"It is much easier to suppress a first desire than to satisfy those that follow."
~Benjamin Franklin ~

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles

Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things

~My favourite things~
The Sound of Music

His lips were right there.

I could almost feel them against mine - I yearned for their warmth.

His hot hand grabbed a fistful of my hair, a small smile on his face as he leant in, kissing the crook of my neck and then travelling up, leaving kisses all along my jaw line.

I was panting now.

I wanted him .

I needed him.

I grabbed his newly cut hair, guiding his lips down to mine as he hooked my leg around his hips - hiking my small body against his and I looked up at him, wrapping my legs around his torso. His hands touched every plausible bit of my uncovered skin, until they travelled up my flat torso and to my breasts.

I could feel it.

Unclasping my bra, I felt his thumb circle the most sensitive parts of my chest.

"I love you,"

I nodded, smiling as I looked up into his dark eyes. "I love you too."

And in a swift moment, his scolding lips were crashing down on-

I shot up, looking around the darkness that surrounded me - reaching for him, the man whom had just been caressing my breasts moments ago.

No.

"No,"

It was so real.

It was so, so real.

I felt tears prick my eyes, tears I had not known that I processed surfaced within me, and I clutched at my sheets - sobbing at the loss of what was never there. The aching in my chest only grew as I thought of the chuckling, hot man in whom had only moments ago taken me in his arms and consumed me with his very being.

Why was it a dream?

I groaned, wiping away the tears that I reprimanded myself on letting loose.

Why was I so stupid? To think that Jacob, Jacob Black, would ever fancy me was just inconceivable. He was just joking around, I knew he was. There was no other reason. The way he stared at me, and the way we always seemed to not be kissing, gave me y indication that he was just humouring me.

Or humiliating me.

What are you even thinking about? Of course Jacob likes you - he never takes his eyes off of you!

It just didn't seem ... Right.

It was almost as if he was waiting to wake up from a dream.

Now your just mumbling nonsense.

Well, it is - wait.

I checked my clock, nodding at the aluminous numbers.

-4:45 in the morning.

Urgh.

I sat up in my bed, knowing that I couldn't allow myself to go back to sleep after that dream. It haunted me, the images of bare flesh flashing through my head and I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the images that were giving me a head ache.

And making me slightly jealous of my dream self.

Stupid bitch.

Are you seriously jealous of your dream self? Your imagination?

Yes, and shut up before you call me fucking insane.

I bit my lip as I looked around the room, deliberating what I was meant to do for the next two hours.

I can hear boredom calling my name.

Rain.

It never seemed to stop.

I had only seen the sun once, and on the rare occasion the sun did show itself to the inhabitants of Forks - it was a celebrated occasion. Yet, the sun never stayed - it was pushed behind a constant array of dark, aluminous clouds that seemed to consume the skies above the gloomy state of Washington.

I looked out my window, having moved into Bella's old bedroom and I sighed - my fingers tracing the water that dripped down the clear, polished window. It was just over eight, and a Thursday - I day I which despised beyond all belief .

It meant the week was half over, yet not quite yet.

Because the Universe hated me so much.

I needed a cigarette.

Maybe you should quit.

Couldn't if I wanted to.

I trudged down the stairs, ducking out the back door and into the rain - that was only sheltered by the overhanging roof. Looking out over the forest that surrounded Uncle Charlies 'abode', I leant against the house I was confined to for the next week.

"Fucking rain," I sneered, putting the smoke in my mouth - inhaling it. "Stupid, fucking, half naked god."

"You wouldn't be talking about me, would you?"

Don't look at him, or you'll surely combust.

I won't combust!

You'll combust.

I turned to him, my mouth falling open at what I saw.

Are you serious?

Are you fucking serious Universe?

You have got to be shitting me.

Standing in front of me was a Greek Adonis, the epitome of perfection and sculpted genius, was a fucking God. In his perfection, I barely noticed his blinding and irresistible smile that never failed to take my breath away, an awful cliché, I know.

"That has got to be photo shopped," I breathed out, not willing my eyes to take them from his abbs that just seemed to taunt me, yearning for me to run my hands over them.

Or grate cheese on them.

I don't need your input, conscience.

"What?" He asked, laughing. "What's photo shopped?"

"Your incredible abbs,"

Did you really just say that out loud?

God, where is your filter system when you need it!

I flushed, surely a colour that seemed so unnatural, and I hid my face beneath my hands - the heat that flowed on top of my cheeks and onto my hands. Jacob smirked, throwing me a beaming smile that made my head pound with resistance. Resistance that was filtering out my awful, R+ rated thoughts and not allowing me to grab Jacob and rip his pants off and-

Jesus, Anna, stop.

"I'm sorry," He said, smirking. "Does me being half-naked bother you?"

I arched an eyebrow as I leant against the wall, cocking my head to the side. "I'm guessing you have said that before?"

