YOU GUYS ARE THE BEES KNEES! THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR REVIEWS AND ALL THE POSITVE FEEDBACK. QUITE A FEW OF YOU ARE COMMENTING AS GUEST. GET AN ACCOUNT SO I CAN MESSAGE YOU. SOME YOUR COMMENTS SERIOUSLY CRACK ME UP AND I'D LIKE TO TELL YOU SO. HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS NEXT INSTALLMENT!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Twilight Saga or any of the characters. It belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I am writing this story for fun and I will not seek any financial gain for it.

CHAPTER 6: A$$HOLE

I felt flushed and a bit warm. I rolled down the windows a bit more and let the crisp spring air cool my skin. I breathed in deeply and willed my heart to stop crashing against my chest. I was more than a bit aggravated. Why did Edward have to come back now? I mean could he have worse timing? I loved Jacob but I loved Edward too. I'd admitted as much to his face. And as much as I longed to dedicate myself heart and soul to loving Jacob I knew that was going to be made infinitely more difficult if Edward interfered and did "everything in his power" to win me back. Could Jacob and I survive under the onslaught of a determined Edward's affections for me? I knew from personal experience that once Edward had devoted himself to a course of action nothing could deter him.

For a moment I entertained the idea of letting Jacob go and getting back with Edward. Would we really work? Could we be happy? I tried to envision it and no matter how it played out in my mind we never worked out. I felt it deep in my bones. Call it a gut feeling or woman's intuition but I knew that choosing Edward would only end with me losing.

I thought back to my time with Edward and if you looked at things practically the makings of our romance was quite bizarre. I'd never thought of myself as shallow, but on the strength of his god-like features, I had let Edward woo me despite knowing that there was a part of him that literally wanted to kill me and that he had killed other people. Lots of people. Yes they were bad people but they were people and he could have done other things. Blind them, cripple them, render them harmless so they couldn't harm others or simply turn them over to the authorities like he'd done with the miscreants that had tried to hurt me when I was in Port Angeles.

I mentally chided myself for being so stupid. But love doesn't make sense. The 'Why' of love can seldom be explained. I mean even when I was laboring under the false assumption that Jacob was out killing people, love made me reach out to give him a chance to change.

I needed to find a way to make Edward understand that he and I were over and that there was no way he could win me back. What could I say? What could I do to make him see? When nothing genius sprung to mind I let out a frustrated sigh and shook my head.

I parked my truck and when I hopped out my feet hit well paved concrete instead of the loose gravel that was in front of Jacob's house. I shut the door and stared at the building in front of me feeling a bit disoriented. I was so lost in thought that my mind had gone on auto pilot and I'd driven to the library instead of Jacob's house.

Part of my subconscious must have known how stressed out I was. I loved the library. It was a place that always made me feel happy and as I stared at the redbrick walls and glass doors a small smile spread across my face.

The library had always been a place of solace for me. Phoenix was a huge city and my mom was always moving to get me in a better school or to get closer to her work. But whether we were in Sun City or Queen Creek the first thing I always did was find the library. People, streets and schools may change but Bronte and Austen would always be a constant no matter what library I went to.

Some libraries were nicer than others. I remember how happy I was when we'd moved to South Mountain Village because the library there was so beautiful. It feels a little silly to describe a library as beautiful but I swear it was. I don't know much about architecture. Actually I know nothing of architecture but the construction of that library looked like something that other architects would write about. It was made out of great sheets of copper in varying shades and glass lined in steal. There was art spread throughout the court yard and all the walkways cut through small gardens of wild flowers. Sometimes I would go, not because I wanted to read, but because the library felt like a second home. There was always a place for me there.

I was so pale and awkward and at the library I didn't have to try to be anyone else but myself. I didn't have to try and be pretty and graceful. The books didn't care if I had two left feet or that I was an old soul trapped in a young person's body. I think the later quality is actually why I have an affinity for libraries to begin with.

