Chapter 5: Beginning Invasion

XXX

Jacob's P.O.V.

Poor Penelope Gowan. Nervous wreck, yes she was. I needed to show her that really, no one cares for too long if you embarrass yourself around here.

When I first walked in, she looked so much like a little kid. She was sitting in Sam's favorite, hideous chair, with an expression that made her seem that she'd love nothing more than to sink into the cushions and not resurface: her short hair fell into her face, and her mouth was pulled back into a pitiful pout. It's a shame that it's imbued in my soul to feel bad for distressed girls, whatever the case may be. But after a brief talk, I could tell just by the changed expression on her features that I had lightened the mood with a few simple words. It's a good feeling, you know, when you're able to make a difference to someone in little, unimportant ways. At least to me it is; I don't like seeing downer people in general unless they deserved it, which was rarely the case… excluding my pack.

I pulled her up, then placed my hand on her lower back to signify encouragement. She likes that, right? The whole encouragement thing. But my keen eyes did not miss the immediate splash of color flooding her cheeks, the way her eyes shifted away from my face, or when her hands intertwined together self-consciously.

Oh, Jesus. I hope…

Now, I know it's not wise to jump to conclusions; believe me, I've made that mistake more times than I'd like to remember. I knew the effect I had on girls, the way their eyes roamed over my body, or the way they tried to pay special attention to every word that left my mouth (seriously, I could be talking about a rock and it'd be treated as the most interesting topic in the world). I didn't care for them, so why not let them pine after me? I always made it clear that I took no interest, so it was their mistake if they continued an unfruitful pursuit. For once though, I minded: I prayed that this girl wouldn't fall for me, not even on a crush-basis. It was nothing against her; she's not really my type, yet I wouldn't have said no had this been over a year ago. But my messed up personal reasons keep pulling me to my knees, and I desperately needed a normal friend, someone who I could find faith in a friendship and didn't know my ugly truths. I couldn't let her see me in that certain way, because I wouldn't let it go anywhere.

I couldn't let her know that I was a lost cause.

I staved off the pain that attempted to pulse through me. I got lucky this time, but I could only fight it so much. As soon as we were out the door, my hand retracted from her lower back.

"Glad to see you here," Seth approached us, smiling towards Nel, "Hopefully you won't bail in an hour, huh?"

I rolled my eyes, Just don't be a creep.

Nel smiled, keen to hide her previous discomfort in the house. "No, I actually plan to stay for about 20 minutes this time."

Seth laughed, running a hand through his hair. "That's good... that you're staying, I mean." Just two days ago, it had been buzzed and now it was long enough to tuck behind his ears. Hence, why I didn't even bother to cut my hair anymore; it grew back in minutes. But you wonder why I pointed out the running-a-hand-through-his-hair? Now, why would I pay attention to something like that? Because that was a very obvious "dude-sign" that Seth very recently picked up from the others. Seth could never hide how he felt, so we always knew who he took an interest, but I'd be damned before he'd try to get fresh with Nel. I didn't need his awkward little boy hormones scaring her away.

"Nel, ya hungry?" I cut into whatever they were talking about, which I wasn't even giving the slightest attention to seeing as I momentarily spaced out. I wrapped a hand around her upper arm in silent persistence and looked down into her eyes, to which she blushed and nodded immediately. I brushed past Seth and took her over to the barbecue, and grabbed two plates for us.

Another thing that sucks about hiding a big hairy beast: I was always hungry. I knew these burgers and hot dogs didn't stand a chance.

After picking out our food (piling on, in my case), we sat at a table with Embry and Quil. Seth was staring at us from across the yard, where he stood in a circle with Paul and three Makah girls, whose parents were acquainted with Sue. Like many other girls, they giggled and found excuses to move closer to them. Seth was too awkward to do much, and it's too bad they couldn't see past Paul's stupid, cocky grin or his pecks to know the dickhead that lurked underneath. What unfortunate souls they were.

"You and your family look like a couple of spooks compared to the majority of this crowd," Embry cracked, giving Nel a one-armed hug.

"But I'm not pale at all," she frowned. "And sorry for not being tall, dark, and beautiful," she sighed.

"You're sort of beautiful…"

I knocked over my gigantic cup of punch, spilling it all over the table and onto plates of food, but not onto anybody's clothes. I slapped a hand over my eyes as people turned to look. "Nice going, asshole," Quil snorted. I shot him a glare that I hoped he would feel all the way down to his gut, because he knew that as of late, I wasn't in the mood for anybody's shit. I stood and easily pulled off the table cover, taking my plate and Penelope's seeing as my punch drenched her rice and hotdog.

"I'll be right back," I muttered to her. "I'll get you a new plate."

"No Jake, really, I can—" she began.

