Chapter Summary: Bella learns more about her new house guest within the first 24 hours than she ever wanted to know. Worst yet, not everything goes as planned as Paul continues to press all of her buttons effortlessly, while she plagues his mind with self-doubt. Bella also spends more time with another pack mate and as much as Paul hates to admit it, he's jealous.

Chapter VII: 'Sometimes,' by Skillet

(BPOV)

The nightmares were almost unbearable and I wasn't even asleep; I ran out of blankets to cover myself with as I continued to toss and turn in the bed. It just seemed so cold. The dark stillness of my bedroom should have been a comfort for me, but it wasn't. I should have been asleep already, but I'm not. I should have stopped crying already too, but I couldn't. If Charlie had been here, I would have relied on his snoring as background music for the dancing sheep in my head, but I no longer could indulge in that luxury and I knew why; my body shook, the covers slipping out of my cold, but sweaty fingers. I cursed my body's reaction, blaming myself and my thoughts for another night of unfit sleep. Would it ever not be my fault? Edward, Charlie, the round-the-clock care from the pack...I was useless. Now I could only hope that I would be good enough to be the proper bait.

The dull ache that coursed through my chest was exactly what it was; a hollow, empty feeling that left me restless as the quiet droned on, only able to be measured by the minutes turning on my digital alarm clock on the nightstand. It sucked.

I turned over again to my left side, facing another bare corner of my room. I sighed heavily.

"Put a cork in it, Swan!" a voice suddenly shouted from downstairs. "Find a comfortable spot and keep still! I'm trying to sleep!"

Paul sounded angry, as if I was the one doing him a personal disservice. Like I had purposefully made myself suffer from temporary insomnia and planned on keeping him up.

I gruffed my response back to him, laid on my stomach, and covered my head with a pillow to welcome a sleep that eventually came. It didn't help that I had used Paul's deep, baritone voice to help stop the shakes. It continued to bustle inside of my head.

The next morning

I groaned immediately after gulping a mouthful of dry air, giving no nourishment to my throat. The effort scratched at my sides on the way down and I coughed a little, forcing myself to swallow anyway to take away the bad case of morning breath I had to endure. My feet hit the bare wooden boards and I dragged them, not anxious to start the day…until I remembered that I had a sleeping werewolf downstairs.

Excitement overtook my self-control as I flung myself out of my room, making sure that I looked somewhat presentable in a long sleep gown and flannel pajama bottoms-or at least looked fully clothed. I peeked over the banister and could see Paul's hulking figure sprawled over the couch, most of his bottom half touching the floor. I winced; that could not have been comfortable for him, and yet he looked peaceful. I realized that Paul was actually quite attractive when he slept…and he was quiet. He did not, in fact, snore, something that I had been much too distracted to notice as I begged for sleep to take over me last night. His breathing was even, and it was hypnotic listening to it.

I tiptoed down the stairs, and was careful to avoid the third from the bottom that liked to creak. I completely bypassed that one and advanced closer to Paul's sleeping frame. I fought the urge to rake my fingers through his hair as I looked down at his face. Jacob would have let me touch his hair and not thought much of it. I didn't even want to begin to think what it would mean to Paul if I touched him inappropriately. If Paul would stay sleeping, this whole thing might actually work out, I thought while grinning to myself.

"How long you going to stand there and eye-fuck me, Swan?" he suddenly asked, barely turning over.

I took a step back, not sure if I had heard him correctly. "Huh?"

"You've been watching me since you got up, and as much as I enjoy being gawked at by a chick, it's still rude to stare."

"You—you knew I was looking at you?" I stammered.

"I heard you get up. And you were staring at me, sweetheart, not just looking. If you were looking at me, you would have merely turned your head and kept walking to the kitchen to make breakfast. Not just stand there, staring at me with adoration on your face."

I pulled at my hair and then moved my hands to my face, which had already reddened. "You looked peaceful. Why couldn't you have stayed asleep?"

Paul shrugged, now sitting up. "Maybe I would have slept longer if you had taken me up on my offer last night and slept down here with me. But you didn't and now you have to find a way to cope through the rest of the morning."

