Jerks
A/N for 2018-09-21: Just a heads up, folks, that real life and other writing work will mean a slow down in this tale. I will post regularly, but less frequently.
~ Erin
(AT FlamingMapleWrites on FaceBook)
Jacob had tried, as they all tried, to keep what was private, private.
He was better than some at this.
Conversely, Paul had no such skill. His inability to compartmentalize had left him at first angry, then bitter. Then resigned. He solved his problem by giving up on all boundaries, ignoring the careful ones his packmates erected. It wasn't malicious, but simply a resignation to the inevitable. There were no secrets between them. Not anymore.
It had been one such of those moments, when Jacob's worried thoughts of Bella bubbled up from behind the careful screen he'd held up. They were tracking scents—mostly old—when Jacob's focus slipped.
There was a sort of mental silence when they saw what Jacob remembered.
He winced, realizing what he'd done.
Finally, Seth murmured a genuine, I'm so sorry in their joined minds.
Sam sighed. He was older. He wasn't surprised.
Leah's jaded acceptance was grim.
Paul laughed with tense discomfort. Seriously? He thought. She was a drugged up whore?
After that, only Sam's authority had been sharp enough to come between Jacob's teeth and Paul's hide.
Jacob had really been more angry with himself, than Paul, for violating Bella's privacy. Everyone accepted that Paul just had no filter between his brain and his mouth, or his thoughts and their sharing.
Most of the pack's thoughts were sympathetic towards Bella.
Now that the one thought had escaped, others squiggled free, and while Paul tried to hold in his reactions, he wasn't successful.
God, she's like your sister, and you've got the hots for her? Shitty dude—and she's a ho!
Sam sent Jacob home after that. Told him to get himself together.
At least she'd showered, Jacob thought, coming in the door as quietly as he could. The smell was still strong, but not as bad.
He hadn't asked. He was too afraid of the questions it would raise. Sam hadn't let him share what he was with Bella. He understood the reasons for keeping it close, but it still rankled. She knew there were wolves, and understood their purpose—but he doubted she'd made the connection between the Quieueltes themselves, as being the wolves.
Billy had told him that she'd missed the afternoon school. Gone to the hospital. That Edward Cullen had phoned and told them she was with him.
"Least he called," Billy muttered, when he caught Jacob's look.
Jacob had simply set his jaw into a harder line. Fricking vampires.
It did not help him accept the Cullens anymore than he was required to, seeing their helpful meddling in Bella's life.
He and BIlly were both less certain when she came home tired and jittery, excusing herself early for the evening.
So when Bella asked Jacob, a few days later, if he wanted to join her and her school friends at the beach the next day, he was happy to say yes. To have her company, even if it was shared with other people—at least they would be people.
The weather humoured them, or teased, depending on the perspective. Flickering rays of sun bounced in unpredictable patterns, touching rocks with their temporary warmth, then disappearing again.
Jacob's welcome had expanded, somehow, to include Paul, Embry and Quill. He resigned himself to the sharing of her company with more people. Bella's school friends were cautiously welcoming, and made warm space around the driftwood fire sputtering in front of them.
They'd all done their due diligence in lobbing seaweed bombs on first arrival, tossing the long kelp ropes at each other for fun, gathering wood and exchanging names.
Jacob watched Bella sit beside Sally, the two girls exchanging comfortable, but quiet conversation. It looked to Jacob like Bella was more maternal, than anything else, her concern worn in her often wrinkling forehead.
Sally gave her a pointed "thanks mom!", which set them both chuckling. Bella's blush told Jacob the words had struck home in some way. He wasn't sure if it was a good one.
Another blurb of chatter caught his ear. Mike and Tyler had brought their boards, and were busy trying to convince Ben to join them.
Jacob watched them try next with Bella, but she simply shook her head, smiling and pointing at her ribs.
"Chicken," Mike teased gently, "but fine. Guess it's just us men." He cleared his throat dramatically, lowering his voice. "C'mon Tyler, time to go pound some waves into submission!"
They slapped their hands up in a high five and slipped behind the large log the fire sat before.
One of the girls near Bella—Angela?—rolled her eyes and called out, "You know, you could go somewhere else to get changed."
Sally was sitting beside Bella. Jacob saw that they'd glanced at each other as the sounds of belts and zippers clanked behind them.
