A/N: Hey guys! Be sure to go to my profile and check out all the links to the roleplays that I'm on - we could RP together! Haha. Something that Cassia4u - check this chick out. Now. Just. Do. It. (I'll hunt you down! [not really]) - pointed out is the fact that the world doesn't know about Renesmee existing - that's correct. Bella took a break when she was pregnant so that the world never knew. Carlisle, being a doctor, allowed it to be a home birth, so there wouldn't much talk at a hospital either. And, if you recall, Edward mentioned during the prologue that he didn't want to expose Renesmee to the public eye to have here exploited to cameras her whole life. So, no, she isn't famous in anyway.

I realize that the song name for this chapter doesn't make much sense, I just needed one and love Hunter Hayes, so I thought, why not? Oh, and the links work like crap on published materials, so just look them up, they're amazing!

Lastly, I got the strangest review, so if that person's reading, can you explain it to me? It said this (word for word, as well!):

Guest 9/23/12 . chapter 1

review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review review

What the hell? Did you mean to say update but forgot . . . Over and over and over again? I'm aware of the fact that you're reviewing, in case you didn't know. Don't get me wrong, I'm touched that you took your time to do that, but I was just a bit confused. Thanks anyway, though, as well as all of the other awesome reviewers whom I didn't get to thank! You guys are amazing, keep it coming!

Sorry about the length of this note, please forgive me! *cries*

Well that was dramatic.

Do you guys like Hunter Hayes? I love him . . . *random* (Seriously, though - he's hot.)

Okay, lastly, please enjoy chapter 2! :D

Chapter 2: Storm Warning

We pulled out as soon as he'd made sure that we were all ready to go and that nobody left anything behind in the mess that had been thrown about in the store. I adverted my eyes out the window, unsure of what to say, or whether or not to even say anything at all. I fiddled with my fingers, allowing silence to fill the air. Most would end up calling the thickening air between us an awkward silence, though those people would be dead wrong; the quiet wasn't an awkward air that needed to be filled, it was a calm full of the words that didn't need to be said.

Jacob flipped through the channels of the radio, giving each station a few seconds of playing time to see if it was something worth listening to. I smiled, my head whipping towards the dial when I caught part of one of my favorite songs.

- going and gone

You get so lost

That you can't turn it off

You give in and you just turn it on

She's a heart full of rain

Red lips like a flame

She's a girl form your favorite song

She's a beautiful miss

One part angel, one part perf -

The verse was cut short when Jacob changed the station on me, flipping through the channels to find something tolerable. "Hey, I like that song!" I blurted out, regretting the words the second that they left my lips, realizing a moment too late that I was the guest in his car.

He looked at me, his eyes quickly scanning my body for a moment before searching my eyes for something. ". . . You like country?" He raised his eyebrows.

I nodded, blushing, cursing my pale skin that undoubtedly made it noticeable. "Practically raised on it."

He looked thoughtful. "You don't seem like a country girl."

I raised my eyebrow, glancing down at myself. "Do I have to?"

"I guess not. I'm just saying . . ." He shrugged.

"Saying what?"

He sighed, trying to formulate a well-worded answer. "You just seem like someone who'd like more mainstream stuff, more . . . Poppy?" he asked it like a question, like he was afraid to offend me.

I turned to face him, my eyebrows furrowed. "No, no, don't get me wrong, I like other stuff too, I just . . ." I huffed, staring down at my fingers, which clasped and unclasped themselves together, nervously. "I don't know, it's just what I like."

"Dare I ask, why?" his eyes challenged, glancing over at me. I could've sworn that his eyes traveled the full length of my body once, but it was so fast that I couldn't tell for sure. Though it was enough to make me self consciously tug down at the hem of my spandex, as if I could cover more skin.

"Because it . . . I don't know, Jacob, really it just . . . Speaks to me when I hear it. It's songs about life, and, truly, can be about anything. Put it into Brad Paisley's perspective, for example; 'this is real; this is your life in a song,'" I recited. "Or Trace Adkins. 'It's songs about me, and who I am. Songs about loving and living and good hearted women, family and God.'"

He raised his eyebrows, his eyes on the road, clearly not recognizing any of the lyrics. I sighed. "What I mean is that the stories told through it are right on the dot."

He scoffed. "On the dot? Right. Because we all drive tractors, and grew up on a farm."

I scowled. "Okay, buddy, don't even try to go there. Imagine how many of your fans you'd offend who actually do drive tractors and grew up on a farm."

