CHAPTER THREE
A/N: Hello again! Thank you to Asiasea, AJ, DarkFireAngel, .big, RAEng, HeadWitchInCharge, ReluctantWriter12, ForeverSwiss, and my Guest friends who have reviewed me so far. I really appreciate you taking time to drop me a line (or six or ten :D)...so sweet of you to tell me your thoughts and give me encouragement. Love you guys, seriously. Happy 2022!
JULY 8, 2006
Rachel's minivan plunked up the driveway to Forks Storage Solution with ten minutes to spare. She was usually pretty great with time management, but she'd hit road construction just east of Tacoma which delayed her a half hour.
The whole morning put her behind schedule, really. Right after her Craig's List Mattress Buyer carted away her bed right on schedule, she put her suitcase into the passenger seat with every intent to begin her eight-hour-journey when she heard a throat clear behind her.
"I'm gonna miss you, Rachel." CJ was standing just a few feet away, looking sleepy and a little bleary-eyed. Or maybe he'd been upset?
"I'm gonna miss you, CJ." She tentatively reached a hand forward, which he clasped, then pulled her toward him. The kiss was tender, chaste.
"Thanks for a great year," he said in a soft voice.
"A great sixteen months," she corrected, voice lilting with levity that didn't quite land. She swallowed, attempting to look at him, but the sight of his sad brown eyes was too much...so she studied the stubble on his chin. It came in ginger-red on his jaw. She brushed her thumb across his skin.
He sighed at the touch.
"I'll always be glad that Dr. Dobbs put us next to each other," she whispered. Baker and Black- seat partners on the first day of Differential Equations over a year ago.
"Me too. You're amazing, Rachel. If we'd had more time…"
"Yeah." She didn't want to hear the rest of that statement. She didn't know if he was going to say that he might've fallen for her, or he might've proposed, or whatever….but she couldn't let her mind go there, because it wouldn't change the fact that their lives were diverging. And Rachel didn't wait around- not for anyone, or anything. It wasn't in her nature. She had to keep climbing, always.
She didn't want to know what would happen if she stopped.
"I'll miss you," he said, one last time, and she pushed a lock of auburn hair back off his forehead.
"I'll miss you." She ventured, "Call me, if you want."
"I will. Probably not often."
She nodded, even though her throat hurt. "I understand."
He kissed her again, and then Rachel threw herself into the front seat of her van before the tears could start. She watched CJ disappear in her rearview as she drove off into the frosty dark morning.
So yes, she was running late. And because she stopped at a gas station ten minutes later to pick up a box of tissues.
And a fistful of Laffy Taffy, which she scarfed down almost compulsively through her tears.
So it was 2:50 when Rachel arrived- nearly an hour later than what she had planned on, but still ten minutes before their website said they closed on Saturdays.
She barrelled up to the front office, and felt her face go slack when the door wouldn't budge.
She peeked through the door, then the window. Was that a shadow in there?
"Excuse me?" She knocked on the glass. The shadow came back from around the corner, and a portly old woman with a white cap of hair squinted at her through the glass.
"We're closed!" came the muffled reply through the glass.
Rachel held up her wrist, gesticulating widely to her watch. "Your website said you're open til 3!"
The old lady made a confused face, shrugging as if she couldn't hear her. Rachel sighed, then tapped her watch before holding up three fingers. "It's not 3!"
The lady came and pulled the blinds over the window.
"A-are you kidding?" Rachel stepped back, eyebrows at her hairline in shock. "Are you kidding me?"
Fucking Forks.
She tilted her head back, breathing in deeply and staring up at the treetops overhead. Okay. Totally fine. Everything was fine. She'd just have a minivan stuffed with crap for two days, but she could come back on Monday and unpack it all. They'd already sent her a digital contract which she'd scanned and sent back with credit card information, so it wasn't the end of the world. Her unit was spoken and paid for. Just a delay.
"Welcome home," she mumbled sarcastically to herself, hauling herself back into the car.
It had been awhile. Last summer, both she and Rebecca had come home for the first time since Graduation. Rebecca spent most of the ten-day-trip showing Soloman around and watching him surf Neah Bay. Rachel spent most of it wondering why she'd bothered leaving Pullman, since her sister was preoccupied and Rachel herself was left behind to pine for her new romance with CJ and basically babysit Jake.
