Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.

02 - POSITIVE FRIENDLY RELATIONSHIP - 02

Contrary to her earlier declaration, Leah and I don't stay up late talking. And it's no surprise, what with her boyfriend's strange behavior and all. Consequently, I wake up much earlier than I expect to on my second day back in La Push.

I rub the sleepy grit out of my eyes just in time to see Aunt Sue approaching me from the direction of the stairs. "Good morning," she says, her voice hushed. "I was just coming to wake you up."

My eyes go automatically to the miniature grandfather clock in the corner next to the TV. It's barely 6:30. In the morning.

"Harry isn't feeling well," she says in response to my confused look. "And unfortunately, today is inventory day at the store. He'd like it if you helped him out a bit. I figured you wouldn't mind, but I understand if you're tired."

"No, no, it's no problem at all!" I say, rising to my feet now.

Instead of looking relieved, she shakes her head. "I swear he's just like a child sometimes. I tell him to wear his jacket, and he does it to humor me, but the next day he's out without one again. This may be the West Coast, but it - "

" - isn't California," I finish, smiling. My own mother has that saying as well.

"Exactly," she says, and then she looks hesitant. "Oh, and you won't need the extra key to get in. Sam is going to be working with you. I know we all sensed some tension yesterday, but Harry says he talked to Sam, and whatever's bothering him should have blown over by today."

She's speaking quickly, as if she's trying to convince me before I have the chance to come up with a counter-argument. I think back to the conversation I had with Uncle Harry yesterday, and momentarily, I wonder if he's faking sick, just to get me to talk to Sam. I quickly banish the idea. He was coughing pretty badly yesterday, and he wouldn't sacrifice his store for someone else's chance at a friendship. That's just silly.

" - knows better than to take out his problems on anyone else, and he should be on his best behavior. You'll be alright, won't you?"

I force all negative thoughts from my head, and smile at Aunt Sue. "I should be fine," I say.

But I should know how that goes. Famous last -

- last time, it didn't take me nearly this long to get to the store. I'm aware it's because I wasn't exactly walking at a snail's pace yesterday.

I push myself to move faster. I know I'm being absolutely ridiculous. I don't have anything to worry about. This is Sam Uley. Sure, he was having a bad day yesterday, but it's no reason to be afraid of him or anything. He's still Leah's fiancée. Which means that one day soon he'll be my cousin, too.

And maybe Uncle Harry's right about building a positive, friendly relationship with him, I try to convince myself. How upset can Leah be if we're getting along? You'd think she'd be upset that we're not getting along.

I try to justify it to myself, but I know that's not Leah's problem. If anything, she thinks we're getting along too well. I sigh as I push on the door to the store. It's locked. Of course.

I raise my hand to knock, but before my knuckles make contact, Sam appears at the door, unlocks it, and yanks it open.

"Hi," I say, somewhat breathlessly, as I take in his large frame all over again. It's easier to decide that I have nothing to worry about when he's not standing right in front of me. The fact of the matter is, he's huge. And all over again, it comes as a surprise. I suppose it wouldn't be such a big deal if I had seen him every day since last summer like everyone else, but I hadn't, so his size is still new to me. He easily takes up all of the space in the doorway. I couldn't slip past him if I wanted to.

"Harry said he would send you," he says, narrowing his eyes. He says it as if he didn't expect me to show up.

Immediately, my defenses are raised, but I try not to let it show. I smile. "Good morning to you, too," I say. "Are you going to let me in? Or are we going to let the door stay like this, so passersby can assume the store opens this early?"

He clenches his jaw, and steps backward, allowing me to go inside.

He closes the door, quickly, then turns to me. "You don't have to be here," he says, gruffly. "I can handle everything by myself. I'm almost done anyway."

I swallow back a taste of disappointment, surprised at the feeling. "Oh, really?" I say, looking at the clock behind the counter. It's a plastic wall-mounted fish, with the circular clock in the middle. Leah would call it supremely tacky, and consequently, very Uncle Harry.

