Chapter 27
Well, I'll try to do it right this time around
Let's start over
I'll try to do it right this time around
It's not over
'Cause a part of me is dead and in the ground
This love is killing me, but you're the only one
It's not over — It's Not Over, Daughtry
Jacob
I made out with her...
I made out with her...
I made out with her...
The words played in my mind like a broken record.
Shocked, I slipped into a silent stupor.
"Because of some guy, she didn't want me telling anyone," Seth said.
Bella flat out lied to my face, and I wanted to wipe the grin off Seth's mouth with my fist.
I stared at the mound of scrambled eggs and greasy bacon lying on my breakfast plate, my stomach twisting. Then, excusing myself, I half-mindedly wandered to the infirmary and told the nurse I thought I was coming down with the flu. Buried in my bed in the dark, hurting and thinking, I hid in my room all day, like a wuss.
Did she feel that damn sorry for him, she tried to kiss him all better? Why would she do that?
It was insane and hard to believe, but it made sense because they both acted strange that night. Plus, I felt I walked in on something.
Tossing and turning all night long, I didn't get an ounce of sleep. They'd kissed, and she pretended she didn't know Seth even liked her. She had to have known, especially since it happened more than once. I saw them together. I knew there was a little something between them. How stupid did she think I was? The more I agonized about it, the worse I felt. The sweetest, most genuine person in my life made a fool of me. Who'd have thought she had it in her? Not me.
Come morning, I was stone-cold enraged.
After I clamped down the enormous urge to pound the shit out of Seth, I decided I couldn't blame him for finding a moment to kiss her because I knew I would have done the same. In fact, I did the same.
Nope, that was all Bella. While Seth wasn't forthcoming because she'd asked him not to tell anyone. She had straight-up lied to me. Twice.
Betrayal blistered red hot. It was the worst pain of my life, worse than being rejected or suffering a wicked and humiliating loss, even. I didn't want to talk to her at all. When she called, I told myself to give her the opportunity to explain. But come on, what could she say? I was too pissed off. Pissed, because she made me feel stupid and depressed and pathetic—the way I saw some guys after someone played them. Dumb asses went back for more. I never understood that guy, and pride refused to let me be one.
I didn't stay mad at her for long. A few weeks, a couple of months at the most. I missed her—really and truly missed her. I missed our talks, her laugh. I missed the warm comfort of her voice. But by then, I didn't know how to break the ice between us. How was I supposed to begin a conversation with her about it? Or any other subject, for that matter. The issue was too big to confront over the telephone. So, ultimately, I let the problem of her kissing him and lying about it go, and I let her go with it.
Now Seth was saying it wasn't true. But the crazier thing was, I wouldn't have cared if I died believing his story. I didn't care anymore. The moment I got a close view of Bella, leaning up against Seth, eyes clinging to him, cozy in the bonfire light, I realized it didn't matter what had happened between them, because I still wanted to be with her. I stood there watching them. They were sitting together, isolated from the crowd and absorbed, like two people hooking up for real. And something primitive burst inside of me, the something that caused a guy to stomp another guy's guts out over his woman. I headed straight over there with nothing on my mind except for taking her away from him. On the way, I gave silent thanks to the individuals who stood in front of me with "hey, Jake" or "how you doing" and distracting me enough to calm me before I reached them.
But those feelings didn't surface in time to keep me from making another misinterpreted decision and acting on it. Earlier, when I first arrived, I saw Seth and Bella from a distance. They were traipsing from car to car, visiting people, hanging out together, and going about their business. Same old, same old.
No big deal. I told myself it didn't bother me, but I still left. Because I was grappling with returning to California for the summer, the right move became obvious. I needed more diverse training if I even hoped to do a good job at the national tournament. Billy was sober for a few years; he was fine without me. Since Bella and I were long over, I found no reason to stay in La Push.
Once my parents agreed, I felt like I could breathe easier, and I came back to the party.
I never considered they were looking for me or that it wasn't over between me and Bella. What the hell? I huffed. Idiot!
Seth sulked away, heart-hurt and crumbling. He looked the way I'd felt all those months ago. We were in such a fucked up situation. It took guts for him to tell me the truth; it made me feel guilty for going behind his back in the first place. I loved my cousin, and he hurt enough. So no, I wouldn't blame him to repair my relationship with her. It was my dishonesty with him and my misjudgment of Bella that brought us to this point. I needed to make Bella and me right without using him as an excuse. She never kissed him, not on purpose! Taking a harsh breath, I ran a tight hand down my mouth and chin and turned toward Bella. She was no longer sitting but standing by the car with her attention on the crowd.
Now what?
She smoothed her hand through her hair, gathering an arm full, and swept it all to the front of her shoulder. My eyes lingered on her, casual and alluring, with a detectable pout on the soft curves of her cherry lips—attractive far beyond anyone and everyone. I wet my lips. How had I let a misunderstanding obliterate our relationship and keep me away from her?
Admiring her, I found the bright side of the situation. She was here, and so was I!
Super invigorated, I grinned.
Before Seth's interruption, we sat together uncomfortably close, forcing dull and meaningless talk. It was terrible to be near her and experiencing such a strain between us. My palm rested flat against the trunk of the car mere centimeters behind her. If she leaned back just a smidgen, she would have been leaning against me. If I leaned forward just a tad, I would have been holding her. But an obvious gap of cold, unfriendly space separated the two of us, as solid as a marble wall.
She looked up at me as I approached. Examining her expression, I sought a place to start, some words to say. But the only thoughts coming to my mind were: I love you. I miss you, I'm sorry, and... "I was a dick!"