He was a good kid, but he'd been in that annoying stage of wanting to push the envelope...get a motorbike, stay out all night, go to parties. She didn't mind so much the first two, but the underage drinking was a failing she couldn't dismiss. That was the sort of thing that could fuck up his college applications, and reflect poorly on the entire family.
A slap in the face to their dad, sure, but most of all...what a disgrace to the memory of Mom.
But her dad just said, "Boys."
And Rebecca didn't say anything because she was too busy dragging Soloman all over the Olympic Peninsula.
So it fell upon Rachel to act sensibly and go collect Jake. He'd been at some sweaty, gross high school party with Quil. He was covered in dirt, like he'd just been rolling around on the ground, when she found him. Luckily, there wasn't much arguing to be done when she caught them in the act, so they surrendered quickly and moped their way back to her Honda.
Hmm. It'd been awhile since she thought of last summer. The memory stirred a face: Paul Lahote.
He'd grown up, and just as she'd predicted, his features had sharpened into cutting good looks. But his eyes remained hard, challenging. His tongue remained just as sharp, too, as he tried to undermine her authority...but Rachel knew his game, after that one interaction in Tutoring Club. It wasn't enough to instigate her.
In fact, she was more concerned by the fact that the hardness in his face indicated that the world had only treated him more unkindly in the years since she'd last seen him. He was awash in rage, blurring the corners of tragedy. It caused her heart to break just a little bit.
Rachel took a deep breath. She was just up the road from home. Compulsively, she checked her appearance in the rearview. For whatever reason, she always felt the need to look perfect whenever she came back to the Rez. Rebecca once theorized that it was Rachel's attempt to prove to their dad that she was "beyond, onto bigger and better things." She probably was right.
Rachel combed her fingertips through her bangs, then ruffled her shoulder-length hair to give it some body. Her eyeliner was winged and subtle; her cheekbones contoured. She looked like a professional young woman.
"I'd give me a damn job," she griped.
She couldn't quite figure out what the problem was; she was a good writer and had done some pretty stellar cover letters. The recommendations she'd gotten from professors and the supervisor of her internship were excellent. Her grades - obviously- were impeccable.
To add insult to injury, she'd only gone on three in-person interviews near Pullman, and even showing up in her best outfit looking sophisticated- a deep purple matching blazer and tailored trousers with an optic white blouse beneath- didn't get her any offers.
She hadn't even gotten a second interview. Not for any of them.
Her eyes flicked back up to the rearview, assessing her makeup again. "I'd definitely give me a damn job," she reiterated to herself. She tapped on the breaks at the edge of her driveway– eyeing the little red house in which she'd grown up…it hadn't changed much.
Home again.
At the last second, she swallowed, then pressed the accelerator.
The house disappeared over her shoulder, then around the corner as she zipped down the road. Why was she so nervous? What was so intimidating about going home, about having to fully accept that she was stepping back into that house with no real end-date in sight? She fluffed her hair again. She needed provisions, that was all. Nothing more. Just being prepared, so she didn't have to venture back out again. She could spend quality time with Jake and Dad. Yeah, she was just having foresight. Being considerate.
Yeah, sure. Tell yourself that, Rachel.
She couldn't help but feel a strange sense of "otherness" as she entered the grocery store. She hadn't been in here for so long; when she met the eyes of the teenager behind the single checkout lane, there was zero recognition. It felt weird, to be a stranger in one's own town. But it was what she'd wanted, right? This was by design. She'd wanted a life away from La Push and…well, this was a side-effect. She gnawed her lip.
Rachel strolled through the small produce section (much smaller than the one she frequented back in Pullman), picking up bananas, peaches and blackberries. Just as she was picking through some wilted-looking arugula, she felt someone brush past her, and she muttered, "Sorry," with a glance over her shoulder at the tall woman moving by—
"Leah?"
The tall girl stopped short, turning to face her with a curious expression that quickly eased into one of hesitant recognition. "Rachel Black."
Back in school, Leah had been a year ahead– an athlete, and attached at the hip to the mysterious and older Sam Uley. Rachel had done a couple group projects with her back then, admiring Leah's effortless cool.
She'd always been beautiful, too, but now…holy cow. "How are you? You look great, Leah!" Her face was leaner, making her bone structure positively regal.
"Thank you." Leah's smile was genuine, but subdued and distant.
