Chapter 16

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He was warm under me. I laid, exhausted, with my ear to Jacob's bare chest. He breathed. Again. Again. I listened to his heart pounding strong and swift beats, faster than usual, excited and happy. Again. Again.

His fingers tangled in my hair, which was a mess across his shoulder. He curled them in small, delicate movements, sending chills through my body. Again. Again. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. The hotel ceiling fan swirled above us, the only sound in the room, attaching cool air to the particles of sweat that covered us. It spun. Again. Again. My eyelids grew heavy with the bliss of it all, and I tightened my grip around Jacob, needing the moment to stay a little bit longer—needing it never to end.

He whispered, "Bella?"

I turned my head, so I could see his face. "Hey there."

He smiled. "Hi," then, more hesitant, "You okay? You're kind of quiet."

"Sorry," I sighed. "I'm good." I smiled. "I'm really, really good."

He laughed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," I kissed his cheek. "Really. Some of your best work ever."

"Oh, good," he said before he took my face in both hands and kissed me. I arched up to reach him better and sighed into the feel of his lips on mine. The comforter slipped from my shoulders and fell down to my bare lower back. He pulled away but kept his face close to mine. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I said, almost whispering, not wanting to harm the sacredness of the moment.

He'd rented a hotel room for our two-year anniversary, which we had retired to after having dinner at an Italian restaurant that had a coatroom and didn't put prices on the menu. Jacob tried to get us a bottle of wine, assuming that his height and muscle tone would be enough to convince the server that he was twenty-one, but we had no such luck. "I probably shouldn't be drinking anyway," I joked, "Since I'm a raging alcoholic and all."

Jacob had helped me up the stairs of the hotel, carrying most of my weight, and we had plans to order room service at three in the morning. My heart was swollen with something close to exuberance.

"I really missed that," I giggled, my hands on the sides of his face.

He shook his head and smirked. "Yeah, you were," he laughed, "very enthused."

"Oh," I moaned, digging my face into the crux of his neck. "I'm exhausted."

He chuckled, moving his hand to my back. The heat sent chills through me and made my toes point with feeling. "Agreed." He took a deep breath. "Are you ready for sleep?"

"Mmm," I hummed against him, and he laughed. "Not ready for sleep. Not even close." I kissed him. "Oh, I love you so much. Let's go again!"

He shook his head. "You're crazy. I'm not a machine."

"Dude," I sighed. "You're a werewolf."

"Dude," he mocked me. "I know."

I kissed his cheek. "So shouldn't you have amazing animal stamina?"

He glared. "I do have amazing animal stamina." He sat up, and I moved with him, kneeling in his lap. "It's just that you are a supernatural force to be reckoned with. You're insatiable."

I ran my hands down his chest. "Insatiable."

He groaned, "Ugh," then smiled, "Can we just take a little breather? Please? For the werewolf?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "Seriously, Bells. I gotta regroup a little bit."

I sighed and moved off him, collapsing on the other side of the bed. Instantly, my body missed Jake's warmth, and I shivered with a pout up at him.

He looked down at me and rolled his eyes. "You'll survive."

"Sure, sure," I said, noting his little smile. "Okay, then, pitiful, weak, un-enduring pup—"

He chuckled, "Nice."

I ignored him. "What are we supposed to do, then?"

He shrugged. "Anything."

"Like…?" I crossed my arms stubbornly.

"Like," he said, "we could watch TV. There's one in the cabinet thing." He indicated the armoire in front of the bed.

I shook my head. "I don't want to watch TV. We can do that anywhere. This is a special occasion. That's like going to the movie theatre at the beach."

He laughed. "Okay, then. We could just talk. Will you talk to me?" He leaned on his elbow, laying on his side and facing me.

I moved closer to him and put a hand on the side of his face, trying to take in every curve of his skin, every expression, every single moment of Jacob Black. I smiled. "Of course I'll talk to you."

He nodded, smiling, and pulled me close to him, so I was lying against his chest. I sighed in place, warm and content. He kissed my forehead. "That's good. I've been—I mean—I've kind of wanted to talk to you about…something."

I hummed against him in response.

"It's kind of awkward," he admitted.

"Uh oh," I said quietly, too happy for serious discussion.

"Well, no," he said. "It's not bad, I don't think, just—I've been thinking about it."

"Okay," I said. "Shoot."

"Have you been thinking about what Leah said?" he asked, nearly whispering, as he leaned into me, like it was some kind of secret.

A lump caught in my throat, and I felt the air in the room change. We were humorless now. Jacob's face was hard and fearful, braced for my answer. I met his eyes hesitantly, considering. "I," I shrugged against him, "Yeah, I've thought about it. I can't not think about it, but it's not like I'm loosing sleep over it."

"Yeah," he said, nodding, and for a moment, a chill ran through me as I imagined that he was bringing it up, because my worst fears had come to pass—he'd done it. He'd imprinted. This was the end. "I've been thinking about it, too," he said. "I hate it."

I sighed. "Well, whatever. There's not much anyone can do about it; you know?"

He shook his head. "It's not going to happen. I know it won't."

"Right," I agreed half-heartedly. "I know."

He looked at me for a few long moments, and I gave him a timid smile. With a sigh, he put a piece of my hair behind my ear. "You're worried about it."

"No," I said.

"Bella," he said, carefully. "I've been with you for two years. I love you. And I know that people are supposed to, you know, be polite and say what they think people want to hear, but—"

"Jake," I said.

"No, really," he put a gentle hand up, "Just for tonight, in this room, can we do away with all the pretenses? It's just us in here. Let's just say it. All of it. Let's be painfully honest."

I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. Honest. Suddenly, all I could see was Edward Cullen's face. "Okay," I said meekly.

