make it any less true."

"It doesn't make me sad because I believe it's true. I don't think it's true at all," Angela told me, and my brows furrowed. She noticed my confusion and explained, "It makes me sad because you believe it is, and I can't even imagine what you must have gone through to make you see the world that way."

I didn't respond to that; all I did was shrug noncommittally. I wasn't going to argue with her about it. Hell, it was possible she was right, but her candy-coated perspective on things would never apply to me. I was pretending to be normal right now, but I wasn't. I was only living in a temporary fantasy. Even now, as I played my part in this little charade, it was tempered with my otherness. The reality was we lived in very different worlds. I wasn't a pastor's kid from a painfully small town. She wasn't a genetically-engineered freak whose government was hunting her down. She could afford to form attachments and to care. Angela could afford to love; I couldn't. Her life could very well remain untouched by my dark world view, but some of the truths of that perspective were universal. It didn't matter that she was human and I was a freak because people always leaving was one of those universal truths. Sometimes people left on purpose, sometimes they left because of circumstances beyond their control, but they still left.

In my case, I always left for both reasons, and though I was usually the one doing the leaving, generally without sticking around long enough for anyone to give a shit that I was gone, I had been on the other end of it once. It hurt. I didn't relish the idea of making anyone else feel that kind of pain, but it had to be done. Everyone here that cared about me would get over it. I wasn't that important to them.

"So where in that world view do I fall into place? What does that make us?" Angela queried, trying to mask her dejection. Jessica and Lauren were supposed to be her friends, since they'd been in diapers from what I understood, but they were shitty ones. I wished I could offer Angela more. I wished I could be the kind of friend to her she deserved.

"You are the closest thing to a friend I've ever had, and if I'm not careful, you and I will end up besties before I know what hit me," I responded truthfully. The problem was Alice, Charlotte and Leah all had that potential, not just Angela, and it unsettled me.

Her resulting grin was blinding, but she didn't gush about what I'd said. That was one of the things I appreciated about her.

"Okay, but that isn't the only reason you're upset," she observed. She didn't even phrase it as a fucking question! That was annoying, but Angela was so sweet and kind that any negative emotion didn't really take root. She waited for me to follow up her statement with some sort of confirmation. If I didn't, I knew she would drop it and move on because that was who she was—quietly supportive.

I huffed. My irritation may not take hold the way it would with anyone else, but it was still there, and it didn't help that she'd again proven that she was more observant than I'd given her credit for.

"That is not true," I denied stubbornly. Her expression was one of curiosity; since I had taken her bait, it was also a prompt. "Okay, fine—" I threw my hands up— "I fucked up!" I continued rashly, wondering why I was even telling her this at all. I had already done the confidante thing when I told her about my issues with attachments. That was something I'd never discussed with anyone before and it was difficult for me to do. It should have been more difficult to broach that subject than my fight with Jasper, but I found myself actually struggling with that more than an issue I'd spent the last five years wrestling with. I should have zipped my mouth shut and determined that I'd already done enough talking, but I couldn't seem to stop the words from flooding forth. That didn't change that I still didn't want to discuss anything Jasper-related. Now I was annoyed with myself.

Angela's expression didn't change, and I let loose another sigh. "Jasper is gone."

"And it's your fault?" she prodded, taking another bite of her ice cream and a swig of her soda. I nodded. "Why is it your fault, Bella?"

"Because I'm a bitch who isn't known for my social graces," I responded irritably, remembering Jasper's gibe at me the first time we'd gone to the horse ranch. "I said some things ..." I trailed off, getting serious. "I may have also done some things that weren't exactly ... prudent."

The look on Angela's face remained the same, and I was grateful. I'd come to the realization that as much as I didn't want to talk about Jasper, I needed to. I really was getting weak, but I would fix that. In any case, if I was going to be a typical teenager and go all "girl talk" on Angela, I was glad she wasn't being hyper and, well, girly about it.

"Did you mean the things you said and did?" she posed perceptively.

I tilted my head up some, looking away from her, and fixed my gaze on a poster of some shitty boy band on her wall as I inhaled deeply and bit the inside of my lip. It was a minute before I brought the majority of my focus back to her. "If you had asked me that a month ago, I wholeheartedly would have meant every single one of the words I said to him. As for what I did, I don't have an answer for you."

"And now?" Angela urged, only she managed to do it without making it seem like that's what she was doing. That's what our whole conversation had been like. It was the only reason I was still talking to her.

