Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

Okay! New chapter! I just want to say, again, just how much all the responses for this fic mean to me. It's just really remarkable. I am so grateful for all the reviews, favorites, etc. I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter! Thanks so much for reading!

Playing With Fire
Chapter Twenty Three: Dread

Somehow, after that day at the beach, I felt lighter than I had in days.

It was weird. I had figured that I'd go back to my zombie-phase after even thinking of Edward for a prolonged period of time - especially after being offered a ticket to immortality. And then, when I had talked with Paul, I felt no remorse at staying human, at least for this moment. He put up a great argument, and I was convinced that me becoming a vampire would do more harm than good, especially if my family got involved. If Victoria couldn't get to me because I was all marble-hard and impenetrable, then she would no doubt try to get to me through my family and friends, starting with Charlie and most likely ending with Renee. She had the resources, and I did not doubt her abilities to pull it off.

After everything that had happened to me since my trip to Forks, I was not capable of being ignorant of other people's abilities, of their desire to get what they wanted, by any means necessary.

And, even if Victoria didn't try to get to me through my friends, I'd still be putting all of Forks in danger if I was one of those bloodthirsty vampires for the entirety of my forever.

I could be the one that ended up killing Charlie. Angela, Ben, Mike, Jessica, Lauren, Tyler... All of them. And countless unknowns that didn't deserve to die.

All these thoughts ran around in my head, like vagabonds.

The rapid onset of all these new events was enough to get my head spinning just thinking about it.

I tried to lose myself in school work.

It was a familiar thing, studying so much that it was insane, to avoid problems. I did it enough when Edward left. Though now, my straight A's had turned into something less satisfactory. I supposed that it was time to start studying again. If Victoria was eventually caught and my life retained some semblance of normalcy, I'd at least want to have a high enough GPA to get into a good college.

Even that thought was an alien one.

I'd never thought of college when I was with Edward, only of being with him forever. College or no college, it didn't matter. As long as I was by his side for the rest of our existence. That was all that mattered.

Looking back on it now...I wonder why.

I wondered why my thoughts had taken this particular route as I drove to school. The loudness of my truck was familiar and comforting. I was long past caring what other people thought of my mode of transportation, anyway. I didn't particularly like the way my thoughts had decided to go, and started to hum to myself. It was a dreary tune, one that was out of place on the rather sunny day.

Weird.

Sunny days like today were uncommon in Forks. That was why the Cullens chose to make this place their home. I then realized that neither Riley or Victoria would be able to go out in this weather today, and that thought comforted me.

I pulled into the parking lot. Early to school again. Hardly anyone around.

Again, I didn't know why, but I wanted to get away from Paul as soon as I woke up this morning. I gave him credit, though, more credit than I cared to admit. I thought of how he stayed up, night after night, to watch over me. To make sure that I wasn't killed by Victoria in my sleep.

But...after being so close to him the other day - and liking it - I felt that I had to get away from him. I couldn't allow myself to feel more for him than was necessary.

I hated this time to myself. Being early to school meant that I had all this time to think. When, really, all I wanted was to immerse myself in some task - English, Algebra. Anything to make myself busy and prevent those cancerous thoughts from forming in my mind.

I didn't even have the radio to listen to as I tried to wait out the time until my first class of the day. I was left prisoner to my own venomous thoughts, something that I hated more than anything. I despised the fact that my mind could conjure the wickedest of punishments. The pain of James breaking my leg was nothing compared to the prison of my own mind.

Minutes ticked by. I found myself gazing out towards the woods that bordered the school grounds, the one thing that was always present in Forks. The green of the trees and the ominous feel of it used to make me feel dread. Just looking at it would remind me of Edward and what he had done, but now, I felt a sort of protection emanating from them, since I knew that at least Paul or one of the pack members were always circling around.

Paul... His name crossed my thoughts like a thief in the night, not supposed to be there but uncaring about it. I played with the frayed ends of my sweater and tried to rid it from my consciousness, but still, the image of his dark eyes stayed with me.

