Rachel
Can I just be her again? The girl from last night that Paul said he adored. How did he describe her? Beautiful, fearless, amazing, strong… When he kissed me I got lost in the myth of her. The girl he made up in his mind and thinks of me to be. Not this mess. Covered in mud and limping.
The lacrosse game was cut short. The ground was far too wet to play and when Leah tackled Emily into a slick mud puddle. Sam lost his temper. Claimed that she did it on purpose. Perhaps she did; their history seems messy and complicated. Even though Emily swore she was fine and laughed it off, Sam's nostrils flared and he scolded Leah, harshly. Sent her home to 'grow up'.
In my attempt to help my teammate up, I slipped in the mud as well and twisted my bad knee — the one with which I had surgery not too long ago to repair my ACL.
After Emily and myself had rinsed off the mud in the bathroom we scurried into Kim's room in just our bras and underwear.
It has resumed pouring rain outside. All potential outdoor activities have been canceled.
"Honey!" Kim yells down the hall from her bedroom.
"Yeah?!" Jared calls back.
"Can you turn on the heat?!" Kim shouts.
Within seconds warm air is pumping out of the vents. Kim has a nice home. It's bright and cheerful and smells like lemons from whatever cleaning product her mother uses. And warm; so warm. Turning on the heat at the Black house is not instant and the warmth is rarely distributed evenly. Some rooms are practically saunas while others are frigid. When we were all kids — on particularly brutal winter nights — Mom and Dad would have us all sleep in the living room.
Back then there was a small fireplace situated between the couch and TV. Dad has since had it removed. Something about reducing the cost of home insurance. Come to think of it, it would have been better to let the old place burn down. After all, allowing one's roof to decay is not covered by insurance. Then again, I doubt the old house would have burned anyways with all the moisture. It doesn't feel dry and toasty like Kim's house. The Black house is damp, chilly, and uncomfortable.
No wonder I didn't feel an ounce of homesickness while I was away at WSU. What was there to miss? Lukewarm showers? Cold nights? The smell of old carpets and mildew? … The lingering expectation that Mom will walk through the door at any minute, followed by the painful realization that it will never happen. And then reliving the reasons why.
"Do you own any adult women's clothing?" I exhale, searching through Kim's closet for something to put on. Everything Kim owns comes from the juniors section.
"I'm having the same problem," Emily chuckles looking through a drawer, "Kim, none of this is going to fit us."
"Oh, right," Kim laughs, "uh, no. I'm afraid everything I own is from the kid's department. But you can borrow something from my sister. She's away at college but she left some stuff," Kim says, pulling out a large luggage bag from under the bed.
Emily shakes her head with a smile on her face as Kim attempts to lift the giant suitcase onto the bed, "I got it, runt," she teases.
Kim chuckles and turns to me, "oh my god!" she gasps. "Rachel! Is that a tattoo?!" she squeaks and hurries over to me, lifting my arm above my head to get a better look at the small feather tattoo on my ribs.
"Oh. Um," I blush, "yeah," I nod.
"It's lovely," Emily compliments me.
"Th- thank you," I put my arm down and limp over to the luggage on my sore knee and quickly grab an orange long-sleeve t-shirt to cover up with.
My tattoo; a permanent reminder of desperation. Another attempt at being fun. A poor choice of location too. It hurt like hell getting inked right on my ribs and a portion of the design needs to be touched up because I stupidly wore a bra while it was healing.
"I want to get a tattoo so bad," Kim says, sitting down on the bed, "Jared doesn't want me to," she rolls her eyes.
"Really?" Emily pulls on a sweatshirt from the luggage, "why?"
"He's a snob. He thinks that tattoos should have some meaning and because I can't think of something meaningful to get… Does your tattoo have a meaning?" Kim lights up.
I think about it for a second, "I suppose it's a lesson on tequila and peer pressure," I reply honestly.
Kim giggles, "you're so funny. What does Paul think of your tattoo?" Kim beams at me.