Somberness quickly settled over Rachel as she remembered the phone call from Jake earlier that spring. "Oh, I– I'm so sorry about what happened to your dad. He was a good man."
Leah's eyes flickered with something; she recognized that look. Losing a parent too soon, too young…she knew that look from her own face, from her siblings'. "Thanks. He was." She gave a sharp nod.
"What have you been up to lately?"
"I work for the Rez for now." Leah's head tilted minutely as she studied Rachel. "I didn't realize you were coming back to La Push. Your brother didn't mention it."
"Oh, yeah— decided to come back a few weeks ago. I'm sure Dad told him. Either that or he'll be surprised to see me in about twenty minutes," she joked lightly, wondering why Leah's mouth thinned. A thought occurred. "Um…do you and Jake hang out a lot?"
Leah seemed to catch her tone. "Yes, but not like that," she said drolly. "We work together. He is with the guys most of the time— Embry, Quil, Sam."
"Oh." Rebecca had told her that Leah and Sam broke up– messily, too. Apparently things were not too sour, or surely they wouldn't be able to stomach working together. But even more curious was that she grouped him in with Jake's friends, like it was natural, totally unremarkable. Since when did he hang out with Sam? Sam was even older than her. Why would Jake hang out with a guy who was six years his senior?
"I'm kinda the odd man out," Leah was saying in a distracted, low voice. "Well, woman, I guess. A real dick fest."
Talking to Leah made it clear just how disconnected Rachel was from her brother and the lives of everyone in La Push. How could so much change in a year? "Well, luckily– shouldn't be too hard to keep Jake and Quil and Embry in-line. Those knuckle-heads have nothing on you, girl."
She smirked, clearly in agreement. "They're not that bad, most of the time. It's Paul and Sam who are the worst. I can't stand listening to them. I hate doing rounds with them."
"I can't imagine having to work with an ex," Rachel said, carefully. "I just broke up with someone…I feel like it'd drive me crazy."
"You have no idea," Leah said darkly. She dragged a hand through her short bob. "Between Paul whoring it up with every girl in Washington and Sam's obsession with my cousin–"
Rachel gasped. "What?"
"You didn't hear?" Leah looked like she didn't believe her.
"No! When– how did that happen?"
"Long story, full of bullshit you wouldn't believe. I guess we'll call it 'destiny.'" Her tone was disgusted.
"Sounds like bullshit. What the fuck, Leah?" Rachel touched her arm. "I'm so sorry. Sounds like you've had a rough year."
"Well, let's just say– I can't wait til the day comes when I can get the hell out of here."
"Do it! What are you waiting for?" This was a topic Rachel could get psyched over. Probably to the point of over-compensation, but that was a matter to self-analyze another day.
The muscles of Leah's face tightened. "Now's just not the time."
Sympathetically, she ventured, "Your mom?"
"Yeah. That, and a few things." Leah's face was stony. "I can't believe you came back though. If I'd gotten out…well, they wouldn't catch me back here. Aren't you a computer scientist now?"
"Sort of. Engineering." Rachel self-consciously flicked her bangs. 'I'm figuring out my next steps. Sort of taking a break while I apply to jobs…"
Leah shook her head, eyes flinty with something untold. "Lucky you. What I wouldn't do to be in your shoes."
This was getting strange. Rachel shifted her shopping basket to her left arm. "Well, if you ever want to get coffee or anything…or, hell, even after I'm outta here, if you wanna come stay a weekend with me, wherever I end up…you're welcome to."
"Thanks, Rachel." As she turned to go, a thought seemed to occur to her. "Uh, hey….I know it sounds weird, but…be careful hanging around the guys on the Rez. Don't get caught up with them."
"I don't intend to," Rachel said, eyebrows arched high.
"If I could tell you not even to bother making eye contact…that's how much you don't want to get involved with a guy here." Leah swallowed, looking for all the world like she had a thousand things to say, but no voice with which to say it. "Just let me know if you need anything. And let me know if any of the guys mess with you. Your dad has my number; text me or something."
Rachel wanted to smile, but Leah's expression was so solemn that she just found herself nodding. "Okay. Thanks Leah. I'll text you and we can get breakfast sometime."
Leah nodded, giving her a quiet goodbye and disappearing into the walk-in liquor fridge.
The rest of her shopping was quick; Rachel felt strangely discombobulated as she zipped up and down the aisles, grabbing her favorite brand of oatmeal, protein bars and a large bucket of cheeseballs. What a weird encounter.