"What a treat for me," I said, gritting my teeth.

He gloated. "It should be. What do you want to eat?" he then asked.

"Eat? What do I want to eat?" I repeated.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Why is it that when I ask you anything about anything, you repeat after me in a stupid voice like you've never heard of it before? Do you think that's cute? Did your leech find that sexy because I actually just think it's annoying."

"Stop calling him that."

"What?"

"Edward. Stop calling Edward and his family 'leeches.' It's not nice."

"Stop ordering me around. Yesterday you tell me to talk to you differently and now you tell me to stop—"

"Paul, jeez. Could we not argue this morning?"

"We wouldn't be if you had just answered my goddamn question: what do you want to eat?"

"What do you want to eat?" I snapped back.

"French toast."

"I'll make some."

"I can make it."

"Do you want to make it?"

"No."

"Then I'll make it. Just stop talking for five minutes while I get the eggs and bread out, alright?"

Paul sunk further into the couch and looked at me. "Fine."

I sauntered into the kitchen. I couldn't believe that old married couples were able to make breakfast together without killing each other. I seriously wanted to throttle Paul. He was so annoying and it seemed like every time he did something that could be considered nice, he'd suddenly remember that he was Paul and would take extra care to mess it up.

I grunted as I tried to reach what was left of the bread in the cupboard. Charlie must have put it up there; I didn't eat much bread and Charlie had a thing for white Wonder bread. I jumped a little, trying to snag the bread's plastic with my finger and still couldn't reach it. I held in a sob; why was everything so hard for me?

Suddenly a hand shot from behind me, calmly touching my back. Paul grabbed the bread easily and placed it on the counter in front of me.

I sniffed. "Thank you."

He shrugged and then turned, sitting down in Charlie's seat. I glanced at him again; how did he know I sat on that side of the table? Paul rubbed his jaw and played with the salt and pepper shaker near his other hand. I got the rest of the ingredients for our breakfast and true to his word, Paul stayed quiet while I toasted the bread in a pan.

"Shoot; did you want cinnamon French toast instead?" I asked him when the French toast was almost finished.

"No."

"Did you want any sausage or bacon with this?" I persisted. "It's just bread."

"I'm fine," he answered shortly.

"You sure?"

Paul's eyes flashed in anger. "You ever get tired of taking care of people, Swan?" he hissed at me.

"I care for people. That's not so horrible, is it? And why do you keep calling me by my last name? It's Bella, Paul." I sat the huge plate of plain French toast in front of him and waited. Paul grabbed a piece and held it up as if it were a glass.

"Well, congratulations in knowing your own first name, Swan."

I sighed and went into the fridge. "Juice?"

"Not if you want any. I'll drink one gallon by myself for breakfast if it's left in front of me for too long."

"I'll run to the store today and get some more."

"I get relieved for the afternoon. Jared will be over here."

"Then I'll take Jared with me to the store. Anything else you need from there? How about something for me to cook for dinner tonight?"

"No, whatever you get is fine." Paul's eyes lowered. "Want me to go with you instead?" he asked quietly. "Jared seems to touch everything in the supermarket, for some reason," he added, as if giving an explanation would make me understand the actions of his pack mate.

I squeezed the juice container, nearly dropping it in surprise from Paul's indifferent tone in asking to accompany me to the store. "No," I replied back warily. "You need the break. You deserve it."

"Fine," he said again as he swallowed another whole piece of toast. How could so much fit into his mouth? Nevermind, this was Paul we were talking about.

I sat my small glass of juice on the table and pushed the large container closer to him. I watched him chug half the juice in seconds and was amused when he belched loudly after, not seeming to care if I was in the room with him or not. It reminded me of Jacob and it was comforting.

"How did you sleep?" I asked, remembering that I had been worried about it upstairs.

"Shitty," he stated in his familiar, bitter tone. "That couch is horrible, like I said last night."

"Well, I can still make up Charlie's room for you. I don't mind at all."

"No."

