It was 4:05 and Bella was painting.

Of course she was, what else would she be doing?

She turned to her cell phone on the mantle and checked the time again. It was now 4:06…and her canvas was still blank.

She exhaled angrily and tossed her paintbrush on the floor as if it had offended her.

Bella whined audibly and crossed her arms over her chest; why the hell couldn't she paint anything?

Because she was thinking about stupid Paul, that's why.

The worst part was that she was annoyed that she was thinking about him; he was probably with his friends right now shouting, joking and eating at his 'boss'' house.

Bella sniggered at the word 'boss'; she wandered what Paul would think if he knew that she was already aware of his big….

Rain suddenly pounded at the window and Bella was immediately woken from her thoughts.

She frowned.

So on top of the fact that she couldn't paint; she was also stuck inside, huh? Charming.

In the end she decided to curl up in her bed while wearing her favourite pair of pyjamas.

They always helped her sleep.

She awoke three hours later to find that not only was it still raining, but it was getting dark outside too.

She huffed.

Then her mind did what it seemed to be doing a lot these days…. It drifted to Paul.

Bella grimaced.

And then the guilt began to work its way into her body.

What if Paul had turned up at four, saw she wasn't there and then returned home feeling hurt and rejected.

Bella couldn't stop the tears from pooling in her eyes. It was like she could almost feel the hurt that he may or may not have been feeling.

She sat in her bed, staring outside at the heavy rain.

"Fuck."

One minute she was swearing at the rain, and the next she found herself bounding straight out of her home and into her truck in her favourite pyjamas.

The engine puffed to life, and she took off towards Paul's expensive bachelor pack without a second thought.

Bella sped down the wet dirt-roads of La Push with a purpose; she had to see Paul. Now.

As she drove past the beach, her eyes strayed towards the sea; what she saw there caused her to slam down so hard onto the breaks that her foot might have burst right through the rusting metal beneath her.

Paul was standing on the other side of the beach in the rain; at first she couldn't believe her eyes.

She just watched him for a while; he paced back and forth, checking his watch every few seconds as if she was nothing but a mere few minutes late.

Bella scrambled out of her truck, leaving it parked in a very inappropriate place, before running as fast as her long legs would take her.

Of course he had seen and heard her coming a mile off in that truck but Paul waited until she was inching from his soaked body to speak.

"Why're you late?"

The question didn't register in Bella's mind immediately; after all, she was still having trouble believing that he was here. It was almost eight o'clock for Christ's sake.

"Oh right, yeah about that…" She had idea what to say.

"Just apologise." Paul snapped at her.

Bell's eyes narrowed.

"Why should I?" Paul gave her a look which somehow questioned whether or not she was actually for real.

"Because this is your fault." He replied in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

"Says who?" Bella retorted.

"The Almighty Me." He replied smoothly.

She had nothing more to say at that point so she settled for trying to shake the rain off of her soaked head instead.

It wasn't really working. It just kept coming.

"I'm sorry."

Her apology came as a surprise to the both of them.

"Yeah, you should be."

Bella narrowed her eyes at the cocky yet annoyingly sexy man in front of her.

He always had to go just that little bit further, didn't he?

"You know what? I'm not sorry; who accepted your invitation anyway?"

Paul recoiled as if she had just slapped him.

"You came didn't you?" He accused; Bella narrowed her eyes further, there wasn't much that she could say to that.

"Asshole." She whispered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

And then they found themselves standing in the rain once again in silence.

Suddenly, Bella grabbed Paul's hand and began to drag him to her truck.

"I'll drive us home. You can get cleaned up at mine. I don't know what you were thinking, idiot. Standing outside in the rain for three hours. What are you, crazy? Don't blame me when you get pneumonia of something…" She mumbled.

Paul stared at their linked hands and smirked; it was the first time she had initiated contact with him.

He got into her truck in silence and just watched her as drove. There was a little crinkle in her forehead but he could tell that she wasn't frowning, just concentrating.