Let me know if any of the guys mess with you.
Paul Lahote's face came to mind. Sounded like he'd been up to trouble, like usual.
Luckily, no guys ever bothered her in La Push. She was like a walking Quileute-Man-Repellant. She couldn't have gotten a date in high school even if she wanted to– which, obviously, she didn't, because she had too many other things to worry about. Even more so now that she was an adult. She was going places. And when she got to wherever she was going, she'd meet another CJ…
As the cashier swiped her food over the belt, Rachel checked her phone. Her heart was in her throat as she scrolled through her text messages…
Nothing from CJ.
Silly to have hoped. They'd said their goodbyes.
Still, between the disappointing silence from her now-ex-boyfriend, and the weird encounter with Leah…it felt like a raincloud followed her as she got into the van.
"No more avoiding it," she chided herself as she drove back toward her dad's house. "Just do it. It's just home. Just Dad and Jake. It'll be fine."
Their little red house hadn't changed much. As she mounted the ramp, dufflebag in one hand and plastic bag of groceries in the other, she breathed in the familiar scent of their yard- the smell of damp soil, lush pine, and an ever-lingering scent of barbecue somewhere nearby. She smirked. Ever since they'd installed the accessible grill behind the house, near the patio, their dad loved playing BBQ master in the summer.
"Dad?" she called out as she pushed the door open.
Her dad wheeled out of the kitchen instantly, his face cracking into a grin. "There she is! The Graduate!"
She hurried over, enveloping him in a hug and kissing the top of his hat- never without his hat. She laughed, squeezing him tighter. For a moment, the dread and anxiety that had hovered over her for the past half hour dissipated, like water on a hot skillet. She was just Rachel, and he was just Dad, and it was good to be hugged. "I missed you, Dad."
"I'm so happy you're here, Rach. Wow, you- I can't believe how grown-up you look. Just beautiful. You didn't get those looks from me! Let's go to the living room. Is that all you have?"
She held up her duffle. "This? No, I have a whole van full of stuff. But this will get me through til I can sort through the piles on Monday. Here, I'll push you."
"Sue Clearwater is going to swing by in a bit; we're headed over to the Hatchery to see the new egg trays they got in."
"Mmm. I just saw Leah, on my way into town. How's Sue doing?"
"Oh, fine. Keeps busy."
"Tell her I'm- really sorry." Rachel never knew exactly what to say in such circumstances. She knew how useless words were, when it came to death. Condolences were pretty, but they weren't helpful- they didn't heal anything. It was just a wound one had to cover up over-and-over-and-over again. She could tell by the look on Leah's face that she knew this stinging reality all too well. Sue likely did, too.
"Will do." Billy cleared his throat, awkwardly, then said, "I thought I'd grill up salmon for us tonight. I have half a dozen beautiful Coho fillets in the back freezer."
"Half a dozen?" Rachel cocked a brow. "Is Sue coming back for dinner?"
"No but- well, good to have some just in case."
"Suppose so. It's just you, me and Jake, right? Any chance of Quil and Embry stopping by to eat us out of house-and-home?"
Her dad's face settled into a guarded expression. "No, probably not."
She didn't like that face. "What's going on? The boys fighting or something?" Maybe working together– as Leah had indicated– was just a little too much time together. Teenage guys could be bitchy, after all.
The furrow in her dad's brow seemed to deepen. "No, they aren't fighting. But, uh, Rachel...well, your brother isn't around lately." When she didn't respond, other than raising both eyebrows expectantly, Billy elaborated, "He's taken some time off. He's gone."
"I'm sorry, what?" Was it possible to be more out-of-the-loop than Rachel was? She'd just found out about his work with Sam, only to find out that, no, actually, he was gone. What the hell was happening.
Billy's mouth was pressed into a tight, dismayed line. "He's going through a tough time."
Her mind was speeding ahead, too fast for her to process. "I'm so confused. He's going through a tough time. What does that mean? What's wrong with him? Is it because of his work with Sam? Where is he? I'm totally confused."
"Broken heart- growing pains. I don't know, Rach." Billy looked like he wanted to talk about anything but this, but she'd be damned if she let him get away with so little detail. She gestured for him to continue with a flailing hand. "He's- gone camping."
