Author's Note: Annnnnnd I'm back. Yep, just returned with a brand new chapter. Aren't you proud?
A huge shout out to everyone who has commented, reviewed, followed or favorited this story. I know Paul and Bella aren't a very popular couple, so I appreciate all of you who enjoy this piece.
Disclaimer: No, no. Not mine. No. Not. Mine.
"Show me what you've got, kid," he said, putting the bike by her side.
"Ugh, don't call me kid," she demanded, holding the handles. "You're not that old, anyway."
"Older than you," Paul made sure to point out, before stretching his lips into a condescending smirk. "Kid."
Instantly her face changed into a somewhat dazed look — almost like a trigger. It was a new look on her; one Paul had yet to see on either Jacob's memories or his own. He had no idea what he had said or done, but it had brought up the strangest reaction out of her.
"You suck," she murmured but seemed almost lost in her thoughts.
No knowing how to categorize her reaction, Paul fell back into his usual response in the face of the unknown.
"I don't," he leered at her. "At least not yet."
She blushed immediately, which, in turn, made Paul feel a little bit like an idiot for making that sort of insinuation to her. Of course, Bella wouldn't be used to that sort of innuendo.
"Hop on," he ordered when she failed to give a spoken answer, feeling out of his depth with her.
Bella looked excited, though. Too excited. As soon as she moved to straddle the bike her heart began to pump harder and the smell of anticipation clung to her skin strongly — too similar to addicts to be comfortable for him.
What was Bella's deal with those bikes?
No one smelled that hooked straddling a motorcycle, not even those who, like him, fucking loved riding. She was waiting for something else, he could tell. But what?
"You okay there?" He asked, suddenly reconsidering his bright idea of helping her.
"Y-yeah," she stuttered, not helping her case.
"Right," Paul said, suspiciously. "Remember where everything is?"
She nodded, eyes stuck to the path ahead.
"Show me," he demanded, not willing to trust her safety to an absent-minded nod.
"Brake," she began, moving her hand and foot in a demonstration. "Gear..."
Paul watched carefully as she moved to show all the basic controls. At least she seemed to remember all the important parts, but the brake thing wouldn't help.
"Jake unhooked your rear brake?"
"Yeah," she mumbled, quite pathetically in his opinion. "I had an accident the last time."
"Oh, I know. Seven stitches, hun?"
She groaned, "Shut up."
"Why did you lose control?" It was important to know what her mistake had been.
A guilty look flashed across her face for some seconds at his question before she looked away, hiding her expression.
Not suspicious at all.
"I didn't know how to turn," she lied. "I panicked."
"'Course you did," Paul agreed. "Let's see it. Show me what you've got, kid. Don't go too far, though."
She didn't wait any longer. Heart racing and sweat clinging to her forehead, Bella accelerated and took off in a show of unbalancedness.
Quicker than Paul would've liked, she began to move faster and faster, ignoring his warning shouts to slow the fuck down.
What the hell?
What. was. Bella's. deal. with. those. bikes?
Was the girl suicidal?
Paul began to run after her, trying not to phase as he did so. Bella was already frightened enough of him without adding a gigantic wolf to the mess; he would simply have to control himself.
Suddenly, however, she came to a halt, almost losing her balance and falling to the ground. Not pausing for a breath, Bella turned and locked eyes with him, smiling brighter and bigger than he had ever seen her do before.
Her smile took his breath away, and in a weird turn of events, Paul was the one whose heart felt like a thundering mess.
"That was amazing!" she exclaimed, wiping the drops of sweat from her red face. "How faster can I go on this bike?"
Paul tried to calm himself. She was safe, she was alright. Bella wasn't hurt and she hadn't lost control of her motorcycle. She wouldn't fall, she wouldn't need help.
Paul had been a fool. Clearly, that was too much and too soon for him. Bella evoked so many feelings Paul had never felt before, which made him uncomfortable and eager to escape.
Ignoring her for a minute, Paul grabbed his phone and quickly texted Jared:
need to go out 2night. u free?
Man, don't make me do this. You don't understand how horrible it is to stand at the club after you imprint.
Jared was always so uptight — even texting. It was something Paul made sure to tease him about constantly. In that situation, however, the annoyance came from the content instead of the text form. Paul needed to vent, how dared Jared deny him?
don't be such a pussy. u in or not?
One day I'll stop enabling your sorry ass, I swear.
...