"Did you?" he asked, looking at me.

"Well, no, but - "

"Then why do you care?"

I gritted my teeth for a moment, taking a second to gather what I was going to say next. "I care," I began, "because it all has something meaningful within it. It's not gonna be written in plain black and white, it's going to be something that you have to decode, decipher. Like, for example, the song 'Red Ragtop' by Tim McGraw is not actually about a red ragtop, it's simply named after the car because it's symbolic. Like, in the song, there's a teenage pregnancy, an abortion, a break up, but all of this happens in a ragtop. It's named what it is because the person telling the story had so many memories in that vehicle."

"So it's about a car," Jacob thought that he summarized.

"No, it's not about the car, " I sighed, exasperated. "Like I said, it's symbolic. It's him showing that the car sparked many joyful, even painful memories."

He nodded, seeming to understand. "But still," he smirked.

I shot him a look. "Really? You're still gonna consider it a redneck genre?"

He shrugged. "Not quite - but don't go expecting me to be some sort of country boy either," he laughed.

I chuckled along with him. "That's too bad; ladies love country boys," I recited sarcastically, referring to the song by Trace Adkins.

He rolled his eyes, his deep chuckle once again filling the air of the car. Something of remembrance flickered in his eyes. "Oh, yeah, do you mind if we stop at my house? I forgot my wallet at home and kind of need it."

"Wait, what were you doing in the gas station again?"

"I was on my way somewhere but was being followed. I knew that they wouldn't follow me outside, if anything, they'd just wait until I left. Regardless, I just remembered that I forgot my wallet on the counter, so do you mind?"

I shook my head, noticing that my headache had gone away. "No, that's fine."

He grinned as a thank you, turning to face the road once more. Less than two minutes later, after two lefts and a right whose pavement curved long and smoothly through the plentiful strips of housing, we suddenly started turning into a short driveway. I raised an eyebrow when I noticed that it was the low-key house that I'd run past before, the one that you'd easily find in the middle of Forks, or even a suburb outside of Seattle, but was far too low-profile to fit this neighborhood in particular.

A car door slammed to my left, causing me to jump, not having noticed that Jacob was already out of the car. I froze for a moment, not sure if I should wait awkwardly, like I was, or to just go inside with him, unsure of how long we would be. I was still contemplating the simplest of decisions when Jacob was opening the door for me, grinning. "You coming?"

I blushed, clumsily getting out of the car, the toe of my tennis shoe catching on a crack in the pavement, causing me to trip, only to be saved by Jacob's arms for the second time today . . . Or perhaps the third? I didn't really know anymore. I could feel blood flushing through to my neck, only adding to the scarlet color of my cheeks from the last blush.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he led me to the door. "I'm gonna end up carrying you everywhere at this point," he commented. I rolled my eyes as he shoved the door open.

His movements seemed as if they were meant to be silent, unheard. I had a bit more trouble to be discreet, tripping over a rug once on the way to the staircase, one of his arms flying out behind him, steadying my without even looking. I was a bit shocked at his immediate instincts that always ended up saving me cuts and bruises, but didn't have much time to think about it when his hand slid down my arm, forming a manacle around my wrist so that I wouldn't tumble down the staircase as he lead me up them, I in a hurry to keep up my pace as he lightly took each step two at a time.

I barely noticed the rooms that we passed enough to identify what they were, Jacob leading me into a decent sized bedroom with midnight blue walls, even more bare than my own room at Alice's house, the only décor in the entire bedroom being a king sized bed in the far corner. A narrow, full length mirror that was still waiting to be mounted leaned against the wall nearest to the door that we'd entered, while an aged dresser that stood up to my shoulders sat by the western window, several of the drawers only half way shut, sleeves and other pieces of fabric overflowing from the edges while random picture frames, small boxes, watches and other various clutter threatened to spill off of the top of it. I could feel Jacob drop my arm.

I supposed that I wasn't getting a fair impression of the room, due to the fact that a door blocked me from seeing the inside of the closet, but I didn't stress it too much as Jacob searched the top of his dresser setting things down in completely random places as he looked at each thing over, trying to decide whether or not it was what he was looking for.

The dresser that I had compared to my dainty height before suddenly caused it to hit me how this moderately sized bedroom that seemed perfectly fine for any normal teenager was far little for Jacob. I mean, it had nothing to do with any sort of special treatment, but it was simply because his size towered over everything, like how he had to lean down to simply get a good look at the things that he finally left on his dresser, or how I had no doubt in my mind that the width of the mirror wouldn't ever be enough to fit his full frame, not with his build. A quick glance at his body told me that the bed could hardly contain him at night, even if he had laid diagonally across it, his feet, probably more, would dangle off of one corner.