"Well, that's good, then, I guess. Time with the guys will help." She'd heard that he had a crush on Bella Swan, their playmate from once-upon-a-time. She'd also heard that she was involved with some doctor's kid in Forks, and the drama was strong.
Billy's eyes were flat as his mouth. "He's camping solo. Quil and Embry aren't with him."
"Dad. You let Jake go off camping solo? For how long?" Jake was a smart kid, but camping in Washington wasn't for sissies. And at seventeen?
"He left about two weeks ago. I don't know when he'll be back. I haven't been able to get ahold of him, but I know he's safe."
Her mouth was agape. What the actual fuck. "How do you know that? Why didn't you tell me? Does Rebecca know?" Why didn't Leah say something?
"I didn't want to bother you two. It's Jake's business and-"
"Jake's business is all our business," Rachel said, the comeback entirely habitual.
"Not anymore." Billy's voice was sharp as a harpoon, effectively silencing her planned tirade. Billy's gaze was hard.
Rachel felt herself sink back against the cushion of her chair, feeling scolded and hurt. Like a little kid. She detested that feeling. After another moment's quiet, trying to collect her thoughts, she finally ventured, "He's seventeen, Dad. And if you haven't heard from him, how do you know he's safe?" Her ears were ringing, disbelieving that her dad could be so cavalier about the matter- but so severe and chastising with her- when her little brother's wellbeing was on the line. And the matter of his avoidance of the subject- that he had deliberately kept it secret from her.
She'd never felt more alien to her family than this moment. Compounded with the mysterious and weird encounter with Leah earlier, Rachel was feeling wholly unsettled.
Billy, in an attempt at a softer voice, told her, "I know he's safe. He's been in-touch with Sam Uley and the others."
"The others?" she echoed. Jake had, like, two friends for most of his life. Now, he seemed to be hanging out with the weirdest crowd…Leah, Sam…Paul. It was all too weird.
"Yes. They've kept me looped in on Jake's updates."
"Why are you so calm about this?"
"Because your brother isn't the little boy you left behind. He's a man, Rachel, and he can take care of himself. He's discovered who he is. That isn't always an easy path to follow."
Positively befuddled, and trying to rein in the hurt of this recent revelation, Rachel stared at her father for a good thirty seconds before announcing, "I'm going to go unpack my duffle. Anything else I should know? Is my room perhaps a weight room now?"
"No," her dad said; his laugh was a rusty boom of sound. A little forced, like he was trying to ease her discomfort. "Just a trophy room for all my fish mounts."
"So there won't be a square inch left uncovered, then." She tried to crack a smile, but it was a grimace. She felt like a stranger, more so than ever before. It wasn't a good feeling. "Are you sure there's any room left for me to stay in?"
"There's always room for you here," her dad said earnestly. Then, as she slipped past him, he grabbed her hand. "Rach...I need you to trust me about Jake."
For the first time in her life...Rachel realized, she didn't trust him. Not in this moment, not about this. These were all half-truths. Something was happening. It made her stomach knot.
Her dad's bedroom door- first on the left- was shut. So was Jake's, next to it. An empty hallway, with empty bedrooms, and a tribute photo of lifetimes that were diverging more and more each day.
In her room, she felt like an intruder. It felt like a hotel room she hadn't intended to book. She exhaled the tight breath she hadn't been aware of holding, eyes flitting over the twin beds only a few feet apart. Above them, a window. Some of Rebecca's stained-glass crafts still were suction-cupped to the glass.
Last summer, when Rebecca and Solomon visited, she let them have the bedroom while she took the couch. They had- quite resourcefully- pushed the beds together...effectively creating a king-size mattress. She could pick out a new, huge comforter that she'd eventually take to her new place.
Wherever that would be.
But a king-size mattress was definitely going to be part of the deal. She deserved a fucking king-sized mattress, even if she had to cobble it together with twin beds for the time being.
Her duffle was quick work: a few cardigans and light summer dresses into the closet. She instinctively kept all of her things to the left, like she had throughout her childhood. A few old hangers hung on Rebecca's otherwise empty side. Rachel petulantly batted at one, then spread her three outfits wide so that they hung in the middle.
Underwear, pajamas and a pair of denim shorts were deposited into the drawers near the door. The old maple dresser still stuck on the bottom drawer; she and Rebecca used to fight over which one had to use it. Their mother finally insisted they rotate prime drawer-use once a year, and take turns. Even after Sarah died, the twins still kept up their annual rotation. It kept the peace, after all. Practical. Just like Sarah.