Paul's eyes trailed down her body, taking in every detail.

He held back a growl.

The short, skimpy pyjamas she was sporting left only the most private parts of her body to the imagination.

After a few minutes, Bella pulled up at her house.

Paul watched her beautiful butt as she jogged through the rain and disappeared into the house before following her.

He found himself in the living room, wandering why the hell her house was so big.

He didn't notice the first time.

Obviously it was nowhere near the size of his but it was pretty large for someone who lived alone.

Paul's eyes drifted around the room and homed in on a lone photo on the mantle.

It was his beautiful Bella, smiling brightly.

Paul had never seen that smile before; it was then that he made it his life's mission to have her make that smile again.

But then he realised that there was more to the photo than just Bella and he growled, low and threateningly.

It was some guy; he was white with shoulder length messy hair and a large grin on his face.

He was carrying Paul's Bella on his back; his hands squeezing lightly at her thighs.

"Here. You can wear these. They're my dad's. You're definitely not the same pant size so I brought sweatpants, I hope you don't ….Paul?" Bella trailed off when she realised that Paul wasn't looking at her, nor the clothes in her hand but at the picture on the mantle.

Her eyebrows furrowed at his form. He looked so rigid.

"Paul? Why are you staring at that picture?" He turned to her slowly; his eyes held something that she didn't recognise.

It made her gasp a little.

"Who is that in that picture with you?" And you better not say your boyfriend. Or I swear to God I'll kill him.

"That's Isaac. He's my brother…. And stop looking at me like that…. It's creepy." She finished, shrinking away under his glare.

Paul relaxed immediately.

Her brother.

"Thanks." Paul said as he took the dry clothes and towel from her hands.

She turned away and walked through to the kitchen, of course Paul, being the love-sick puppy that he is, followed her.

"You want some green tea? Water?"

"Just water would be great."

She handed him his glass of water and sipped at her green tea.

"So what about your mom? Where is she?" Paul didn't have to ask about Charlie, Bella's dad; he had found out from Embry that the man had died in action while trying to apprehend a suspect.

"She's in Florida receiving treatment. She was some psychological problems." For some reason, Bella felt the need to chuckle humourlessly.

"So, you're brother…" He was trying to change the subject. "Does he live with you, or…"

"No, we all lived together when I was younger though. Isaac, mom, dad and I. But Isaac moved to New York two years ago."

"Do you go to see him often?" Paul thought that maybe he could take her in a few days time during Christmas break.

"He's dead, Paul." Bella had never been one to sugar-coat things. So why start now? "He died a year ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Bella." He said sincerely. Bella brushed him off.

"It's okay. Really. I don't mind talking about him."

"How did he die?" Paul asked, because he was curious.

"Do you really wanna know?" This story was not for the squeamish.

"Yeah."

He had expected her to say something related to an illness or accident.

"He was murdered. Some crazy guy sliced the top of his head off and took his brain."

Paul choked on his water.

"Huh." Was his brilliant reply.

He had to change the subject. Somehow.

"They never caught him, you know? Isaac's murderer." Bella spoke bitterly.

"…I swear, even I've found more evidence than those meatheads that call themselves law enforcement officers."

Paul's ears perked up.

"What evidence?"

Bella was caught off guard, she wasn't expecting him to have heard that.

She silently walked past him into the large living room, searching under white sheet after white sheet for one particular painting.

When she finally found it, she winced.

Bella held it up for Paul to see.

He looked a little horrified.

It was a man, no doubt Isaac lying on the floor with a petrified expression on his face, the top of his head gone.

Standing over him was a silluette of his killer.

Paul took it from Bella's shaking hands and placed it down behind her.

He took her shivering body into his arms; she clutched onto him.

"Bella, why would you paint something like that?" He asked her.

She shrugged.

"I dunno… I was high." She confessed before backing away from him a little.

She left out the part about her painting it before Isaac was actually murdered.

"Can I see 'em all?" Paul asked her, referring to the paintings.

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