"And now …" I paused, uncertain if I was going to finish that sentence. Ah, fuck it! Why not? I'd already shared a shit ton. Might as well make myself as uncomfortable as possible. "I thought I meant what I said ... until the words actually left my mouth."

That made me an awful person, I know, but what the fuck else was I supposed to think? Jasper found out I was going to a stupid dance and threw a shit fit about my date. I'd actually been excited about the whole thing until he'd gotten up in my face. What else was I supposed to think other than that he was trying to ruin my normal "girl going to a high school dance" fantasy? It was the last bit of normal I would get before I left Forks behind for good, so why couldn't he just leave it alone? Why couldn't he just let me have that? Why did he even care?

That reignited my fury over his reaction. He didn't know how important going to the dance was to me, how important that last bit of normal was. He couldn't even fathom it since I hadn't told him about my past or that the dance was my last opportunity for it since I was leaving afterward, but that did not give him the right to fight with me over it. Jasper didn't ruin everything, but he sure as hell made things a lot more fucking difficult for me. I couldn't help but hate him a little for that.

"He does really piss me off though. Half the time I hate him. The other half, I have no fucking clue what to make of him. He is the most irritating, infuriating person I have ever met. He is also the only person I've ever met who can push my buttons, and he does it expertly."

"Hmmm ..." Angela hummed, thoughtful as she took another bite of ice cream and sucked on the spoon.

I shook my head emphatically, not liking the current look on her face. "No, no, no. No 'hmming.'"

Angela popped her spoon out of her mouth and quirked a brow at me.

"I don't like the look on your face," I said. "I don't know what it means, but I sure as fuck don't like it."

She shrugged innocently. "I guess I'm just curious why he can push your buttons is all."

"Does that really matter?" I questioned. "The point is we push each other's buttons, and then we fight, and it's awkward because we live in the same house. Now Jasper is gone because of the things I said that I didn't actually mean as well as the other shit I pulled, and I feel guilty as hell, and I stole his motorcycle, which I am not sorry for. I don't know when he's coming back."

Angela smirked and triumph glittered in her eyes. "So you do care that you said and did things you didn't mean."

I glared at her and stabbed my own spoon into my ice cream. I almost forgot to temper my strength, nearly burying the metal utensil to the hilt in the frozen treat. I was lucky I didn't put the actual spade through the bottom of the carton.

I kind of hated Angela right then. "Maybe," I mumbled irritably. "I don't know." I tossed my spoon onto the paper towel on the carpet next to me; it bounced and landed on the carpet fibers, and I snatched it up to put it where I'd intended it to go. I tugged my hands through my hair in frustration. "I'm not used to regretting confrontations I get into." I never stick around long enough or get attached enough to. "They're usually warranted, but the ones with him? Sometimes they are and sometimes they aren't, and he didn't believe me when I apologized. A big part of me doesn't give a fuck if he does though. I wasn't the only one completely out of line."

"But you still feel bad," Angela mused.

I hated her a little more because it was another thing she didn't phrase as a question. I also hated her more because I wasn't as pissed at her as I felt I should be. "No," I snapped, folding my arms across my chest. Angela's expression turned pointed; I turned sullen. "Maybe."

"You stole his motorcycle?" she squeaked, as if she had only just registered that information.

I nodded in confirmation, and she laughed delightedly as though the concept of someone stealing a motorized vehicle was the most exciting and surprising thing ever. Wow, Forks really was boring and sheltered, or maybe it was just her.

"Do you like Jasper, Bella?" Angela inquired a few minutes later, after she'd calmed down.

I rolled my eyes. "I just said that half the time I hate him and the other half I have no idea what to make of him. When we're not fighting and he's not being a dick, he is marginally cool, so I suppose you could say I do … on occasion."

She sighed and shook her head, something suspiciously like amusement twisting her pretty features. "That's not what I mean."

I frowned because if that's not what she meant, I had no clue what the hell she was talking about.

"I mean," she began to clarify. "Do you like him?"

I choked on the sip of soda I'd just taken and glowered at her as I grasped what she was saying. "No," I responded as evenly as I could manage, my voice hoarse from my coughing fit. "I do not like Jasper Whitlock."

"Why not?"

"What the hell do you mean 'why not?'" I demanded, taking another sip of soda to clear my raspy throat and then a bite of ice cream to sooth it.

