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 lovely betas and prereaders! I love you!

Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favorited and reviewed. I adore you. Responding to reviews is an on-going process for me of late. :(

And now, to the important stuff ...

oOo

Saturday, December 12th, 2080 ... 4:30 pm

BPOV

Nine days.

That was how long it had been since our fight. My anger had died down from blazing inferno to sputtering flames, but Jasper was still gone, my chest still ached and I still felt responsible for him leaving.

I wasn't worried about him per se. Jasper wasn't really the kind of person who inspired worry. Awe, fear, loyalty, desire, fury, frustration, annoyance ... those were the kinds of emotions he inspired, but his absence did churn up an unfamiliar anxiety within me.

After all this time, still no one had heard from him, unless they were keeping it from me, but I didn't think they were. The anxious air about almost everyone suggested they had just as little a clue about where he was as I did. Despite that anxiety, it didn't seem to me that they were concerned enough, though I stood by the notion that Jasper wasn't one to instigate worry. The Cullens all knew him better than I did, and I did remember that it wasn't unusual for him to take off.

The only members of the family who appeared to be unfazed by Jasper's continued absence were Peter and Charlotte. It made me wonder if Peter just knew something about it, and I was tempted to ask him. I wouldn't, but I was tempted.

It was the day of the Winter Formal. That meant I was leaving tomorrow, and Jasper was still gone, which meant the last time I would ever see him was nine days ago. The nasty words we'd exchanged would be the last we ever traded. I couldn't help but be kind of sad about that, but there was nothing I could do about it.

I had just spent the last four hours holed up in Alice's room with her, Rosalie and Charlotte. Those four hours were interesting ones, to be sure. They were spent doing all kinds of stuff I never imagined I would: manicures, pedicures, a facial for me since the vampires didn't need one, girl talk. I had gotten the former two done for the masquerade ball in New York, but that had been at a spa solely for the sake of appearances and to preserve my sanity when presented with the idea of doing any of it myself. In this case, I was participating. One could even say I was doing it almost willingly.

It was a circular sort of setup. Alice did my fingernails, and she let me have artistic liberty with hers. Rosalie did Charlotte's and vice versa. Charlotte was in charge of my toes, and I returned the favor with her while Alice and Rosalie did the same for each other. Rosalie had taken it upon herself to research facials when she discovered that I was going to the dance because she knew the four of us would possibly end up here, in Alice's room, getting ready together and wanted to be prepared. She had continued to make subtle efforts of acceptance and near-kindness since her compliment on Thanksgiving, though her interference with my dress hadn't exactly been the most tactful or submissive. Despite that, I had no intention of making something I was betting was difficult for her any more so. I still didn't understand it, but I wasn't going to bother questioning it. I was leaving tomorrow. What was the point?

The dress I was wearing ended up being a compromise between my requirements and those of Alice, Charlotte, Rosalie and, surprisingly, Angela. Their only ones were sexy and pretty really, which wasn't too difficult to mesh with mine. I didn't disclose my prerequisites; how could I explain that my dress needed to be as combat-ready as possible? Said compromise was a sparkly, navy number with a modest sweetheart neckline, a matching silk, navy band around the waist and a skirt with a high-low hem, and when I said high, I meant really fucking high. Just like with Rosalie's dress, the hem made up for the barely-there cleavage. According to Alice, the difference between sexy and slutty in regard to skin was showing off either breasts or legs, not both, which was one of the attributes that made my dress fit what they thought I should wear. The sparkles had been a point of contention between us at first. I wasn't all that fond of them, but by that time in the day, I was pretty much all shopped out. Since they ended up not being as bad as I'd assumed they'd be, I'd conceded on the sparkle front fairly easily. All in all, I was pleased with it. Sure the dress was sexier than I'd intended it to be, but it wasn't over the top, and what did it really matter if I gave Tyler the wrong idea? I wouldn't be here for him to make any more idiot moves or spread any more inaccurate rumors. And of course, I wore my phoenix pendant and cuff bracelet as accessories.

I had taken care of my own hair, though it wasn't yet complete. I was also taking care of my makeup, but I wasn't doing it here. It was early to be mostly ready for the dance, but I hadn't refused the opportunity to do it with Alice, Rosalie and Charlotte. It was the last time I would get to do anything like it with them, though shit like that wasn't ever a top priority for me. The reason I wasn't getting completely ready with them was because I wanted to help Angela get ready too. I felt I needed to save some of my primping to share with her to complete the bonding experience, especially since it was the last time I'd get to really hang out with her as well, though Rosalie, Charlotte and Alice had suggested inviting her here to get ready with all of us. That wasn't the most brilliant idea, however, and I wanted Angela all to myself.

Also, I was going to ride with Angela, Ben and Tyler to the high school. It was only right since Tyler was my date but not my date, and I couldn't exactly invite him to pick me up at the Cullens' house. I had decided to let him off the hook for telling everyone it was a date date even though I was seriously annoyed about it. I just didn't want it to dampen this experience. I wanted this last bit of normal to be as fun as it could be.

I descended the stairs behind Alice, Rosalie and Charlotte to show off my dress to Esme and Carlisle before I went to Angela's. As soon as the four of us appeared within Esme's sight, she began snapping pictures. If I thought she was shutterbug happy before, when the three perfect female vampire specimens fanned out to reveal me clearly, she went fucking crazy, focusing the majority of her picture taking on me.

"Oh, girls!" she cried emotionally. "You look so beautiful!"

The flash was bright, nearly blinding to my keen vision.

"Mom," I complained with a groan. "Are you trying to blind me?"

Esme's eyes went wide and pearlescent venom gathered in the corners of them. Her mouth dropped open in shock, and it was only then that I realized what I'd said. It had been a subconscious slip, a very un-fucking-cool subconscious slip. I could not believe I'd said it. When had I started to think of Esme as a mother?

I wanted to gasp and clap my hand over my mouth. I did neither. Instead I smiled like that was what I meant to say all along. I couldn't remember a time when it was harder to force a happy expression on to my face. The last thing I was in that moment was happy.

A smile of her own, a smile the size of the Grand Canyon, stretched her face as she closed the distance between us and threw her arms around me, squeezing tight. I stiffened in her embrace, not liking the contact, but at the same time, thrilling in it. This woman did feel like a mother. Not my mother. No, definitely not my mother, but it was the first time I'd been hugged by one in general. It wasn't a gesture I could return—I was too damn uncomfortable and squeamish at her touch to encourage her more—but I let her linger a bit longer than I would have normally. I would give her this. She would never have it again.

Carlisle was beaming at me as I looked at him over his wife's shoulder, with a "deer in the headlights" expression on my face no doubt, before I pried Esme's arms off. The rest of the Cullens were grinning brightly as well, except for Rosalie. Then again, I had never seen her beam before, except for when she was looking at Emmett. She always had a smile for him, whether big or small. She appeared to be pleased though, the slightest smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

"Alright, alright," I played it off like my slip was no big deal. My next statement wasn't harsh, but I needed to take the focus off said slip. "Don't smother me or anything."

Esme fought to contain her smile. "Of course."

"You really do look lovely," Carlisle complimented me sincerely, his sparkling eyes shining with so much affection.

"You are looking pretty damn good, Bellarina," Emmett agreed, pulling my attention away from the man and woman that had me tied up in knots.

I raised an eyebrow.

Emmett responded with his typical shrug and matter-of-fact, "I'm trying it out."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, unable to resist releasing a light laugh or stop the little but genuine smile from gracing my face. Only Emmett could cheer me up right now, or Peter.

"No?" he questioned.

"No," I returned soundly.

Emmett only shrugged again, wrapping his arms around Rosalie's waist from behind. It was obvious she was more than a little amused by her mate's attempts to christen me with a nickname. She turned in my direction and shared her smile with me, the special one that made her eyes sparkle, the one that was reserved for Emmett's antics and when they were being especially sweet to each other. I couldn't help but smile back at her.

"Can I take one more picture?" Esme asked hopefully, redirecting everyone back to her and away from her galloot of a son.

I wasn't thrilled with the idea of having my picture taken. The less evidence there was that I had been here in Forks with the Cullens was really for the best. It was safer for everyone, but the look on Esme's face nearly made me bite my lip in hesitation at refusing her. Could I deny her and the rest of the family this little reminder of me once I was gone? I wasn't sure I could.

I rolled my eyes but complied. The last picture she wanted was of all of us "kids" grouped together. She ended up snapping several more than the promised one, easily coaxing us to adopt silly poses and whatnot.

"I really have to get to Angela's," I finally insisted.

"Okay," Carlisle said, wrapping his arm around Esme's shoulder in part to restrain her from taking more pictures as well as to join her in parental pride. Why they would be proud and sentimental over their kids going to a dance, I didn't know.