"I uh… he hasn't seen it... I don't think," I reply bashfully. It was dark last night. I don't think he saw it. He didn't mention it, at least. I pick out a pair of white terry cloth shorts from the luggage. Thankfully they fit. I was afraid I'd have to squeeze into Kim's jeans. There's just no way. I've got at least 25lbs on the tiny girl.
"You're right. He was probably distracted," Kim says, laying down on the bed.
"What?" I'm confused. What does she mean by that?
"You know… making out. He probably wasn't examining your body for tattoos," Kim giggles.
"Making out?" Emily's eyes light up. "Oh, so I see you're getting well acquainted," she smiles warmly, pulling on a pair of yoga pants that look amazing on her.
The blood drains from my face. I'm mortified, "he told you?"
"Oh, he told Jared. Jared tells me everything," Kim's grin slowly leaves her face, "I hope I didn't-"
"Such a mistake. I mean, what could I expect from some 16-year-old kid who-," I shake my head.
"Oh, now…" Emily smiles sweetly, " no one is judging you. Paul may be a little rough around the edges but there's nothing to be embarrassed around. And there are no secrets among the boys. They're all in each other's heads."
Damn. The wolf thing. I forgot.
I glance back and forth between Emily and Kim. The reality of what that means dawns on me, "and you're cool with that? That each of those kids down there know what goes on in your um... bedrooms?" I scratch my neck.
Emily blushes, "you kind of just learn to put it out of your mind."
"It bothered me at first," Kim admits, "but then I figured that all the guys are kind of in the same boat. Rogue thoughts are bound to happen. Sooner or later everyone will imprints and-"
"My brother is in the pack," I blurt out.
I know Jacob is gone. But for how long? I'm getting ahead of myself. Paul and I kissed… Once! There is nothing going on between us… Yet? Do I want there to be something going on? It's so complicated. I have never felt this way before.. Kissing him made me feel like I was a whole new person; a person I wanted to be. I felt safe for the first time in forever; like everything was going to be okay. And even though I know it is wrong of me, I desperately want to feel that way again.
"Oh… Yeah, that's different," Kim admits, "I don't have any advice for you… But Jake took off. Maybe he doesn't want to be in the pack anymore."
"Don't say that," Emily said, looking sad. "I know he's going through something right now but we all love Jake. We want him to come back."
My heart sinks. I hadn't realized how much of a mother figure Emily was until this very moment. Of course. Sam is the Alpha… what does that make Emily as Sam's mate? Like a mother? Something Jacob no longer has because of what I did. I'm happy that Jacob has her.
"Are you okay?" Kim asks me, observing my downcast expression.
"Sorry," I shake out of it, "yeah… just hungry," I admit. It's not a lie. The pizza smell is wafting upstairs and I haven't really had anything to eat today.
"Thank god!" Kim giggles, "me too!" she says, opening the door to the bedroom and yells down the hallway, "I hope you boys have saved us some pizza!"
The girls go ahead of me.
The railing is sturdy and I hold onto it tightly, avoiding too much pressure on my knee. The kitchen is full of boys now. I take inventory. The girls; Kim and Emily. And then the boys; Sam, Jared, Quil, Collin, Brady, Seth and — of course — Paul.
"Wait there! Let me help you!" Paul hurries to my aid, meeting me halfway up the stairs.
I gasp. I had expected him to offer me an arm to get down the stairs, instead, he lifts me right off the step and carries me down the remaining.
"Oh my god," I grip his shoulders tightly. Before I know it he's lowering me down to my feet at the bottom of the steps.
"Sorry," he wrinkles his nose, apologizing for the swift and unexpected manhandling.
"Jeez. Get a room, you two," Embry snickers as he slides by to get into the bathroom.
I quickly retreat my hands from Paul's large muscular shoulders, "uh… thanks," I whisper, ignoring Embry's comment.
"How's your knee?" Paul asks, glaring at Embry as he closes the door to the bathroom.
"It's fine. I've done worse things to it," I reply with a small smile. I'm nervous. Why am I nervous?
A big crack of thunder rumbles outside and the electricity flickers. We both look up at the light fixture at the same time.