"Please," I said, genuinely needing an excuse to step away for a minute.

She wrung her hands, "Oh… okay, thank you."

"That's really nice of you, taking your time to get our food again." Embry held up his own punch-soaked entrée, to which I smirked.

"Sorry, I only get food for the cool people." I winked at Nel, and she smiled.

Embry opened his mouth to protest, but I stalked off. Embry just shrugged it off apparently, because I wasn't even inside the house before I heard, "Not that I mind 'beautiful', but whatever happened to handsome?"

I looked back momentarily to gauge her response. "Haha, ha…" There she goes again, blushing up a storm. At least it reassured me that her chances of having a special interest in me were probably not true, and maybe she just got shy around anything when it came to the opposite sex…

Which is exactly how I used to be.

I ducked into the back door, thankful that nobody was inside. I dumped the plates, then headed out to the front yard to lay out the table cover on the grass. Unlikely, but maybe it would dry even in the normally frigid air. I then took a deep, needful inhale, pinching the bridge of my nose with my fingers as I looked back on the previous moment.

"You're sort of beautiful…"

She just wouldn't leave me alone.

Pain. What I needed was physical pain. Maybe that would be enough to distract me for a moment, because even a moment of release would be something I'd relish within. But I knew I wasn't that lucky, that even if I had a moment of freedom from my mental and bodily arrest, I'd never be capable of dispelling my memories of her. And even that in itself was conflicting: one minute I tell myself I regret ever meeting her. That if I was given the choice, I'd want to forget her completely. Even if she was still with the leech in a world where I didn't know her, at least then I wouldn't be so fucking miserable. But then my selfish wish would come right back at me, internally punish me for wanting to forget the only girl who would ever invoke me with such absolute… love.

It's true, there's no other way to put it. Ever since I had realized the full extent of what I felt for her, I did not want a wife. I did not want children. I did not want a future in general if it meant it could not be with her.

You think I'm talking nonsense. I'm nearing 17, not even considered an adult yet. I didn't imprint on her, so nothing special in the eyes of others ties me to her. Maybe my mind is subject to change. Maybe I'm just devastated because I lost my first love. Maybe I'm over reacting. Maybe I'm not alone, and this is what everyone goes through when they lose their first love. Or, maybe I concur to the popular opinion formed by my pack: I'm crazy. Not going crazy, rather that I already am crazy. Sometimes I think I am, too.

Or maybe it's the animal in me that is to blame. A poor but honest excuse for me is that wolves mate for life. But I am also human, so it's a devastating mix:

It means that the moment I fell in love with Isabella Marie Swan, the wolf in me found its' life partner. It's not Imprinting, because imprint or not, I'll never love anyone the way I love her for as long as I'll live. I can't tear myself away from her, because even if she doesn't believe it, she's the only one I'll ever want. That even if by some miracle a girl makes it past my appearance and into my heart, she'll have to settle for only a piece of it--

Because Bella's invasive scent, her delving, clear brown eyes, her heart-shaped face… has an eternal hold within that can never be replaced by another.

XXX

"Jake's been gone awhile…" I mumbled incoherently, but Embry still somehow managed to hear.

"Would rather be in his company than mine?" He teased, his face in a close enough proximity that I was pretty sure I was a breath away from a heart attack. Seriously, these Quileute boys had to know what they were doing to me. Maybe it was a little inside joke of theirs… "Hey guys, watch how I mess with the new girl's head! Ha, she wishes!"

I do wish. I really, really do.

"I take that silence as a yes," Quil chuckled, his bulging arm nudging me out of my inner-spaz. "Because I make better company than both of you rock heads… don't I, Nel?"

"Um, mmhm…" I shied away from his touch.

If he noticed, he didn't care and threw an arm around me with a good-hearted grin. "I'm just messing around. I'll go get Jake." He walked off, leaving me with a picking-his-teeth-with-a-fork Embry. I had to smile though; in a weird way, he looked like a little kid. While he busied himself, I surveyed the yard.

My dad was sitting in sitting the porch stoop, talking to Jake's dad and Sue Clearwater with the biggest grin. A smile like that… it was something I hadn't seen in so long. I did not see my brother with him; in fact, Bernard was nowhere in sight. Probably in the bathroom, or something. As I continued on, it was as I had expected: I didn't know as many of these people as I thought I did. There were more than a handful of unrecognizable faces. But then my eyes fell on a specific social circle, and stayed there: three pretty, dark-haired girls were chatting up Seth and Paul.

Seth seemed a bit reserved, giving an occasional smile but didn't seem really committed to whatever two of the girls were talking about. And Paul…

I don't know why I suddenly felt disheartened as I watched one of the girls trail her fingertips along his forearm, a sign that she was no doubt making a topic of his stellar body. At first glance, you'd think he was enjoying the attention; but of course, me being the creep that I am had to look deeper into the physical format. I paid special attention to eyes; at this distance, you'd think my mind was playing tricks on me, but the look I read in those eyes… was he irritated? Bored? I hoped so. That means he had no interest in her.