I gave a little wave and half smile at everyone before I made my way to the garage and to my car. Jacob, his father and the rest of the mechanic crew at Black's Auto Repair & Restoration had finished rebuilding it and had returned it to me just three days ago. I would have to ditch it not long after I left so I couldn't be traced through it, but I was glad to be able to drive it for just a bit longer.

oOo

Later … Winter Formal …

The high school was decorated with a generic winter wonderland theme, and the place looked surprisingly decent.

Tyler and I, and everyone else, had our pictures taken together as we entered the gym. Tables were set up at one end of the room, and the two of us, plus Angela and Ben, headed to claim one. Jessica, Mike, Lauren and Gavin were already there, and since that was my group's normal crew, minus Gavin, we joined them. Neither Lauren nor I were thrilled with this. Lauren had wanted to go to the dance with Tyler, only saying yes to Gavin after Tyler asked me. She didn't want to spend her night being reminded that the guy she liked chose someone else, especially when that someone else was me. I would rather have sat with the Cullens.

The DJ booth was set up against the middle of the right wall. On the opposite side, a table with punch and other various refreshments was set up.

It was half an hour in and Tyler had already gotten me a cup of the punch, the way he was apparently supposed to. It was manners, he said. I didn't particularly care about his manners as long as he kept his hands to himself.

He asked me to dance not long after procuring my glass of punch, and I reluctantly accepted. It was a faster song, too fast for touching to be feasible, and those were the only songs I would be dancing to tonight—it was a rule I'd made. Tyler was as awkward at dancing with me as he had been when he'd invited me to the dance, but after two songs, it started to leave him.

Another half hour later, as I sat at the table I shared with my other lunch crowd, taking a break from the dance floor, Peter approached.

"May I have this dance, Punk?" he requested charmingly, a crooked smirk on his face as he bowed formally and offered me his hand.

I rolled my eyes but got to my feet. I didn't take his hand, not able to bear the idea of touching, especially after Esme's impromptu hug hours ago. The song that was playing was a slow one and I was breaking my rule, but it was Peter. How could I say no? And I needed to be close to him as much as I could before I left. I would miss him, and he was the closest thing I had to Jasper in the final hours before I left Forks. Dancing with him like this could almost be a double goodbye, and I couldn't help but hope that when I was gone, Peter would just know it for what it was and pass it on to his brother for me.

He rested his hand so lightly on my waist, it was almost like it wasn't even there, but I was still acutely aware of it, still uneasy. Peter seemed to understand, but he didn't remove it nor did he let go of the hand he was holding. His touch was gentle and considerate though, which I appreciated, and I saw as I looked into his eyes that he was asking me permission to keep his hold on me. The fact that he sought my permission was what kept me from shrugging him off.

"You look awfully beautiful tonight, Bella," he complimented sincerely as we swayed to the music.

"Thank you," I replied, accepting it with as much poise as I could.

"You always look beautiful, of course," he said smoothly, just as sincere.

I gave him a borderline shy smile and shrug. "Well, that suit looks great on you, and you fill up a nice pair of jeans pretty well too."

Peter grinned at me. "Why thank you, Punk. Are you havin' fun?"

"Punk?"

"It's from Dirty Harry," he replied. I looked at him cluelessly. "You know the Clint Eastwood flick where he's …" his sentence trailed off when my expression didn't change. "From the look on your face, you clearly have no idea what I'm referring to," he added, chuckling at my lack of understanding. I raised my eyebrow with amusement and expectation. He went on to explain, "There's this quote in said movie," his voice morphed from his usual lazy drawl to something much grittier then and his face twisted into an uncharacteristic scowl. If I had to guess, he was doing an impression of Clint Eastwood. "'I know what you're thinking: 'Did he fire six shots or only five?' Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I've kinda lost track myself. But being that this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, punk?'"

When he finished, face relaxing back into its usual hard-edged good humor, he studied me, waiting eagerly to see if I knew what he was carrying on about after all.

"I have heard of Clint Eastwood actually. I've just never seen any of his movies," I informed him. "So no, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Peter made an indignant noise. "I know it's not your era, but that's still just sad. Please tell me you can't say the same about John Wayne?"

I burst out laughing. "No, I can't say the same about John Wayne." Peter's face relaxed and he let out a relieved breath that had me laughing again. "Anyway, thanks for the cinematic history lesson, but what does that quote have to do with me?" I questioned.

"Well, Jasper is kinda like a .44 Magnum about to be fired, and with the way you dished it out to him the other day, you must feel pretty damn lucky, hence the punk reference," he said simply. Then he smirked. "I've decided that's gonna be my name for you from now on."

"Right." My tone was sarcastic, and I punctuated it with an eye roll. "And yeah, I'm having fun," I told him, answering his original question, and I actually meant it. The dance wasn't as lame as I thought it would be, and it wasn't a bad last hurrah of normal. "As much as I can, at least. It's not like this is Disneyland or Mardi Gras or anything."

"No, it most certainly isn't," Peter agreed. "But it's normal high school shit, and that's what matters, I suppose."

My smile turned bittersweet. "I think most people scoff at normal. They want exciting or spectacular or, I don't know, exotic. That's all well and good, but normal shouldn't be taken for granted. Then again, what exactly is normal anyway?"

"You have a point, sugar," he conceded. "Normal means something different to everyone. A life truly worth livin' really all comes down to balance between it and all the shit in between."

Peter calling me "sugar" didn't really bother me, not the way it did with Jasper, but I didn't waste any time trying to pinpoint why. It didn't bother me when Charlotte called me that either.

I didn't respond to his statement. What did I have that was normal? I hated my normal, and I would lose any semblance of a more typical kind the next day.

"It isn't your fault," Peter spoke quietly but firmly. I gazed at him questioningly. "That he's gone," he clarified.

"What makes you think I blame myself?" I demanded as indifferently as I could. "And what makes you think I care that Jasper is gone?"

"I've got a feeling," he informed me with a smirk and a shrug.

I scowled at him and attempted to put a little distance between us. He let me, and I was grateful he gave me the space without making a fuss over it. "Is that something you just know?"

"Maybe," he said with teasing in his tone.

"I don't like vague," I complained.

"For someone who doesn't like it, you're awful good at it," Peter responded, chuckling.

"You're not wrong," I said with a smirk of my own.

"I never am," he replied as he moved me across the dance floor, weaving me expertly in and out of the other dancing couples, despite the new distance between us.

"You're a cocky son of a bitch," I groused crossly. "Just like your brother."

"Absolutely," he bragged, purposely proving my accusation.

"You're annoying," I said, attempting to take the lead for a bit and change our direction. I needed to feel like I was in control. He didn't fight me.

"That is a matter of opinion, Punk," Peter contradicted smoothly. I kind of liked this nickname of his. It was too bad I would only get to hear him call me that for a few more hours.

"Jasper is annoying." I let Peter take the lead again.

"Also a matter of opinion."

It bugged me how certain he was. It also bugged me that he was right. "I hate him."

"No, you don't," he said, again with such certainty it grated on me, no matter how true it was.

"I hate you," I replied with as much conviction as I could.

"No, you don't," Peter repeated, with rock-solid conviction of his own. He squeezed my hand as if he understood why I needed to argue with him, why I needed to say these things I didn't mean. I was just frustrated and feeling vulnerable about everything: my fight with Jasper, his disappearance, my impending departure and my encroaching heartache over it. I didn't like it. All this was probably something Peter just knew.

With a sigh, I returned to his initial statement. "I know it's not my fault he's gone," I lied. "Jasper is a big boy. He does what he wants."

Peter chuckled. "The Major most certainly is and does."

"I don't think Jasper likes it when you call him that," I said, frowning. As irritated as I could get with Jasper, I was protective of him in that regard. I understood. If Peter knew my given name was Soldier Omega, I would be pissed if he called me that when he knew I didn't like it.

"Jasper doesn't like a lot of things," Peter responded matter-of-factly. "And he's a stubborn bastard."

I snorted and scrutinized him carefully, wondering why he was telling me this. "I'm aware."

"But he's a good man," he intoned, a soft and proud sheen overtaking his eyes. "He does right by those he loves."

"You can quit with the ringing endorsements now," I said with a scowl, moving my gaze from his to a spot at his left.

In my peripheral vision I saw Peter smile affectionately. There was an element of patience there as well and of mystery. It was a tenor that often tinged his expressions, and it usually left me uneasy. This time that feeling was particularly acute. Then mischievousness overtook those emotions. It was another one that frequently decorated his features, and I found myself relaxing a little. Mischievous I could deal with. It meant I had to be ready for anything, which was typically the case with Peter, and I was almost always ready for anything. It was comfortable, familiar.

Peter gripped my hand tight all of a sudden and spun me out fast and expertly, bringing me back to him lightly and releasing the pressure on my fingers to ease my discomfort at the firmer touch. It bothered me that he knew I hated being touched, that they probably all did, but I was grateful too. An episode was the last thing I needed.

I grinned widely at him.

"I love you, Punk," he said, mirroring my grin. "You know that?"

I swallowed hard and tried not to let my grin falter. Why did he have to tell me that, especially now? Why did he have to make leaving so much harder?

oOo

Another hour had passed when he walked in. I didn't have to look to know; I could feel his presence like a weight pressing against me.