"Must be downstairs," Jacob muttered to himself, closing his closet door that I hadn't noticed that he'd even opened, throwing back in a few shoes and other articles of clothing that had tumbled out while he'd been riffling through. He looked up at me, still standing in the doorway, his face sheepish. "If I had known that anyone would have to see this, then I'd have cleaned up," he admitted, a grin lighting up his features.

I smirked, waving it off, jerking my thumb behind me as I spoke. "So what's up with the Mission Impossible act back there? I know that you live a very public life, but I didn't think that you'd have to hide in your own home." I chuckled.

He laughed along with me, shaking his head. "I just didn't want my family to see you, that's all."

I couldn't help the frown that crossed my features when he said that, self consciously locking my eyes with his speckled carpet. I could hear thoughtful silence in Jacob's direction before two feet suddenly appeared in my short eye line. I looked up to see Jacob placing his fingers under my chin, tilting it up so that my face was angled to look him directly in the eyes. My breathing hitched in my throat for a moment as I swallowed the squeak that dared to try and escape my lips.

I tried to play off my embarrassment as confusion - which probably wasn't working, of course - as he tilted my head from side to side, inspecting it carefully. "Does it still hurt?" he murmured gently.

I shook my head. "No, my headache's been gone for a while, now."

"Not the headache, the pain," he corrected, holding his soft tone. I stared up at him in confusion as his hand moved to lightly touch a welt about four inches above my ear. I hissed at the pressure, not having known that it was even there in the first place. Jacob made a face. "We'll get you something for that."

I sighed as he led me out again, taking a more calm pace than before but still remaining just as silent and preserved. He made sure to keep a good grip on me, glancing in every direction from the last step, me a few behind as we walked across the hallway into the kitchen that was straight across from the bottom of the staircase. I could almost hear him grit his teeth as we cleared the wall that had been obscuring our view from the dining room, having entered too fast to go back now.

I was still hidden by Jacob's massive frame, which stood awkwardly in the entrance as a male voice spoke. "Jake! We didn't know you were home!"

I saw the back of Jacob's shoulders shrug nonchalantly, not answering.

"I thought you left? When did you get back?" a female voice added, the sound of a plate being set on the table as she spoke.

"I forgot my wallet," he answered truthfully.

There was the sound of shoes scuffing across the floor, papers, sounding to be the thickness of envelopes, were shuffled around before another male voice, different, perhaps a bit younger than the first, spoke. "Oh - here."

A flicker of a flying shadow was cast on the opposite wall that I could actually see, before ricocheting off of Jacob's chest, who forgot for a split second that he was the only thing that blockaded me from their eye line, bending down to retrieve what I finally saw was the wallet. I was met by light and three shocked and confused gazes who gaped at me and then at Jacob and back at me, restarting their cycle over and over.

"Nice thr - shit," Jacob muttered as he finally looked up.

The youngest, looking to be about Jacob's age, which I knew for a fact was eighteen, let out a low whistle, his brown eyes smirking at Jacob. All three of them had the same, silky, jet black hair and russet skin, though the teenager's hair was a bit more shaggy, perhaps even a bit more greasier, even, with how the light glinted off of the strands in unclean chunks. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing or anything, he just needed some good shampoo. All in all, he was fairly good-looking, as were all of them.

The woman's ink colored hair laid in a stick straight waterfall of midnight down her back, all the way down to her waist, seeming as if it had been straightened until no moisture could have had a chance of survival, though it looked healthier than most, plenty silky, no split ends, stunningly beautiful. Her face was too, she had some of the same features as Jacob as well, like the joyful glint in her kind eyes and her gleaming smile. Even their noses showed a bit of resemblance, allowing me to assume that they were related.

The last was the older male, thought he couldn't be all that old, by the looks of him, twenty five at most. His face seemed to hold a permanent sarcastic smirk, his dark eyes twinkling of mischief as he overlooked me and then scrutinized Jacob, trying to analyze the entire situation. It was easy to tell that he tried to keep up a well physical appearance with his build, seemingly because he tried to come off as intimidating - it worked.

All of them seemed to have their own, separately different auras rolling off of them, but all friendly enough as they assessed me. I flushed, my eyes quickly finding the ground.