"Okay," he repeated encouragingly. "So, I mean, the imprinting thing…I'm kind of freaked out about it."

I sighed. "Yeah, I guess I am, too." I watched his face. He was working hard to keep it relatively blank, trying to discourage sympathetic dishonesty. "But, honestly," I assured him, "I don't think it's worth worrying about. There's nothing we can do. And it might not even be an issue."

"Yeah," he said. "It might not." Then, he sighed. "I just couldn't live with myself if I hurt you like that."

"It wouldn't really be your fault," I reminded him.

"Still," he said. "I couldn't imagine loving someone else as much as I love you."

I smiled tightly. Edward Cullen's face flashed again.

He was quiet for a few seconds. I watched the ceiling fan circle above us until I was a little bit dizzy, so I closed my eyes. He surprised be by saying, "I hate that you loved someone before me." It was fast and quiet and somber—a confession.

My body went numb for a second, before coldness settled in my chest; I had no response. I shrugged. "I'm sorry?" I said softly.

"No, don't apologize," he told me. "I just need you to know that. It—it really bothers me. I'm…I'm really insecure about that." I looked up at him, my mouth open a bit, as if I had anything to say. "And I don't know that you're exactly done loving someone else."

I let out a tiny gasp at the accusation, and he bit his lip but nodded, encouraging himself. He continued, "I mean, don't get me wrong. I know you love me. I get that. And I know that you're with me and not him, but I just think there are some feelings left over, and I think we should able to talk about it, because we love each other, and we should discuss these kinds of things. It's healthy to have open lines of communication."

I shook my head. "You sound like Dr. Phil."

He kept his face stoic. "I may have done some research. And some rehearsing."

"Oh, God, Jake," I sat up, holding the sheet up to my chest and running a hand through my hair.

He followed me, sitting up next to me in the bed. "Just tell me, okay? I won't get angry. I won't get upset. Just talk to me."

I shook my head. "You want me to tell you about Edward Cullen?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Or," he amended, "How you feel about Edward Cullen."

I took a deep breath. I couldn't picture myself going through with it. I couldn't speak about Edward to Jacob. It would rip him apart. It would crush him to hear all the hidden thoughts and feelings I kept trying to push away.

"Please, Bella," he begged. "I need to know. I promise, however you feel, it will hurt less than what I'm imagining."

"Jacob," I sighed. "No," I said, "It's not what you think. It's just…God, I don't know how to do this."

"Just tell me," he said simply. "Don't sensor at all. Just say what you're thinking."

I closed my eyes and bit my lip. "Okay."

He exhaled. "Okay, go ahead."

"Um," I began, "I mean, Edward was…when I was with Edward, I…it was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. It was…for the first time, I felt like I really had a place in the world. I—I felt like I was at the exact right place and time—like I was destined, almost, to be right where I was—to be with him, to love him."

My breath caught with fear, but I kept my eyes closed. Jacob didn't say anything. "And I knew—or, I thought I knew, that this was my life. It was my life. I mean; I'd never known anything so surely. It felt so right." I nodded slowly, remembering the feeling, so calming and assuring. "So then," I tried to explain, "When he left, it was like a death."

Tears surprised me, and I opened my eyes and looked to Jacob, who was sitting like a statue, eyes fixed on me and emotionless. "It felt like my whole life was over," I continued, whispering. "But, I think I'm realizing that people can have more than one life, you know? And that was just one life. And now I'm on another path, and that's okay."

Jacob said nothing.

"Does that make any sense?" I asked. "I mean, haven't you ever felt that way? Like you know with total certainty that the moment you're in is the right moment?"

He shrugged. "I guess," he said, "I guess I feel that way when I'm with you."

A rock fell into my stomach, as I realized he wanted me to reciprocate the sentiment. My mind was a mess with feeling, but I forced out a smile through my tears and nodded, "Yeah. Exactly." It sounded like a lie to my ears, but Jacob smiled at me. Maybe I was getting better at hiding my lies.

Jacob sighed. "Oh, Bells," he said. "I feel so much better."

"You do?" I asked. I felt a million times worse.

"Yeah," he said, reaching for me. I made minimal effort as he pulled me in and kissed me. He smiled through the kiss and gently pushed me down back onto the bed, moving on top of me. His body heat burned me, and his weight on top of me felt suffocating. I broke away and put my hands out, keeping him above me in a kind of pushup position. His eyes went wide. "What's wrong? I thought you wanted to…?"

I shook my head. "Yeah," I whispered. "I did, but," I sighed and gave a little yawn. "I'm kind of tired, now."

"Oh," he said and quickly rolled off of me, leaning on his elbow. "Okay, then. Sorry. I guess I ruined the mood."

"No," I said. "It's okay. I guess it was good we talked about that stuff."

"Yeah," he agreed. "You're okay, though, right?"

No, my mind screamed, and I felt like I might vomit. "Yeah, I'm fine," I told him. "I'm just tired."

"Good deal," he said and reached over and turned off the light. In the dark, we waited, listening to the hum of the ceiling fan go around. Again. Again. I felt short of breath. I closed my eyes, trying to block out all my thoughts. Jacob kissed my cheek lightly and whispered, "Good night, Bella. Happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary," I echoed dryly. The tears were returning slowly.

He gave a long breath. "All right," he whispered, "Just one more thing?"

I said nothing.

"I promise it'll be fast, and then you can sleep."

He couldn't see me crying, so I hoped that my voice sounded normal enough when I said, "Sure. What's up?"

"You don't still love him, right?" he asked sweetly, like he was asking a parent if Santa Claus is real.

I breathed in through my nose, and did what any good parent would do. "No, Jacob. Not anymore." I lied.

AN: ...Review. Please?