In. Meet you at Dawn. 10 pm?
sweet
Turning back to face his imprint, Paul shifted his face into a mask of indifference that he had worn too many times in his life and could rely on to hide his true feelings from others. Bella wanted to learn how to ride, so that's what he would do.
She was no different than another girl on top of a motorcycle. That's what he would repeat internally until it was stuck in his brain.
"You're going to regret this," Jared said as a greeting, stepping out of Kim's car.
"Have fun, honey," she joked, flashing her head out the window. "Hey, manwhore, hands off my man, alright?"
"Fuck off," he grumbled, annoyed at Jared for having shared that story with every person on the face of the planet.
"Well, someone's grumpy tonight," Kim pointed out, rather unhelpful, before waving them goodbye and finally taking off.
"You are grumpy," The fucker at his side echoed, falling into step with him. "What happened? Please don't tell me you fucked up with Bella already."
"Shut up. I was trying to teach her how to ride a motorcycle."
"Paul, there's a leech hunting her down, and you want her to ride a motorcycle?" Jared was trying to be reasonable like he always did, but he didn't understand.
"She fucking wanted it."
"Did she?" He seemed surprised. "Well, that's a step in the right direction, no?"
"No," Paul growled out as they reached the bouncer at the door of the club.
Nick never asked for their identities or even stopped them as they made their way in. Not only the both of them appeared to be closer to twenty-five than their actual age, but also Paul knew every single worker at the club. He was a regular there — had been for a couple of years since he phased. As they entered, Paul nodded in acknowledgment to Nick, knowing his silent treatment would surprise no one.
As soon as they stepped into the room, Paul understood what Jared had been trying to say before. It was a headache ready to happen — the blurry faces of countless women shifting in front of him as they danced to the heavy beat. Paired with the usual loud music and overwhelming scents, it was enough to threaten his control right off the bat.
He didn't stop there, though, but went up the stairs to the second floor, where the bigger bar was located. Paul needed the booze — quickly.
Sitting on an empty stool, he looked straight at the bartender and demanded:
"Patrón, Marcus, and keep 'em coming."
"Sure," he agreed easily, more than used to Paul's drinking habits. "You want something, handsome?" he asked Jared.
"Just a beer for me, thanks," he said, grabbing some money from his pocket.
"You're such a weak ass," Paul pointed out, quickly downing his shot. It barely felt like alcohol — beer was just a joke for them.
"I'm not here to forget, man. I like beer."
"Whatever," Paul dismissed, trying to ignore the jab.
Marcus filled his glass as soon as it hit the table, which earned him a good tip at the end of the night. Even if it took the entire bottle, Paul would take it. He came prepared to leave only when the face of Bella Swan no longer occupied all corners of his mind.
He needed the silence, the quietness. He needed sex, and he was sure one of those blurry-faced women would agree to invite him to their house.
"Paul," Jared finally called his name in that familiar but quite unnerving tone that he had been both dreading and expecting.
He wanted to ignore the call of his name and keep on drowning his sorrows in the glass in front of him, but the persistent glare he felt on his shoulder stole his attention, just as Jared knew it would.
"What?" Paul compromised by acknowledging his brother without taking his eyes off the Patrón.
"What's this really about?" his voice was even as he spoke, not needing to raise his tone to be heard by Paul. "How much longer will you keep running from Bella?"
"However long it takes for stupid Jacob to make his damn move on her."
"That right there should be an indication that you're not okay with this. You don't dislike Jake, not really. He's pack, family."
Paul didn't hate Jacob, but he also wasn't the boy's biggest fan at the moment. It had nothing to do with Bella, however, but all to do with his inability to be a damn man. He wanted to curse and fight Paul the second he knew about the imprint, but couldn't seem to tell Bella about his fucking pathetic feelings.
"Jacob is simply making my life more difficult than it needs to be right now."
"Jacob is young and clueless, I'll give you that. But don't act like you're being so goddamn nice with this whole story either. Paul, you are out of your depth here, just admit it."
"Since when did you become my goddamn therapist? Have you been talking to Emily again?" he asked, glaring at his best friend for being such a dick in their night out. Couldn't he see that Paul needed a break?
"Since you decided to screw up your life even further than you already have," Jared replied evenly, refusing to be sidetracked. "I know you don't believe you can ever be in a long-term relationship, but you're wrong, Paul. You are. You wouldn't have imprinted on Bella if this wasn't supposed to happen."