I was surprised that he was here, to say the least.

I'd gone to get another cup of punch and was still at the refreshments table when he arrived, so my back was to the entrance of the gym and to him. I felt his approach just the same as I'd felt him walk in, the weight of his presence growing heavier the closer he got. His gaze burned the way it always did, but I kept all physiological reactions to it under control. I also kept my back to him, refusing to acknowledge that he was there.

oOo

JPOV

I was at a fuckin' high school dance. I was in a goddamn monkey suit in a cheesily decorated gym, surrounded by a bunch of juvenile, teenage douchebag idiots at a fuckin' high school dance. For the life of me, I could not figure it out … except as much as I tried to convince myself of that, I knew exactly why I was here. For her. I was here for her.

I'd fucked up. When it came to Bella, I always fucked up. I got angry, I got impulsive, and this time, I took it out on her. I wasn't even sure why I took it out on her. That was the way of anger though, and my anger was so often powerful and overwhelming. It could rule me, take over. Given my past, I couldn't always help that, but that didn't make it right. It didn't make it okay to make her suffer for it. As I'd determined during my time at Patoka Lake in Indiana, I wanted to make it right. I needed to make it right.

Bella was at the refreshments table, ladling some punch into a glass, her back to me. She didn't know I was here yet, and I was hesitant to enlighten her. I had no idea what I was going to say to her, what words could possibly rectify what I'd done, and the memories of the last several days in Louisville and of my past were still swirling ceaselessly through my head, which made it that much more arduous; but the inexplicable need to go to her was becoming more and more challenging to resist, and I really had no desire to. There was no question that this would be difficult—swallowing my pride and apologizing, trying to give an explanation for something even I didn't understand—but the longer I put it off, the harder it would be. That didn't make it any easier to make the trek to her side or my feet any less heavy as I approached.

When I finally made it to Bella, I wavered. I couldn't bring myself to take those extra steps to her side, so I hovered at her back.

"Hi." My voice came out quiet instead of confident. It wasn't my preference, but I couldn't take it back now.

When she turned to face me, I couldn't read her expression. There had been many times I'd found myself in situations with her I'd thought that if ever I needed to know what she was thinking, that was the time. As I met her gaze, I forgot about all those other times. This was when I most needed to know and understand what was going through her head, but I still knew neither. Why did things have to be so hard with her, so complicated?

"Hi," she greeted back, her surprise evident. I could tell she'd wanted to conceal that surprise and wasn't pleased that she hadn't been successful. At least I could tell that. It was also clear that she was on her guard, prepared for another throwdown between us, but then, she was always on her guard. I guess she'd just built up her defenses higher and stronger. After everything, I didn't blame her.

For the first time since our fight, her voice in my head—Why do you ruin everything?— faded, its continuity ceasing abruptly. It was fuckin' ironic. My memories also became easier to tame, though they weren't entirely gone.

My smile was reflexive, comforting I hoped, and I took Bella in before I could stop myself, my eyes scanning her from head to toe. Her dress was strapless, blue and glittery. Little cleavage was on display, but it was enough to make my mouth water, and her legs went on for miles and looked fuckin' awesome in the skirt that was both short and long, her ever-present phoenix pendant around her neck. Her hair was pulled half up and away from her face, which bore light makeup she didn't need but still enhanced her striking features. She looked beautiful, and I didn't even care that I'd noticed all that fashion shit.

I tried not to let my gaze linger for too long, realizing she probably wouldn't appreciate my perusal no matter how much it was deserved. I briefly wondered if she would flay my ass for it but that didn't change that how gorgeous she was would have stolen the breath from my lungs if there was breath in them to begin with. She was constantly evoking that reaction in me. I noted absently that I'd been holding the air I took in right after I greeted her.

"You look—" My voice came out slightly astonished and a little bit breathless. I hadn't meant to come across as though her beauty was a shock to me. It was another thing I fucked up with her, another thing for me to add to my list of regrets.

"Mediocre?" Bella finished with a raised brow. She was mocking me, reminding me of when I'd called her mediocre-looking in the alley in Louisville. I deserved it.

Her dig knocked me out of my stupor, and I picked up the human charade again, breathing in and out at an even pace. I couldn't help but note that there was a part of her that seemed completely serious that her looking mediocre was my opinion. That bothered me, but I kept my face neutral as I responded, "Something like that."

My tone was chagrined when I said the words, and I hoped she could tell what I really meant: that she was gorgeous and perfect, so much so it made me ache. That's what I should have said, minus the part about aching, but it wasn't a good idea. I'd probably find some way to stick my foot in my mouth.

If she understood, she gave no indication of it. She turned back to face the table, dismissing me, and placed her drink down before she lifted a plate with some sort of pastry on it that I didn't care enough about to truly pay attention to. As she picked at it, never actually taking a bite, she stated, "I didn't think you'd come."

"Why not?" I asked curiously, though it wasn't an unreasonable thing to think. After our fight, I understood why she would think it.

"For starters, I didn't know when or if you were coming back," she admitted with indifference, pausing as she traded the plate with the pastry for her cup of punch and took a sip; she didn't turn around. "Plus, you don't strike me as the type of guy who considers high school dances worth his time."

"I always come back," I told her. Bella inhaled sharply at my words, the graceful but subtle lines of muscle in her back tensing and mesmerizing me. Her skin was so creamy and perfect, and I remembered how soft and warm it was under my fingertips. I wanted to run my hands over it slowly, relish in that softness and heat the way it deserved to be. My life would be so much simpler if I could just stop thinking shit like that!

Her breathing evened out just one inhale later, and the sound of it was soothing and melodic. I'd never paid attention to the sound of human breathing before, not really. Vampires were much more attuned to human heartbeats, but the sound of breath entering and leaving her lungs penetrated my consciousness, reminded me that she was real and there and tangible. It gave me the courage to finally take those last steps to her side, and I turned and rested against the edge of the table. "And these things aren't worth my time," I acknowledged with a gesture that swept the gym, "but there are people here that are."

She gave a slight nod but didn't speak, still facing the punch bowl and not the room as I was. I took the opportunity her silence provided to search out my family. Peter, Charlotte, Edward and Alice were dancing and shooting covert glances our way, and Emmett was seated at a table with Rosalie perched in his lap, those two blatantly staring. The latter four's emotions betrayed their wariness at my nearness to Bella, but their opinions on the matter were of no consequence. I gave them all infinitesimal but distracted nods that occurred in a second's time, my attention never truly having left her. After that was done, it was like they faded into the background, into nonexistence, as I devoted all my senses to her.

"Dance with me." I meant it to come out as a request but it sounded more like a demand.

Bella finally turned in my direction, her brows furrowed and her lips turned down in confusion, still on her guard. "Why?"

"Since you actually look decent for once, which is so rare, and in that dress of all things," I said with a shrug, not able to resist a chance to mock her back despite my previous hope that she understood I thought the opposite. I hoped it might set her at ease. "It would be a shame to waste the opportunity."

Bella was thoughtful for several moments as she considered my proposal. "You're right. You rarely look decent as well, so it truly would be a shame, since you don't look like a complete jackass in that monkey suit."

I couldn't contain my smile at her returned taunt. "I'm always right."

Bella shook her head in exasperation. "You and fucking Peter. Does the arrogance never cease?"

"You shouldn't ask questions you already know the answers to." My smirk was wide and cocky just to mock her again as I held out my hand. Bella rolled her eyes at my response but studied my hand seriously.

It seemed like forever before she grasped it firmly in hers and let me lead her onto the dance floor. I pulled her to me, leaving a comfortable half-foot distance between us to ease both our reservations over touching and broke our contact afterwards. I had already decided I wanted to touch her. That decision made it okay with me, but I wanted her to make the same decision on her own with no pressure. I simply gazed into her eyes, hoping to convey that the ball was in her court now, hoping she could see that I was asking for her permission. I must have because Bella gave a slight nod and wrapped the fingers of her right hand around mine. Now that I knew it was okay, I took her other hand and guided it to my shoulder, squeezing lightly before I released it, and let my now free hand fall to rest on her waist. Bella's breath hitched and held for just a second before it escaped her in a shaky gust. I could neither figure out if her reaction was measured or compulsory nor why knowing that mattered to me.

We didn't speak or even look at each other at first, and I was okay with that. It was enough to have her near me, the electricity of her touch flowing freely through my body.

"Your date doesn't appreciate us dancin' together," I said, finally breaking the silence a minute later. I was putting off what I really needed to say, but I still couldn't figure out what exactly that was and taking advantage of the situation made me feel better about my dawdling. Tyler's jealousy was broadcasting out of him and washing over me from clear across the room. It, and everything else, was making it hard to focus on what I needed to do anyway.

"He's not my date," Bella responded quietly.