"The guy is seriously gorgeous, Bella," Angela said, blushing. "Gorgeous enough to make me consider ditching my ideals on premarital sex if he decided he wanted to bed me—"

"Why, Angela Weber, you filthy little whore!" I mock-gasped, snickering.

Angela threw her empty soda cup at me, but her aim wasn't stellar, and she missed her mark. Her blush deepened but she was still matter-of-fact. "I'm a pastor's kid, not a monk, Bella. I am also seventeen. I have hormones just like every other teenager, and I have eyes."

"I like this version of you," I commented with a grin. She grinned back. "Where has she been hiding?"

"You also said Jasper is marginally cool 'on occasion' and that he pushes your buttons," she reminded me, ignoring my comment.

I was beginning to regret this whole confidante thing. I scooped another bite of my thawing ice cream onto my spoon and stuffed it into my mouth to stall having to respond and savored it slowly as I studied her. I honestly didn't know why she gave a fuck if I had feelings for Jasper. I may have been attracted to him, but that was where it ended. She didn't need to know that though.

"And?" I prompted, my tone bearing a hint of mocking.

"Well, sometimes," she began cautiously. "Sometimes when a person pushes your buttons it means you have feelings for them."

"That is not the case in this instance, I assure you." It wasn't. I didn't care if that's what it meant for some people. I did not have feelings for Jasper. It was attraction, nothing more.

"At least admit that the guy is hot," Angela pressed. It was irritating.

I would just as soon end up in another morgue before I admitted that to her. "I won't admit something I don't believe is true."

Angela was incredulous. "Oh my gosh, Bella! Do you even have a vagina?"

I almost choked on the sip of soda I'd just taken. Despite my occasional slips, I'd pretty much regained airtight control over my composure and showing my emotions when I deemed it necessary ... unless the situation involved Jasper fucking Whitlock or Angela Weber accusing me of not having a vagina.

"Excuse me? Of course I have a vagina, Angela," I practically squeaked. So much for rolling with the punches.

"Are you sure about that?" she challenged, arching a brow.

"Of course I'm sure!" I argued. "Why the hell wouldn't I be sure?" If anything, I was too fucking aware of it.

"Well," she said. "If you don't find Jasper attractive, I have to wonder. What about any of the other Cullens? Emmett? Edward? Peter? Or even Dr. Cullen for that matter? Hey, are you a lesbian? Do you think Rosalie or Charlotte or Alice is pretty?"

"No, Angela, I'm not a lesbian," I replied evenly.

"I wouldn't judge if you were."

"I wouldn't judge if I were either. I would be totally okay with it," I said, and I would be. No matter what sex I preferred, it wouldn't change that I couldn't date. "All the Cullens are perfectly beautiful, except for Jasper, even the girls, but no, I'm not attracted to them. That would be awkward seeing as how I live with them and they're all coupled off."

"Alright," Angela sighed, disappointed. "Are there any guys at school you think are cute?"

I shrugged. "Riley maybe. I guess."

An Angela version of a smirk twisted her lips. "So you have a vagina after all!"

I rolled my eyes. "It doesn't matter who I think is cute. Dating falls into the attachment category."

"Yeah, I suppose it does," she said with another sigh, her sadness again prevalent.

"It's not like anyone would want to date me anyway," I pointed out.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Why would I be kidding about that?" I asked seriously.

"Bella, you're pretty much every guy's wet dream come to life!" she exclaimed.

I snorted. "That is going a little overboard, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't say it if it weren't true," Angela said, her tone insistent. "Do you not understand how beautiful you are?"

I understood that perfectly, and there were times when I hated it. Not because I was beautiful but why. "Fine, I'm pretty, but I'm not the only pretty girl at Forks High. I'm looking at another one of them right now, in fact."

"You and I are two totally different kinds of pretty, Bella," she claimed offhandedly. "But we aren't talking about whether or not I'm pretty. We're talking about you."

"Let's look at this realistically then," I came back at her. "I may be pretty, but I'm also way too sassy, strong-willed, bullheaded, sarcastic, independent, impatient and no-nonsense, and I'm probably not girly enough. That doesn't make me the kind of girl a guy wants to date. It makes me the kind a guy either wants nothing to do with or the kind he wants to press up against a wall and walk away from when they're through ... not that I've ever let a guy do that—" not entirely anyway.