"Come sit down, Rachel," Emily says, helping Jared distribute his homemade pizza. "I don't know how long we'll have power. I might have to send Sam to get our generator."
Paul nods for me to go ahead of him so I do. As I enter the kitchen I am painfully aware that each and every one of them — apart from Embry who is in the bathroom — is staring at me.
"You're going to scare her," Sam addresses his pack with a throaty laugh. "Sorry, Rachel," he apologizes.
"Uh, it's okay," I sit down. I feel like I'm being sized up.
"Is her ranking automatic or do we have to wait until they hook up?" Quil asks, abruptly.
What? My ranking? And we're not hooking up!
"Quil," Sam scolds him and the younger wolf hunches a little, "everyone just carries on as you normally would. Don't be rude."
I glance up at Paul who takes a seat next to me, "ranking?" I whisper.
Paul exhales, grabbing a handful of pretzels, "uh well… the wolves have certain ranks amongst ourselves so naturally the imprints — um, the girlfriends — would follow suit. I'm um… I'm third in command which would also make you a third… kinda," he fills me in.
"Well that's dumb," I scoff, "we're not dating so I don't have a ranking," I grab a handful of pretzels as well.
"Aren't we, though?" Paul grins at me.
"What?" my face tingles. I feel flustered by the question. As though I have done something calculating that has led him to this conclusion.
"Isn't that what this is? I asked you out; here you are?" Paul raises his brow, his grin growing wider and more daring.
"No. That's not what this is," I shake my head, "we weren't going out. We were going to rent a movie and hang out. There's a difference. Then we got accosted and subsequently kidnapped by your friends."
Paul chuckles at my take on this evening's events, "okay, what about last night? Was that not a date?
I'm squirming and he's enjoying this.
"You're reading too much into things," I reply, stubbornly.
"I dunno, the beach, the movie rental, and now we're here… The evidence is pretty damning, Bird," he pushes a pretzel into his mouth and then makes a sour face.
"What's wrong? Salty pretzel?" I scowl. Good, it's what he deserves.
"No. The legal jargon. I just sounded like my father," he shivers dramatically.
I laugh. He can be quite charming when he wants to be. And he is very handsome. But, come on, Rach! He's a kid. He's 16.
"You're too young to be a viable option," I calmly defend my resolve.
It's true. He's 16. This fall I am going to be 20. That would be gross. I'd be a 20-year-old with a boyfriend in high school. No. Absolutely not. I am not doing that.
Paul sighs, "the way I see it, if I were a freshman in college and we started dating — you know, because you'd be a senior if you didn't graduate a whole two years early because you're Miss. Smarty-McSmart-Pants — that wouldn't be weird at all."
"But that's not what this is. You're going to be a senior in high school," I narrow my eyes on him.
"So you'll date me in a year?" Paul's nose wrinkles and he gets this look in his eyes; a twinkle. The wheels in his head are turning. He's setting traps. Waiting for me to say the wrong things — or right things — to get snared like the little bird he claims that I am.
"I uh-" I feel at a loss for words. He's backed me into a corner. Every time he does that thing where he looks at me and wrinkles his nose I get flustered. I wonder if he knows what he's doing.
"If my age is the only thing you have a problem with, then in a year — on my birthday — I reserve the right to ask you out to which you have no reason to say no because the age argument is null and void," Paul smirks, proud of his closing arguments.
"Hm. There's that lawyer jargon again," I smirk, "maybe you shouldn't shun your father's profession without some consideration. You might have a future in Law" I push my glasses up.
Jared hands us each a slice of his homemade pizza.
"Thanks," I smile at Jared and take a small bite. This is probably the best pizza I've had in a while. At least since coming home from Seattle.
"Would that impress you?" Paul grins, leaning forward, "if I went to law school?"
"Not with those SAT scores," I snort and take another bite.
"Ouch," Paul hisses through a big grin, "easy, Bird. Those talons are sharp," he takes a bite of his pizza which is pretty much half of the slice.
I laugh at his playful display of pain, "you're taking them again, right?" I ask, trying to deviate away from the discussion about any potential romance between us.
"I could use some help studying, actually," Paul replies with a full mouth.