"You must have been here for a while," I remark. "It's only seven thirty." I turn back to him, but he doesn't have a response for me. He just looks away.

"Look," I continue, uncomfortably, "I'm sorry if this isn't your ideal situation, but Uncle Harry asked me to help and I'm not leaving until the inventory gets done." I take off my jacket and make towards the counter where he is. He immediately walks a few feet away, and I hesitate for a minute, stung by his not-so-subtle action.

"What have you done so far?" I ask, forcing myself to make eye-contact with him again.

He crosses his arms, and stands straighter. "I really don't need your help, but if you insist, you can see how many different types of bait there are. That's really all there is to - "

"Twenty-seven," I say, remembering that from last summer's inventory count, "more or less, but we also need to write down exactly how much of each kind we have - "

"I can do that," he interrupts, impatiently. "Look, you just do the top counting… like, how many kinds of fishing poles we have, and I"ll deal with the rest of the numbers tonight before I lock up."

I shake my head. It makes no sense, whatsoever, and I know that he knows that. I am hurt. I know he's just doing this in order to get me to leave faster.

"Sam," I say, softly, and his reaction is as if I've shocked him with an electric taser. He jerks his head up and stares me in my eyes. His expression is one of shock, anger, fear, and something else I can't even begin to understand. What reason would he have to be afraid of me? Curiosity hits me like a freight train, but I push it away.

I take a deep breath and plunge. "I won't pretend to understand why you don't like me… if that is the case. I'm sorry again if I did something to offend you or hurt you in any way. If it's really so bad that you don't want to work with me, I'll ask Uncle Harry to put us on for different shifts next time. But for now, it will probably be a lot more beneficial and less time consuming for you if we do the inventory together. We could split up the store. I can start down here, and you can start upstairs, or whichever way you want. That way, we don't have to talk to each other at all, unless it's necessary."

For a long while, he's silent and staring at me. I fidget uncomfortably under his intensity, before he finally replies with, "Fine."

I feel a sudden, slight burning sensation behind my eyes, and I turn away, mortified. I feel so stupid, and I know I shouldn't. I've been nothing, but polite to him since I've been here, and I thought I was giving him an easy out - an excuse for his rude, inexcusable behavior towards me. I fully expected him to deny it… lie or something, but he did neither of those things, and I'm stunned. And hurt. And embarrassed.

He continues to stand next to the counter, and I take a second to blink back my tears before I am humiliated further. I walk up to the counter, pass him, and reach where I remember Uncle Harry keeps the paper and pens. I grab a yellow sketch pad, a purple pen, and pass him again. He hasn't moved, and I wonder for a second if he realized he'd almost made me cry… if he cares.

I don't have to wonder anymore when he reaches behind the counter as well for paper and a pen, and then speed walks to the Employees Only door.

Trying very hard not to notice how his back muscles ripple under his tight black t-shirt, I watch him walk away. Uncle Harry's wrong about this one. He doesn't need a friend. He needs an attitude adjustment -

" - adjustment needs to be done on the third shelf from the left. On the back wall. Some of the poles were leaning against it and I think it was loosened from all of the weight," I say, quietly, two hours later. Instead of looking him in the eyes, I stare at the ground, wishing I had left when he wanted me to.

It was a very lonely two hours. But everything is finished, the store will be open in half an hour, and I'm just ready to leave. It's heartbreaking that I used to adore working in Uncle Harry's store, and now all I want to do is leave. Because of Sam.

I'm such a pushover sometimes, but I don't want to cause any rifts. I make a promise to myself to talk to Uncle Harry, and explain to him that I want to work on college applications or something this summer. It is a total lie, but he can't force me into working. I'll only help out when absolutely necessary, and that's only if Sam won't be helping out on the same shift. I'll do everything possible to avoid confrontation -

"I don't dislike you."

