Hey everyone! Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!
"Nothing scares the truly conventional more than the unashamed misfit." -JK Rowling
I was a nervous wreck about my date with Paul. I decided to blame it on the fact that it was my first date ever, and I was a socially awkward freak. Whatever. But really, sixteen years old and never been on a date is kind of pathetic.
I shook my head, redirecting my thoughts to more important matters. Like what to wear. Paul had given no indication as to what we'd be doing, or where we'd be going. It was a shockingy nice day summer's day today, the ground was even dry for once. I decided that had to be a good omen.
I stood wrapped in just a towel, hair soaked from my shower I had vacated minutes before. Every piece of my rather pathetic wardrobe was thrown on my bed in an attempt to find something suitable.
For all I knew, we could be going fishing. God, I hoped not.
I decided on a relatively nice but casual top and dark jean shorts, looking somewhat effortless without looking like a mess.
I headed back to my bathroom to dry my hair and if I was feeling particularly ambitious, make it look nice. I wouldn't try to put makeup on, because every time i'd ever attempted it, it had resulted in me causing myself serious injury.
After I'd achieved straight -kind of- hair, I surveyed myself in my floor length mirror, shocked that I didn't look homeless for once.
Glancing at my clock I realized I still had half an hour before Paul was set to show up. Huh. I thought I would have taken longer.
My anxiety was getting worse, doubts filling my mind.
What if he was messing with me? What if he's changed his mind? What if what if what if...
I shook my head, trying to clear my head of such thoughts. There was something about Paul that made me trust him. I just knew he wouldn't hurt me like that.
The minutes passed incredibly slowly as I paced, checked my appearance countless times and paced some more. Finally, the doorbell rang.
Taking a deep breath I hurried to the door, opening it to see the beaming and hopelessly attractive face of the mysterious boy I'd only met the night before.
"Hey," He said, grinning down at me. He'd put a shirt on today, and I tried not to feel too disappointed. It was probably for the best, his bare torso would no doubt render me a blabbering mess.
"Hi," I breathed. I could already feel my face flushing. Butterflies had taken over my stomach.
He led me over to a rusty old black truck, opening the door for me before heading to his side and hopping in. The interior was surprisingly clean, an air freshener even hung off his rearview mirror, giving off the scent of oranges.
The truck roared to life as we pulled out of my driveway and I reaized I still had no idea where we were going.
"So, uh," He began, scratching the back of his neck. I gathered that must be a nervous habit of his. "I thought we'd go mini golfing over in Forks. Is that okay with you?" His expression was worried, as though he was desperate for me to say yes.
"Not to brag, but I'll kick your ass at mini golf." Brady and I had gone mini golfing countess times before, and I had always beat him, a feat which I was incredibly smug about.
A smirk made it's way onto his face. "Is that so?"
"Yup." I said popping the 'p'. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him childishly.
He barked a laugh. "We'll see."
Easy conversation flowed during the twenty minute drive into the neighboring town, I found out that Paul and I had a similar sense of humour, as well as the same taste in music.
"Hall and Oates, really?" I asked him as Rich Girl started playing on the radio and he reached over to turn it up.
"What, you don't like them?"
"No, - " Paul's affronted gasp interrupted my sentence - "I love them." He breathed a mock sigh of relief, as if my disliking the duo would have been a dealbreaker.
"When I was growing up all my mom listened to was classic rock, absolutely nothing that cam e out after 1990. I guess it kind of stuck." I noticed a wistful look in his eye, as if remembering a time long since passed.
"My Dad was like that too. We've got Beatles and Rolling Stone's records all over the house." It hurt to talk about my dad, but I couldn't help myself.
"Was?" Paul asked cautiously.
I took a deep breath, "He died four months ago." I turned my head to look out the window, the beautiful green trees blurring as we passed. My eyes were burning, but I refused to cry.
Suddeny I felt an abonormally warm and enormous hand engulf one of my own. I looked at Paul, surprised to see such a look of pain upon his face. "I'm so sorry." He said quietly. His eyes bore into my own, shining with empathy.
I forced a tight smile, not wanting to stay on the topic at hand, but not wanting to seem hostile at such a kind gesture. I squeezed his hand, "Thanks." I whispered.
We were quiet for the rest of the drive, Paul's hand still holding onto mine. It was comforting, and natural, I'd never felt this way with anyone before. I couldn't comprehend how I could feel this way about someone I'd ony just met.
In a matter of minutes we reached our destination, a tiny mini golf course in Forks. There weren't too many people there, only an eldery couple and what looked like their granchildren, as well as a group of kids who all looked to be about twelve or thirteen.