The library in Forks wasn't as fancy as the one in Phoenix but it was still nice. They had recently done some renovations and I loved the new chairs they'd put in the reading room. The fabric was dark blue and chairs were wide enough that you could sit Indian-style and still be comfortable.

I felt a quiver of anticipation. I looked around and saw that the parking lot wasn't packed but nor where near empty either. Hopefully one of the chairs would be vacant and I could enjoy a few chapters before heading out to see Jacob.

It was relatively sunny out, warm enough that a nice sweater was all you needed to stay warm but it was always cold in the library. I reached back in the truck to grab my parka and shrugged it on as I pushed through doors of Forks Memorial Library.

I strode through the vestibule and returned the smile of the librarian at the help desk. The library was divided into 3 main sections. To the left there was a small kid's area. There were tiny chairs and tables with coloring sheets and baskets of crayons on them. Short shelves were stuffed to bursting with all manner of picture books and fairytales.

Directly in front of me there was a cluster of computers where you could browse the catalog or get on the internet. Directly behind the computers is where all the shelves holding works of fiction and nonfiction were, along with a wall of reference materials. The reading room with the comfy chairs was over there too.

To my right there was a roomy space that had been deemed the Teen Corner. Several shelves of YA fiction lined the walls and there were a few oversized bean bags of vibrant color set in the space. A few of them were occupied. A dark haired girl with almond eyes was flipping through a manga. And a sandy haired boy with a baby face was pretending to read but kept glancing at the girl. As small as Forks was I didn't recognize either of them. They looked more pre-teen than teen though so that's probably why.

I wasn't sure what I was in the mood to read but I didn't want to intrude on the would-be romance of the almond eyed girl and baby-faced boy so I walked past the bank of computers and into the shelves behind them.

Once ensconced in the shelves of books I lost myself for a while. I favor the classics but I was feeling a bit adventurous so I ended with a wide assortment of books. I glanced at the small pile trying to figure out if I should put anything back but they all looked interesting. I had The Lies of Locke Lamora, Anna Karenina, My Antonia and I had just picked up The Name of the Wind when another book caught my eye.

The cover was suede and solid red. There were designs pressed into the cover and the spine but no words. I ran my fingers over the markings. They looked oddly familiar but I couldn't figure out where I'd seen them before. I flipped it open and quickly realized that this was not a book but someone's journal. It was written in a foreign language but all the pages were covered in tidy script and there were crude sketches of plants and people interspersed throughout. I looked up and down the aisle to see if there was anyone nearby that might have misplaced it but there was only me. I frowned down at the journal unsure of what to do with it.

I slipped it into the front pocket of my parka and resolved to hang around and keep my eyes and ears open for anyone asking around for a red journal. I went to the self-checkout line and checked out my books then crossed my fingers and hoped there was a chair open in the reading room. Of the eight chairs only one was occupied. In the far corner a grandfatherly gentleman was reading a newspaper. He peeked at me over his glasses and then went back to reading.

I chose a chair on the opposite side of the room not necessarily because I wanted some space but because it was situated right in front of the window where a warm patch of sunlight was pouring through. I sat my books down on the small end table situated next to my chair and shrugged out of my jacket. The sunlight felt good on my skin. I pulled my knees up into the chair and grabbed Anna Karenina. I tried to concentrate but my eyes kept drifting the blood red journal peeking out at me from my parka pocket.

I pulled it out and glanced at the intricate designs pressed into the cover willing my mind to make a connection to where I'd seen them before. Then suddenly it came to me. The markings looked very similar to the tattoo Jacob had on his arm. I flipped through the pages and stopped at a page at random. Could the language of the journal be Quileute? I was deeply intrigued now despite myself. I swept my eyes around library looking for the blue black hair and bronze skin of the Quileute but there was no one here that remotely had the look about them.