"Is that your plan?" I ask, nibbling on a piece of pepperoni, "I'm going to help you study and then fall hopelessly in love with you?" I ask, boldly.
"Yeah," he nods with a confident smirk, "that's how it would go down in one of your sappy romantic comedies, isn't it?" Paul swallows the wad of pizza.
"If it were one of my sappy romantic comedies you'd be Matthew McConaughey," I grin, taking another small bite of my slice of pizza just as Paul has gotten down to the crust of his'.
"Matthew McConaughey? I'm better than that guy! Have you seen my abs?" he asks with a cocky wink.
"Oh god," I roll my eyes. This guy is so full of himself. But the answer is yes. Yes, I have seen his abs… I'd rather prefer it if I could forget about them, actually.
"Here's your drink!" Embry sets a glass of brown liquor down in front of me.
"I uh. I didn't ask for this," I look up at him.
"We're playing a game," Quil replies to me and sets down a glass in front of Paul as well, "a little bit of an icebreaker game."
"Yeah. We want to get to know you," Embry grins, "ever play 'never have I ever'?"
I glance around the room. Everyone has a drink in their hand and is ready to go. I was so enthralled in our conversation I didn't realize that activities were being prepared.
"I um… I'm familiar with the game," I wrap my hand around the glass and smell the liquid. It's whiskey.
"Great!" Jared says with an arm rested on Kim's shoulder, "... I'll go first," Jared says with a big grin on his face. "Never have I ever hid under my teacher's desk in an attempt to get a look at her panties," he says and looks right at Quil.
"Oh, man," Quil mutters and takes a drink.
I press my lips together, trying not to laugh, "what the fuck," I whisper to Paul.
Paul just shakes his head with a grin.
"I was 7, okay, and it was becau-" Quil mutters.
"Hey!" Seth points at him, "that's not how this game works. You can't explain yourself! You just drink and then ask the next question."
I love this. For the first time since Mom died, I feel like I am part of something; a family. It's like I belong and I'm supposed to be here. Sam and Emily are the keepers of all of us. Kim is like the sister I never had. Literally. Rebecca and I — despite being twins — were never very close. She took personal offense to having someone identical to her... And the boys all feel like my brothers. Well… apart from Paul. It's difficult for me to define what he is. I know what he wants to be.
"What keeps someone from lying when a question comes up that they don't want to admit to?" I ask.
"The truth always comes out," Sam explains, "especially when we phase later tonight for patrol."
"Consequences for lying is a bite on the tail," Paul elaborates.
"What keeps me from lying? No one is in my head and I don't have a tail to bite," I smirk.
Paul leans back in his chair as though to check to see if I have a tail.
"Stop," I smirk and smack his arm, playfully.
Gross. Am I flirting?
"I dunno," Paul laughs, "the honor system?" he suggests. "Quil, you're up!"
Quil looks around the group, calculating his next question, "hmm, never have I ever… worn women's clothing," Quil grins at Seth.
Myself, Kim and Emily both sip our drink… followed by Seth.
"What?!" Kim giggled.
"It's not what you think! I was-" Seth tries to clarify but is immediately cut off.
"Nah-uh-uh. The rules!" Quil grins; sweet revenge for being denied his own explanation just moments ago.
"Who goes next?" I ask Paul. Four of us took a drink.
"Why don't you go? You're our guest of honor," Paul grins.
No one seems to object so I tap my fingernails against the glass and attempt to think of a good one.
"Never have I ever… played this game before?"
The whole room takes a drink.
"That was lame," Embry rolls his eyes.
"Don't be rude," Paul scolds his wolf brother.
"This is bullshit. All these questions are so tame," Embry cracks his knuckles, "where's the juicy secrets?"
"Why don't you go next if you're so fucking bored," Paul shoots back at him.
"I fucking will. Never have I ever… had a one-night stand," Embry grins, looking around the room.
Sam drinks and no one is surprised.
I hold my glass firmly in my hand.
'There used to be a graying tower alone on the sea…' I can hear the rhythm of my dark omen echoing in my head.