I slowly forced down a bit of bread; I was starting to feel cold again. Whether it was from the draft in the house or Paul's unwelcoming attitude, I wasn't quite sure. "Well, we need to do something," I insisted, shaking off the chill. "I don't want you any grouchier, so what are we going to do about your sleeping?"

"Ask Sam to put Prince Jacob in this house with you instead and have him babysit so I can go back home."

"Oh." I couldn't help but feel a little hurt. "I'll ask Sam, if that's what you want."

Paul tapped the table and glanced away. "Alright, look, this thing is new for me. I don't respond to change very well. The first night I phased, I tore down half a house and seven trees. And I don't usually wake up with the same chick I saw the night before either."

"How lucky for the girl," I responded curtly.

Paul actually smiled and sat back. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a girl like me."

"A fight for the mirror," I said smartly, feeling the tension dissipate somewhat.

He chuckled. "I like that. We'd have to have mirrors everywhere and then I really would love every room in the house."

I scoffed. "Only you would take an insult and turn it into something vain about you. I'm willing to bet that somewhere inside you, there is a really nice guy and I can't wait to meet him one day."

Paul kept his small grin and cleared the rest of his plate of food, placing it gently into the sink. He walked back into the living room and flicked on the TV, not saying another word. Jared arrived around two and Paul left without so much as a goodbye to either Jared or me. He merely gave Jared a slap on the back, tucked the same shirt he had worn to sleep into his jeans, and walked out of the house. I wasn't sure if I was more relieved to see him leave or more devastated that I hadn't asked him to stay, but I knew he needed the break. Paul wasn't the best person to play 'house' with.

At the market…

Jared walked down the candy aisle, touching everything, like Paul had said he would.

"Jared," I began, turning to him, "why do you do that?"

"Part of a bet. I bet Embry that I would be able to touch 1,002 different things in the supermarket."

"Each time you go to the market?"

"Each time I go. I can't touch the same item on the same visit though," he explained. Another mystery solved by the great Detective Swan.

I looked skeptical. "How do you remember what you've touched?"

"Werewolf; good memory," he answered as he patted himself on the head.

I shook my head. I was going down a mental shopping list in my own mind, trying to ask Jared about anything that Paul might like. If there was anything that might make his stay with me a little more bearable, I wanted to do it. But Jared was not of much help to me, either.

"Just get him lots of meat, if you can afford it," Jared suggested. "He likes burgers a lot. Get him those."

"Yeah, I noticed he likes burgers." I began thinking of our past adventure at Bunhouse from yesterday. "What else? I can't keep feeding him burgers for his stay at the house. Does he eat fish?"

Jared wrinkled his stout nose. "Not really. Jacob is the only one of us that actually eats fish."

"Well, he sort of grew up on it. Billy and Charlie always ate what they caught. Come to think of it, I don't miss the smell of fish in the house."

"Yeah, I can't stand the smell either."

I thought quietly for a few seconds while watching a young blonde girl nearly crash into the potato chip stand from looking at Jared; he was not wearing a shirt. I wasn't affected at all. I was so used to the guys in the pack that I figured the only way that I would be shocked was if one of them actually did decide to put on a shirt. With most stores, there was usually a 'no shirt, no shoes, no service' rule, but no one seemed to enforce it. Or at least no one wanted to tell any of the La Push gang about it. "How about chicken?" I resumed asking.

"Ha! Only if you stuff it with ground meat, ham, and bacon. Then he'll love it."

Now I scrunched up my nose. "Yuck. That's a lot of meat. Chicken is supposed to be healthy."

"We don't get sick. There's only two ways we get sick: a bite from you know what," Jared said as he gave me knowing look, "and if we're away from our mates too long."

"Mates? Like wives?"

Jared laughed. "No. Our imprints are more than our wives; they're a part of us."

"What's an imprint?" I asked, stopping in front of the frozen food aisle.

"Soulmate," Jared answered back, as if it were the most simplest thing in the world. "Werewolves got this thing for tracking-smelling the perfect female that's out there for us. When we find her, we hate being away from her. We'll like literally get sick if we don't get to see them, talk to them, smell them, whatever. Some kind of contact to let us know that they're there for us," he went on.