I frowned again and slid the journal back into my pocket. Reading was out of the question now. My mind was too full of mystery. I figured I could show it to Jacob and then at least the mystery of whether it was written in Quileute would be answered. I don't know why but I felt like it was important to figure it out who the journal belonged to and to keep it safe. I wrapped my jacket around the journal and then slid it behind my back.

I had anticipated that I would lose myself in a book and hang around till someone came looking for the journal but since I was too keyed up to read now I decided to wait around at least another fifteen minutes to see if anyone asked for it. I set the timer on my watch and settled down to wait.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and then rested my head against the back of my chair. My thoughts ran all over for a bit until they settled on Jacob. The heat of the sun on my skin reminded me of him. I rolled my sleeves up so that more of me could feel it.

Jacob was always so warm. He claimed that he ran around half-clad half the time because he wasn't cold and didn't want to have to carry so much clothing. But I think he liked the way his body looked and didn't want to cover up. I loved the way his body looked though so I can't complain I guess.

I'd never thought overlong about what it would be like to see the whole of him and have him see the whole of me with no layers of cotton between our fingertips. It was so much more than I could have imagined if I'd tried to imagine it at all. The way he felt, the way he made me feel – It was like magic, and fire, and bliss. I took a few minutes and lost myself in reminiscing.

"Now that emotion can only be described as pure lust." An all too familiar voice murmured too closely in my left hear. My eyes flew open and my jaw clenched. He chuckled softly as if he was genuinely amused then shifted to my right ear. "Who are you daydreaming about Bella? I heard that you and Edward had a bit of a falling out so it can't be him hmmm? Did the young wolf let you get past second base?"

"Asshole." I hissed.

"Now, now, don't be like that Bella. We are friends aren't we?" Jasper stepped from behind my chair and plopped down in the seat next to me.

If looks could kill I swear he would have been dead the moment I laid eyes on him. I scowled at him with as all the loathing and disgust that had been set aside in my heart just for him. To say that I hated Jasper would be a gross oversimplification of what I felt for him. After he had tried to take a bite out of me like I was piece of original recipe chicken our relationship was … strained to say the least. I had forgiven him, as much as you can forgive someone who'd tried to kill you, to keep the peace. I'd put on a happy face to convince Edward that everything was fine. I mean Jasper was a vampire after all and how inconsiderate of me to get a paper cut in his presence when he'd been a vegan all of three days right?

Initially Jasper had been quite contrite. He'd apologized profusely and went out of his way to make me feel comfortable. But anytime he was near me the anger and fear would bubble to the surface. And though by all outward appearances I was cordial and forgiving, Jasper, with is uncanny ability to read people's emotions, could read my true feelings toward him.

He'd confronted me once and it was not in the spirit of reconciliation that he approached me. Suffice it to say that he was quite salty with me as well and blamed me for tempting him and casting him in a bad light in the eyes of his family. We both limited our interactions with one another as much as possible after that little conversation.

If it was up to me Jasper would have been cut out of my life all together. There was really no reason for me to interact with him. I didn't need to be buddy-buddy with him in order to be with Edward. But he was Alice's person and Alice was my person so I had put up with the necessity of his presence. I bet he was thrilled when the decision was made for he and his family to leave Forks and myself behind.

I didn't trust Jasper. He was too new to the Golden-Eyed way of life. And, oh yeah, he'd tried to kill me, so I wasn't too keen on being anywhere near him without his chaperone. I believed that he loved Alice and that for her sake he would not harm me. But if not for her I don't think he'd think twice about giving in to his darker side and killing me and then chalk it up to "We all fall off the wagon sometimes."

"Where's Alice?" I asked as I scanned the library for her too white skin and pixie face.

"She's… around." He answered cryptically and a little twinge of fear fluttered in my chest.

SO WHAT DID YOU THINK? THIS IS HOW I ALWAYS IMAGINED BELLA WOULD FEEL ABOUT J. I MEAN CAN YOU REALLY JUST GET OVER SOMETHING LIKE THAT? LEAVE A REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS! :D