Then he heard their breathing change. They'd been fine, but clearly something had shifted, and not pleasantly. Sally's air rattled on the way in and out, and Bella's heart rate was pounding, her face abnormally pale. Their hands were joined in a single, anxious fist
It was enough for Paul to see, and then stupidly open his mouth to whisper to Jacob. "So, the ho's are like lez-be-friends, or something?"
It would've been a quiet comment, but the wind caught it, throwing it at everyone's ears.
Jacob didn't even bother with trying to let it go. He stood up abruptly, accidently tipping the log back, and making everyone beside it startle a bit. Then he wrapped his fingers around Paul's ear and dragged him towards the tree line. Several snarly Arubutus and pines in, he used his fist to punctuate his displeasure, and educate Paul in what was, and was not OK to say aloud. He didn't bother trying to use words.
When he returned, less one Paul, the mood was subdued, but not the unnatural quiet he'd left.
He knew better than to try and touch Bella, so he crouched across from her and Sally, mouthing, when everyone else looked away, "you OK?"
She nodded, a small and uncertain smile on her lips. Sally nodded at Jacob, and he returned the gesture.
- 0 -
Edward had waited on her. Wanted to wait and let her take the lead on what they would be.
He was waiting. He wanted to think he was so well practised at it, that he was an expert.
He didn't feel so expert though. He felt like an anxious mess. She hadn't called, or texted, or so much as breathed towards him, from what he could tell.
He regretted, for the thousandth time, giving her care to the Blacks.
In the interim, he'd busied himself with a small task he hoped would please her.
Locating the high school had been simple. Finding her scent, almost months old, was harder. It took several tries to find it, but the whole errand lasted only a few minutes. With a light flick the padlock was broken, and her locker open. He took everything but the textbooks, slipping them into the backpack now waiting in his room.
Against great temptation, he'd resisted the urge to open her journal and study its offerings. Her drawing the other day had entranced him, the way she snatched from the air the lines of the world around her. Of him.
She'd drawn him.
She'd held his hand, too.
Until the better part of her mind had realized what he was.
A low snarl vibrated up his chest.
She could escape him, still. He wouldn't interfere. But he'd watch, and keep her safe. He could exist with that—her happiness, observed from a distance.
She'd said she trusted him, against his warning. Given him what he wanted.
He wanted to think it was the trauma of what she'd been through that had spoken...but it seemed so dredged in hopeful wishing he knew better than to lean on this slim probability.
His phone buzzed.
Alice, he thought as a grumble, settled in his resiny perch.
But no. It was Bella: free after school tomorrow?
His reply was instant: anytime.
Have an appointment at 4:30, but perhaps we can talk?
Yes, he typed back. Meet you at school?
It took a moment to get this last reply: sure.
He would see her. Tomorrow. He gazed out over the forest and the very distant ocean. He sighed. He would need to hunt. Tripping lightly from branch to branch, he made his way East towards the thicker woods and the greater game.
A stray thought made him stop, and then snake his journey by the Weber house. His checks there had been regular, but cursory. He felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn't been there already that evening. He wanted to make sure Sally was still happy in this new home.
The two older girls were both in bed, but not quite asleep, contended thoughts a reassurance to him. A good family. A good home. Esme and Carlisle had done well there.
He was grateful. It was such a small goodness to offer Bella, the happiness and well being of this girl. He would do it many times over, if it would lighten the strain in her face.
It was so easy to feel guilt, and regret, when he thought of her. He could've saved her so much distress, if he'd simply acted sooner. Sally too.
He'd left Bella with the Blacks in that alley, and walked directly back to the club, pointing to Sally, and then walking her inside. Intent on his larger mission, he'd almost ignored her, and it had only been when he'd realized she was trembling that he addressed her more than cursorily.
"Sorry," he'd said, "you must be hungry." He'd waved over one of the servers and asked for a menu, at which he was given a dubious look. He'd had to repeat the request to the stunned looking woman.
He was busy, plucking stratagems and numbers and schemes from the minds of the men in the club. Most were involved in some sort of racketeering or overt prostitution or drug dealing. Their plans were not hard to deduce from the details their unguarded thoughts provided.
"Do you want me to do something?" Sally had nervously asked.
"Yes. I'd like you to sit, and eat something. Then we're going to leave, and you will never come back here again. I will take you somewhere safe, near where your friend will be. If you want."