"So if you don't get that contact from your imprint?"

"We turn mean as fuck."

"Jared!" I exclaimed at his cursing.

"My bad." Jared looked sheepish for an instant. "But I mean, seriously, you find someone that you get along with, want to be around and shit, and then to not have them around just pisses you off. You don't die or anything, but you could get sick, turn mean as hell like I said before, or both. We kind of, like, go nuts. Like we've got rabies or something. We start foaming at the mouth, attack anything that comes near us, and we—"

"Okay, okay, I got it. You guys turn mean as heck when you don't get laid."

"It's not about getting any. We'll even cuddle with the girl if she wants to."

"Wow." I was amazed. "That could not be Paul."

Jared hooted loudly, placing a hand to stop the shaking of a nearby metal shelf. "Nah, probably not."

"So, vampire bites and a rejection from an imprint is a recipe for a mean werewolf. That sound about right?"

"Pretty much, but we do die if we get bitten by a bloodsucker. Our bodies can't take the venom."

"I'm learning so much," I joked. "What else can you guys do besides possess all these superpowers like healing, great sight, hearing, and crap that the rest of us ordinary people can't do?"

"We have great stamina."

"Oh lord, it's like talking to Paul," I half cried out, chuckling. "Why do I get the feeling that Paul never had a problem with the ladies before he started phasing?"

"He never did. Did he tell you about the first night he phased?"

I shook my head, fully interested.

"He had a girl at her house, in her room. They were…you know, and she did something that he didn't like and he freaked out. Almost turned on her and he threw her across the room. I mean, he literally hurled her off of him and threw her across her own room. It was actually a good thing, because she got knocked out and never saw what happened to him after. He was shrieking and banging his head through a wall when Sam and I rushed over from all the commotion, and I was like 'Dude, you fucked her unconscious' and he ran at me, phasing right there. He took down the other wall of the bedroom. It was hilarious. I mean, once Sam checked that the girl was okay, it was really funny."

I was mortified. "Oh my God, did he get in serious trouble with the girl's family? What about his parents?"

Jared continued chuckling as he answered. "Oh man, did he get in trouble, but the council couldn't do much except put him under a tighter leash, which he never abided by anyway. Paul's mother is still completely clueless and his father was never around much to begin with. Paul's dad was only around right after Paul was born, then left. Sam's father took off on him and his mother too. Half of La Push thought for awhile that Sam's father was Paul's father too, only because it's not like the men in our tribe to, you know, take off, but they're not related."

"How do you know?" I didn't think Sam or Paul were brothers anyway, but I was curious as to how Jared and the pack knew for certain.

Jared shrugged. "I think we would have found out by now if they knew that they were there. You can't keep secrets in the pack. Well, not for long anyway." He turned down a canned food aisle and touched a big can of Spam. "Yuck. Don't ever feed us this. This is not real meat."

I laughed at his abrupt change of subject, but let it go. I was already finding out more about Paul than I needed to know, anyway.

Jared continued to happily chat away on the drive back home and he was still pretty animated helping me unpack the food. He touched everything in my cupboards and then everything in the fridge. I shook my head and let him; Jared was really pleasant company. I was a little sad to see him leave, seeing that he was a little like Embry: a generally happy guy. Jared even filled me in on Quil phasing last night for the first time. "Boy was he happy. I had never seen someone so excited to turn into a wolf. He was running around chasing birds for three hours. Scared a mother on the rez half to death when he missed a blue jay and landed in the small creek that runs along our border. That was funny too."

"Sounds like it," I said, only half listening.

Jared carried on with his story as I fixed the couch for Paul that night. Suddenly I heard a loud bang from the back of the house.

"Cool, Paul's back. Hey, what's going on?" Jared turned to address a moody-looking Paul, who was filthy, tracking in mud. His shirt had some brown earth on it and a little was in his hair too, giving him the appearance of streaks.

"Ugh, Paul," I started. "What happened?"