My head snaps up, and my eyes find his. He's back to giving me that intense stare from last night at the dinner table. I feel my face getting hot, and I shake my head.

"I find that hard to believe," I say, faintly.

He scowls. "Look, I never said I didn't like you. I'm just going through something and you being around is not helping."

"How?" I burst out. "What do I have to do with anything you're going through? Did I do something to offend you yesterday? It's the first time I've seen you in over a year."

I'm surprised at my own audacity, but I guess he's pushed my buttons more than I'm willing to admit. So much for avoiding confrontation.

He looks surprised, too. "No, I - never mind. I think you're right. We should ask Harry to put us on different shifts." His voice hardens at the last part, and all over again I feel as if I've been punched in the gut.

I nod and look away, trying to not let him see how upset I am, and knowing that I'm failing miserably. If this is how he's acting around someone he doesn't dislike, then I'd hate to see how he'd act if he hated me.

I go over to the counter, and trade the inventory papers for my jacket. He can enter my numbers into the computer for me. I just don't care anymore. Without a goodbye, I start to head towards the exit.

"I love Leah," he says, suddenly, angrily. "A lot. We're engaged. We're getting married."

Completely shaken up now, I wonder if that's the reason for all of his weirdness. Has he gotten it into his head that I'm trying to break them up? Do both him and Leah think that? And if so, why on earth? When did I ever give either of them any reason to doubt that I want them to be together? And happy?

Unbidden, an image of myself with him in the store yesterday pops into my mind. Me, staring him down like an absolute lust-filled loony, while he stares back at me, speechless for words. Oh God… What if he thinks I - ?

"I know that," I say, quickly, turning to face him. But I can't look him in the eye. Not with the way I'm blushing fiercely now. "I know you're engaged. I would never do anything to come between you and Leah. She's my cousin and I love her."

I chance a glance at his face, but instead of looking relieved, he just looks pained.

"I apologize," I say, embarrassed, "if you think I - It's just, I didn't know who you were at first, but that's no excuse. I'll leave now."

Quickly, I spin around again. Except this time, I don't stop as I head towards the door. I keep going. Out into the rain, and as far away from Sam as possible -

" - possible! I don't know what to do with them!"

I pretend to listen while I twirl the imaginary phone cord around on my finger. My mom's voice crackles and fizzles as my eyes drift once again to the kitchen clock. It's been twenty minutes already, and I sigh with relief. Time's up.

"I mean, Matthew is ridiculous on his best days, but now that Meghan's expecting, it's like he doesn't want anyone to talk to her at all. And is it so wrong for me to want to know how my second grandchild is coming along?"

"Hey, Mom?" I interrupt, attempting to sound apologetic. "It's been twenty minutes."

"Oh, not you, too!" she exclaims. "I never thought I'd see the day when I had to limit my conversations with my own children. See, this is exactly why I told your father I wanted to buy you kids cell phones. I don't know why he refused, but I should've done it anyway."

"Mom - "

"Oh, Emily! I have to go, sweetie. I think that's Caroline on the other line! We're supposed to be meeting up at the airport and you know how she is with directions, so I better take this. I love you bunches! Have fun for me today!"

With a click, she is gone, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I feel guilty for just a second, and then I remember Aunt Sue's and Uncle Harry's phone bill. The guilt evaporates, and I breathe another sigh of relief that my dad refused to buy us cell phones. I don't blame him in the slightest.

I've been here for a week and a half now, and she's called at least twice every day. I don't mind too much, because she is my mother. And it's never terribly difficult to get her off the phone. I just have to make sure I stick to a time limit and to keep reminding her that it is long distance.

I stand up and put the cordless phone back on it's base, and glance at the clock again. Aunt Sue is running errands, but Leah and Seth should be home from school any minute now. And in an hour or two, I can head down to the store to help Uncle Harry, and to take over for Sam.