No. Don't dwell.
Rachel sat down heavily on the bed, trying not to let the creeping fingers of melancholy settle over her. She had to work on her resume, and do some more job apps. That would help, right? Productivity was usually the answer to any of Rachel's woes.
She dutifully worked on job applications for a half hour, shouting back a "goodbye" to her father as he left. It gave her plenty of time to focus, to crank out cover letters...one off to Boston, three off to California, one to Wisconsin, two to Seattle. Away from here. Anywhere away from here, where life looked as it had when she left but was anything but.
After shutting her laptop, she listened to the silence of her very empty childhood home.
Had it ever sounded so quiet? So lonely?
When she was young, she could at least stare longingly at the count-down in her planner. She had a finish-line to cross. It was easier to grind through, and keep her chin up when she had the end-in-sight. But this...ugh.
This felt like exile.
She supposed there was only one thing to do: go mope at the Beach for a little while, and figure out her to-do list for Sunday- like driving to Port Angeles to pick up a comforter. Just whittle the hours away.
Maybe one of the applications she submitted today would be her lucky break on Monday.
Something had to happen soon; it just had to.
LATER, JULY 8 - PAUL'S POV
Paul woke up startled that morning, jostled awake as if something was about to happen. His bloodstream felt like it was brimming with static-energy, trying to reach outside his skin for something.
A shower didn't fix it. A run didn't fix it. Working on his car's engine didn't fix it. Even taking his wolf form didn't fix it. He almost wondered if a fight would help, or maybe sex. Something physical. That's what used to work in high school, when his volatility reached a breaking point.
He considered calling Olivia, the chick he'd sort of been seeing the past couple weeks. She was pretty cool, and hadn't gotten too clingy yet. He'd started up with her again recently after running into her at the bar; she was hot, chill, sported an eyebrow hoop, and had a rack that was dangerously distracting. She'd definitely be willing to see him, to help him relax.
But then he'd have to drive to Forks.
Stay on the Rez, his wolf insisted, a deep reverberating warning that made his ribs ache.
Fuck, he was all over the place today.
So much for a relaxing day off.
Was he really going to waste the whole fucking thing with this kind of funky anxiety? It was so unlike him. It made his teeth grind. Fuck.
The good news was that Randy had taken off that morning- saying something about going to Bogachiel for the week ahead (usually code for- "I'm going to sleep in a tent and drink myself into a stupor, see you when I see you")- so at least Paul had the place to himself to try and take his mind off things.
He hoped to be out of here within the month; in addition to his monthly stipend for pack work, he'd recently been hired by that Tribal Housing Authority as a part-time Maintenance Tech. The pay was good, and the hours were flexible with his pack duties. It also made it so he'd be the first "in the know" for whenever a new, affordable place came up.
His first ticket away from Randy...he was gonna take it.
It wouldn't be long.
He hated being in his house more than absolutely necessary.
So, even with his limbs tingling and his body feeling electric-strange, he decided he had to be anywhere but here. His wolf didn't protest that decision- so long as he stayed on the Rez, apparently his inner-beast was placated.
That's how he ended up at the Beach. An empty Beach, because the clouds above threatened a thunderstorm and in the distance, he could smell the rain rolling in from the ocean. After listening hard for any other beachgoers, he stripped down to his boxers and rushed into the ocean, letting the tide go over his head and pull him down.
He wasn't afraid of drowning.
After all, his wolf's body could beat back the waves and get him to shore in the unlikely event that his human form couldn't do it. So what was there to be afraid of?
He wasn't afraid of anything anymore, come to think of it.
Paul dove beneath the waves, over and over again, letting his feet trail over stone. The slide of saltwater against his eternally-fevered skin made his muscles loosen. While the strange feeling that had been plaguing him all day didn't cease, the swim was certainly a relief. The rush of the breeze every time he broke the surface brought peace, even if it was only momentary.
When he finally decided to get out, he noticed- with a jab of annoyance- that there was someone walking on the beach.
"Great." He glanced up at the clouds. Darker, muddier. He could smell rain on the even closer before, maybe a mile off from shore. What kind of person is just out walking on a shit day like today?