"I recall you sayin' something different," I countered. I remembered that clear as day, and it still made my venom boil. That thought caused everything but our fight to fly out of my head, but it didn't mean I was any closer to figuring out how to apologize. Apologizing was not my forte.

She let out another breath, the little smile that twisted her lips tinged with bitterness and sheepishness. "He's my date, but he's not my date."

I wanted to grin at that but held it back. "Either way, he's not happy."

"I don't see why," Bella said, thoroughly confused. Her failure to comprehend just how beautiful and appealing she was, I had never been able to fathom, even though she was annoying. The hand on her waist tightened, a brief squeeze of my fingers on her skin that caused her to stiffen. I don't know why I did it.

"No man likes to see the woman he brought dancin' with someone else," I told her simply. "Though Tyler isn't exactly a man." Bella grimaced, but I suspected it had nothing to do with my comment about Tyler. "He won't interrupt us though, sugar."

Her eyes narrowed when I called her "sugar" and her tone was annoyed when she spoke, "And why is that?"

"Because I bite," I said cheekily, again unable to resist teasing her, only this time about our first visit to Chaos. "And because he's too much of a pussy to do anything about it."

A laugh slipped out before she could curtail it.

We fell into silence again after that, but though I was still anxious about how to handle my apology to her, our silence was comfortable. I was comfortable with her, but she still made me so goddamn nervous. It made no fuckin' sense. Very little about her did.

"You're not angry with me anymore," Bella murmured, her confidence in that statement concrete and some of her tension gone as a result. She wouldn't meet my eyes at first, but then she did. She always did because she never backed down.

"No," I confirmed, and this time my voice was strong. "Are you still angry with me?"

"Did you go back to the house before you came here?" she asked. Her tone was all business but I thought I detected a playful gleam in her eyes.

I frowned, disheartened that she had avoided giving me an answer. That had to mean she was still pissed, but instead of being nice or begging for her forgiveness like I probably should have, I mouthed off. "No, Bella, I always keep a tuxedo on hand in the Mustang."

It had been lying on my bed when I walked into my room, not a suit like what the rest of the guys in the family, and all the other assholes here, were wearing but a fuckin' tuxedo. It had Alice written all over it, scent and all, but I didn't know how that was possible. I hadn't consciously decided to come home and I didn't even decide to come to this stupid dance until I saw it lying there; the Major was currently MIA, sated after our successful wargame in Louisville, so it was possible my future was no longer blocked from her, but he would be back and soon. That comforted me because I needed him right now and it sucked that he was gone. I suppose the idea that I would show up was just wishful thinking on Alice's part. Unfortunately, because I was already late, I didn't have time to dig through my closet for something a little less black tie.

I resisted the urge to smack myself in the forehead for my stupidity and stubbornness. Sarcasm was a reflex, a defense mechanism. I'd responded that way without much thought, but it was the wrong thing to do.

Bella rolled her eyes but her lips twitched. I had to wonder if my chagrin showed clearly on my face. "Well, you parked the Mustang in the garage when you got there, didn't you?"

"Yes," I answered, unsure what this had to do with whether or not she was still angry with me.

"And you noticed the Tomahawk?" she continued. I nodded. "It's in pristine condition again, right?"

"Yes," I said again. That sight had filled me with relief. I had been so fuckin' angry with her for stealing it. It was only in the last day or so that it had faded down to irked. Ironically, now that I was here with her, I wasn't mad at her for it at all anymore.

"Then I'm obviously not still pissed at you," Bella said, finally giving me the answer I'd been waiting for.

My own lips twitched. "And what would it look like if you were still pissed at me?"

A full blown smile broke out across her face. "You really don't want to know the answer to that question."

"Probably not," I agreed. "God! I can't believe you fuckin' hotwired my motorcycle! How do you even know how to do that?"

"It's me, Jasper. I know how to do lots of things I shouldn't. I don't go around stealing cars and motorcycles all the time though, especially not just because I can," she assured me pointedly.

"I guess I'm not surprised you know how exactly," I said. "And I wouldn't care if you've stolen a hundred cars and motorcycles, Bella. I'm just glad Rose fixed it."

"Are you kidding? There was no way in hell I was letting Rosalie go near it when I was so pissed at you, so no, she didn't fix it," Bella informed me succinctly, her gaze taking on a challenging air. At my frown, she clarified, "I did ... after my anger died down. Besides, I had to be the one to fix it. Things between me and her have been looking up lately, and I didn't want to ruin it by jacking up such a beautiful piece of machinery and not putting it back the way it was. I wouldn't have stolen it at all if I didn't know how to fix it. That would have just been wrong."

My eyes widened at her revelation, then I chuckled. "Will you never stop surprising me?"

"Not likely," she told me frankly. "You've said that before about me surprising you, but I've never been able to figure out if it's a good thing or not."

I hesitated before I answered. It was an answer I didn't really want to give her, and I didn't technically owe it to her, but I felt bad enough about what I'd done to feel compelled to, even though I would have preferred to keep it to myself.

"Not always," I finally responded, observing her reaction. Her face was thoughtful. I couldn't read anything beyond that. "It catches me off guard, and I don't like bein' caught off guard. It makes me feel like I'm not in control, and I really, really fuckin' hate that."

"I get it," Bella said. "I don't like feeling out of control either. Most people don't, some more than others."

"I fall in to the 'more' category," I admitted reluctantly, not really knowing why I had revealed this.

"So do I," she murmured, shifting her gaze to my chest. "Even if you hate it though, you gotta learn to roll with the punches." It seemed that was information she'd been reluctant to share as well. "Why were you angry with me?" she asked next.

This was it. It was time to buck up and at least attempt to explain myself.

"I don't know," I started uncertainly. "I can't even figure out if I was actually angry with you or just angry," I admitted. I owed it to her to be honest, as uncomfortable as that made me. Honesty was the whole point. "I just get that way sometimes. It's another one of those incredibly complicated things it would take hours to explain and that I can't guarantee I would be able to find the words to anyway, only this time I wish I could find the words so I could help you understand."

"Maybe I don't need to understand beyond what you've already told me," Bella mused. "You're not the only person who just gets angry sometimes, Jasper. Obviously I would have preferred not to be on the receiving end of it, but all you did was yell. You could have hurt me, but you didn't, and you were really, really pissed. That says something about you."

I released a heavy sigh, the unneeded air expelling from my lungs forcefully.

"Even though I don't know if it's possible, I want to at least try to explain," I said. "I need to try."

"If that's what you need, then by all means, please explain," she encouraged.

"There are times when I can feel the anger comin' on like a slow building fire, but there are others when I don't see it comin'. It catches me off guard, which I already told you I hate. Sometimes I can figure out what makes me angry, but sometimes I don't have a fuckin' clue. It's frustrating. I don't know what else to say. The words … they're just not there. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, and I'm sure it is frustrating, Jasper," Bella said, squeezing my hand and gracing me with a supportive smile.

"And I'm sorry you got caught in the crossfire," I continued, finally biting the bullet. "That you took the brunt of one of the times I was at my worst. I knew I was pissed. I should have walked away."

Bella snorted. "You're not the only one who could have walked away, Jasper. I knew you were angry. I also knew I was angry. Two people being angry and confined in a small space together is always a recipe for disaster, especially when they're angry with each other."

"That's not true," I said slyly as I shot a teasing smirk at her in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere between us. It was starting to feel suffocating. "Sometimes it results in angry sex."

"Yeah, well, that will never happen between you and I," Bella shot back with narrowed eyes.

"Never said I want it to," I replied, my tone unruffled. I had to change the subject in case I wasn't as successful in hiding my desire for the opposite as I hoped, and there was another very important thing I had to clarify. "I realize what I said during our fight may have implied otherwise, but I don't think you're a slut, Bella. I never have."

"I know," she said. "Your phrasing was undoubtedly questionable, but I always knew that wasn't what you meant. Of course, at the time, what I knew couldn't compete with my knee-jerk reaction."

"You have no idea what a relief it is to know that," I sighed as my shoulders sagged a bit in my relief. "It's been eatin' at me like you wouldn't believe."

A faint smile graced her lips, but she was distracted. That little smile may have been slight, but it undid me, sucked me in and wrecked me. I wasn't sure if it was in the best possible way or the worst.

Silence existed between us then as we danced. It was peaceful and just what I needed. A bomb could have gone off and I wouldn't have noticed.

"I meant it," Bella said suddenly, breaking me out of my haze. Her voice was steady, unwavering, but I thought I detected a desperation in her eyes. "When I said I was sorry, I meant it. You don't ruin everything."

"I know you meant it," I assured her. She didn't have to know that while I believed her, I didn't believe it was true.

"Promise," she demanded, or it was supposed to be a demand. It came across more as a plea.

"I promise," I told her.

Bella's grip on me strengthened, her fingers insistent, and I again felt like there was a desperation to her, but I had to have been imagining it. I knew I needed to change the subject again.

"You know, I can tell you the emotions of every person in this room," I said softly, "but more often than not, my own are a mystery to me. Then there's you, you who have always been a mystery to me."