Sam…

Ever since that disastrous inventory incident, Uncle Harry hasn't put us back on the same shift. Throwing on a comfortable dark green hoodie, I make my way to the front porch and sit down heavily on the steps. It's drizzling rain. Naturally.

Not for the first time, I wonder if Sam complained to Uncle Harry about having to work with me. I didn't complain about him, so much as voice that I would be busier than usual this summer. But Uncle Harry got the message, especially when I added that Sam doesn't seem to need any more friends. Now, the most I see of him is when one of us takes over for the other. But more often than not, whoever is there first will leave before the other gets there.

Tentatively, I also asked Leah about it when she recovered from the table staring incident. She tried to hide it, but she seemed all too glad that Sam didn't appear to like me, although she attempted to cover it up with false comfort. Leah was never a great liar. I love her to death, but Uncle Harry is right. She's too spoiled - everything she wants shows on her face - and she's dramatic as well.

I look up, startled as a hand is waved in front of my face.

"What's up, Emily? Why you sittin' out here in the rain?" Seth asks, an impish smile on his face.

Leah is behind him, scowling, and I'm instantly curious. Seth quickly makes note of my distraction and turns around. He spots Leah and rolls his eyes.

"She's been like that all day, every time I've seen her in the hallway," he informs me in a loud stage whisper. "It's like she's mad that school is over is two weeks."

"What I'm upset about has nothing to do with school," Leah practically growls. She throws a knowing look at me, which I interpret to mean I should meet her in her room. As soon as possible.

I give Seth an apologetic smile and scurry up into the house after Leah.

I'm barely inside her bedroom when she pushes me aside and locks the - newly fixed by Sam - door.

"He did it again!" she wails, and sinks down onto her carpeted floor.

I raise my eyebrows, but I have a pretty good idea of who and what she's talking about. She glares at me because she knows I know.

"Sam!" she snaps, and I wince. "He won't touch me. And don't act like such a good girl, Emily. I still remember catching you and that redhead from Forks in my closet. What was his name?"

My face reddens. "Doesn't matter," I say quickly. "What about you and Sam?"

"He's being all… I don't know. It's like, at first he couldn't keep his hands off me. And I know that that feelings fades after the newness of a relationship wears off. It's happened before. But I mean, it's like he never wants to, now. Ever. And I hate asking him because I feel like I'm throwing myself at him. And I shouldn't have to ask. I mean, he's a guy!"

I nod and murmur in all the right places, but she barely notices. This isn't new. Ever since I managed to convince her that I'm not out to get Sam, she's turned me into her confidant. And I'm not complaining, or anything. I like the Leah that's not angry with me. It's just that I don't really want to hear anything about Sam. Especially since, anytime I slip and say something negative about him, Leah jumps down my throat.

"Maybe he's distracted?" I offer.

She narrows her eyes at me. "By what?" But I can tell she's really asking, 'By who?' so I quickly change tactics.

"Uncle Harry has him working nonstop. I take shifts, too, but every time I'm not there, I know Sam's there. And doesn't he have another job, too?" I say.

"Yeah, he does construction three days a week," she says dismissively, waving her hand as if to swat the idea away. "But, you'd think that being around hot, sweaty men would make the idea of being in a bed with hot, sweaty me all the more appealing."

"Leah!" I exclaim, and fight the urge to laugh.

She shrugs. "I'm just saying. I'm a beautiful woman, Emily. I'm not going to pretend like I'm not to make other people feel good about themselves. Sam is lucky to have me."

"He is," I agree. "Anyone would be lucky to have you."

"Yeah," she sighs. "I played the jealousy card on him, too, you know. I talked nonstop about this guy - Jared something - in my class. He didn't even notice I changed the topic of conversation. He's just so distant, lately. The only time I caught his attention at all this week was when - " She stops abruptly, and her face goes red.

"What?" I ask, honestly wanting to know, now.