Jake smiled. "Yeah. I guess I have,"

I smiled, throwing my cigarette to the floor and I stomped on it. "Do you want to come inside, or do you want to stand out in the rain?"

"Sure, sure."

Shutting the door, I ran a hand through my hair as I felt the tension build up between us - tension that I wanted to just shred and bang his brains out.

And and just bang.

Fuck senseless.

I bit my lip, my fists clenching as I tried to maintain my sanity while he walked through the house - shirt off.

"So, urgh, what do you want?"

I want to rip your pants off and grab your-

Oh, my God, Anna - fucking hell.

Maintain yourself!

Jacob smiled, rubbing the back of his neck as he fidgeted. "Can you come to dinner tonight?"

What?

Dinner, really?

Nothing more intense, 'like give me your kidney, I'm dying? '

Your so stupid.

I raised my eyebrows, leaning against the fridge. "Dinner?"

He nodded. "Dinner."

"Like, a, urgh, date?"I asked, my brows shooting up. "Because I don't do dates."

His eyebrows furrowed. "You don't do dates?"

I nodded. "I'm to awkward to date."

Jacob scoffed. "You wouldn't be awkward with me."

I bit my lip. "I'm awkward whenever someone mentions date. I'm literally sweating. And I can feel my butt literally sweating, and that's the reason I can't date. Because I go awkward, and sweaty and disgusting."

Jacob shook his head. "You could never go disgusting."

"You obviously haven't seen my 9th grade school photo."

He chuckled lightly, and I felt myself melt at the sound of his rusty, almost horse voice.

Holy mother of fucking shit, why was he so attractive?

Did the Universe really hate me so much?

Yes, yes it did.

You obviously did something to piss it off.

I was born.

That's what I did to piss the cosmic Universe off.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!

"It's not a date, I promise."

I bit my lip. "Promise?"

He nodded. "Yup. It's just dinner."

I arched a brow, sitting down on the couch and crossing my legs as I put my pinkie finger out and he looked a it, his eyebrows furrowing. "What am I meant to, urgh, do with it?"

"Shake it. You've never heard of a pinkie promise before?" I asked.

He nodded. "I have - its just I didn't think anyone over the age of twelve still did it,"

I shrugged. "Well, if you think it's childish-"

My small finger was wrapped in his large one, that seemed to be doubled the size and I smiled as we both shook on it - the familiar feeling of my queasy stomach returning. "So, where are we going for dinner, Tarzan?"

"It's going to be a surprise." He said, beaming and I pursed my lips.

"How brilliant," I said dryly, and bitterly if I'm honest, and Jacobs face fell. I shot up, kneeling on the cushion as I grabbed his hands - helping me kneel up straight. "I hate surprises."

He shook his head. "Well, I'm not telling you then."

I sighed. "You'll just get the silent treatment then."

He laughed, nudging me and I shook my head - jumping off the couch as I ran a hand through my hair, grabbing a hair tie, and getting my auburn curls out of my face.

"I'll pick you up at six - and bring a jacket."

I heard the door close and I looked to where he had just left, and I felt my erratic heart slow in my chest - my cheeks flushing.

Oh, god, this really was a date.

You need to impress him.

It's time to get out the twins.

Salvatore and Clyde.

Did you really name your breasts?

Boredom does horrible things to me.

I looked in the mirror, my fingers tapping nervously on the pristine white sink and I bit my lip, looking at my reflection. Bag hung underneath my eyes, the indication of my insomnia caused by Jacob Black and his nudism.

And his penis.

My brow eyes were tired while my auburn curls that framed my heart shaped face were flat and matted within each ringlet. I didn't bother even looking at the breakouts that littered my face - okay, there were two, but they were annoying me.

Stupid puberty.

Stupid oestrogen.

Stupid ovaries!

It seems your ovaries are to blame for everything.

"Okay," I said, looking back in the mirror as I wiped my eyes. "Okay."

Ripping my clothes off, I jumped in the shower - scrubbing every conceivable place of my body while the mango shampoo I used lay in my drenched hair and I washed it out.

"Ah, FUCK!" I screeched, as the shampoo dripped into my eyes and my hands searched for the towel and I squirmed, my eyes closed and aching.

I bet that's why shampoo was invented.

To be a weapon in war.

And then the evil genius's who invented it discovered it did wonders for the hair.

Stupid, evil genius's.

Groaning, I turned off the warm water as the pipes rattled as the pressure was released and I hopped out of the shower - not literally, because I'm sure I could fall on my face and crack my skull open if I 'hopped' out of the shower.

"Anna, are you in there!"

I nodded, but then thought on a different way of communication due to the fact that a door divided us. "Yeah!" I said, aspirated as I fumbled around for my hair brush.

I heard a grunt on the other side of the door and I opened the door, sprinting into my room and I slammed the door - looking around my mess of a room. Okay, so apart from having to search for something among the rest of my clothes that would entice the opposite sex, that being Jake, and making myself fuckable - and yes, I just said fuckable - I needed to clean my room up.