She'd stared at him, her face a careful mask.
"Unless you wish to stay?" he'd asked, knowing very well she didn't.
"No," she'd hushed out.
He'd nodded at that. "I just need to wait a little while, and do some...thinking, before we go."
It'd been simple, his information gathered, to then leave with Sally. To call the police. To pinch the books that needed pinching from the safe in Jim's office.
He'd taken Sally straight to a store to buy her some decent clothes, and then back to his apartment. They'd left for Forks first thing in the morning, Carlisle having secured a space for her with the Webers.
There had been no secrets with them as to Sally's history, or Bella's. He'd been grateful for their discretion. They were rare people. He didn't trust he'd find such a kind reception for the girls' stories from the rest of the small town's populace.
This obligation fulfilled, he went on, bounding into the wet depths of the woods, scenting prey. He didn't bother with waiting on larger game, eliminating a small clutch of racoons and then a mature deer.
One hunger at bay, he returned home to change, and prepare to sate the other. His hand twitched over the bag, and he pulled it away.
No. He wouldn't. It was hers. He would see it when she wanted him to.
If she did.
Tomorrow, he told himself, strangling the desire to be able to sleep, to erase the time between now and then.
Leaving the bag, he found himself at the piano, fingers itching over its keys, a restless flutter of notes making Rosalie snort.
He grimaced, and made the sounds more purposeful—following a fragment of a melody towards is origins. He found its roots nestled in a meandering bass line that straddled conventional rhythms, a lonely treble answering this mournful call.
Rosalie got up and left the room, her inner disgust with what she saw as trite musicality enough to motivate her movement.
Esme's smile from her study was almost audible. Composing again, she thought. Good.
He supposed he might as well finish the tune, fleshing out the boundaries of the piece, putting the many black-headed notes to the staff paper on the stand.
It wasn't necessary, but he liked to pretend that such a record gave his music a permanence beyond himself. He knew this as utter fantasy, but the idea that his music might surpass his own existence was as harmless a one as he could have.
"Going to pretend you can live happily ever after with her too?" Jasper asked from the living room, watching, and clearly feeling his wistfulness, Edward realized.
He gave a soft snort in response.
"Rose's right, Edward."
Another snort.
"And so's Alice."
All the good feeling fled.
"No." He knew his altered mood would end their conversation.
Jasper shrugged. His thoughts were clear: Edward's acceptance, or denial had little to do with the outcome. Alice had seen that.
The feeling ruined, Edward finished his hasty notations, and returned to his room.
He let his nose hover of the bag, filling with her scent, and then returning it to the custody of the air. He wished it would not be so diluted, and polluted by existence of so many other competing smells.
So he spent the remainder of the night, transfixed with thoughts of Bella, and the poor substitute her belongings made.
He felt as anxious as the adolescents nearby, when the school bell finally rang.
He'd located her in the minds of the other students, tracing her steps from her last class towards the parking lot.
He hadn't been pleased to find her looking so wan. Unwell. Had she not been sleeping again? Troubled by nightmares of his own making? Or the wolves?
Then more thoughts flicked his way, Sally's among them.
Oh. He almost grimaced at some of them.
Someone had said something. Word had spread. He hoped, with a sickening guilt, that it wasn't Angela. The temptation to elevate oneself with the cache such secret information provided—he berated himself for not ensuring Angela was well suited to resist the temptation.
Then he heard, most distinctly, who had spoken.
Jessica.
A creature unworthy of the adolescent label, she was more child than anything else, and a spiteful one at that.
But his concern only grew, as more pointed memories were reaching him.
The sound of metal, buckling startled him. His hand had left a dent in Bella's truck. He retracted his fist, stuffing it into his pocket.
Scanning the swarming school populace, it took him a few seconds to find them.
There.
One tall blonde, and another sandy-haired boy, both clad in letterman jackets, were walking towards the parking lot. The one jabbed the other with his elbow, seeing Bella.
Their memories were proximate, two disjointed films running simultaneously, a crude narrative he witnessed from these two angles.
One of them had slipped a twenty onto the desk in front of her. She'd been reading the book he'd given her—and was almost finished, if the thickness of the pages remaining was any indication. The teacher had been at the front of the room, bent over some papers, obviously preoccupied before the start of class. Bella and the two boys might as well have been alone in the space, for all the attention the man paid them.
