A/N: This chapter is why the story is T. There is no lemon, just a lemon implied. The language is a bit more than it has been, so be warned.
Disclaimer: I don't own Jasper, Alice, Rosalie, Bella, Edward, or any Twilight characters mentioned. They belong to Stephenie Meyer.
My head was pounding as I woke up the next morning. The sun escaped through cracks in the closed curtains—had I shut those? I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes to rub away the sleepiness, but it made the pressure building up in my head worse. I rolled over, hugging the covers around my face, peeking out to see a bottle of aspirin and a bottle of water sitting on the nightstand. Suddenly, last night came rushing back to me.
Jasper, a lot of drinking, stumbling home, embarrassing, begging him to stay—"Oh God," I groaned, and covering my face with a pillow. But then I remembered his promise, "you'll see me again." I vaguely wondered if he was still here, he did have my cardkey.
I slipped out of bed and quickly downed the aspirin before padding to the door. I took a deep breath, opening it cautiously and peering into the living room. Huh. I walked out and went to the kitchen to find a fresh pot of coffee along with a note and my cardkey. I poured the coffee, my stomach filled with butterflies at the note—the suspense killing me slowly.
I downed a small bit of bitter black coffee before stumbling onto the stool in the kitchen to unfold the note. His number—or what I believed to be—was scrawled in a perfect messy masculine handwriting. I glanced at the clock: 12:30PM, ugh. Well, what else was I going to do on a Saturday in a foreign city?
I took my coffee and the note to the couch in the living room, curling up by the end table and taking my cell phone to my lap. I drummed my manicure against the plastic cover nervously before shaking myself out of it and dialing his number. I took a long sip of my coffee, trying to settle my nerves, as I waited for him to pick up.
Ring… This isn't his number. Ring… He's probably trying to embarrass you again. Ring… I mean, come on, a sexy guy you met in a bar, got smashed, and he wants to see you again? Ring… For what: your body?
"Good morning," a deep bass fell fluidly from the receiver—how did he know my number? Well he was in my hotel room for who knows how long! I paused for a minute, trying to calm myself down. I'd like to pass on the voice shaking for today, thanks.
"Um… hi," I said stupidly. Moron.
"Hi, yourself," he answered with a chuckle. "How're you feeling?" God, somehow he was a decent guy, who apparently didn't take advantage of girls when they got drunk—unless this was an act. Why was I so skeptical?
"Like I just got run over by a truck," I replied and he chuckled again. "Look, about last night—I'm sorry I was so…"
"Don't apologize," he cut me off. "I probably should've stopped you earlier." I curled my legs under me as I leaned my head against the arm of the couch, closing my eyes.
"Thanks for the aspirin, water, coffee, and—everything," I answered.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied with a smile in his voice. I pictured that catching smirk and couldn't help but smile too.
"Okay, so I guess, um…" I didn't exactly have a plan when I called him and kind of thought that was it. Yeah, he left his real number and helped me home last night, but would he really want to see me again? And I was sort of done embarrassing myself. Let him make the first move.
"That's it?" he asked with a chuckle. "I think you owe me, Alice," he continued. "I brought you home last night and didn't take advantage of you, even though you may have begged." I blushed. "Don't I get something in return?"
"Okay, what do I owe you?" I asked, my voice low and shaking in excitement.
"I'll pick you up at two," he said.
"Okay," simple enough. "Wait, what do I—" I heard the dial tone before I could ask what was appropriate to wear. Ugh. Fine! I jumped up from the couch—a little too fast—stumbling my way into the bathroom and taking a shower. I meticulously used the vanilla shampoo and body wash, reading in Cosmo that guys loved the smell of vanilla—that and pomegranate, but I digress.
I wrapped a towel around myself, scrunching my short-cropped hair as I dug through my suitcase for something suitable to wear. I picked up my Jimmy Choos and grinned: the perfect addition to any outfit. A clap of thunder erupted outside my window and I shivered a bit. All right, that's a no on the heels. I hoped we wouldn't be walking a lot.
The hotel room phone rang, knocking me out of my search for the perfect sexy-yet-casual outfit I could find. I picked up the phone, continuing my search. "Hello?"
"Miss. Cullen, there's a Jasper Hale here to see you, should I send him up?" I glanced at the clock. One forty five: the little ass came early.
"Uh… yeah, tell him to use the stairs or something," I said, grabbing a cobalt long-sleeved sweater dress that hugged my waist and flared out at the bottom and bunched at the sleeves, pairing it with black leggings and ankle boots. I put on my old brown leather watch that I never took off—one my father gave me that had been passed down throughout the family. I took a pair of vintage earrings and a thin silver chain to tie it all together.