Still. He should probably head in, too. Find some dinner or something. He emerged from the water, walking without hurry toward the pile of clothes he'd left abandoned on a log nearby. While he yanked his jeans up, buttoning the fly, he stared toward the figure in the distance.
It was a woman; he could smell that much from here. She smelled nice. Like...flowers. Not roses. Something else. Maybe like the viburnum bushes that used to be outside his room when he lived at his mom's. Yeah, that was it. Paul inhaled deeply, letting the scent soak in. He hadn't smelled that in a long time.
Home. He remembered how he used to keep his windows open as a kid, would love coming home to that smell permeating through the window screen. He didn't strongly identify with any image of "home"- no image of tranquility or stability of any kind, really - but if he had to pick something... he'd pick a smell. That smell. From a lifetime ago.
He swallowed hard, breathing in- it was getting stronger. The footsteps were coming closer. He didn't care. He let his eyes flutter closed, wanting just another moment suspended in that long-ago, familiar scent.
Then the footsteps stopped nearby, probably only ten feet away, and he knew he had to lift himself out of his reverie. No good being caught with his guard down, even from some random beachwalker. Why was this rando bugging him, anyway? Especially when he had his shirt clenched in his fists and sopping wet hair.
Couldn't she see he was busy? If it was just another horny chick from Forks or the Rez who happened to catch sight of him and couldn't resist ogling (which happened more frequently than you'd think), well then he was plainly just not in the mood. Most days he was. But not today. Not when he felt so weird and just wanted to be left alone.
Paul's eyes flashed open to meet hers, his eyebrows already drawn in annoyance-
Holy shit.
Paul took a stumbling step forward, as if yanked on a live-wire pinned directly to his chest. His whole world was greyscale, except for the woman standing before him, drenched in radiant color. Her scent hit him anew, decimating every other trace in the air- he couldn't smell anything but her. Not the sand, not the salty ocean water, not the impending storm. Just that lush floral smell. Paul's jaw dropped at the onslaught of his senses' hyper-reception to her- the scent, the sound of her heartbeat, the color of her eyes. Such a deep, dark brown. Her skin was a muted shade of bronze, and he could see a diffusion of pink spreading over her cheeks. Jesus, she was beautiful-
And she was Rachel Black.
"Rachel," he breathed, his voice sounding far-away to his own ears.
Good God, how had she become even more beautiful? His gaze fixated on her mouth- then dipped lower, to appreciate her willowy, slender figure and tan legs. Like a walking embodiment of springtime, she was barefoot but wore a lavender sundress- fabric that he knew would carry that same heavenly scent of bursting viburnum as her skin.
He stepped forward again, hand reaching toward her. This brilliant woman who stood in burning color against an otherwise grey, dull backdrop. Whoa. He didn't know such a thing could happen, but...well, it didn't matter.
"Rachel," he repeated, hand outstretched.
It had always been Rachel.
He just hadn't known. He'd always feared imprinting, but- she was destined to be his? And he was hers?
Life had been pretty unfair, but if this was what he was waiting for….if he was meant to be with Rachel, then it seemed that the Ancestors had finally cut him a break. He wanted to sink to the ground in reverence, in gratitude.
"Paul?" she murmured, stunned. Then, with a dawning look of uncertainty, and eyebrows pinching, she repeated, "Paul Lahote?"
That thread of reluctance seemed to prick the otherwise flawless scene before him; the scent of her suspicion, mingled with- attractions? God, he hoped so- something else slowly pushed him back to reality, as he blinked rapidly. The greyscale around her faded, but it did nothing to dispel her radiance. In fact, even as color returned to the world around him, it just seemed all the less-saturated by comparison to Rachel's brightness.
He dropped his hand, taking a deep breath in- his lungs expanded with her scent- and tried to plaster a charming smile to his face. Tried to look normal. Tried to remember what had worked on the dozens of girls who'd gone before, falling for his irresistible flirtation. If it worked on them, it had to work on her– the one girl who mattered– right? "Good to see you again, Miss Perfect."
He said it teasingly– hearkening back to their interaction years ago– but with full sincerity. Because Rachel…well, she was perfect. His mate, his Imprint.
She, however, didn't seem to catch any tone of lightness or sincerity in his words, though. Her expression turned dark, and she cast him an imperious look down the length of her nose.
Whoops. Well, Paul always did like a challenge.
A/N: Thanks again for reading! Any particular moments you'd like to see? Hope you're enjoying these characters so far!