"I could say the same about you, but that's not really the important thing here, is it?" Bella responded, studying me intently.

"What's the important thing?" I queried in confusion. I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Before I answer that, answer me this," she said quietly, so that the words could only be heard by us and the other vampires in the room if they bothered to try listening in. "Just because you're an empath, does that automatically mean you have to have your shit sorted and pulled together better than everyone else?"

"It would be better for everyone else if I did." It was a bitter statement but that didn't translate in my voice. I couldn't even decipher what emotion my tone conveyed, but I suppose it didn't matter. She didn't need to know I was bitter about it. I dropped my eyes from her and began to pull away, but she wouldn't allow it, tightening her grip on my shoulder and hand. Her unwillingness to let me go spread a warmth through me that had nothing to do with the electricity and heat that always sparked between us. I wasn't going to question the feeling this time. It was too nice, too comforting, I liked it too much, but the bitterness was still there. It always was.

"Maybe you should be less concerned with what's better for everyone else and more concerned with what's better for you, Jasper," she told me firmly but gently, that tone drawing my eyes back to hers. They were soft as she gazed into them. "That's the important thing."

The bitterness dissipated at her words, which I didn't understand. The ever-present ache in my chest intensified, but it felt different than before, though I couldn't put my finger on what that difference was.

"Sometimes you say things that make me forget you're only seventeen. Sometimes I swear you're decades older," I lamented. "But as wise as you are, you don't know me, not who I am now or who I used to be."

"Sometimes I don't feel seventeen. Sometimes I feel as old as you," Bella whispered, sounding as though she was very far away. I wondered where she had gone and why. I wondered how she had gotten to this point, to where she felt so much older than she actually was. I knew what I felt right now: sadness.

"I wish you always felt your age, Bella," I breathed back sincerely.

"I wish that too," she responded with a distracted sheen clouding her eyes and still sounding far away. After a moment, she came back to herself, to me. "But it can't be helped, especially not with wishes, and I know you better than you think."

"Oh really?" The doubt was clear in my voice, on my face. I made no attempt to hide it.

"I always know when you're angry, even when no one else does ... well, besides Peter and Charlotte."

"I should certainly hope they do after how long we've known each other and after everything we've been through together," I said with a quiet snort.

"It must be nice," Bella thought aloud.

"What must be nice?"

"Having people that know you that well."

I shrugged. "It is, I guess."

"You guess?" she questioned, her voice tinged with reproachfulness.

"It is," I corrected myself, abashed. "Now, how do you always know when I'm angry?"

"Because you've got tells," she answered simply, a light shrug bowing her graceful shoulders.

"Do I now?" My voice was still heavy with doubt.

"Yes."

"And these tells would be?" I inquired haughtily, and I was confident, cocky even; but I still felt a sense of disquiet at the possibility that she could read me. I didn't like it, and I couldn't help but wonder—was she right? Did I have tells? I knew everyone else's, but I honestly didn't know if I had any, aside from when the red tint overtook the edges of my vision and sometimes encompassed it, leading to an inevitable blackout.

"Some of them are obvious, like your eyes going black, yelling, pinning people to walls ..." she said in a quiet tone that wouldn't carry to anyone around us and with a slight smirk at the last one she listed. "Others are more subtle. You curse more when you're pissed, and you ball your hands into fists," she continued, pulling my right hand between us and cradling the back of it with her left while the index finger of her right traced lines on my palm. It sent more shocks throughout my body that had my dick responding, and I was glad she wasn't pressed against me. Now was not the time. "It's always to a different degree depending on how angry you are. If you're only a little angry, your fingers twitch like you want to choke someone." This time she ran her fingers from my knuckles to my fingertips as if to emphasize her observation. "If you're middle-of-the-road pissed, you're hands go in to loose fists, almost like claws, and I wonder if you're going to rip someone's throat out." She used the hand cradling the underside of mine to curl it into the shape she was talking about. She had never taken her eyes off how she'd been manipulating me. "If you're so pissed you're ready to blow, you clench your hands so tightly they creak under the force, and you look like you will literally tear someone to pieces." Bella forced my fist closed as tightly as she'd described before she finally released my hand altogether.

"Your back goes stiff as a board and all your muscles tense … just like this," she said softly, her eyes intense as she ran her thumbs down either side of my spine with a light touch. All the tension I hadn't even realized I'd been holding eased immediately. The whole world faded away. All that existed was her. Even my memories faded further into the background. "Your jaw tightens so much it almost looks painful … just like this." She reached up and rubbed little circles on my jaw with the pads of her thumbs until that tension released as well, which again, was almost immediate. Her eyes didn't leave mine, the intensity in them growing. "Again all to different degrees depending on how pissed you are. You get this little crinkle between your eyebrows … just like this." She smoothed that unbeknownst-to-me crinkle away gently, and the intensity in her eyes, in our locked gazes, again increased. "Sometimes you scowl but other times you look utterly indifferent, but it doesn't seem to matter how angry you are when it comes to that. I think it depends on what you're angry about."

By the time Bella was done listing off my tells, my whole body was throbbing with want, and I was thoroughly confused. There was an uncomfortable lump in my throat I couldn't dislodge, and my chest felt so tight I was almost sick with it. I dearly hoped I wouldn't throw up again. I didn't know what to do or what was happening, and I didn't know where to turn. She was still the only person who existed and I couldn't ask her.

"You notice all that?" I queried, that confusion and surprise clear. I had to try to distract myself, and I was curious. I needed to know her answer.

She tried to put a little distance between us, but I took hold of her hips and pulled her closer. There were only two inches separating us now, but she hadn't fought me and she wasn't moving away. "There's not much I don't notice."

"Right, you're observant," I remembered, wondering how on earth I ever could have forgotten in the first place. It was one of the most fundamental things about her. The disappointment at the reminder, the knowledge that her observations were nothing more than run-of-the-mill, only made the lump in my throat and the tightness in my chest worse, but in a different way.

"Yes, but it's not just that," she said. She sounded hesitant to reveal that information, as though she wasn't sure if she'd done the right thing by sharing it, but her tone also told me her decision to do it was solid once she made it.

My curiosity truly was piqued now. "What do you mean?"

"I notice you ... more, I guess," Bella admitted. "At first it was because of what I thought you did. I felt like I needed to watch my back around you, so I had to pay extra attention, you know? Then when I figured out you didn't betray me, I just kept noticing you more than everyone else. Habit maybe or ... maybe something else. I don't know."

There was another uncomfortable jerk in my chest. "Oh."

"You wanna know what else I've noticed?" she asked, breaking her steady, intent gaze from mine almost as though she was shy, but she didn't wait for me to tell her whether or not I did. She met my eyes again resolutely though she still seemed timid. "When you read the paper, you get the same little crinkle between your eyebrows as you do when you're angry but you don't scowl. When you're trying to be patient with someone, you bite the inside of your bottom lip. You do the same thing when you're being contemplative. When you're bored, you rest your left foot on your right knee but hardly ever fidget. You're left-handed, but there are times when you pretend to take notes in class that you use your right hand to write them instead. Even though it's a rare occurrence, it annoys the hell out of you when Mr. Sumner gives incorrect information in history class, and you grit your teeth and tap your pencil against your desk like you're doing Morse code or something. You've even broken the lead off your pencil from tapping it so hard a time or two. When you read in your study, you always sit in the chair by the window closest to the fireplace. You watch things and people just as closely as I do ..."

When she trailed off, I thought she was done, and I was glad because the more Bella spoke, the more my chest tightened up. I couldn't have put on the "normal human breathing" charade if I wanted to, but I didn't actually know what I wanted.

But Bella wasn't done. She looked away from me again and inhaled deeply, and her exhale was slow, steady … it was almost like she was trying to calm herself down, rally her courage. She only returned her eyes to me after she'd begun speaking again, still appearing to be shy.

"You're stubborn as all hell, and when you've got your mind set on something, there's usually no stopping you. You're fiercely loyal and you love your family that way too. You let Esme hug you even though you don't like it because you know how much it means to her. You defer to Carlisle when it's clear that you don't need to, but you do it as a gesture of respect. You don't smile a lot, and sometimes when you do, it doesn't reach your eyes. When it does though? It is such a sight to behold," she breathed, a smile of her own taking over. That twist of her lips almost seemed unintentional.

"You're funny, like really funny, but in a different way from Emmett and Peter. It's more understated, and your sarcasm is phenomenal. Your snappy comebacks always impress me, even when I hated you." Bella chuckled then, and I could tell she was hoping I would laugh with her, but I didn't. I couldn't because I was paralyzed, frozen with emotions that were utterly foreign. I couldn't read the meaning behind the shadow that clouded her face either, but as she continued, I forgot I was even trying to figure it out.