"She says use the stairs," the incompetent hostess told him and I groaned.
"It's a joke!" I hissed and I heard him laugh.
"Take my time, got cha," he answered before I hung up.
I ran to the bathroom, tossing everything on and smoothing the shirt down. I took a bit of gel and twisted strands of my hair to curl it and shape it around my face before I did my make-up—modestly, really, I was never one for thick smoky eyes and huge lips. I heard a knock at the door and sighed, clipping my hair back with a ribbon. No, stupid. I took it out and shook my hair about, giving it a messy irresistible feel—or so I hoped. I bit my lower lip and stared at myself in the mirror for a second or two longer before I heard the knock, more confident this time.
Sliding on my shoes, which I changed to ballet flats, I opened the door and saw Jasper standing with a smile. I forgot how viral his happiness was and found myself smiling, too. Is hair was the same messy bundle it had been last night, his emerald eyes had an unmistakable glint to accompany his mood. He wore a navy blue sweater that was layered over a button-down patterned shirt, dark wash jeans, and those worn cowboy boots again—the boy could dress himself. His eyes ran down my frame, sending a shiver down my spine. I didn't know whether I should kiss him or not. We did a little more last night, but was a kiss hello appropriate?
Our eyes met and he took my hand. I leaned on my toes to kiss his cheek and he took that moment to whisper in my ear, "you look lovely."
"You came early," I stuck my tongue out and he smiled that brilliant crooked dimpled smile. "So where are we going?" I asked excitedly. He took his fingers to his lips and locked them, throwing away the key, but I reached out to catch the imaginary key, unlocking his lips again. "Seriously."
"You hate surprises, don't you?" he asked with a chuckle. "You all set to go?" he changed the subject. I narrowed my eyes and he tucked a loose strand of hair from my face, taking my ability to breathe with him.
"Yeah, hold on," I went into my bedroom again, calling over my shoulder, "you can come in." I grabbed my phone, seeing a text message from Bella, but ignoring it as I found my spare cardkey and black clutch. I went back out into the living room and saw him standing casually, leaning against the wall.
"There's no rush, Alice," he said with a smirk at my frazzled expression. He leaned off the wall and strode over to me, my heart accelerating as he brushed some hair away from my face and cupped my cheek in his calloused hand. He tipped my chin upward and I gasped just before his lips met mine. I was melted butter in his arms.
His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me flush against him. My hands rested on his chest as I stood on my toes to reach him. My tongue traced his lower lip, begging for his lips to part, but he pulled back too soon. I let out a huff and he snickered, kissing the tip of my nose, my forehead, my cheek, and then my ear.
"I don't want to ruin the day," he whispered. My fingers ran through his hair as my arm slid around him to keep him close to me.
"You wouldn't," I protested. I felt his cool spearmint breath against my neck and shuddered. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it and pulled back. "Where to, Romeo?"
He smiled at the nickname and opened the door for me. "You'll see." We went down the elevator, which was not an easy task—the sexual tension was so thick I could almost taste it. He led me through the revolving doors and ushered me over to his black Acura with matching charcoal leather interior. He held the door open for me, keeping an umbrella over my head, and I slid inside. The engine roared to life when he turned the key in the ignition and when I heard what he had been listening to I burst out laughing.
"You listen to Coldplay?" I managed through chuckles.
"And Led Zeppelin," he said with a smirk.
"All right, just didn't peg you for a crooning Chris Martin guy," I said with another giggle. He didn't answer, just smiled all the while, driving out of the parking lot toward a Starbucks. "You know me so well!" I beamed and he rolled his eyes.
"I thought with the hangover you have, you need a little coffee, but apparently your hangover is nothing," he said with a smirk.
"I bounce back quickly," I quipped, he nodded and before long we were on the road again, me curled happily in the passenger seat with a half-full soy-based frappuccino.
We drove out of Portland, not staying in the town, which shocked me. Then again, would my face appear on Dateline? Was he driving me to a remote location to kill me? These sexy guys were always the murderers. God, I've been watching too many cop shows.
We drove through the scenic route, the destination still unknown, but he smiled and let me complain the whole way. After an hour and a half, I was convinced he was leading me out to where no one could find my body.
"Look, I have a family: a brother, mom, dad," I began with a teasing tone. "I don't need my face on the side of a milk carton. If you're planning on killing me, just let me into the secret and I'll stop being such an annoying victim. Better yet, I'll make it easier, I'll—"
"Do I scare you, Alice?" he asked with a devilish grin. My heart skipped a beat, thudding to catch a steady pulse. My cheeks grew hot and my stomach bubbled. He glanced to gage my reaction and I bit my lip, taking a sip of my drink, trying to regain some dignity. He chuckled.