I leaned forward and rested my head on the steering wheel, almost as if seeking my truck for comfort.

Now you've really lost it, Swan.

Why did that voice in my thoughts sound like him?

I don't know how long I stayed there, immersed in my own confused thoughts, hating myself for even allowing the thought of him to cross my mind in a manner that was unprofessional. All I knew was that I was aware of the sounds of my fellow classmates emanating from the lot around me. I ignored them, and was successful until I heard an incessant tapping against the driver's side window.

I cracked my eyes open - I hadn't even realized I had them closed - and was met with Jessica, smiling at me. I could only feel the underlying agenda she had in store for me.

Supposing now was as good a time as ever to get out and join the populace, I grabbed my backpack from the passenger's seat where I had it seated and opened the door. Jessica stepped away accordingly, and let me step out before she bombarded me.

"How's things?" she asked with a lilt - that lilt she got when she was feeling a bit gossipy.

"...fine, Jess," I told her, not liking wherever this was going.

"I...know we've had our issues, Bella," she said as we walked, falling into that chatty familiarity she shared with her friends. Funny, I didn't think that she wanted to be my friend anymore ever since the outing where I'd first heard Edward's hallucinatory voice... "But for the sake of being girlfriends, please share!"

I stopped in my tracks, adjusting my backpack on my shoulder. I shifted my weight to one leg. "Share what?"

"Angela!"

I laughed. "I don't own Angela, Jess."

"No! I - ah - mean...okay, how do I put this?" she asked, looking like she was racking her brain. "Angela's been so down since her and Ben broke up, and okay, she's been a bit of a drag to be around. So, today, when she got to school, she was glowing. And, like, I totally asked her what was up, but she wouldn't budge. Asked if she got back with Ben, she said no. So, I have, like, no idea who this mystery dude is, and it's driving me nuts. And, I figured, since you hang out with her and a bunch of those rez kids and she was wearing this dinky little Quileute necklace when she got to school - "

My full attention was garnered after she said Quileute.

"Q-Quileute?" I asked.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, exasperated and a little put out by the fact I had cut her off. Apparently, we had resumed walking while she was talking, and ended up at the door of our first period class. "It's a really cheap looking thing, like a tiny dreamcatcher or something. But anyway, I want to know who this mystery boy is! She's just so happy."

"That's..." I could barely find words. "...great. That she's happy. Are you...ah...bothered by it or something? Is that why you want to know?"

"No!" Jess exclaimed, waving her hands as other people filed into the classroom before us. "I'm happy for her. You know how I am, Bella, though. I'm nosy." She laughed a bit at her own expense. "I just...really want to know what they put in the water at La Push. That Jacob kid helped you when you were all doom and gloom and now whoever this La Push guy is has made Angela extremely happy. Hook me up?"

I couldn't help it. I laughed. Loud and unyielding. So much about her statement was just laughable, especially since Jake wasn't the prime helper in my supposed recovery. Not anymore.

"If I find anyone down at La Push, I'll let you know," I told her, running a hand through my hair, finding it tangled and matted. And I had brushed it this morning, too. "And I'll ask Ange for you, too. Just because I'm so nice."

"Awesome, Bella!" Jessica slapped me on the back and then marched into the room, her curly hair bouncing as she went.

I followed her, and almost stopped in my tracks when I saw Angela at her desk, fiddling nervously with her pencil. Right. Test today. She turned and looked at me and gave me a sheepish smile, but I definitely realized why Jessica would describer her as glowing.

I glanced at the small dreamcatcher on her neck. It wasn't a gaudy thing at all. Or cheap looking, as Jessica had described it. It looked very delicate, with tiny turquoise stones embedded in the strings.

Walking to my desk, I tried not to think of the implications of that gift.

Or who might have given it.

I knew my worrying was irrational. I knew it down to the core of my bones, to the soles of my feet. Everything about my stupid, incessant worrying was completely and utterly uncalled for, and yet I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop myself from staring at the effect that this mystery man was having on Angela. It really was night-and-day difference-wise. Though she acted the same, there was just something...different that made me realize that what Jessica had been saying before was true.