That's what it was, right? A one-night stand. And a first-time — and an only time — I'd hoped it would be a fond memory of spontaneous college amusement. Much like the tattoo on my ribs. Instead, it's a recurring nightmare; something to obsess over. What had gone wrong? We were safe. Did he take the condom off? I'm almost certain he did but can never really be sure. Does it matter? Does it? Yes! Because all these months later and I am still angry that I was dealt all the fucking consequences and still don't know the truth. His response: 'Would I do that?'. Asshole.
Fuck it. I take a sip — or rather, a gulp. I swallow, hoping that by calling it as it is — a one-night stand gone wrong — it will free me of some burden. It doesn't.
"Oh shit!" Embry laughs and elbows Quil on his left and then Seth on his right, "congrats, Paul."
"I'm going to fuck you up in a second," Paul growls at Embry.
"Boys," Sam warns.
"So where was it? Like in your dorm room or something?" Embry asks, attempting to paint a picture of what went down.
Everyone is looking at me.
"Um… I thought that wasn't how the game worked," I swallow, regretting taking a drink. I don't feel less burdened. Instead, I feel exposed.
"It's not," Emily agrees with me and looks at Sam, "your turn, honey."
"Okay… Never have I ever…" Sam continues but I am no longer listening.
The sounds of everyone laughing and taking drinks and pointing their fingers at one another are all but muffled background noise.
My mind starts racing. Everyone knows now and it won't be long until they connect the dots. My thoughts spiral out of control at the possibilities. Never have I ever been pregnant. Never have I ever had an abortion… Never have I ever killed my mother.
I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat but it doesn't work.
"Rachel? Are you okay?" Kim asks. Her voice echoes through the muffled ruckus of chatter.
"Bird?" Paul puts his hand on my back.
I feel as though all of my blood has drained from my extremities and has pooled in my stomach. When I stand up from the table I am disconnected from my body and clumsy. I stumble my way through the kitchen to the bathroom on my aching knee and slam the door.
The room spins. The striped wallpaper in Kim's bathroom is dizzying to look at so I close my eyes and grip the bathroom sink in an attempt to steady myself.
"Bird?" Paul knocks at the door, "are you okay?" my ears are ringing. Although, I know he is just outside the door, it sounds like he is far away.
"I'm fine!" I shout.
I'm not fine.
They're going to find out everything and when they do they'll all hate me. Paul will hate me. Jacob will hate me. Dad will hate me.
My heart races. My gut churns. Stomach acid gurgles at the back of my throat. I hurry to the toilet, grip the bowl and empty myself of whatever few sips of whisky and bites of pizza I had.
Whatever relief my body had attempted to achieve through emptying my stomach doesn't come. Through all of this, Paul has not ceased banging on the door. He has now taken to jiggling the doorknob and has discovered that it's not locked.
I clumsily locate the flusher to hide the evidence of my body's desperate attempt to relieve me of shame.
"It's fine. I'm fine," I reassure him when my eyes connect with his concerned face.
"You sure?" he asks, standing by the door.
I limp to the sink and rinse out my mouth, "yeah. Don't worry about it."
"Jared feels bad. He said the pizza dough may have been a little undercooked," Paul mentions, offering me a towel to dry my hands and face with.
"That'll do it," I whisper, taking the towel from him. Whatever excuse he is willing to offer me so I can mask the truth; that I'm puking my guts out from unbearable guilt and shame.
"Are you okay, now?" Paul asks. "I can take you home?" he offers.
"I don't want to go home," I reply quickly, sounding more desperate than I meant to.
"Oh… Are you sure you're okay? Do you wan-"
"I said I'm fine!" I shout at him.
Paul turns to look at the door behind him. A few heads are craning in our direction to see what is going on. He exhales and takes a few steps, closing the door so it's just us. When he returns I expect him to… I don't know what I was expecting. But when he returns he draws me into a strong embrace that — despite my mind screaming at me to push away — my body welcomes it and I lean in fully; a complete surrender and the return of safety and the feeling that everything will be okay. Even if it isn't right now. In this moment I am certain that someday it could be… As long as I'm with him.