"I played in the dirt," he replied nonchalantly.

"Why?"

"Felt like it," he snapped abruptly. "Who cares; I was out of the house while you two went shopping since you didn't want me to come. Did you two spend the whole time gossiping? Discussing what to make the kids for lunch and shit?" he asked sarcastically.

"Paul," I warned.

He sucked his teeth and turned toward a still-smiling Jared. "Get out."

Jared blinked, but did not lose his amused grin. "Cranky much?"

"I had to come back to this house just so I can sleep on a shitty sofa for a few hours," Paul retorted. "Now I can only hope that the Swan here doesn't think she can fly and decide to cartwheel in her sleep and out of her bedroom window. A trip to the ER would cut into the rest of my sleep for the night."

"Hey, I'm standing right here," I defended myself. "And I can't do a cartwheel; I never could. The blood rushes to my head too fast and I get dizzy. Motion sickness and all," I added softly.

Paul stared at me. "You're a certain type of special, you know that, Swan?" he mocked.

I ignored him and turned to Jared, who now looked apprehensive. "Thank you for going shopping with me so that this one can eat," I said, pointing to Paul. "See you the next time you have to relieve him."

"Done." Jared smiled again. "Bye, Bella. You too, grouch," he added jokingly.

Paul growled and Jared left without another comment. I folded my arms and looked at Paul again. My eyes traveled the length of his built body, taking several seconds to do so. The vein in his arm twitched by itself, but the rest of him was unmoving. His eyes bored into mine as I took him all in. My hair fell into my face and I watched his hand move slightly as if he wanted to catch it.

"What'd you get?" he spoke finally.

I blinked. "What did I get?" I repeated.

"You're doing it again; stop rephrasing my questions and just answer them the first time around. What did you buy at the supermarket?"

I groaned. "I got you a lot of meat, but I didn't start it because I didn't know what time you would be back. I didn't want to feed you nothing but red meat and Jared said you liked chicken."

"I tolerate it."

"Well, I'll heat up some chicken fingers so you'll have some meat with your macaroni salad."

"Salad?"

"Yeah, try it. Wolves eat salad every now and again."

"Forget it. I'll go hungry."

"What about just the chicken fingers then?"

"They'll take too long in the oven."

"Roll 'em around in your pants. You're always telling me you're hot," I advised, attempting to joke with him.

"I'd rather have your hand in my pants, Swan."

There was Paul. "Disgusting, Paul."

"Don't be so uppity. I told you about that. You need to relax a bit more if you're going to live with me in this house. Like I asked you before, when was the last time you relieved some of that stress? Even self-help would do wonders for you," he sneered.

I felt my face flush as I snapped, "I don't do that."

"Then at least run around the house naked. That could help too."

"With you in the house now?" I rolled my eyes. "Sure, sure, I'll get right on that."

"It's extremely liberating to take off your clothes. Observe." Before I could stop him, Paul lifted his shirt and threw it behind the couch and I was just barely able to close my eyes in time as I heard the zipper to his jeans. I blindly felt my way to the stairs, running as fast as I could without tripping. I stumbled to my bedroom, touching my small bed post as I passed it.

"Oh my God, he's naked. I think he's naked, Bella. I think there is a naked werewolf in your house. Oh God, oh God, oh God," I repeated over and over again to myself.

"Swan, you're not looking," he taunted not too far behind me. I turned rapidly, opened my eyes, and focused on his face, not daring to venture any lower than his neck. My pulse raced faster as his head gently rested on the archway of my bedroom's door, looking pleased. "What's the matter? Does my being half-naked bother you?" he asked, sounding like a cheesy line straight from a romance novella.

"You're more than half-naked," I said, disagreeing with him.

"You sure? Maybe I just gave the appearance of being nude. How do you really know I'm naked, anyway?" Paul continued to goad. "Your eyes never strayed below my waist line. Sure you don't want a small peek? I won't tell."

I touched my wrists, my eyes casually dropping below his still mouth, his adjoining muscled, twin pecs, washboard abs, and his perfect V-shape—oh my God, he was definitely naked! I covered my face.

