'Destiny'? Really?

Chapter 3

Cookies and Splashing

I totally own Twilight….If you believed that, then read this site's name. If you still believed my blatant lie, then I DO NOT OWN TWILIGHT. L I have am sadly not a millionaire.

Dedicated to Jaime2772 for reminding me to update. And, of course, everyone else who has reminded me, but Jaime2772 was the one to get me to do it this time around.

Enjoy!

I sat uneasily across from Rachel's father. Luckily, he didn't want to kill me for imprinting on his daughter; he even gave me pointers. However, now it was awkward. Billy, though not threatening, didn't seem to like the idea that Rachel wasn't, in his words, 'his little girl anymore'. I could sort of understand that...Okay, who was I kidding? I didn't understand it, but I could respect it at least. If I wanted anything to do with Rachel, I'd have to respect it.

Ring! Ring! Ring! The phone rang. Rachel shouted that she'd answer it. I savored the sound of her voice hungrily. Due to my improved hearing, I could hear her conversation, at least her side of it. I listened earnestly, not even slightly ashamed at eavesdropping. Well, maybe a little, but it wasn't stopping me.

"Hello?"

...

"Oh, hi Emily. How's it going?"

...

"Cookies? Wow. You bake those more than I do."

...

Rachel laughed. I closed my eyes at the sound. "I have to feed two guys and that's bad enough. I don't know how you do ten times that amount."

...

"I can bake some, too," Rachel volunteered cheerfully.

...

"It won't be any trouble. Cooking's fun."

...

"Yeah. I suppose I'll have to go to the bonfire, then," she sighed, but it wasn't an unhappy sigh.

...

"Okay. See you tonight."

I heard the phone hang up. There was a pause and then a door opened. "Dad!" Rachel ran down the stairs and dashed into the living room, where we were sitting. "Can I bake a couple of batches of cookies for the bonfire tonight?"
"Yeah, sure," Billy shrugged, but he had smiled after hearing 'cookies'.

"Do you need any help?" I asked, hoping that she'd say 'yes'.

"Oh, sure. It might take awhile, though..." she said hesitantly, but her face lit up.

I was already standing. "I have all day."

I wasn't sure how I ended up in this position. This morning I had decided to study all day. Then I was dragged to the beach. After that I thought I would be free. But then I found myself offering to bake cookies. And so now, here I was, baking cookies, and somehow Paul had entered the picture. Of course I was glad to be baking with someone, the more the merrier, but I still couldn't understand why a guy, who I barely knew, would want to bake cookies with me.

Currently we were waiting, our first break in a couple of hours, for the seventh batch to finish so we could put in the eighth batch. "So, are you going to the bonfire?" I asked idly.

"Yeah."

"Oh...So do you have any siblings?"

"Nope."

"Oh...So how long have you been friends with Jake?"

"About four years."

"Oh." This guy was not the conversationalist, at least not at this present moment.

I glanced at the timer and almost groaned. This was going to be an awkward half-hour. Suddenly Paul said something; "Are you staying in La Push after this summer?"

I grinned mischievously. "It's a secret. I've decided to keep it to myself for revenge."

"Against who?"

"Dad and Jake. They didn't tell me about the...sudden changes in Jake while I was away, and now they aren't explaining them...I suppose you're in on the secret to?"

He gestured at his well-built body. "I am the secret, like Jake is."

I laughed. "To me it just looks like you guys stumbled on steroids or something, though I'm told that that's not the case."

"It's in our genes," he said solemnly. "I lost my drug addictions ages ago."

I laughed again. Dad rolled his wheelchair into the kitchen. "Are you two almost done? Rebecca's here and she wants to pick out your next outfit, Rachel," he told us, obviously trying not to laugh.

Making a face at him, I replied, "Thirty minutes."

"I can do the rest," Paul offered.

"No, that's okay. Rebecca can wait."

"No, she can't." Rebecca walked in and analyzed me. "Just as I thought. You're a mess."

I looked down at myself. Sure I had a faint sprinkling of flour on me, but it wasn't that bad. I protested forcibly as she grabbed my arm. "Paul," my evil twin said behind her shoulder as she dragged me out of the kitchen, "I'll be borrowing her for about an hour. If you need any help, ask Tom. He's good at this stuff."

"Rebecca," I complained as she tugged me up the stairs. "I thought you were only dressing me up once a day, not twice."

She didn't respond until we were in my bedroom, the bedroom that we used to share. "Today's a special occasion and I don't remember saying that it was just once a day," she informed me innocently. Turning her back to me and rummaging through my closet, she commanded me, "Sit."

Obediently I sat. "This is unnecessary," I grumbled.

She ignored me. "The guy's cute."

"What guy?" I said blankly.

"The hunk that's currently in the kitchen."