"Supposed to happen?" Paul asked, disgusted with the fated shit Jared insisted on spitting out. "None of this was supposed to happen, get real. I'm not fighting the imprint, I simply refuse to believe we need to be a couple, is that so wrong? Bella will be damn fine with the pup and I'll be free to live my life how I want it."
And that's what Paul had gone there to do — remind himself that he could still be himself despite all the shit going on around him. It was all a matter of balance. That's what the others fail to get about the situation. Paul was not rejecting Bella or resentful of the bond itself — how could he? He simply knew who he was and what he felt. He was a free man; he needed that life.
"And what about what you need?" Jared asked, giving him a pointed look.
Paul gulped uncomfortably, gazing to the side to see a brunette heading his way. Thankfully. Saved by pussy, once again.
Paul couldn't exactly see her face, but the way she moved indicated her intentions quite clearly — especially to a guy like him, who was more than used to having desperate woman throwing themselves at him. She had a nice enough body and could probably suck his dick without killing his erection — that would do.
"Man, don't do this."
Jared's plead felt dead to his ears. Paul was already downing the Patrón in front of him in preparation; nothing would stop him from doing his thing, not even Jared.
"Hey, handsome," a soft voice came from his back. "You alone?"
He turned to face her, a clever answer at the tip of his tongue, only to have it die in his mouth the second he actually saw the figure next to him. She was close — too close. Paul could smell her scent and see every inch of her body, and it all repulsed him. The bond responded to the threat by making her as unappealing as possible — an overkill, honestly. She smelled like dead fish and a dirty sewer; Paul could hardly handle it.
"Well, cat got your tongue?" she teased, seeming to think his lack of response came from a place of flattery rather than the actual truth. Feeling bold, the girl reached forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.
The touch made him feel nauseated and, frankly, utterly disgusted. The dance that once had felt so natural to him was lost in a single moment, leaving Paul unaware of how to proceed in that situation — what was he supposed to say? The woman was obviously interested, and so was he — right? So why was he stuck in place, ready to shove her hand off his body and run home? Suddenly he got up, forcing her to take a step back.
"Yeah," he forced the word out, through gritted teeth. "I'm alone."
That must have been enough for her because the girl grabbed his hand and began to lead him towards the stairs.
"Not anymore, you're not," she spoke, her rotten breath hitting him like a slap in the face. "Let's go dance, shall we?"
No, Paul couldn't handle a whole dance next to the demon in front of him. Surely, they could forgo the ridiculous steps and head straight to the part that interested the both of them — the sex. If only Paul could get an erection and fuck her until this horrible sensation surged out of him, then he would be a whole lot better.
He allowed himself to be led, not even pausing to spare a glance back. Jared knew his routine; he would be fine. Right now Paul needed all his focus not to react to the overwhelming feelings crashing into him. The girl was saying something to him as they went down the stairs, Paul was sure, but he couldn't force himself to pay attention to what it was. Perhaps she was telling her name — that seemed to be about right.
As soon as they pushed their way inside the packed dance floor, Paul took a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs with the horrible scent surrounding him to avoid the indisputably worst one coming from the woman in possession of his hand. He would not fail. He knew how to manipulate women; he simply had to tap into his knowledge.
She wasn't about to make his job easy, though. Obviously using the crowd to her advantage — Jenny, Jenifer, Jessica — pressed her body flat against his, grinding to the beat in what she thought was an alluring manner. Wherever her naked skin touched him, an ice cold numbness was left behind. Paul forced his hand to rest on her waist. One dance. He would hang tight during one dance, and then he would get them the hell out of that club.
She was talking once more. How could she have so much to say to a stranger? What did Paul have to do to shut her the fuck up?
"You're so hot." He got that, right before she reached up and smacked her mouth against his.
She was kissing him and Paul's system went into shutdown.
Bella. She's not Bella. He was not supposed to be kissing anybody else. Wrong. That was beyond wrong.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Paul pushed her away. Strongly. The girl stumbled and fell to the floor, dress riding up and heels up to the sky. Paul didn't stop to help, he turned and ran out the door, pushing everyone out of his way.
He made it just in time. The second the fresh air touched his face, Paul vomited all over the sidewalk, holding his stomach tight as the bile left his body in an acid surge. His entire body was numb, yet Paul could feel every nerve exposed to the elements. His mouth was the worst, though. It tingled, and burned, and itched, and ached, and hurt.
"Come on, man," Jared's voice rang by his side. "Let's go for a run, hun?"
Paul spat one last time on the floor before raising his head and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Yeah," he rasped weakly. "Take me out of here."