"Please don't do this," I softly begged.

"Don't do what?" he asked innocently.

I heard him take another step toward me, noisily announcing himself as he did, toying with my emotional state of mind, and truth be told, he was. My heartbeat sped up even more at the thought of his body pressing itself against me. Sweat began to drip down my back, and I tried to cross my legs without appearing obvious though it seemed pointless. Paul knew what he was doing and I was almost convinced that I liked that he knew. My flesh ran hot. I winced at the pain it was causing me; at the throbbing discomfort Paul was inflicting on me. My thighs were wet, clenching. I held my stomach in to help slow down my breathing, but nothing helped. His cedar and maple scent was in my nose and he was so close to me that all I had to do was extend one finger maybe half an inch and I would be able to touch him. I would be able to make him mine. All I had to do was turn my palm out and accept him as he was, as naked as he was. I knew he would feel good. He would have to feel good.

I could feel Paul's breaths lavish my neck; his nose brushed my chin and I gasped. "Stop. Stop it, please." I opened my eyes and looked into his; his burnt sienna eyes were searching and absorbing every inch of my very embarrassed face, seeing that I was in anguish over him being so close to me.

Paul finally withdrew. "I need a shower anyway," he said after.

I tore my eyes away as he stepped back and walked toward the bathroom. I weakly stumbled back across my room, locking the door. I got into bed shaking again, the tremors differing from last night, as I gathered the covers around me, covering as much of my body as I could for what I was about to do. I tentatively lowered my pajama pants and glided across my already wet, pink lips before they felt the soothing warmth of my fingertips inside of them. I closed my legs, locking my knees so that my hands couldn't escape the pressure when it was finally released and I felt no shame as I softly exhaled into the pillow, with tears staining my pale face.

(PPOV)

I could smell her from the shower. It was driving me crazy to be so close to her, but not be able to do anything. I muttered her name, stroking myself and as the lukewarm water tore down my back, breaking down my pleas for sanity, I imagined breaking into her. I would hold her body close to me and make her belong to me, finally. I was already hers; she just didn't know it.

"Baby, too hard," I softly instructed, imagining that she was in front of me. "Don't try and force it out."

Bella was touching herself. I knew that I had been affecting her and I wanted her to admit it. I wanted to taste her skin, crash into her warm body and make it mimic my heat, and then force her to speak my name as if it were hers before she would disappear into the pleasure at I gave her.

But she was going to have to learn a few things first.

Bella seemed to understand nothing about her body and that bloodsucker had taught her even less in the time that they were together. She was a wreck and it was disheartening to know that she had wasted her time with that leech, having nothing to show for it. What the hell? I could hear her breathing sharply as she jabbed herself internally; her fingernails were much too long for that kind of stimulation. If they were only stroking my cock, it'd be fine, but long nails belonged nowhere near the inside of a woman and my Bella was no exception.

"Come on, honey, relax. Just relax and let me do it," I begged, but my words fell upon deaf ears-the only one hearing me was me.

I wanted to help her. I wanted to turn off the shower, turn the door knob, and see her on the bed, waiting for me to show her how. I would calmly use my sensitive touch to caress her legs, smooth out a few strands of her hair before I would move toward her center of pleasure and release the world for her to enjoy. I would do it till she told me to stop. I would do it even after she told me to stop. Her body was like a problem I wanted the solution for; a recipe with a missing ingredient that only I possessed. I gargled a low, frustrated scream as she came too early and I was still as hard as a rock. I drowned myself in her scented orgasm as best as I could, but I knew it hardly compared to being physically there with her.

This shower was not helping me or my thoughts at all.

"Not working. This shit is not working," I whispered. I was losing it. It took all that I had not to rush into her bedroom and take her in the shower. I'd bet she'd scream then. A good orgasm always required a good scream; at least the ones I gave, anyway.

I wiped my face, not feeling any more relaxed. My imprint was merely yards away, pleasuring herself, and I was stuck in the shower with blue balls.

Way to spend the second night in your imprint's house, Paul, I scolded myself.