"You value your relationships. You go out of your way to make the people you care about feel special, you know? You're close with everyone in your family, and you make sure each of the bonds you have with them is different but equally meaningful. It is incredibly obvious you're closer with Peter and Charlotte though. You don't give up," she said, a softness and respect in her eyes I'd never seen there before. She disengaged her right hand from mine and ran her fingers over the lapel of my suit jacket in a way that seemed mindless. Under different circumstances that would have been distracting, but my mind was too busy reeling from each of her observations to truly register it, though the little jolts of electricity were no less present than any other time she touched me.

"You love Chaos, and it's so clear to me that you'll be great with him when you finally get him desensitized to what you are." Her smile at this was proud, and the thought that she could find something in me to be proud of filled me with another wave of warmth. Her smile was also wistful and a little … sad?

"We," I corrected automatically. "When we get him desensitized to what I am."

She didn't look at me when she nodded. "It bothers you that I know who you were when you were alive. It makes you angry even. You're compassionate," she paused, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth in uncertainty. "I know this because I felt it when you comforted me as I was freaking out, and you did it even though I was treating you like shit. Plus, you saved my life. You didn't have to do those things for a girl who gave you every indication that she wouldn't appreciate them—"

"Everything you just said about compassion, I could say the same for you," I interrupted. She made it sound like that was some sort of rare character trait, but what I'd said was true. She'd shown that quality to me back in Louisville. "There is a difference between us though." Her raised brow drew my explanation from me before I was truly ready to give it. "Our standards … you're more tolerant than I am. You've shown compassion to people I never would have allowed to live on my best days, let alone my worst, and I don't understand it. Not at all."

"Sometimes giving people compassion they might not deserve and doing what's right outweighs pride," she muttered, looking away. "Even if doing it could end badly for you."

"And if you knew beforehand that it would end badly for you, you still wouldn't hesitate, would you?" I asked, my gaze intense. Bella knew I was talking about Sharon.

"No, I wouldn't," she confirmed without a moment's pause. "But the majority of the time I still look out for myself above anyone else."

"Of course you do," I said emphatically. "If you don't, who else will? I mean, how long has it even been since you've had anyone else to do that for you?"

As I said this, I couldn't help but turn inwardly gleeful as I thought about what I'd done to Harpy Bitch in the name of avenging Bella. My only regret was that I hadn't stayed in Louisville long enough to prevent the events that had led to my need to avenge her in the first place.

Bella smiled softly. "Pretty recently actually."

I smiled back. "You know the family would do anything for you, right?"

"I know they would do a lot, but I don't believe that," she said. "And they shouldn't."

"I meant it when I said you're worth it," I growled. "Even if you are annoying as fuck. Carlisle and Peter meant it too. That hasn't changed."

She just shrugged, and I knew I wasn't going to change her mind.

Even though I was seriously uncomfortable and it had to have been noticeable, Bella still wasn't done.

"I can't believe you forgave me for making assumptions and being an insufferable bitch because of them and then gave me a chance to make it up to you. I've noticed a million things, I guess ... except this," Bella murmured, moving her fingers from my lapel and placing her palm on my chest, over my still heart. She studied her hand as it rested there. "I didn't notice this."

She started to trace her index finger in a heart shape where her hand had been, her gaze intent on the movement.

Everything Bella said was overwhelming, made it feel as though the floor had dropped out from underneath me. All of it made me dizzy and the lump in my throat grew. How many times in the last few days had I been dizzy and overwhelmed, and what did it mean? And why was all of this, all of Bella's observations, affecting me this way? Why did my chest feel so fuckin' tight, even tighter than before, and why couldn't I find the words to respond? I was speechless.

As if just now noticing how disconcerted I was, Bella's cheeks flamed with embarrassment which was strange. She hadn't seemed bothered by her candor before; she fisted her hands around the lapels of my tuxedo jacket and buried her face in my chest between them. A second later, she released my lapels and bolted backwards as if I'd burned her, suddenly realizing she was touching me much more than I'd given her permission to.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed softly. "I shouldn't have—"

My speechlessness abated then as I felt the need to reassure her. "It's alright," I promised, and it really was. I needed her close to me. I craved it. "For once, I don't mind … unless you do."

She just gazed at me for a moment. "I don't."

I watched her closely as I reached out and took her hands, still in loose fists, and placed them back on my chest. Bella followed my movements intently as I did and then moved my hands to her hips and guided them until we were flush but not pressed tightly together. I ran the pads of the fingers of my right hand from the base of her spine up until I reached her upper back and then glided it carefully across her silky, bare skin, spreading it wide to span the distance between her shoulder blades. I was afraid if I kept it on the small of her back that I might do something stupid and touch her in a place I shouldn't. Her upper back was safer. After I steadfastly promised myself I wouldn't take advantage, I left my other hand on her hip.

Bella balled her own hands in my jacket again and leaned her forehead on my breastbone, and without my permission, the hand on her back slid upward underneath her hair to the nape of her neck. My fingers massaged the tense muscles there in a subconscious maneuver, and she shivered at the action. I found immense satisfaction in this until one of hers traveled up my chest to do something similar, fingers tangling in my hair and playing with it. My eyes fluttered shut, and I was reasonably certain they rolled back behind my closed lids. My breath sucked in sharply and stuck in my increasingly tight chest. In yet another reaction beyond my control, I pulled her even closer.

We swayed to the music for a long time, or that's what it seemed like to me. I didn't register the songs playing. They could have been slow or fast for all I knew, but that didn't matter. I didn't care. Eventually Bella's eyes lifted to mine, our gazes locked and I was again lost. Time held even less meaning.

For the second time since I met her, for the second time in my immensely long life, I felt the urge to kiss someone. I felt it so strongly that I ached with the desire to press my lips to hers, to claim her, to possess her, to devour her. I wanted her. I needed her.

"Song's over," she said suddenly, pulling away from me.

Her abrupt statement came as a shock to my system but not nearly as much as the distance she put between us. Had my need to kiss her shown plainly on my face? Had I scared her? Was she repulsed by the idea?

"Right," I responded like a complete and utter fuckin' moron. I was frozen and confused; it didn't occur to me to say anything more.

"I should go back to Tyler," she continued.

I blinked. "Right."

She drew away from me completely then and turned to head back to the guy who brought her here, but I called out to her before she got far. "Hey, Bella?"

She stopped in her tracks and twisted back towards me, cocking an inquisitive brow.

I wasn't frozen anymore, still confused, but not frozen, and my wits had returned to me. Unlike the last time I told her this, I knew exactly what I was going to say. The words would not be said impulsively but with intent. "I lied."

"About what, Jasper?" she asked curiously and with confusion.

I fought back my smile. She was playing right into my hands. "You are anything but mediocre."

Bella picked up on the significance of my words immediately. They were what I'd said to her in Louisville just before she left me in the alley to return to The Finish Line.

She didn't snort this time but smiled and repeated what she'd said to me. "Cheesy bastard."

I grinned at her, and her smile widened. "Thanks for the dance, Jasper."

"Anytime, darlin'," I replied. I was startled to find I meant it.

Bella's brows puckered and she frowned. "I can't decide if I hate that more or less than 'sugar,'" she mused.

Then she finally went back to Tyler.

My mouth dropped open. I had called her darlin'. I didn't call anyone darlin'. Unlike most, I didn't feel it was a name to be abused. As far as I was concerned, it was a term of endearment reserved for only two types of relationships: your children and lovers—the ones you could see yourself being with, the ones you could truly fall for, the ones you could love.

My heart sank. Oh shit! Am I in love with Bella?

oOo

PPOV

Everything was going according to plan ...

Charlotte and I had expected some sort of blow up as a result of our scheme. We just weren't sure what kind it would be. I had anticipated several different scenarios: Jasper getting wind of Bella's date with Tyler Crowley and throwing a contained, internal shitfit that left him sulky, brooding and pissed off; a shitfit where several hundred feet, if not miles, of forest and woodland creatures became unfortunate collateral damage to his wrath and confusion and then left him sulky, brooding and pissed off; or a confrontation between Jasper and Bella that would end in one of many degrees of messy that, of course, would also leave him sulky, brooding and pissed off.

No matter which it ended up being, it would be the precursor necessary for getting Jasper's head out of his ass in regard to his feelings for the human girl I had come to love in the past weeks, the human girl Charlotte was close to loving as well. Once that was done, things would start to fall into place—the groundwork for him to figure out that Bella was his mate would be laid, and Charlotte and I could step back a little and watch as he slowly but surely added to the foundation until who she was to him was so obvious that even he couldn't overlook it and not through eyes clouded over both with stubbornness as well as ignorance anymore. Jasper had never asked any of the mates he knew about what happened when they found their other half. He didn't know the signs or the feelings, neither physical or emotional because he didn't care to know, because he didn't want to know. That meant a lot of building onto that foundation needed to be done to make him understand. But while we might have to do a little more watching than participating, Charlotte and I would still be there to hand him hammers, nails and any other tools he could use to get where he needed to go.