"Maybe," I answered. What scared me was how I didn't care where we were going. What scared me was I just met this guy yesterday and I already felt as if he knew me more than my family did. What scared me was I was rushing into this and had already fallen for this guy when we hadn't even been out on a real date or known each other for a full twenty-four hours. What scared me was how this would all end.
"We're here," he said and I gasped as I looked out the window. Beach houses. He drove further down the winding road and my eyes widened as he parked in the lot that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. The most I had seen was the Atlantic Ocean and maybe a few bays, but nothing like this. There was something different about the beach, the rain making it a bit eerie, but it was passing into a light drizzle. The overcast skies left little light to illuminate the water, but just then the sun peered through to reflect brilliantly on the water.
"So you like it?" he asked with a laugh taking in my awed expression.
"Do you always take girls here?" I asked, turning to glance in his direction.
"Maybe," he teased just as I had earlier. I smiled and then looked down at my outfit unhappy. He pouted—sexy—and lifted my chin with his fingertips. "What's wrong?"
"I'm overdressed!" I exclaimed. He nodded and shrugged with that perfect deep baritone laugh that filled the car. "It's not funny, you should have told me," I argued.
"We're here to have dinner," he explained. "You're dressed just fine." He turned off the car before getting out and going around to open my door for me. I took the hand he offered to get out and felt my cheeks redden again. He led me to the doors of the restaurant that was covered with wide windows overlooking the beautiful scenery.
The restaurant was lit with candles and dimly lit chandeliers, the dark wood tables were spaced out sporadically based on proximity to the windows, and the violet chairs melted into the deep crimson carpet. We were given a circular booth set up on a few steps in the corner of the restaurant with the best view, overlooking the entire ocean. I slid into the booth and he took the seat beside me, comically doing the yawn-arm-around-the-shoulders move to make me giggle. He ordered wine and a seafood dish that I hadn't heard of, but soon we were sharing it.
Once dinner was over, we went out on the beach to my request. I didn't mind that I was overdressed and ruining my stockings. I held my shoes in one hand as I danced along the rocks, squealing when the water would crash up against it and soak me. He caught me around the waist, swinging me down to his level and wrapping me in his coat—that came down to my knees—as I shivered. I maybe had too much wine again.
The hour and a half drive back was torture. His smile was irresistible, his smell was of spearmint and that classic hand-me-down book smell that I found attractive. His coat wrapped around me stopped my shivering, but the way his lips quirked when he mentioned his sister or when I would get excited about a subject. The way his smile grew as I talked about fashion, my true passion, and how I wanted to one day open my own boutique. His goals, too, had him smiling and beaming with anticipation.
"We're back," he said. I looked out the window and grunted. He chuckled at my reaction and took my hand in his, kissing the top of it.
"Walk me up?" I asked. My eyes met his, which seemed to be debating my question.
"Alice," he said in that tone that you never want to hear. The tone that came before he said he just wanted to be friends. He cupped my cheek in his hand and brushed my thumb just beneath my eye. "I don't want to rush things."
"I think we've already passed that," I protested, putting my hand over his and took it to my lap. "I mean, what happened last night and today was definitely not first date material, it was really—romantic and I only have a month here, so why not make the most of it?" My face grew closer and closer to his, my hand cupping his cheek as my voice ended in a whisper and my lips met his.
He froze for a minute as I coaxed him out of his gentlemanly honor charade. He took his hands to my upper arms, pulling me back. "Let me park the car," he whispered huskily.
He slammed me against the elevator wall, his hands running down my sides as his lips explored my neck and collarbone. I closed my eyes, struggling for air. He lightly bit the smooth skin at the base of my throat, his lips skimming up to my ear. The door opened and he stood behind me, snaking his arms around my waist, kissing down my neck as I struggled with the cardkey. I slid it in once and tried the doorknob, but it wouldn't budge. I tried it again and again, hearing Jasper chuckle and slide his hand down my arm to take the key from me. He opened the door and kicked it shut as we entered the living room.
He pushed me down on the couch and I bit my lip as he hovered over me for a second before his lips met mine in a heated kiss. My fingers ran through his hair and my leg hitched over his hip, pulling him closer to me. He groaned and kissed my jaw line, tugging gently at my hair.
"Jazz-per," I purred and he grinned in satisfaction, his hand running up my leg to my thighs, massaging them through the thin material. Soon he was pulling my stockings down and I was un-tucking his button-down shirt from his jeans. Sooner we moved our rendezvous to the bedroom and—I convinced him to stay the night. It didn't take much convincing.
Do you still like it? Next chapter things will be heating up to explain a bit of what the summary explained. Jasper can't be perfect, guys. Review with feedback, please! Thank you for reading!