Or maybe he wasn't interested in anything a girl had to say, and he just wanted to get it on. He was clearly a heartbreaker… but I'm only going off of looks. Psh, what did I know? He may very well be a prince on a white horse… but no. Again, the distinct look in his eyes begged to differ. Then that must be it; he wanted her, but he didn't want the conversation. Yeah, that's it.

And sweet mother of Jesus, he's looking right at me.

My thoughts went into full-on panic overdrive. What the fuck, are you that out of it!? Look away, look away! And damn me, I couldn't. I wouldn't say I was frozen to the spot, but more like… like I didn't want to look away.

I'm sorry, did I say he's merely looking at me? More like peering into my soul. I was sure my expression hid nothing. I was sure that he could see the breathing speed of my chest quicken, that maybe he could even sense the goosebumps that had broken out on my skin.

And I had to wonder… what did he see? Because I must be on a mental high. That full, sensuous mouth wouldn't upturn into a smile directed at me. Nope, never, because he was surrounded by attractive girls. Why would he even glance my why? He gave me the coldest expression ever at the front door. It was obvious that—

And he's walking over here. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

I don't know why, but I slid over on the bench and closed the distance between Embry and I, to which he finally lowered the fork and raised a brow. We were shoulder to shoul—scratch that, his mid bicep, and his hot breath fanned my hair as he gave a low laugh, "Careful, because I'm starting to think you're making a pass at me."

"Uhn, er…" I tried, but then Paul stopped short in front of us. He was no longer looking at me, and again I was torn between wanting those eyes on me and wanting him to just go away.

"Where's Quil?" Was all he asked, and it was addressed to Embry.

Ouch. I told you, I have a self-inflicting imagination. He was definitely not looking at me. Maybe there had been a bodacious babe standing behind me?

"Quil went off to get Jake. You troubled yourself to walk over 12 feet over here just to ask me that? I'll be sure to tell Quil of your unconditional affection."

"Shut it," Paul growled. "I asked because he owes me still."

Embry rolled his eyes, "Owes you for what?"

"Our last race."

"Are you serious?"

"You're one to talk. Your poor ass knows better than anyone, 20 bucks is 20 bucks."

Embry suddenly growled, I want to say almost inhumanely, and I felt that hairs on my arm stand on end. I didn't want to say anything, but I hated negative tension more than anything in the world, and judging by the alarming flash of anger in Paul's eyes (and over one comment?)… okay, maybe I was overreacting to think they'd actually break into a fight, but the way they were looking at each other was enough to make me think that. "Uh, uh... you still have races?" I cracked nervously. "Ha, guys I know stopped doing that for fun in the 4th grade!"

Lame, I know. But have mercy, I couldn't think of anything else.

They both looked at me, with Embry suddenly breaking into laughter. But his voice sounded far away, despite my body being pressed next to his.

Whatever doubts that I had that Paul had been looking at me were banished. He had been looking at me with those penetrating eyes: but unfortunately, I did not see interest. I saw… wow, what did I see? Was he… was he staring me down? Why would he try to intimidate me? But there it was again—that smile. And my self-consciousness was getting to me: I was beginning to think his smile conveyed that he was aware that he was better than me.

I felt naked all of a sudden. And I decided I did want him to go away.

"And you are?"

I blinked, realizing Paul was speaking to me. Who else, idiot?

"Uh… P-Penelope Gown," I stuttered.

"Jake's new squeeze?"

Again, ouch. That sharp comment should not have hurt me, but it did for some weird reason. He did not say it with malice or anger: he said it with nothing. There was no feeling behind his words. He judged me already, and he didn't care.

"Don't go there," Embry warned.

But his words did not deter Paul, and he did break his unreadable gaze away from me. Then I watched his lips mouth the words, "Nice meeting you… Penelope, was it?"

The way he said my name was enough to make me want to disappear into myself, because I was left speechless by the unidentifiable tone in his voice. "Yeah," Embry cut in, a seemingly friendly smile still on his face as he lifted his hand and waved. "Now bye, Paul."

But Paul had already turned to walk away.

XXX

A/N: Strange interaction, hm? No, there's no "magic feeling" for Penelope that makes Paul act like a jerk. Truly, he's just being Paul (or as I tried to write). She's nothing to him right now. I just wanted to eliminate the cheesy factor of he-acts-like-he-hates-me-because-he-actually-loves-me. No, siree.

And sorry for the slow update, lol. This chapter is dedicated to one of my reviewers, SunnyZim! Thank you!