I grinned cockily up at Paul as we got our clubs and golfballs, I intended to make good on my promise.
Starting off at the first hole, which was a basic strip of fake grass with various plastic animals as obstacles to get past, I hit the ball at a fat pink rabbit. It ricocheted off of the rabbit towards a smiling turtle, stopping a few feet from the hole.
"YEAH!" I yelled, punching the air. "Beat that, bitch!"
Paul rolled his eyes at me. "Someone's competitive. I haven't even gone yet!" He remarked.
He shuffled to his spot, lining up his club. It was almost comical how tall he was, the golfclub looking miniscule in his big hands. He practically had to bend all the way over just to hit the ball.
He ended up hitting the ball so far it landed in a tiny pond halfway across the course, and I couldn't help laughing hysterically at his misfortune. Paul started grumbling about how it wasn't his fault he didn't know his own strength.
As we made our way through each obstacle I couldn't for the life of me figure out if Paul was letting me win or if he was just terrible.
When we finished up with the last hole, returned our golfclubs, and Paul assured me he had let me win, he asked me if I wanted to go for ice cream down the block. Not wanting my wonderful night to end, I agreed.
We sat down at one of the tiny tables outside the ice cream parlour, getting into a slight argument over whether chocolate ice cream was really all that good, Paul claiming it was by far the best flavour, whereas I argued that it was actualy kind of disgusting.
"How can you not like chocolate ice cream! It's everyone's go to flavour!"
"Give it up Paul, it's not even that good. Now strawberry, that is delightful." His expression was absolutey hilarious, his eyes were wide, looking at me like I was crazy.
Instead of responding, he took a big spoonful of ice cream and shoved it into his mouth, narrowing his eyes at me.
I rolled my eyes and smugly continued eating my strawberry ice cream, knowing I'd won. After recovering from a bout of brainfreeze, a thought occured to me.
"Paul," I began, "How old are you?" I probably should have asked him this question earlier, but I'd been having too much fun. I was curious, he could easily pass for twenty five.
"Nineteen," He answered easily. "How old are you?" I was surprised at that, but also relieved. I couldn't picture myself going on a date with someone significantly older than me. Three years was practically nothing.
"Sixteen. You know, you look like you're in your twenties."
"If I had a nickle for everytime someone told me that..."
"You'd have what, fifteen cents? Damn, rolling in dough. Don't spend it all in one place," I teased.
Our light banter continued as we ate the last of our ice cream, until it was finally time to leave, though I could tell we were both reluctant for the date to end.
The truck ride home was filled with more chatter than when we were driving towards Forks.
Paul held my hand again, this time intertwining our fingers, something I was hyper aware of, my heart beating erraticaly within my ribcage. I was almost certain he could hear it.
I learned more about him, for example he had no siblings like me, his favourite colour was yellow, and he hated cellery. In return I told him about my fear of ferris wheels, that my favourite colour was purple and that I was unable to whistle.
The time passed all too quickly, and too soon we reached my house. I turned to Paul to thank him, but I was taken aback by how close his face was to mine. I froze, the butterflies that had been a constant presence in my stomach all night now fluttering more than ever.
Slowly, he leaned closer to me, his hand that wasn't holding one of mine reaching up to cup my cheek. Finally, after painful seconds ticking by our lips met. My eyes slid shut. The kiss was gentle and slow, his lips moving sweetly against mine.
It was as though a spark had been ignited between the two of us, awakening such strong feelings I could barely breath. He pulled away too soon for my liking, my eyes opening to see a smile that made my knees weak. I was seriously falling for this boy.
"Lucille," He said my name with such care it almost frightened me. "I'm sorry... if I'm rushing you, I mean we just met. I don't want you to think I'm the type of guy who just takes random girls on dates and kisses them just for shits and giggles. You're not random, and I like you. I really like you a lot." His expression was so genuine I had no choice but to believe every word he spoke.
I smiled at him, appreciating his complete and utter honesty.
"Look Paul, I understand where you're coming from. I'm not the type of girl who just agrees to dates and kisses guys she barely knows. But there's something about you that makes me trust you. I really like you too."
He squeezed my hand gently, a serene expression on his face. "So you'd like to do this again?"
I nodded. "I'd love to."
"Great! Tomorrow, I'll pick you up at six?"
Okay, so. I'm totally fudging the ages and time line a bit, so just don't hate me, okay guys? Basicaly, this is all happening a year or so after Breaking Dawn.