Because I could barely walk across the room without tripping on the strewn clothes that lay on my floor.

Looking at the options I had chosen only an hour previous, I was suddenly cursing myself for being such a boring dresser. Where's the lace, or the thigh high stockings? Where is the SEXINESS!

Urgh.

I was getting a headache.

I knew this was a date - an important date. It was the first date, a term that seemed to trivial and primitive that I couldn't help but cringe at the term. I could feel my sweat glands already heating, already producing sweat.

...

Everywhere.

I was going to ruin good clothes tonight.

After changing outfits a number of five times, I finally decided on some tight fitted dark wash jeans that hugged every curve of my legs while I paired it with a tight fitted 'V' neck sweater, throwing my leather jacket of it.

Casual yet it seems like I put effort in.

Looking in the mirror once again, I decided to leave my auburn curls cascading down my back while I applied minimal makeup, yet enough that covered the two damned curses from hell.

"Stupid, fucking pimples." I said gruffly, looking at my reflection.

Mascara lined my lashes, making them thicker and much longer while a faint blush lay on my high cheekbones - my auburn hair framing my face while I tucked the loose strands behind my ear, breathing at a rattled breath.

It'll be fine.

It has to be.

Stop being a coward, you'll be fine.

I nodded. "Okay."

Going down the stairs, I smiled in relief as I saw the kitchen was devoid of my awkward Uncle whom like my father, I'm sure would ask every question conceivable. Grabbing a drink of water, I checked the clock - my hands fidgeting as I leant against the kitchen bench, my hand going to my head.

What if this was a big, massive, amazing date? What if this was his proclamation of love? Some weird, nudist, proclamation of the indescribable love he held for me and proposed marriage with the help of his steroid induced friends and a white horse with rose petals and candles and a beach and a sunset, where every possible cliché was used and abused.

Okay, don't get yourself worked up.

Hyperventilating will only make you sweat more.

But what if he was inviting me into the friend zone?

The awfully feared friend zone?

I would be unable to touch his abbs without him thinking I was a pervert, his deranged, friend of a pervert? What if for years after, we sent each other Christmas cards that were filled with awkward photos and I was invited to his wedding where he and Sally (his future wife and a figment of my will imagination.) said there vows on the beach where they first met and it would be so romantic and so filled with clichés that everyone, including me, would be radiating with jealously at their cliché-ieness!

And then, at the reception, I would be so blindly drunk that when I caught the bouquet and watched them leave, I would vomit on the dance floor and forever would my story be told at family dinners where they would laugh at my misfortune and misery, And when dear old Sally gave birth to the twins, Malia and Millie, I would be their god mother and confined to a life of the friend zone were I was related to them by the cosmic universe!

And when that damned Sally finally dies in her bed after a long and torturous battle with age, fifty years into their marriage, I could no longer move out of the friend zone as I would have twenty-six and a half cats, and he would be moved into a retirement home and sending me hologram messages.

Because we'd be in the future.

Where holograms exist.

And lasers.

And pills that let me eat all the cheesecake I want without ever getting fat.

Oh, I can't wait for the future.

Oh, god, this dinner was going to be the start of a long and unfulfilling life filled with cats and awkward Christmas cards.

I'm not even going to try to help you anymore.

Its sad.

It really is.

"Where are you going?"

I was about to open my mouth and stutter over my words when a swift knock on the door made my heart fall in my chest, and I got off of the bench - awkwardly opening the door and I bit my lip, leaning against the frame as I saw what I saw. Standing scratching his neck, he looked at me, his mouth dropping ever so slightly before he closed it - smiling brightly beyond recognition.

He had a top on, to my disappointment, and he wore a long sleeved button down dress shirt with baggy jeans that I could just tell he had ironed. "You look great, Anna." He said, and I nodded - scared that if I spoke, I squeal of excitement would escape my lips.

Clearing my throat, I grabbed my bag. "I'm just going to dinner, Charlie. I've ordered you some pizza, okay?"

Charlies eyebrows furrowed. "Jake?"

Jake itched the back of his neck, smiling shakily. "Hey, Charlie."

"What are you doing here?" He asked, puzzled.

Jake smiled. "I'm taking Anna out to dinner,"

Charlie chocked on what I'm assuming is saliva, and I cocked a brow. "Uncle Charlie? What's wrong?"

Charlie ruffled his hair, shaking his head as he turned away. "Be back by eleven, Anna."

I nodded, closing the door and I looked up to Jake - smiling. "Ready?"

"Ready."

I wasn't.

I really wasn't.

Heres another chapter!

Can you believe it!

Probably not, you guys weren't there but there were storms today! And I am a big fucking fan of rain.

!

Anyways, just thought you guys should know.

Has anyone seen My week with Marilyn? I'm so excited to see it, because as of two months ago I've become intrigued with Marilyna dn her lifestyle of low self esteem and pressure.

Till next time.

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