Now, the two of us were intimately familiar with many sides of Jasper, but "Jealous Jasper" was not one of them, so once we'd poked the bear, we could only sit back and wait to see how that bear would react. He had gone for the confrontation, and in truth, that was the scenario my Char and I had been most prepared for because that was the one that would require the most damage control. Really, each of them was old hat by now after how long we'd been watching the Major's back and cleaning up the messes he couldn't help but sometimes make, but we had to give the situation with the potential fallout for more people than just the three of us-—especially when one of those people was human and his mate—the most careful consideration.

That things would get messy was a given no matter which of those scenarios played out. I suppose I should have known that "messy" wouldn't quite cover it or the aftermath. This whole thing did involve Jasper and Bella after all. Putting two of the most stubborn individuals in existence who could push each other's buttons with such ease and expertise in the same room with an instigator as strong as jealousy was like purposely inciting a gas leak and striking a match, but even I could not have foreseen, neither with my gift nor my fuckawesome instincts, the wild card that is Bella Crawfield. I did know that to a certain degree, but damn, had I underestimated the girl! Standing firm when Jasper went all "Major" on her and dishing it out just as hard as he gave it to her? And honestly, pushing him until she had the Major pinned to a wall? Trying to slap him? Daring him to kill her and then stealing his motorcycle, one of his most prized possessions? That took some serious fuckin' balls, and even though my faith that Jasper would never harm a hair on that girl's head ... much ... remained unwavering, that still made me nervous as fuck. We were dealing with the Major, and when provoked, he was ruthless and unforgiving. Bella had no idea the fire she was playing with, but despite that, all their fight did was reinforce to me how perfect they were for each other.

As unexpected as some of what went down between Bella and Jasper was, it wasn't difficult for Charlotte and I to know how to handle the aftermath of the situation. After things like this, Jasper always needed time to decompress, so the best thing to do was to give him the space to do that. Bella and Jasper were very different in some ways but almost identical in others, so it wasn't hard to figure out that she would need the same thing, and she had made it clear, albeit in an understated way, that she appreciated it and equally so that she didn't appreciate the family's attempts to crowd her in order to discern whether or not she was okay. As always, she had set boundaries that, in no uncertain terms, told them to back the fuck off with as few words as possible; thereby relieving Charlotte and me of that responsibility. Jasper, on the other hand, made things infinitely more fuckin' difficult. When he hadn't come back after a few hours or even a couple of days, the family's anxiety and concern became so palpable that it took a lot of convincing on our part to get them off the idea of sending out a search party.

As often as Jasper took off, he always managed to conceal that he did it when he was pissed off, feeling restless, just flat out claustrophobic or when he was struggling with his past, though that wasn't always the case. This time was absolutely the opposite, and his prolonged absence (nine days to be precise) freaked all of them out. That he wasn't answering his phone only compounded it, and it had Charlotte and I working double-time to appease them. It didn't help that not even we had any clue where he had gone or what he was doing. All we knew was that wherever and whatever it was, it was vital to the process of him figuring out how he felt about Bella, but we couldn't and wouldn't tell them that.

Had I just known that Jasper would show up here at the Winter Formal and that this was where he would make some, if not all, of the final connections in regard to his feelings? Yep. That was why I had left the brand new tuxedo laying out on his bed before all of us headed to the dance, ensuring he would assume it was Alice's doing by pretending it was mine and asking her opinion while purposely making her handle the damn thing. Since Jasper and I were close to the same height and build, she didn't suspect anything, and since I had no scent to link it back to me, Jasper wouldn't either, laying the blame for it squarely on the midget's shoulders.

And now here Charlotte and I were, watching as our scheme came to fruition, and it truly was a roaring success, if I do say so myself and rather smugly at that. It was even more of a success than I'd anticipated it would be.

I also just knew that Charlotte and I would have to field and redirect the suspicions of Alice, Edward, Emmett and Rosalie, and inevitably, Carlisle and Esme. We would also have to feed them a nugget of truth. After Bella and Jasper's fight, that was unavoidable, but it wouldn't be difficult to do, especially since we knew precisely which sliver of it to shove down their throats.

And now was the time to implement our diversionary tactics, most of which would be left to me, but first, we would have to tell that bit of truth. The best lies were always mixed with elements of truth anyway.

The six of us "Cullen kids" were all seated at a table now, not even pretending to hide our blatant staring at Jasper and Bella. It was very evident that they were unaware of the attention they were drawing, not only from us but from a good many of the party-goers at this mockery of a dance.

Emmett's mouth dropped open to speak, and Charlotte and I both knew about what.

I opened only the minimum part of my mind required to let Edward in and make use of his gift. "Any of you say it out loud, and Charlotte and I will rip you apart right fuckin' here," I warned with no trace of humor in my internal voice.

Emmett frowned, miffed by my threat. He had never been on the receiving end of my temper before, and he rarely came face to face with my militaristic side. He didn't understand, and he was hurt. I wished I could regret that—I truly did love the guy—but I couldn't show remorse right now. He, they, needed to understand that Charlotte and I weren't to be trifled with at the moment, or ever, and that if they didn't heed my warning, we would fuck them up.

All of them were frowning, not just Emmett, and I leveled them with a menacing glare. Charlotte looked them over with an utterly serious and deadly expression, and they all finally lost any will to disobey. They were still frowning though.

And now it was time for the grain of truth.

"Jazz and Bella?" Emmett questioned incredulously after a few moments of silence. Charlotte and I cocked eyebrows at him simultaneously. God, I loved my mate! "But they hate each other!"

"No, they don't," I countered with authority and no room for argument.

He argued anyway. "But—"

"Oh, c'mon," my Char interrupted, her voice even and demeanor confident and just as authoritative as mine. "You had to have considered it, Emmett. After their fight, how could you not? And you were the one to suggest they rub each other the right way."

"I was just fucking around—" he shouted.

"Oh, he has considered it," Edward interjected with mild amusement, tapping his temple to indicate he'd seen it in Em's mind. "Despite his current supposed astonishment. We all have. We just didn't think we were right. Jasper just doesn't do those kinds of feelings or relationships, or so we thought. Anyway, the only reason Emmett's decided not to rip Jasper's head off for tearing into Bella the way he did is because he was just as pissed about her going with Tyler as Jasper was."

"That is not true," Emmett protested. "Mostly. I'm also not doing it because Bella would be pissed at me for it. Not the ripping off Jasper's head part but because she would somehow figure out I didn't want her to go with Tyler to this thing either. As much as that bothers me, as much as I'd like to make the kid shit his pants in fear to get him to stay away from Bella, it isn't my place to tell her who to date, though that's difficult for me to accept. It is my place to murder him slowly if he hurts her though."

"Not just yours," Edward informed him seriously.

"Nope," I agreed. "And yes, 'Jazz and Bella,' as Charlotte has already confirmed."

"But why can't we say anything?" Alice demanded, just as I knew she would.

"Because if you do," my Char said. "All of that—" she gestured to the dancing pair— "will be undone. Do you really want that, Ali?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed emphatically. "But why would it matter?"

"Because of things about Jasper's past that none of you know and that it isn't our place to tell," I informed them, my authority still powerfully evident. This was another grain of truth. Jasper's secrets weren't ours to tell. "It isn't anything you need to know anyway."

Edward regarded me curiously, and I knew now was the time for misdirection. He was wondering if this had anything to do with the things Jasper had shared with him about Maria and Savannah. I didn't need my gift to know that, but I also just knew that he was about to ask me and Charlotte about it, though I suspected he didn't plan to include the others in his query. He remembered Jasper's request to keep that information between him and Alice, and he had every intention of respecting it. My respect for him increased exponentially. Alice's memo seemed to have gotten lost in the mail, much to my mate's and my relief.

Rosalie, however, beat her brother to the punch, speaking for the first time since Emmett opened his big fuckin' mouth, but I had just known she would. "Wait, are they mates?"

And let the subterfuge begin ...

Emmett's mouth went agape with shock again at the prospect while Alice squealed inside our heads loud enough that I swore I felt venom dribbling out of my ears. Everyone visibly cringed at the sound and Alice began bouncing in her chair excitedly.

I sighed wearily and with much disappointment. The weariness wasn't fake—there were many, many things about Jasper that I was bone-tired over, though none of them were bad and none of them were Jasper's fault. I was tired of watching him suffer and struggle, of witnessing his pain and its aftermath. I wanted that to be over for him, and for the first time, I saw light at the end of that tunnel. Bella was that light, though I knew there would still be a bumpy road ahead before Jasper got to the end of that tunnel and to her, to where he needed to be, but he would get there. I would damn well fuckin' see to that, and so would my Char. It had always been my mission to save my brother and best friend, and it was a mission my mate had adopted, though it wasn't quite the same for her. That hadn't changed in all the years I'd known him, and this was the culmination of that. Even when this particular endgame was complete, that mission would not be over by any means. I would be by his side always, always making sure he had what he needed, always ensuring he truly was saved and stayed that way. Saving him would always be my mission, even when he no longer needed to be, even when that job should be someone else's, when that job should eventually be Bella's. That's just the way it was, how it would always be.

