Chapter 5: Awakening
The sound of the alarm blared in his ear and he groaned, turning over and slamming his hand down upon the small machine. It was easily crushed and he sighed before throwing the sheets from his body. He sat up on the bed and stretched his muscle groups one by one. His back made a sequence of cracks and he sighed at the relief of pressure. Normally fast and agile, he moved lethargically through the hallway into the bathroom, hitting his feet clumsily against every corner. He flinched at the appearance reflected in the mirror.
The hair on the left side of his head was spiraled upwards in a tornado-like fashion while the right was completely flat. It had seen better mornings. Tiredly, he entered the shower and allowed the water to rinse away his stress. Sam had them on double shifts, and being one of the older ones, he was given the earlier hours. He eyed the time on the shower clock and sighed again. It as six; he had remembered going to sleep at three after his patrol. That, however, was not the most troubling thing on his mind. It had happened again last night, as it had been doing for the past few months. The dreams used to come once in a while; perhaps only once every other month. Now it was every night; each one more vivid than the next, though still the same length. It was never a complete dream, only pieces and fragments of memories stitched together.
She was always an age that he remembered, never older or younger. In the best, she was smiling at him, waving her hand in a way that made the sunlight glimmer on her thin diamond bracelet. In the worst, she was staring at him pleadingly; hair painted and cut, small cuts seeping blood. He quickly shook his head at the thought and instinctively touched his heart, feeling a sharp pain at the memory. Before he could be swallowed in regret and shame, he turned off the water and stepped out.
Choosing a deep indigo v-cut shirt from his closet, he pulled it over his head and slipped on a pair of jeans. He did not normally wear jeans, accustomed to shorts, but smiled at his reflection. The shirt seemed to adhere to his body like a second skin, drawing attention to every curve and bulge of muscle. He remembered it being looser fitting. He shrugged, deciding it was more attractive tighter. He ran a hand through his hair a few times, fluffing the back before smoothing it down. He checked his watch and was glad it was only six thirty; giving him enough time to crash Sam's breakfast with Emily.
He kissed his mother on the cheek and slapped his father's back before stealing the toast presently in the toaster. He swallowed them in two bites and started his Jeep, raising the music to an obnoxiously loud volume.
The parking lot was filled with students, new and old. The symphony of car beeps, yelling, and loud music that was the morning rush was oddly comforting. He beeped three times, unnecessarily extending the last beep, at Jared's car as he waited for him to pull into a space. Jared finally pulled in and he quickly steered his car into the nearest space. Walking to Jared's car, he gave the hood a nice smack before opening the door for Kim and waiting for Jared to come around. They grinned at each other and walked through the crowd. The La Push Senior High was bursting with freshmen and their runaway maps floated in the breeze over their heads.
He spotted his lupine posse near the lunch tables and sat down beside Quil, joining them for third breakfast. One of them had been kind enough to buy McDonald's breakfast platters and he devoured his quickly. As they ate, they watched the new kids walk around, gripping their maps tightly, dazed and seemingly lost. The first day of school was always stressful. But it was also an exciting time; new friends, new experiences, so many things to discover in high school.
High school for him, unfortunately, had not always been a walk in paradise. His first two years were filled with the insecurity of puberty, long "talks," and pain. The pain of rejection, of anger, and of helplessness; the pain of being vulnerable, and not being able to control oneself. His junior year was much better; he bonded with his friends on a much deeper level, and found a niche with his new strength. Lacrosse.
"Hottie at twelve o'clock." said Brady as he scoped through the large crowd.
They all turned their heads at the place Brady was looking and all he could see was a flurry of dark hair. It glimmered brilliantly in the morning sun, pinned back only on one side with a blue clip.
The world seemed to move in slow motion.
Her skin was a sunny bronze, but still dark like the Quileutes. Her brows were perfectly shaped and defined and her lashes were curled upwards, not straight like most girls here. Her lips seemed to be naturally a strawberry color and he loved the way they spread into a smile, so bright and happy. The light breeze moved her scent towards him and he stood up, closing his eyes to breathe it in. It was wonderful; a sweet blend of chamomile and honey. She was as beautiful as he remembered.
The chains of that held him to this world broke away and his whole body seemed to be floating in nothing but her presence. Everything around him was a blur of colors and shapes. She was all he could see. Her gaze passed over his table and her smile broke out again as she laughed with friends. When did she return? Why didn't she come back sooner? He could almost imagine a pair of wings extending above her. It was as if someone had shocked him; electricity was coursing through his body, but there was no pain. It was amazing, this feeling.
He had to talk to her.
He stepped out from the table and shook his head when Quil attempted to ask him something. He took a few slow steps forward, unaccustomed to functioning normally under these feelings. He'd never felt this before. His cheeks were burning from the width of his smile but he couldn't even think of ceasing to.
The image of his angel was shattered when a hand reached within his sight. The hand slowly enclosed around hers and he suddenly felt the familiar heat run down his spine. The figure stepped out from the crowd and smiled at her. He was wearing a Letterman jacket over his uniform and he had a group of guys trailing behind him. His dark hair was neatly styled and he carried a smile that made girls swoon.
Josh Hart.
His body was quivering. The guys stood up and began to encircle Paul, blocking his view and that of others. He pushed them away and struggled against the strong restraint Jacob held around his waist. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her; the pain of Josh standing beside her was unbearable. Then, as if the situation could worsen no more, Josh placed a kiss on her cheek.
The last thing he remembered was the feeling of stepping into a volcano, heat engulfing him. It was the heat of a passion so deep and the burn of her hold on his heart.