As soon as the bell signaled that school was over for the day, I was off my feet and headed to my car, unconcerned about any other events that could happen.

Idly, I remembered Riley and Victoria and the wolves, but I was more concerned about this particular development.

Some people talk about "driver's amnesia", where a person has driven the same route so many times that they know it by heart and kind of zone out while driving, and don't even remember how they got to their house or wherever it was that they were going. Scary a thought as that is, that is the only thing that can explain what happened to me as I found myself in the driveway of my house with no recollection of how I got there.

I pushed that from my mind - I didn't have time to worry about that, of all things. I yanked the keys out of the ignition and grabbed my bag, sliding out of the cab and walking swiftly to the front door. I wasn't sure why I was so single-minded in this task, especially since it wasn't nearly the most dangerous thing in my life, nor the one that required the most attention, but it had been bugging me the entire day.

Angela, as far as I knew, had only met two members of La Push - Paul and Embry - and if she was involved with someone...it was most likely to be either one of them.

What if it's Paul?

That question had been on my mind the entire day, annoying and unrelenting. I wasn't even sure why. What did I care, if Paul and Angela were an item? What did I care at all? They might be happy, and I wasn't going to deny them that.

In fact, I hated the fact that I cared so much.

That was the only thing on my mind as I slung my bookbag on the kitchen table and then walked over to the stairs. Taking them, quickly, one at a time, I tried not to think of the reasons why I was so eager to get up to my room. It had become like clockwork, almost, me meeting with Paul after a day at school.

I opened the door and was assaulted by the atmosphere of the room.

Paul was sitting on my bed - a strange sight in and of itself - his large hands folded in his lap. Darkness radiated from him as if it were physically part of him. I immediately felt the urge to rush to him, afraid for him and of what my heart was doing in my chest, beating worriedly against the bony cage that surrounded it. I stopped myself, though, forcing my actions to be slow and calm, nowhere near the same as what I wanted to do.

"Paul?" I asked. Stupid reaction, since he was right in my line of sight, and just by saying that it sounded as if I were searching for a lost man.

He paused for a moment before looking at me. Somewhere, there was an awful sinking feeling in my gut.

What if it's Paul? What if it's Paul? What if it's Paul?

Around and around in circles the thought came, unconcerned about my current mental state. I was to the point where I wanted to jump out of my window when Paul spoke.

"How was your day?"

Okay, I knew this was bad. Paul asking about my day didn't equal anything more than the most intense of avoidance techniques.

"Paul..." I said his name again, trying to find some comfort in it. "I...ah...need to ask you something."

A sardonic smirk spread across his face. "What? There some stupid human dance you need me to take you too? Can't go by yourself?"

I wrinkled my nose at him. The urge to slap him came across me, but I didn't take the bait. Didn't even address his accusations, as random as they were. I knew what he was doing here. "Um...Angela acted different today...and...Jessica came to me and asked if I knew anything...she's wearing a Quileute dreamcatcher around her neck, and I..."

Paul looked at me as if really seeing me for the first time since I'd arrived in the room. "Yeah? What do you think happened?" The bite in his words was almost a physical barb, sticking into me and releasing poison as it drove deeper.

"I...honestly...don't know," I said, hating my voice for sounding so weak. "Jess thought she might be seeing someone from La Push."

"Not just that," Paul's response was so bitter, even in just those few words.

"What...do you mean?"

"Are you that dense?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, insulted, and a bit angry for his treatment of me.

"She's an imprint."

Time seemed to stand still, as clichéd as that sounded. I felt numb all over, from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. I wasn't sure where to go with this next, though alarm bells were going off everywhere in my head. My irrational fear from before suddenly seemed so rational I wanted to run from it screaming and crying, though I couldn't do that. I couldn't allow myself to become that person again.

So, I asked the inevitable question. "Is...she yours?"

This confused him for some reason. I couldn't rid myself of my spiraling panic long enough to wonder why. He brushed his hands along the fabric of his jean shorts and then moved them to his hair, tangling them in the crudely cropped strands. "What are you even asking me?"