Exhibit A—Jasper, Exhibit B—Connor, as well as a couple other guys who had either hoped to be exhibits or had started to be, only to have my aversion to touching overwhelm me just when I thought I had it under control long enough to get rid of some sexual frustration. None of those guys had ever wanted anything more than a fuck, preferably a quick one.

"I hardly believe that's true," Angela doubted. "So you're mostly spice, but you are sweet too, Bella, sweeter than you're obviously giving yourself credit for. You're actually the perfect mix of sugar and spice."

Hearing the word "sugar" almost made me flinch. It reminded me of Jasper and how infuriating he was, and I just wanted to forget about him and our fight for a little while, to stop obsessing. It didn't help that I was still having trouble shaking my nightmare. Now whenever I closed my eyes I wasn't sure if I would see disgusted Jasper and hear the echo of him calling me a freak in my head or wounded-puppy Jasper and him asking me why I hadn't already figured out that ruining everything was what he did, like it was the only thing he did or was capable of doing. I forced that out of my mind. I had to.

I scoffed at her assertion that I was sweet.

"You are!" she insisted. "And that is exactly what makes you so desirable to guys. Do you not see how almost every one of them at school looks at you? Why do you think Tyler asked you to the Winter Formal?"

"Maybe some guys might, but Tyler doesn't look at me any particular way," I said, though I did remember his rather enthusiastic fist pump at the diner when I agreed to go to the dance with him, but that didn't have to mean anything, did it? No, no it didn't.

"Really, Bella?" Angela scoffed in disbelief.

"He doesn't!" I argued irritably, digging my spoon into my ice cream again and attempting to stir it into a mess. "It's not a date. We're going as friends, nothing more. He said so."

"Did he?" she inquired seriously.

"Of course."

"Did he actually say the words?" she asked, setting her own ice cream to the side and raising her eyebrows expectantly.

I frowned, my brows furrowing. "Well, no."

Another "Angela smirk" graced her face. "I didn't think so."

I scoffed. "So he didn't say the words. He still agreed."

"Then why is he telling everyone it is a date?" I thought I detected a hint of smugness in her tone but that couldn't be. It was Angela for God's sake! Was she even capable of being smug?

"W-what?" I sputtered.

"He's telling everyone it's a date," she repeated patiently.

Fuck!

"But I'm not Tyler's date," I corrected swiftly, gulping half my soda down to give myself something to do besides dwell on how uncomfortable all this was. I really didn't want to talk about it anymore, especially considering how the last time I'd discussed this with anyone, it had ended in disaster.

"Are you or are you not going to the dance with Tyler?" I nodded reluctantly. "Then you're his date," Angela declared firmly.

"No. No, I am not," I declared just as firmly. "We are two people going to a dance together. That doesn't make it a date or me his date. And I told him it wasn't a fucking date! Stupid, stupid boys! Why would he even want people to think it's a date, anyway?" I mused, truly confused.

Angela's expression became very, very amused after that, too fucking amused and at my expense. Not cool, almost-friend. Not cool at all. I ignored it for the time being.

I brandished my spoon at her menacingly, my eyes narrowing as I contemplated all the ways I could murder her with it for laughing at my ignorance. Remnants of melted ice cream ran down the handle and dripped onto my hand, making it sticky. Wonderful.

Angela laughed at me and not just a little. She fucking guffawed! My scowl deepened but that just made her laugh harder. When she got ahold of herself, she rolled her eyes and said, "We already covered that, Bella. What do I have to say to convince you that almost every guy in this school would like nothing more than to make you his girlfriend?"

"What do I have to say to convince you that guys only want to look and touch, not keep?" I asked in exasperation.

"You really don't think much of yourself," she noted with a long-suffering sigh. "And you don't know much about guys do you?" she continued, partially teasing, but I didn't hear Angela's voice as she said those words. I heard Jasper's from a couple months ago, teasing me about the same thing. "Even less than I originally thought. I mean, wow, Bella, you are really clueless about this stuff."

"I am choosing to ignore your snipe about me being clueless," I said. "And you're one to talk."

"What does that mean?" she demanded, a sliver of defense leaking into her voice.

I smirked. Ha! It's not so fun when the tables are turned is it, Ange? "It means, I see the way you look at Ben."

Angela blushed and started to fiddle with the hem of her pajama shirt. "I … yeah, so I like him. What's it to you?"

My smirk morphed into a sly grin. "Wow, Ange, that was ballsy. I'm impressed you admitted it, but how you feel about Ben is just your business really. All I'm going to ask is have you noticed that he looks at you the same way?"