"So, how 'bout a blow?" one of them had whispered and snorted, laughing openly at the end of the question.
Edward could only see her back in their memories. It was stiff, and unmoving.
"Oh, wait, justa sec'," the boy had guffawed. He'd pulled the twenty off the desk, and replaced it with two singletons. "Think that's the more traditional price."
Still, nothing from Bella. Barely even the rise and fall of her lungs.
"So you gonna do it here, or just get under the desk?" the other boy asked, looking at his friend eagerly, egging him on.
The other had then unzipped his fly, "c'mon, class is about to start."
She'd said nothing, the bell for class having indeed rung.
They'd both witnessed the tremble in her back though.
It was the appearance of a frowning boy that had made them get up and move, Edward only catching the concerned "Bella?" in this new boy's voice.
Tyler, he thought to himself. Yes. He looked for the boy in the crowd—finding him near Jessica.
Bella was within sighting distance of Edward now, and stopped, her gaze wide and surprised.
Had she forgotten?
He raised his hand in a cautious and quiet greeting.
She did the same, continuing on, but more slowly now.
Jessica's thoughts preceded her. He would've moaned, if he thought it wouldn't encourage her.
"Oh wow. Hi, Edward!" she called, trotting towards him.
"Hi," he said as cooly as he could.
Bella was just at the edge of the truck.
"Hi Bella," he said, much more warmly.
"You guys know each other?" Jessica made it an accusation, and a question all in one.
"Yeah, from Seattle," Bella answered, breathing in and out quickly.
Edward dared hold out his hand for hers.
She took it, and Jessica's eyes widened.
"Should we get going?" he asked Bella, ignoring Jessica, not caring if his rudeness drew unwanted attention.
He wanted to go break the legs of the boys who'd tormented her first, but he didn't like the way her face was unpredictably paling and pinking.
"Sounds good," she said, her hand squeezing his, but ultimately releasing it.
Jessica turned and walked away, a huffy pout on her lips, and unkinder thoughts fuelling her immeidate future.
"Do you consider her a friend?" he asked Bella, lifting his chin towards Jessica.
"Don't really know her well, but she's been friendly."
An interesting answer, he mused.
"She isn't worth your trust."
She looked at him sharply, eyes narrowing.
He tapped his head. "I don't know how, but she found out about your experience in Seattle. Sally's too. She's told several people. It's the juiciest bit of gossip she's had in a while."
Bella's face seemed to fall partway, but then she stopped it, holding her features in a careful composition. She shrugged, shaking her head. "I didn't expect it to be quiet for long. Someone said something on Saturday."
"Who did?"
"One of Jake's friends. He must've let something slip, I guess." A flash of a pain crossed her face.
Edward almost felt sorry for Jacob. Bella clearly didn't realize what he was, or how he would have had little choice but to reveal this to his packmates. The feeling shifted quickly, as he saw what that small thing had done to her.
"I'm sorry," he said to her. "For that, and for what others have done with it." Here he looked towards the crowd, letting his gaze settle visibly on the boys he'd noted before.
She followed the trajectory of his eyes, shaking her head again. "It's fine. They were just being jerks."
"It's not fine," he said, turning back to her. "They were cruel, tactless idiots. They upset you." His words were clipped with anger.
Now when she looked at him, it was with nerves, her eyebrows too close together, breathing quick. "You wouldn't...hurt anyone, would you?" She sounded very uncertain of the answer.
"Of course not," he said, forcing the feature of his face to soften. "But I'm going to speak with them."
He felt the flutter of her fingers on his arm as he went to move away.
"Please don't," she said. "It's fine. Really. It'll…" she breathed out nervous air, "just make it worse."
She looked genuinely worried. Anxious. He understood. She was a newcomer here, despite her father's long legacy in the town. "I promise you," he said, squeezing her fingers gently again, "it will make things better." Her teeth were solidly in her lip, but she nodded, before he walked away.
"Gentlemen," he said, approaching the two. They were close to him in height, but not quite so tall.
"Uh, hi?" the blonde one asked, nervous at Edward's approach.
"I understand you spoke with Bella earlier today, and that you were less than kind."
The sandy haired one tried to laugh it off. "What, you her pimp or something?"
Edward skewered him to the spot with his eyes alone.
The boy stepped back, frightened by the transformation of Edward's face. The dry swallow in the boy's throat was an echo of his quavering thoughts.