"Well, don't be mad, but I borrowed your perfume from your suitcase without asking. I would have asked, but you were asleep, and I was about to miss the bus already - "

"It's fine, Lee," I say, smiling. "I thought you did. You put it back in the wrong place."

She rolls her eyes at that. "Always the perfectionist," she mutters. "Anyway, I wore it, and I stopped by the store after school. Remember on Wednesday, when I got home later? That day, I went to the store because I knew Dad was coming home to eat lunch with Mom - he usually does on Wednesdays - and I figured I'd get Sam alone for a while. Not really alone, because of all the customers, but you know what I mean.

"Anyway, I was wearing the perfume, and as soon as I walked in the door, it's like he materialized out of nowhere. He had this really weird expression on his face, but then he saw it was me, and he seemed to… calm down, sort of. Not that he seemed angry, or anything, but it was easy to tell that he relaxed once he saw me." She shrugs, but I've grown tense.

He recognized my perfume?

"If he was any other guy, I wouldn't put up with it. I would have broken up with him, or done something else really drastic by now," she declares.

"What makes him so special?" I blurt out, and as soon as I do so, I regret it. She glares at me.

"He's my fiancée, and I love him. He's not just some high school fling, Emily. We're getting married."

"I know," I say, softly. "I know, Lee. Sorry. I don't know why I said that. Of course he's special to you."

Honestly, though, I don't understand why -

- why Sam doesn't like me. The more I think about it, the more I can't think of a single logical reason. And, in everyone else's eyes, it's like there's nothing he can do wrong. Everyone likes Sam. Aunt Sue raves about how sweet he is to Leah when Leah isn't around, Seth has said more than once that he thinks he's awesome, and Uncle Harry practically worships the ground he walks on.

It's as if he's singled me out as the bad seed in the family, or something. He avoids me. I know this because Aunt Sue let it slip that he used to come over for dinner every night before I arrived in town. I know everything I felt showed all over my face when I heard that, because she quickly tried to skate over it by insisting that he must be super busy now that Uncle Harry has given him all of those extra hours in the store.

If I bring up anything with Uncle Harry about Sam not liking me, he just grunts and insists I should try to talk to him again. Seth just laughs and says something about Leah getting mad if Sam is nice to me, and Leah still has it in her head for some reason that Sam and I are going to run off together. It's a frustrating situation.

I place my elbow on the register counter, and rest my chin in my hand. I even told my mother about it last time she called and she laughed and said I can't automatically expect everyone to like me. And she doesn't understand why I'm so worked up about one guy. I blushed at her implications and found an excuse to hang up.

"I don't understand why we can't just be friends," I say, quietly to myself.

"Uh, hey? Excuse me?"

Startled out of my reverie, I look up to see a huge Quileute boy on the other side of the counter, and for half a second, I almost mistake him for Sam. My heart starts to pound and I will myself to calm down. He looks more alarmed than I do. He shifts back and forth and holds one of his arms. He seems so uncomfortable in his own body.

Sudden growth spurt? I wonder, then quickly shake away the thought. I know nothing about this boy. I shouldn't assume things.

"Sorry, how can I help you?" I ask, pasting a bright smile on my face.

He appears uncertain for a moment, and then he smiles back. His grin disappears quickly, and he glances around him.

"I'm looking for… uh… fishing stuff," he says, his voice low, as if we are conspirators.

Puzzled, I blink for a moment. "What kind of… fishing stuff?" I ask, feeling silly because I've matched my tone to his.

"Um. My… um… my mom likes to fish, and I thought. Well, it's her birthday soon, and…"

"Oh! Okay," I say, my heart going out to this kid. Though, I don't know if it's right calling him a kid. He's taller than me, and standing side-by-side, I'm sure people would think he was older, too. But his stance and demeanor both scream adolescent teenager.

"How about a new fishing rod?" I suggest, coming from behind the counter to lead him to the area.

"Yeah, okay," he agrees, quickly. He looks around again. The word paranoid comes to mind, but I push it away. Curiosity killed the cat.