Many vampire scholars postulated that each of us were born into this life, and possibly even our human one, for the sake of our mates. They theorized that Fate had a part in our eventual demise, our transition to the walking dead, and that every vampire had a mate—a person made just for us while we were made just for them. I had never doubted those scholars. I had never questioned that I was made for Charlotte, but that wasn't the limit of my existence. I may always have been destined to become a figurative "creature of the night" but as important as my role in Charlotte's life was and always had been, as much as I cherished it and her, I didn't believe she was the reason I'd been turned, as odd and possibly sacrilege as that sounded. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that I had been brought into this life for Jasper's sake, and that Charlotte was merely a side benefit, a reward for sticking with him always, a happily ever after I had earned as a result. Regardless, Jasper and Charlotte were what I existed for, who I existed for and loved in equal measure, though in different ways, and I had a strong suspicion that who and what I existed for would soon extend to a certain pretty, brown-haired, brown-eyed human I'd recently taken to calling "Punk."

"No," my Char answered smoothly and resolutely, with such conviction there could be no doubt that she was telling them the truth. I couldn't help but be proud that she was so convincing despite who we were lying to and what we were lying about, but this was for Jasper, and we were doing what had to be done. I had no remorse for that. I never would, even if these people sitting before us, these people I loved, would hate me, hate us, for it later. We had survived worse, and we would get over it as long as Jasper understood why Charlotte and I had kept it from him. Even if he didn't, I wouldn't feel any regret for my actions if he ended up happy. I was willing to accept that even if I lost him over it. It would hurt like a son of a bitch, nearly unbearably so, but I would take it like a man because these were the things, the sacrifices, you made for family.

Alice's face contorted in disappointment, her bottom lip taking on its signature pout and her eyes were truly sad. She was clearly heartbroken with Charlotte's and my lie that Bella and Jasper weren't mates, but I couldn't care about that. I didn't. I—Charlotte and I—were once again playing by the rules of survival. We had to choose who we loved more, who made the cut and who didn't; she didn't. Not when she was pitted against Jasper. Then no one else made the cut.

"Jasper's mate isn't comin' along for another hundred fifty-seven years, Ali," I said. My Char glanced at me out of the corner of her eye and the look in them was meaningful, but I couldn't turn my attention to her. I had to keep it on the family. But she knew the significance of that number. It wasn't one I had randomly pulled out of my ass. Jasper had turned me in 1923, one hundred fifty-seven years ago.

"Why haven't you ever mentioned that before, bro?" Emmett asked, confused.

"Jasper doesn't like the idea of mates," I answered simply. "He fuckin' hates it actually, so why would I bring something up that would only piss him off?"

He and Rosalie looked at me expectantly, but I didn't elaborate.

"Do you want to meet the God of War?" my Char asked pointedly.

"He hates the idea that much?" Rose questioned with obvious surprise and some trepidation.

"Yes," I replied, a darkness in my "voice" no one at this table but Charlotte had ever heard.

Edward and Alice understood, in part, why that was, but Emmett and Rosalie didn't have a damn clue. Despite their knowledge, Edward and Alice's faces still twisted with frowns and distress just the same as their mammoth brother's and goddess of a sister's. I could tell the latter two wanted to ask, but my Char didn't give them the chance to.

"He's not particularly fond of plain old love either, and don't bother askin' why," Charlotte said. That was another of Jasper's secrets we had no right to tell. "All you need to know is that he's got to put the pieces together about his feelings on his own."

Alice opened her mouth to ask why, but I didn't let her get that far. "If the Major's gonna be open to the idea of love at all, open to the possibility of them—" I gestured to Bella and Jasper again— "bein' together, then that is how it's got to be," I said forcefully. "Especially if there's gonna be a snowball's chance in hell of him acceptin' his mate when she does come along. He's got to be open to the idea of love first, and that—" I yet again gestured to my brother and Bella— "is the first step. She is good for him, and it doesn't even really have anything to do with that. Don't y'all want that for him? A little happiness before the true happily-ever-after comes? He does still have an awful long time to wait."

None of that was a lie, not outright anyway.

"Of course, we do," Edward said emphatically, casting hard glances at the rest of the family. "We will follow your lead on this, Peter. Yours and Charlotte's."

That sounded more like a threat wrapped in the trappings of a promise, and it was a pretty damn menacing one. Alice, Emmett and Rose all nodded enthusiastically to confirm their compliance, and my respect for Edward again magnified. I knew without a doubt that the others would have agreed regardless, but his thinly-veiled "don't fuck with me or them" had killed whatever fruitless arguing would ensue before they all bent to Charlotte's and my will. I was thoroughly impressed.

"Absolutely no interference from any of you," I reiterated. "If any nudgin' needs to be done, you leave that to me and Char." I answered before they could ask why, "Because I just know shit and because we know him and the way his mind works. We know what can be fucked with and what needs to be left alone. It's unfortunate, but that isn't something any of you will ever understand or know how to do. If you violate that, we won't hesitate to dish out some retribution. We clear?"

Alice, Edward, Emmett and Rosalie nodded in all seriousness, and I knew they would keep their mouths shut because this was the part of the secret they actually could keep. Jasper falling in love was a big deal, but there were a lot of vampires that went through countless lovers before they came across their mates, lovers who actually meant something more to them than just a fuck. It wasn't a foreign concept, but it wasn't a Walt Disney-style happily-ever-after. Even if who Jasper fell for was Bella, the family would be far less enthusiastic about it when she fell into that category rather than if she was the "one." Then their excitement and desire to run their fuckin' mouths would be practically irresistible, their emotions would go fuckin' haywire, and Charlotte's and my whole operation we be blown. This less exciting version of the truth, their desire to see the Major happy for a little while and that it would pave the way for him to be ready for his mate when she actually came along would keep their lips zipped, and their less potent emotions would be far less likely to tip Jasper off to the fact that something was up. It was the best we could do in the current circumstances with what my knucklehead brother and my Punk had left us to work with, and it would have been pretty damn obvious soon anyway … well, even more obvious.

My proclamation effectively ended our discussion, and my Char made her way to me, seating herself in my lap. We continued to watch Jasper and Bella as they danced. They were silent now, just holding each other as they swayed to the music. His eyes were closed as his hands kept her in place against him, and I had never seen him so at ease. Bella's left hand had unconsciously drifted up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck while her right still had the lapel of his tuxedo jacket balled up in her fist, but it was settled over his heart. She was leaning into him, though her head wasn't quite resting against his chest, but I couldn't see her face.

It was another minute before they shifted around enough for Charlotte and I to see Bella's expression, and what we found there did not bode well for our plans nor did it do our hearts much good. She wasn't happy nor did she appear to be at peace. She looked conflicted, desolate, sad, a smidge confused and utterly terrified, yet oddly determined, and I had a feeling that that determination was probably not going to lead her in the direction of where we wanted her to go. As if she noticed eyes on her, all those emotions disappeared, replaced by indifference, her eyes completely unreadable. Yet again, Bella Crawfield was proving to be a fuckin' wild card, but we would work on that. My Char and I were awesome after all, and this first phase of our "romantic coup," as we had dubbed our scheming, was peanuts. We had yet to pull out our A-game, to shine as the brilliantly sneaky fuckers we truly were.

After this song ended, Bella pulled away from Jasper to head back to Tyler. Their parting was awkward and stilted, tinged with confusion, but banter still passed between them, and then there was the thing that gave Jasper away—the thing that confirmed that Charlotte's and my plan had worked …

He called Bella "darlin'." Jasper didn't call anyone "darlin'," and though Charlotte knew that, she didn't know why, but I did. I had always known. The fact that he'd called Bella that was such a huge fuckin' deal; the firecracker of a girl had broken through his defenses and wormed her way into his heart, and that one little word, that term of endearment that we Southern folk abused (I plead guilty), proved it. Jasper Michael Whitlock, my best friend, my brother, my comrade and former, though still occasional, commanding officer, and at times, a monumental pain in my ass, not only had feelings for Bella Crawfield, he was in love with her, and he had just figured that out.

Charlotte and I exchanged triumphant grins.

oOo

A/N: Jasper got a clue! Wooo! Who's doing a fist pump and shouting, "About damn time!"? ;)

Bella's having a rough time with all the unsaid goodbyes, isn't she? And Peter and Charlotte? Still sneaky, but I still love them.

I had three songs in mind while he and Bella were dancing: "Look After You" by The Fray, "Anchor" by Mindy Gledhill and "Kiss Me" by Ed Sheeran, which is the final song they danced to. Their conversation and dance lasted for many more than just three songs, but the feeling I hoped to invoke through it all is that what they were dancing to didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. I only listed those in case anyone was curious. If you haven't heard any of those songs, I highly recommend them.

Bella's dress, as always, can be found on my photobucket album, the link to which is on my profile.

I really, truly hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. *crosses fingers*

As for what comes next ... well, Bella is on schedule to put Forks in her rear view mirror ...

Take care!