The woman cleared her throat, causing me to look up. She blinked once before finding her voice again. "Err - um - hi, hello?" she greeted questioningly, smiling politely anyway.

I smiled weakly, hoping that no one would make me speak, knowing that nothing but air could come out, if even that.

Jacob started. "Um, we should really g - "

"No, no, Jake, who's this?" she looked at him, cocking her head in confusion.

"Uh - nobody, if you'll excuse us - "

"Jake," she walked up to him in an overpowering, warning tone, shooting a look up at him. I almost laughed at how she seemed to have a guardian feel over him, when their size comparison was a completely different story. "What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Jacob, you just came from upstairs with someone - " she cut herself off, not wanting to say more. Both my and Jacob's eyes widened at the realization at what she was trying to get across.

"What?! No, no, Rachel!" Jacob exasperated, a faint redness hinting under the surface of his dark skin. "It's not like that, no!"

Someone snorted their doubt in the background while Rachel sighed in relief, clearly trusting him enough to not need to ask again. "Thank God . . ." she muttered to herself.

"So why's she here?" the sarcastic man who'd snorted asked, raising his eyebrows.

I couldn't help but feel like some sort of animal, being glanced at as if I were some little puppy that Jacob had decided to take home, but was unwanted by his family. Seemed close enough, anyway.

"I just . . . Ran into some trouble." I could hear the literal smirk in Jacob's voice without even looking.

The man grinned. "What'd you do?"

"Ran her over," Jacob replied bluntly.

Rachel whirled. "Jacob Black!"

"What?"

"You gotta be careful with that car! Come here, sweetie, are you okay?" she waved me forward as I spoke. I took each step slowly, unsure of each one, glancing at Jacob. She touched my arm, inspecting me. I didn't protest.

"Car? What? No, God, Rach, you can't get anything right today," Jacob chuckled, keeping his tone light and humorous. "Someone was following me, so I stopped at that little gas station a few miles over." He pointed in the direction, keeping eye contact with Rachel as he spoke. She nodded for him to continue. "I kind of ran into the building and knocked her into the wall . . . Hard." He smiled sheepishly.

There was silence for a few moments before the men burst into laughter.

Rachel shot them scolding looks. "Boys, that's not funny! She could have been seriously hurt!"

"It kind of is," the sarcastic guy choked out.

"Paul," Rachel said in a warning tone.

Paul calmed immediately, biting his lip to hold it in.

She turned back to me. "I'll get you the first aid kit. If Jake's the one that patched you up then it's probably . . . Poisoned or something," she murmured, rushing out of the room to a door in the hallway, from the sound of it.

"I didn't do that," Jacob corrected, grinning at me. "I wouldn't."

"Riiiiight," the teenager rolled his eyes.

"Em, I think that you can go a few seconds without giving me a sarcastic comment," Jacob, gave him, "Em," a look. He shook his head turning back to me. "Oh, that was Rachel, she's my sister, and current caretaker," he smiled. "This is her husband, Paul, and my best friend, Embry," he gestured to them as he spoke.

Embry, the teenager grinned at me. "I'm just along for the ride."

I raised my eyebrows, hoping that someone would enlighten me. "He's more or less moral support. To be honest, the only reason he came is because he wanted to come to California," Jacob explained.

"Okay, that's not true! Well, okay, it is, but dude, seriously, try surfing back home!" he made a salute as a goodbye gesture, causing us to laugh.

Rachel came back in with a small, translucent box, band-aid labeled on everything inside, already opening it before she'd set it on the counter. "Let me see that cut on your arm," she nodded to me. I looked at Jacob who nodded, sighing. I did the same, turning my left to her to give her better access to the gash. I closed my eyes, ignoring the sting as some sort of cold gel was rubbed into place. I didn't want to see how bad the damage was now, probably smeared with more dried blood and pus or something else that was to gruesome for me to stomach. "Looks like the cut is too big for a band-aid." I held my eyes closed, knowing that Rachel took a small moment to glare at her brother for a second. There was a chuckle before she spoke again. "So how did you get this from hitting a wall? Jake's normally not that clumsy." She laughed, applying what felt like gauze to my arm.

"There was a nail sticking out of the wall," I murmured, speaking for the first time. I risked opening my eyes, glad to see that the worst was covered up. I sighed in relief.

She hissed at the thought. "Is there anything else?"

"Nope," I lied in a hurry, knowing that my voice didn't sound very convincing.