"I would hate to think that anyone could be so unkind to her. She's a lovely person. Practically family to me and mine."
In their minds, they recalled Emmett's hulking form, and Jasper's leaner, but equally intimidating one. Their silence was palpable.
"In fact, I would hold you responsible for any unkind words or situations she or her friends would have to endure, because of the nasty rumours you've helped spread."
He waited for them to grasp these words, going on when their understandings were sufficient. Paler faces accented their comprehension.
"Of course, I would also take it as a measure of good faith if you were to actively deter the spreading of such rumours." Both boys nodded.
"Good," Edward said. "And you will make sure no one else troubles her. After you apologize. Now."
Then he turned and began to walk back towards Bella, who watched his approach with as many marks of nervousness as his leaving. He didn't even turn to see if the boys were following. Their thoughts told him as much.
"These boys have something to say to you, Bella," he said, putting his hand lightly on her back, trying to show all would be well.
They mumbled the most awkward apologies, not even daring to meet her eyes. Their minds spoke loudly enough to their fear of what Edward would do if they displeased him in this regard, and they hurried away when all was done.
"They will not bother you again, and they will make certain no one else does, either."
"And what did you threaten them with?" she asked guardedly.
"Nothing," he said innocently. "I just told them I'd hold them responsible for any further nastiness you endured on this front. That seemed sufficient."
Her eyebrows lifted. "And you don't see that as a threat?"
"Of course not."
"They're terrified of you, Edward."
"Of course they are." They should be, he thought, not that they understood why.
She pressed her lips together. "I know you mean well, Edward, but—"
"Would you prefer I leave them unchecked, and move on to taunt Sally?" he asked quietly.
She'd opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again, shaking her head. "Thank you," she finally said, but something worrisome kept it from being as light as he wanted to hear.
They stood still for a moment, her eyes down, his on her, an uncomfortable silence between them.
He broke it by slipping the bag off of his shoulder. "I have something to return to you."
"Return?" she asked, looking up.
"Yes," he said, holding the bag out to her.
"That's not mine."
"Its contents are," he said. "And the bag is for you. I thought you might want something for school." He eyed the cloth carryall slung over her shoulder. Hardly practical for all her books. It hung heavily, making her back tilt awkwardly to one side.
"Here," he offered his other hand to take the bag, then smiled, thinking of his human youth.
"What?" she asked, a quizzical smile starting to grow on her face.
His smile blossomed, "when I was young, it was considered gentlemanly to carry a young lady's books for her."
"Oh?" There was something playful there.
He took her other bag, enjoying the brush of her fingers as they exchanged these items.
The happy gasp that escaped her, after she opened the satchel, made him smile in return.
"How?" she asked, looking up at him, as she held her journal, leaning against her truck. "I mean, thank you, so much."
Then she darted forward and hugged him. It was the most beautiful and fleeting feeling, her body pressed against his. His own hands just ghosted over her back before she pulled away.
A small wetness sat on the chest of his shirt, and he watched as she rubbed the heel over her palm over her face.
"This means...so much. So much." She was staring at the cover of the book, pressing her thumbs into it. The whole thing shook with a feeling he wanted to understand.
"You're very welcome," he murmured. Looking around, the parking lot had almost emptied, a few stray students here and there heading home. "I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere else?"
"Not a fan of the parking lot, huh?" she said, smiling, looking at him, and then looking at her book.
Perhaps she wanted to be alone? To look through it again? His stomach sank at this speculation.
Then her stomach growled.
"Can I take you somewhere—get something to eat?"
She sighed, and blushed a little. It was beautiful to see her spirits lift.
"Human," she said, shrugging, as if his otherness was nothing. Then she peered at his eyes, quizzical suddenly. "Your eyes. They change—is that—?"
"Hunger, yes. Darker when I'm hungry."
"You were hungry," she almost whispered, nodding, eyes relaxing in understanding.
"Oh yes," he said, letting a bitter smile flicker over his lips. He wanted to see her settled somewhere more comfortable though, "and you are now. Shall we?" He waved a hand towards her truck.
"OK," she said, pulling her keys out of her pocket.
He watched her slip into the driver's side, joining her on the other. If his own thoughts were audible to her, the rumble of the truck's engine would barely cover the anxious wanting they expressed.
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.