"...You mean Paul?" For some reason I blushed.

"Yeah. Who else would it be?"

"I suppose he is." My face grew redder.

My sister turned to me, outfit in hand. "This might - Rachel Black, are you blushing?"

I shook my head, feeling like an embarrassed preteen. "No!"

"So, you like this guy." She grinned, apparently match-making in her head.

"I just met him!" I protested.

"Well, if this guy can make you act like a sixteen year old, then it must have been some baking session." She smirked at me, probably thinking creepy thoughts.

"Nope. I'm not going to have a crush on any guy anytime soon," I said firmly. "I have a job to think about."

"Yeah, in the fall. You have all summer to run around with a guy," she reminded me. "Now that I know who I want you hooked up with, I'll have to pick a better outfit." Rebecca turned her back to me and put the cloths in her hand back. "I'll be right back." She left the room.

"Stand here and look uncomfortable," Rebecca instructed me.

"Why?" I asked, confused.

My sister simply winked and looked around, probably for Tom. We finally were at the bonfire after an hour of trying things on. Rebecca had eventually decided that a simple, knee-length jeans skirt (she was fond of those, at least on me) with a 'cute' light pink top was almost perfect. She forced me to wear cheap, red flip-flops. I felt like a teenage girl on her first date. Actually, it was kind of similar to what Rebecca had forced me to where on my actual first date...Luckily enough, she hadn't made me wear makeup, my worst nemesis. However, she refused to spare my hair. It was pinned back to 'put more attention' to my face.

"Rachel! What the hell are you wearing?"

I turned to see Leah walking over to us, staring at me as if I'd grown three heads. "Rebecca bribed me," I admitted sheepishly. "What do you think?"

"You look...you look..." she was speechless, a state I'd never seen her in before.

"She looks beautiful," a familiar deep voice filled in for her.

Turning slightly to see who it was, I immediately blushed. It was Paul. Why I blushed after seeing who had complimented me was beyond me, though it might've been due to that intense look he always gave me. It was as if I was truly beautiful to him, in more ways than one. Mentally shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I smiled at him. "Thanks."

He smiled back. I turned to Leah, who wasn't there. She must've sneaked away. Lovely. "You've been abandoned."

I looked at Paul. "Yeah. Traitors."

"Lucky for me though." He grinned.

I flushed again, to my immense mortification. Examining him, I saw that he was wearing a dark green t-shirt and a worn out pair of jeans shorts. Watching me, he finally said something; "So, do you like smores?"

"Yes, though I always make a mess when eating them."

"I'll help you out," he offered, or basically just told me, grabbing my hand and dragging me to the fire.

"I don't know..." I protested weakly.

When we reached the bonfire, Paul left me and snagged the ingredients. As I waited, I saw a lot of people giving me knowing looks. Was there another secret that I didn't know about? If so, then why was I involved with it? It probably was nothing, just an over-active imagination.

"Here," Paul said as he approached, his eyes bright with excitement, and handed me a stick with two marshmallows on it.

"Thanks."

We knelt down next to the fire. Hesitantly, I let my marshmallows hover just next to the burning embers. As I did this, I glanced at my companion. He was setting down a bag with chocolate and graham crackers in it. Boldly thrusting his medal stick into the fire, it immediately caught fire. He blew on it, revealing two burned marshmallows. Pulling my slightly browned marshmallows away from the fire (I was surprised at how fast they heated up, though it was a hot fire), I lightly scolded him; "Don't eat burned things. That's how you get sick."

He snickered. "Oh, I won't get sick. But thanks." Paul handed me two gram cracker and a bar of chocolate. "Do you need any help?" he inquired.

"Um, sure."

Through some coordination, we managed to put together the smore. "Thank you," I said softly, wondering why he affected me like this. It probably was because no guy had ever paid this much attention to me before. Well, no guy who was not related to me. "Do you need help with yours?"

"Nope." He winked at me. "I can't waste any opportunity to show off."

I watched him in awe as he easily maneuvered his materials to make his smore. He did it with a skilled ease. "Wow. Pretty impressive."

"Thank you," he said, grinning wolfishly.

I dubiously looked down at the delicious treat in my hands. Mustering up all my courage, I bit into it, savoring the taste. A warm, melted mixture of chocolate and marshmallow began to cover my hands. In a few, quick, blissful bites, I finished the smore, sad that it was gone. Looking at my sticky hands I sighed and then heard a chuckle. Turning I saw Paul watching me in amusement. "Need help?"

I nodded pitifully and embarrassedly. He took out napkins from the bag next to him. However instead of handing them to me, he gently took one of my wrists in his large hand and began to wipe away the...mess off my hands. For some reason, this simple act made me blush. When he finished one hand, he moved on to the next. Throughout this, I watched his face which was lined in earnest concentration.