"Yes," Jacob corrected, shooting me a disapproving look. "She hit her head, there's a bump.

"It's fine," I lied again.

He shook his head, ignoring me. "Do we have any ice packs?"

Rachel nodded. "There should be some in the door of the freezer."

He nodded, walking to the fridge. I turned my attention to his sister as she tried to baby me even more. I swallowed the sorrow that built up in my throat, praying to God that my eyes were free of tears. "Are you hungry? I can make you something."

"No, thank you," I smiled appreciatively as Jacob held out an ice pack that he'd wrapped in a towel. I scowled, taking it from him.

"Are you sure?" she raised her eyebrows.

I nodded, swallowing back my emotions again, locking my eyes with the ground as I shuffled to the doorway, looking towards Jacob quickly. "I gotta go . . ."

He looked at me questioningly for a moment before nodding. "Okay."

I gripped the door handle. "Um, it was nice meeting you guys . . . Thank you for everything!" I called before shoving outside, rushing to the car. I rested back against the headrest, wincing. I put up the ice pack.

Jacob was in the car a few seconds later. "Are . . . Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks for the ice," I murmured, closing my eyes.

"No, I mean, are you really okay? I don't mean your head . . . You seem like you might break down or something. . ."

"I'm fine," I lied again, and he didn't ask again.

I heard nothing but his silent breathing as he started the car, backing out of the driveway. "So um . . . Where do you live?"

I gave him the directions and address, and he nodded, picking up his speed a bit.

Something shook my shoulder, causing my eyes to fly open. Had I fallen asleep? I didn't realize that I could have done that quite so fast. I blinked a few times, finally looking over at the one who'd shook my shoulder. Jacob looked at me apologetically. "We're here. Sorry, I tried to let you sleep, but I really gotta go I'd have brought you in, but you have a gated driveway."

I furrowed my eyebrows for a moment, trying to assess what he was saying. Suddenly it hit me like a brick wall that he'd been driving me back to Alice and Jasper's house after meeting his family at his own.

I sat straighter, smiling briefly. "Thanks," I murmured, noticing that the ice pack had fallen. "Oh, here." I held it out to him.

He shook his head. "No, no, you keep it."

"No, it's fine, we have some more."

He sighed, not wanting to argue. "So . . . It was nice meeting you."

I laughed, rolling my eyes, sarcastic. "Yes, thank you for slamming me into a deadly counter at a gas station."

He grinned. "Thank you for standing there."

I shrugged, holding my sarcastic tone. "Anytime. You know, it's not everyday that a girl gets run into by Jacob Black, of all people."

He rolled his eyes, his smile still in place as I opened the door, swinging my legs out. "What's your name?"

I stopped, turning my face to him. "Huh?"

"Your name. You never said it once tonight; what is it?" He smiled kindly.

I bit my lip, smiling to myself. "I was raised not to talk to strangers."

He chuckled. "Good, because by this point, I sure as hell am not a stranger."

I giggled, getting out, a lot smoother than I'd even planned, actually. I shut the door, smirking at him. As I went up to the gate I turned to see him grinning at me. He pointed to the mailbox. "Whitlock! Got it!" his muffled voice came, shooting me yet another blinding smile as well as a thumbs up before backing out.

I stepped into my bedroom, kicking off the tennis shoes before moving to the large, sleek black vanity that contrasted the beige wall in my 'room,' nearly screaming at the reflection that I was met with.

Several fly-away curls had fallen out of my hair, sticking out in random directions, having dried that way because of the sweat that they'd been drenched in before. The skin tone of my cheeks was uneven, redness blotted into splotches all over, giving me . . . Almost a cheetah print effect of white and pink on my face. The eyes were unreadable, as ordinarily brown as always but hectic, wild, almost thrilled; and expression that I'd never seen once in my life. Whoever this was, it wasn't me, this girl was too much of a teenager, too excited, too happy, too . . . Not me.

I gulped thinking of tonight's events. It was the most excitement that I'd seen in my life, to be honest with you. I'd never really had any sort of encounter with someone like him, mainly because anyone like him just didn't exist. Sure, I knew a few people who were rated on the same popularity scale as him, but I'd been raised by them, known them my whole life. He was someone that I'd met out of pure chance, and seemed genuinely interested in who I was, even when there wasn't much to my story.

I thought back to a few minutes ago, when he'd pointed to the Whitlock mailbox.

If he only knew.

A/N: Okay, not much of a cliffhanger, and kind of boring, I know, but what did you think?