I lead him over to the newest assortment of fishing poles, and I take note of his fidgeting. His nervousness, or anxiousness, is making me feel the same way.

He looks at them for two seconds, then looks around again. I reach for one at the same time that he turns back around and reaches over blindly. Our hands touch, and I snatch mine away. He's burning up! He blinks rapidly, then turns back to me.

"I, uh, I have a question," he says, tugging at his shirt. It's then that I notice that his clothes are extremely tight. It's raining hard outside today, and his clothing is limited to 'high-water' sweatpants, gigantic black sneakers, and a tight white tank top. He's completely soaked, and doesn't seem to care. Like Sam, it's hard to not be able to tell that he's perfectly sculpted in every way, as well. I wonder if they work out together.

I shake my head, and force myself to stop ogling him. Although, he doesn't appear that much younger than I am, I did just graduate high school, and this guy clearly still goes there. I am not in the habit of cradle-robbing. Especially not sick babies with high temperatures.

"Yes, sorry?" I say, forcing myself to look into his eyes. I refrain from asking if he's okay. He looks almost terrified now. I have the strong feeling that if I question him, he'll run away.

"Do you know a guy who works here? His name is Sam Uley. Uh, you don't live here, do you? Are you new in town? Maybe you don't know him. I'm sorry. Forget I asked." Quickly, he turns and practically sprints for the door.

"Wait!" I say, but he ignores me, and within five seconds, he's gone. Bewildered, all I can do is stare after -

- after work, but I'm not tired. I'm actually very much awake, and I know the sole reason for this is because of the task that Uncle Harry entrusted to me.

He wants me to open the store tomorrow, but he's made up some story about having lost the extra key, so I have to go to Sam's house and pick up the only one. I make a silent vow to have copies made tomorrow as I trudge towards the address where I was told Sam lives, even though I know Uncle Harry is lying. Like Leah, he doesn't have that skill.

I'll still make copies, though. At least two. I rather have my own, and the other really will be an extra key that I'll give to Aunt Sue for safekeeping.

The directions I was given bring me to a cheerful-looking one-story house painted yellow, with a well-kept front lawn. I smile to myself. The house actually looks pretty cozy and immediately puts me in mind of Aunt Sue's. It has the same small town charm. At least from the outside.

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding now, and make my way up to the front door. I ring the doorbell, and not two seconds later, the door is swung open by none other than Leah.

"What are you doing here?" she says, furiously.

I draw back, surprised at her rage. I didn't expect her to be here, and I frown. "Uncle Harry sent me to get the extra key to open the store in the morn - "

"Emily," Sam abruptly shows up behind her and cuts me off. He doesn't look surprised in the slightest to see me here, and I feel somewhat relieved. It seems Uncle Harry's told him about the store key.

He starts to pull Leah aside - but she turns and pushes him - and he motions me to come in. I'd rather not, but I don't want to be rude, so I force myself to go in. My first impression is that the house was obviously decorated by a woman. I'm guessing he didn't change much after his mother passed away, and my second impression is that I'm glad. It has charm. Everything matches perfectly, and he's kept it looking nice.

Nice for him and Leah. I smile to myself as I think that Leah is actually going to be living here soon.

"What's so funny?" Leah asks, glowering at me.

I blink, unaware that I was actually smiling. "Oh… nothing." Sam is still standing next to her, staring at me silently. He seems worried about something. Though, I don't know how I can tell, since his expression hasn't changed. My smile falters.

"Your house is nice," I offer, nervously.

He only shakes his head slightly.

"Can I have the key?" I ask, not wanting to be impatient, but wanting to leave as soon as possible. I've clearly stumbled into a tense situation.

"Can she have the key?" Leah says in a mocking voice, glaring at Sam now. Uncomfortably, I switch my gaze from Sam to Leah and back. I should have gone with my instincts and waited outside.

