Chapter 4

"Cassie are you almost ready?" Paul calls from downstairs.

Taking a deep breath, I take one more look at my reflection in my vanity mirror. My hair was abnormally curly when I woke up this morning – punishment for not drying my hair before bed last night. From Paul's tone, I could tell I wouldn't have enough time to straighten it, so I just threw it up into a somewhat messy bun. But I think I look okay.

"Coming!" I yell, rushing out of my room and towards the staircase.

When I get to the entrance way, Paul is standing by the front door, already in boots and a sweater. In my rush to not keep him waiting, I lose my balance as my socked feet slip on the wooden steps. Before I fall flat on my face, Paul catches my arm, steadying me. His hand burns against my bare arm, but despite the heat of his body temperature, it kind of feels nice. Oh for god's sake Cassie.

He quickly retracts his hand.

"Sorry," I mumble, grabbing my jacket off the hook and slipping on my black boots. After lacing them up, I flip down the tops to reveal the plaid interior.

Paul shrugs. "It's fine. Ready to go?"

Nodding, we head for the door. I'm surprised to see my car is parked in front of Paul's truck – opposite of where I parked it Wednesday.

Catching my confusion, Paul says, "Your mom moved it the other day when I had to go pick something up. You were asleep, and honestly, I wasn't sure if you were ever going to leave the house." He's smirking as he climbs into his truck.

I glare at him, following suit and climbing into the passenger side. He was right though. I hadn't left the house since I'd arrived last Wednesday. "If there was anything to do in La Push, maybe I would've had a reason to leave," I tease.

Rolling his eyes, he backs out of the driveway. "Sorry, big city girl, is our little res not good enough for you?" The devilish grin on his face tells me he's also teasing.

I scoff. "Port Angeles is a tiny city."

When we get to school, Paul walks me to the office. Although I was sure I could find it myself, he insisted on doing so. We compare our schedules; we have the same afternoon classes together, but he's not in my first three classes in the morning. It turns out our lockers are on opposite sides of the school, so I insist once he's shown me where my locker is that I'm okay to find my classes by myself.

"Are you sure?" He looks uncertain.

"Paul," I laugh, "I don't know what my mom told you. But I'm not completely hopeless."

He scratches the back of his head. "She just said you're bad with directions. I don't want you to get lost."

My mom's not exactly wrong in saying I'm bad with directions. "I'll be okay," I assure him.

Reluctantly, he nods. As he's walking away, he holds his hands up in defeat. "If you end up in a ninth grade Algebra class, don't say I didn't try to help you."

Rolling my eyes, I turn around and open my locker. As touched as I am that he's worried about me, I'm slightly offended that he and my mother have such little faith in me.

"So, you're the new girl?" an annoyingly high-pitched voice questions from beside me.

Looking up, I notice a pretty Quileute girl wearing a low-cut shirt at the locker beside mine. I nod, trying not to show any irritation. Obviously I'm new; the school's way too small for her to possibly not know that. "Yup."

She purses her lips, not looking impressed for a split second. Then an overly fake smile appears on her face. "A tip, girl-to-girl, you should probably stay away from Paul Lahote. I'm positive he's not your type."

I blink in surprise. The jealously in her tone is so undeniable that I don't even know what to say.

When I don't respond, she continues, "I just saw you walking with him earlier, and I wanted to warn you before you get too attached."

I hide my face behind my locker door, so she can't see my expression. "Um, thanks, but I am also positive he's not my type" – that bluff was hard to get out – "because he's going to be my step-brother."

To my pleasure, the girl looks slightly embarrassed. "Oh, you're that new girl," she exclaims in relief, although I'm completely certain that I am the only new person at the school this semester. "In that case, has he mentioned me at all?"

"And you are...?" I ask, slightly confused. Should he have mentioned her? Was she his girlfriend? If she was, I would assume she would at least know who I was – or she would've dropped by the house.

"Olivia," she clarifies, unreasonably annoyed that I don't know that.

Slowly, I shake my head. "Should he have?"

She huffs, before saying haughtily, "Well, I would have hoped so. When you see him, mind telling him that I would like to talk to him?"

"Or you could just tell him yourself," I suggest, shutting my locker after taking out some notebooks.

"He hasn't answered my texts since New Year's – which I don't appreciate. Make sure you tell him that."

Maybe he's trying to leave a hint, I think in disbelief. I wasn't really sure of the situation, but typically when a guy ignores me for a week, it's obvious they aren't interest. Instead, I figure I shouldn't gain any enemies on my first day of school. "Will do."

I hear her call something out as I'm walking away, but I didn't catch what she said. I'm too focused on trying to figure out where my Trigonometry class will be. As expected, it's not too hard to find. I take an empty seat at the front, ignoring the stares I get from most of my classmates. There's probably not even ten other people in the class. It really is a tiny school.

Unfortunately, the teacher asks me to introduce myself. I'm not exactly shy, but having everyone stare at me when I have basically nothing interesting to say is a little awkward. That class and the next go by in a similar fashion – I introduce myself (which is a little pointless because at least half of the students of my first class were also in the second) and then the class continues without me talking to anybody.

When I find my American History class, I notice the desks are in pairs and there's only two seats available. One is beside Olivia, and the other is beside a shy looking girl with her nose in a novel. Without hesitation, I take a seat beside her. "Hey," I greet.