Soon he finished. Wadding up the napkins, he tossed them into a nearby garbage can. "Showing off again?" I laughed.

"Yep...Your hands are still sticky."

I nodded in agreement. "Sorry I'm causing all this trouble."

"Don't be," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'm actually enjoying this."

My face traitorously heated up again. "Well, thanks anyways," I mumbled, looking away."

Paul shrugged, and then looked thoughtful. "Do you mind getting wet?"

"Um, sure?" The mischievous glint in his eyes made me feel slightly uneasy.

"Come with me."

Taking my small hand in his large one (he didn't seem to mind the stickiness), he led me away from the fire and to the more beachy area. I looked at him curiously, wondering what he was going to do. Calmly, he pulled me into the water. I squeaked as the freezing water hit my ankles. "This is your plan? To wash my hands in the water?" I asked.

"Yep." He seemed nervous. "Is that alright?"

"Yeah, though it's cold!" Bending over I put my hands in the water, cleaning them.

"You get used to it," he said simply.

I sighed wistfully; "I wish we could play in the water."

"We could."

"Well..." I looked hesitantly at the crowd of people aways away from us.

"They won't care," Paul reassured me. "They won't even notice we're gone." He quickly took off his shirt and tossed onto dry sand. Then he reached down and splashed me. Ice cold water hit my legs. Giggling, I threw my flip-flops near his shirt and splashed him back.

"This is war," I told him as I met his brown eyes, unable to contain my grin.

"You're on!"

"Still cold?" I asked Rachel as we lay on the sand, looking up at the stars.

"Just a little bit." Without looking at her, I could hear her smile. "It was worth it."

"As long as you don't get sick from it."

"What about you? Aren't you worried about getting sick?"

I smiled, mixed between the feelings of being deeply touched by her concern and frustrated at myself for worrying her. "Well, you know me. I don't get sick."

"So you say," she muttered.

I closed my eyes and listened to our surroundings. Something was off..."It sounds like most of the group has left," I commented.

"Oh...You aren't some kind of murderer that I should be worried about, right?" she teased. "I've always been told that being alone with strange men is dangerous."

I smirked. "You never know. I sometimes have a wild streak."

"I've heard...though I still can't imagine you losing your temper."

If only she would never see it..."You will, eventually," I said solemnly.

As if detecting my feelings, she shifted onto her side and face me, her head propped up by her hand. "I trust you, Paul. You wouldn't do anything rash unless you were under a lot of pressure."

"I wish," I said, my voice low.

"You're a good guy. You won't do anything overly stupid."

Turning my head to look at her, I took her in. Her beautiful face was etched in concern, her dark green eyes looking at me earnestly. The intensity of those eyes made me have to look away. I examined the rest of her. She was wearing a drenched jeans skirt which fit her figure well. Her shirt was covered by my shirt which I had insisted wrapping her in. "Thanks. That means a lot to me," I finally responded.

She blushed adorably and didn't reply as she lay on her back again. We lay in silence for awhile, but were eventually interrupted. "Paul! What are you doing with my sister?"

I inwardly groaned. Jacob. The nuisance. "Hey Jake," Rachel greeted him, her voice weary.

"Rachel," he acknowledged. "Now, are you two ready to go?"

I felt his glower on me. "Not until Rachel is."

"Is it alright if we stay out here a bit more?" Rachel inquired.

A smile on my face, I turned onto my side to face her. "Of course, sweetheart." Anything for her.

Hearing Jacob glaring, I resisted temptation to glare at him. "Thanks." I almost melted at Rachel's voice.

"Don't do anything, or else," Jacob said threateningly to me.

I snickered at his threat. "Bye Jake," I called after him, a smirk on my face.

"Why does he dislike you so much?" Rachel asked me curiously.

I winced. As much as I hated holding things from my imprint, this was a secret I couldn't share. "Well, it's part of the secret..."

"Stupid secret."

Sorry for taking so long to update. But I did update with two chapters, so try to be happy. I know that in the last chapter I said that I'd been holding the chapter and not updating it. Well with this one, I've been holding it for about a month. Yes, that does make me feel like an idiot, among other things. So sorry.

Okay. I decided to put it in Paul's POV. It was really weird. And hard. And complicated. Guys have always been mysteries to me, so I hope it wasn't too horrible. I was going to have it in his POV when they met at this chapter's bonfire, but I couldn't describe what Rachel was wearing without it sounding really wrong and creepy. Or making him sound like a girl. At least that was amusing for me.

So yeah. I hope you enjoyed it and I will try to update as soon as possible! But I'm not making any promises. Oh, yeah. If any of you are reading my other fanfics, I, unsurprisingly, won't be updating for awhile. Sorry.