"He does?" she queried, voice and eyes full of doubt.

"Yes," I assured her with unshakable certainty.

She gave me a strange look. "How is it you can tell when a guy is looking at me like he likes me but not when one is looking at you like that? I'm inclined not to believe you for that reason alone, though I do have others."

"You don't have to believe me if you don't want," I said, stretching my legs out in front of me. "I'm just looking out for my almost-friend. I think you should go to the dance with him."

"But he hasn't asked me," she protested, flustered.

"So ask him," I countered, shrugging. "He's not going to say no."

"But … but how?" Angela stammered as she fisted her shirt in her hands and twisted.

I smiled at her encouragingly but I had a feeling I was unable to fully mask the amusement I felt at her question. "The words, 'will you go to the Winter Formal with me' might be a good place to start."

"But what if you're wrong?" she questioned nervously, worrying her bottom lip. A crinkle formed between her eyes. "What if he does say no?"

"He won't," I guaranteed. "And if on the off chance he does, we'll have another girl's night/sleep over or whatever and eat ice cream until you feel better or something."

Some of the anxiety left Angela's face, and she gave me a shaky grin. "That sounds an awful lot like something a friend would do."

I returned her smile with a tolerant one of my own and shook my head at her. "Maybe," I conceded indulgently. "So are you going to ask him? You can invite him to the diner tomorrow while I'm at work, I'll seat you guys in my section and hover while you do it if you want."

Her grin widened. "That is also something a friend would do."

I shrugged but didn't comment on that, instead changing the subject. "And if he says yes, you should come dress shopping with me, Alice, Rosalie and Charlotte on Sunday," I suggested. "I can't promise it will be a pleasant experience, but you'll get an amazing knock-off dress out of it."

Angela looked uncertain, so I didn't give her time to overthink it. "Well?"

She mulled it over for less time than I thought she would, a pensive expression decorating her face before she finally answered, "Yeah, I think I will, but only if you keep your end of the deal."

"Unless I end up in a morgue, consider my end of the deal kept," I vowed seriously, suppressing a shudder at the idea of hanging out in another cold storage unit.

"That's really morbid, Bella," Angela informed me, not bothering to hide her shudder.

I just tilted my head to the side and raised my shoulders in a shrug of acknowledgment.

It was only a moment after that that an idea occurred to me, a rather genius and distinctly mischievous idea that Emmett and Peter would be proud of, and I hid the smirk that mirrored my giddiness and sudden evil inclination. Burying my spoon in my now half-defrosted ice cream, I scooped up a ginormous ball of it and launched it at her, slingshot style. It hit her square between the eyes, sullying the lenses of her glasses. Her mouth dropped open in shock as chocolate moseyed down her face in lazy paths.

I let my smirk loose. "That is for calling me clueless and accusing me of not having a vagina."

Angela retaliated by flinging the contents of her recollected and refilled cup of soda at me. It drenched me from head all the way to knees.

"That was impressive, Ange," I praised. "But now I need to shower. I also need a new pair of pajamas."

She pulled a pair of sweats and a T-shirt out of a drawer and tossed them at me. "There's a clean towel in the bathroom."

"I'll be back in a few."

"Sure," she said as she crouched in front of the TV to pop in Step Up. Now that was a chick flick I could get in to. Channing Tatum dancing was certainly a sight to behold, and I could watch that all night.

When I got out of the shower, Angela and I cleaned up the mess we made by tossing sugary shit at each other before we settled in to watch the tale of the misunderstood boy from the wrong side of the tracks with the heart of gold as he stole the heart and probably the panties of the slightly stuck up upper crust girl and melded their dancing together like they were peanut butter and jelly. Whatever, I liked the dancing part.

After the movie ended, we whispered to each other about random, high school teenage girl things before Angela finally drifted off.

All in all, my first slumber party wasn't so bad.

oOo

A/N: Bella is decidedly glum over the whole thing, wouldn't you agree?

I have an outtake written for this chapter, which will be posted next Sunday as opposed to the one after next. The next actual chapter will be posted according to the every other week posting schedule, i.e., late Sunday, September 15th or early the 16th. I just didn't think it would be fair of me to make you wait two extra weeks for an actual chapter. When I write outtakes in the future, provided I am still updating every other week, that is how they will be posted.

Up next: We check in with Jasper. Where did he go and what is he up to?

Until next time ...