She looks up from her book, surprised that I sat with her I guess. "Hi," she replies awkwardly.

When she doesn't say anything else, I just nod and turn toward the front of the class. Her awkwardness can't be any worse than Olivia's Paul-obsessed chatter. This teacher doesn't make me introduce myself, which is nice. She does make us do a pairs quiz to find out what we know about history.

I write my name on the paper, looking pointedly at my partner who still hasn't really spoken to me.

"K-Kim," she stammers out nervously.

Writing down her name, we begin the quiz. She talks a bit more while we answer the questions, but she doesn't really do much small talk. The bell rings, and we hand in the paper. "So, you're Paul's im – uh, sister right?" Kim asks nervously.

Really? Just as I'm about to leave for lunch she starts talking to me…. "Uh, step-sister, yeah."

She's quiet for a minute. "Do you know where the cafeteria is?"

I shake my head.

Before I can say that I'm sure I can find it, she blurts out, "I can show you if you want."

"Um, that's okay. I brought my lunch, so I'll probably just go to the library." Although she seems okay, I'm sure sitting with her would be even more awkward. And Paul would be the only other person I know enough to sit with there. But he never exactly said that it was okay for me to sit with his friends. I'm sure he wouldn't mind, but I really don't want to intrude.

Blinking in surprise, she nods. "Oh, okay."

"Thanks, though," I reply, hoping that I don't sound like I'm blowing her off. She seems nice, I guess.

Once lunch is over, I head towards the room that my English class is in. Paul is sitting at the back of the classroom with a boy who's equally as muscled as him – although not nearly as attractive.

"Hey," I greet, smiling at them both as I take the seat in front of them.

Paul grins at me. "How was the library, nerd?"

I glare at him, trying not to laugh. "How did you know I was in the library?"

His friend answers my question, "My girlfriend, Kim, was the one you told. She mentioned it."

I try to hide the surprise in my reaction to Kim being his girlfriend. Although I don't find him overly attractive, he definitely is a good looking guy. And not that Kim isn't pretty, but she's a little plain in comparison to who I would expect to be his girlfriend. "Oh."

"You could've sat with us, you know," Paul informs me.

Shrugging, I open my book and pull out a pen in preparation for class. "I didn't want to intrude. I'm sure you don't want your step-sister following you around all day."

His friend bursts out laughing, although I'm not quite sure what's so funny.

"I wouldn't have minded." I feel a blush creep up my neck. Oh god, I'm so pathetic. Paul coughs awkwardly, elbowing his friend's ribs in an attempt to tell him to stop laughing I'm sure. "This is Jared, by the way. Jare, this is Cassie."

"Nice to meet you," I say, smiling.

"You too," he replies. "I've heard a lot about you."

Paul immediately glares at him, but I must admit I'm curious to know what Paul says to his friends about me. That I take too long in the shower? That I frequently gawk at him when I hope he's not looking? That I watch embarrassing old movies on Netflix?

Before I can comment on that, Paul asks, "So how was your morning?"

I shrug. "Okay. Oh!" I smirk at him. "A girl named Olivia wanted me to tell you that she doesn't appreciate you ignoring her texts."

Paul visibly pales – which is hard to do when you're Quileute. Jared, on the other hand, looks like he's about to burst into another fit of laughter. That is until Paul's hands start to tremble like how they did last week when I first met him; then, Jared shoots Paul a warning glance before murmuring something that is too low for me to hear.

"Paul, calm down!" I laugh, slightly concerned about his sudden mood swing.

After a second, he appears to have done just that. He runs his hand through his hair. "Sorry, just surprised me. I don't know why she would've told you that."

"Well, first she told me that I should stay away from you, but when she realized who I was, she decided to use me as a messenger."

Paul looks extremely annoyed, which just amuses me. I can't figure out why he's so opposed to her speaking to me. "She's a psychopath."

It clicks, though. I know the look on his face, because it's the same look I had on my face whenever Liam texted me or someone brought him up. "Let me guess, fuck buddy that won't take a hint?"

Paul's face pales once again, but this time he looks terrified – not annoyed. Jared falls back into one of his laughing fits. When Paul remains stunned, I wave my hand in front of his face. "Hello? Are you okay? I was just kidding."

He smiles sheepishly. "Well, you're not wrong."

I keep a smile on my face, but for some crazily inappropriate reason I feel slightly disappointed and immensely jealous. "I'm sure she'll eventually get the hint. Hang in there."

Paul seems surprised at my comment and so does Jared. However, before they can say anything, the bell rings and class starts.

Class goes on like most of the other ones today, and when the bell rings, I follow Paul and Jared to our next class. "So, what is Quileute Studies anyway?" I ask. "Is it, like, your tribe's legends or something?"

They both snort. "If only it could be that easy," Paul remarks. They laugh together, evidently he just made an inside joke that I don't get. "No, it's like Spanish but for our tribe's language. The Elders were worried about it going extinct with no one passing it on, so they teach it at school now."

I groan, as if learning Spanish wasn't hard enough. "I think I'd rather learn the legends."

"Oh don't worry," Jared assures me, "I'm sure you will."

Paul shoves him, causing Jared to stumble into the hallway lockers.

I giggle, rolling my eyes at them. Regardless of whatever the feelings I have toward Paul are, at least him and his friends with definitely make this semester amusing.

Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know what you think!