"It's in my room," Sam mutters. He points down the hall. "On the left."

Since he doesn't seem as if he's going to give me any further instructions, I quickly walk down the hall.

"Well, congratulations. Phase one is complete," I hear Leah say loudly, sarcastically.

"Leah, please - " Sam starts, but Leah interrupts.

"It didn't take long for you, did it? To get her into your bedroom? Are you happy now? Are your little fantasies satisfied, or do you actually have to be in there with - ?"

"Stop it," Sam snaps.

My face burning, I quickly continue to the room he pointed out. The door is closed. And locked. How strange for him to lock his bedroom door in his own house.

I turn back towards the living room, but their voices are louder now.

" - own cousin, Sam! How could you?" Leah shouts.

"Leah, it was a mistake! Can you please stop yelling?"

"Why? You're afraid your precious Emily will hear me? Don't you think she should know?" Leah hisses.

I am stunned. I don't know what to do. I wish there was a door back here I could sneak through. Or even a window. But as far as I was able to tell, the back door is in the living room. And it's really more of a side door that probably opens up to a back patio.

"EMILY!" Leah shouts.

I close my eyes, wishing I could sink into the floor. Gathering my courage, I hurry into the living room.

"The door was locked," I say, quickly, keeping my eyes on the ground. "Maybe, you can give Harry the key?" I direct my question to Sam, but I don't look at him.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll want to hand deliver it to you himself, Emily," Leah says, scathingly.

"Leah," Sam says. He seems to be pleading with her about something I don't understand.

"SHE'S MY COUSIN!" Leah roars, shutting him up. Frozen, I forget all about the door.

Leah turns her ire on me. "Emily, Sam doesn't want me to tell you, but I think I should. You see, earlier today, right before you came over, in fact, Sam and I were having sex. For the first time in a while, actually."

"Leah, please no," Sam says, darting a terrified glance at me. I suddenly really don't want Leah to finish what she has to say.

"Leah, can we talk about this at home?" I ask, quickly, shooting a glance at Sam.

"We were having sex," she continues, her voice louder than both of ours, "when Sam suddenly says your name instead of mine. Repeatedly. During his thirty-second orgasm. Isn't that crazy, Emily? It just kept jetting out. For thirty seconds."

Absolutely mortified, I try to stop my wandering eyes from landing on Sam, but they don't listen. He looks horrified and ashamed. I almost wish I could sink into the floor for him. If this is embarrassing for me, I know it has to be super humiliating for him.

I shake my head, slightly. What am I doing? Sympathizing with him? What's wrong with me?

I start for the door, passing Leah, who looks triumphant with a giant smirk on her face. I don't know why. She's won nothing, here.

I put my hand on the doorknob, and start to pull it open. "Emily, wait," a soft voice says from behind me.

Stunned, I turn around just in time to see Leah sprint up to Sam and slap him clear across the face. It doesn't seem to affect him at all, but Leah suddenly cries out and grabs her hand.

Seeing her hurt, I move quickly across the room, but as soon as I try to help her, she shoves me with her other hand. Hard. Caught off guard, I fall backwards, but somehow I don't hit the ground. Instead, there is heat all around me, and as I look up, I see Sam's troubled face.

Gasping, I push myself away from him, and turn back to face Leah.

"Leah - " I start to say, but she gives both of us the finger, effectively shutting me up. She darts out of the house, supporting her injured hand.

I take a shuddering breath, and prepare myself to run after her. I have to fix this. But my upper arm is seized, and once again, I can feel that he's unnaturally warm through my jacket.

I stare at him in astonishment.

"Are you okay?" he asks, something desperate in his voice.

The disbelief I'm feeling is written all over my face, I'm sure. I snatch my arm away.

"Are you serious?" I say, completely overwhelmed now. I'm unable to keep the disgust out of my voice and I know he hears it from the way he flinches.

I shake my head at him and leave without looking back.

- FadingSlowly