"Is Angela your imprint?" I asked. "It's a fairly straight forward question," I tried to joke.

He let out a strangled chuckle. "No...no. She's Embry's. Found out when I phased this morning to follow you to school."

All the oxygen returned to my body, and I exhaled, unsure of when exactly I started holding my breath. "Oh," was all I could say.

Paul did something completely unexpected, then. He laughed. It was a dark thing, as bitter as black coffee, but it was all his own. I wasn't sure why he was laughing, but then he said, "I thought someone had died the minute you came in here."

"What?"

"You looked as if you had killed them yourself," he said, continuing without even acknowledging my question. "I don't even think I've seen a leech that pale, Swan."

"Why are you making fun of me?" I demanded. "I couldn't help but be worried the minute the word imprint left your mouth."

"Why?" Paul asked, reckless and uncaring of how his attitude could hurt. "I don't see any reason why you'd care. None at all."

"I know you wouldn't want it to happen to you!" I was shouting now, thankful for the fact Charlie was still at work but unsure of where my sudden burst of anger came from. "I know how you don't want to be told what to do - or who to be with! I know that you would hate it if you imprinted, since you seem to be so adverse to the idea now! I didn't want you hurting over something that is an instinctual response - "

I cut myself off. I hadn't even realized all of these feelings had been bubbling inside me until they were being spewed from my mouth like venom. But once I started, I couldn't stop. A day's worth of worrying - probably more than that, if I was being truly honest with myself - was being released all on Paul as if he were the one that caused it. And, really, he was the one I was worried about, anyway.

"So don't even tell me you don't know why I'd care. Don't you even dare."

I unclenched my fists. Only now did I notice my blunt nails had dug into my palms in my anger.

Paul tilted his head to the side. I think I might have shocked him, but I didn't allow that thought much head space. It would take a lot to shock Paul, that's for sure. My chest was heaving, and I really noticed the gravity of my little explosion. Just how much I really believed the words I was saying, that and more. The more part being especially terrible.

"Okay, Bella," he said, and his rough voice was almost soothing. He still hadn't moved from his position on the bed, something that I found slightly unnerving, that he felt that comfortable around me to sit on my bed. This whole day had been an exercise in the bizarre. "Okay. Don't blow a blood vessel."

"You shouldn't be consoling me."

He shrugged in response. "You think you should console me?"

"I...don't know," I admitted. And, like vomit, the next words spilled from my mouth, "I was happy it wasn't you."

This shocked him, I could see it in his eyes, so dark and intense and yet they widened as the words left my mouth. He quickly fixed his mask, placing it back on his face with practiced expertise, looking as if I hadn't just laid my guts out on the table. "Yeah? Me too."

I cracked a smile - my first genuine smile since the conversation with Jessica that morning - and sat down on the bed next to him. I saw him tense, as if he wanted to run away. His fisted hands were in his lap, absent of the tremors that indicated an oncoming phase. I allowed him the proper space, not allowing even our legs to touch as we sat by each other. I wasn't sure what I was doing, but I had the urge to touch him, to place my fingers on his knee and reassure him, but I kept them securely wrapped around the sleeves of my sweater.

"It might not happen to you," I said, addressing the silence, clenching my fingers so tightly around my sweater that I was certain to rip through the sleeves even more. The urge to touch him was insanely distracting.

"When did you become an optimist?" he asked, his grin razor sharp.

"Shut up," I told him.

The silence wrapped around us once more, covering us like a blanket as we sat there in awkward camaraderie.

"I can't have my will taken from me," he said, a strange finality to his voice. "I'd fight to the death."

"I know you would." The words came from my mouth easily, so much smoother than I'd thought ever possible for someone like myself. "That's who you are."

Paul's mouth contorted into a smile that, frankly, scared me somewhat. I wasn't sure why until I saw that my hand had wrapped around his fingers, squeezing gently.

"Can't keep your hands off me?"

"Shut up," I repeated.

And then, making me the one speechless, his fingers wrapped around mine.

End Chapter Twenty Three.