I thought I'd hate cliff jumping when I tried it. The summer I turned 13, it was all anyone could talk about. We'd have to wait until the dead heat of summer when the water was warm enough near the shore so as not to completely freeze once you jumped in. I remember peering over the side of the cliff, down into the mixing waters, my friends wading in the deep off the side shouting up at me. There's a rush that happens prior to launching yourself off the cliff that's unlike any feeling I've had before. One moment, you're standing on solid earth, the feel of it firm beneath your feet, and the next you're soaring through the air, a bird lost in flight and hoping the sea catches you before you lose your breath entirely.
As promised, Maya showed up the next day to Paul's. She let herself in and when she saw that the ground floor was quiet, she called out to him:
"Paul?" she slipped out of her brown ankle boots and straightened her black, flouncy miniskirt. Her sheer black tights were dotted with polka dots and her pink oversized cashmere sweater mimicked it with round black dots across it. She had french tucked her oversized sweater into the waist of her skirt so it didn't completely swallow her. Her hair was braided in one thick french braid that hung down her back.
She heard low music coming from upstairs and she slowly made her way up to the landing. In the month or so that she had been coming over, she'd never actually come upstairs. There was no reason to, really. It just housed a small bathroom and Paul's bedroom. She walked through the open bedroom door and saw him setting clothes into a leather overnight bag. Maya leaned on the door frame with her hands clasped behind her back.
"Hey," she said gently. He looked over his shoulder at her and gave her a small smile.
"Hey."
"How long are you going to be gone for again?" Maya asked, even though she knew the answer. He looked at her confused and then noticed the teasing grin on her face and said,
"I'll be back before you know it," he zipped up the bag and dropped it by the dresser on the ground. She stayed glued to the doorframe, letting her eyes wash over his room. It had big wide windows that overlooked the ocean. His bed was low to the ground and swathed in a dark grey duvet and burnt orange pillows. The room felt warm, like him.
He walked up to stand with her in the doorframe, his body facing hers. It was a tight fit but Maya was thankful for the lack of distance. Being around him and especially being this close to him always filled her with relief. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch his chest or his arms but she held them tightly behind her back.
Maya's breathing picked up as he looked down at her with the same look she saw the other day: mine.
Maya didn't know how long they stood there staring at each other, but she felt her knees getting weak and her hands begin to sweat. Paul had this uncanny ability to produce physical reactions in her that were just unreasonable.
From the first day she met him and the imprint took hold, she knew she found him attractive. But Maya was familiar with the feeling of attraction and even more familiar with the self control it took not to act on attraction alone. While she'd never gone toe-to-toe with an imprint-level attraction, she thought she had enough practice under her belt to remain generally unphased. But that was shaping up to be not entirely true. Maya knew it was the imprint working in her, that feeling egged her on, pulled her toward him, made her gasp and sizzle at his touch, hung onto his every word—and she kind of hated it. She didn't hate the feeling it gave her, she just hated that she felt like she had no choice when it came to Paul. A biological fixation that compelled her to be near him wasn't a choice, it was a command. Maya had had enough commands.
A grin creeped across Paul's face and Maya felt the pang of want pull through her. "What?" she said a little breathless.
"Just...stay out of trouble while I'm gone," he said quietly, his eyes searing into hers.
"Oh please," she rolled her eyes, breaking the contact and feeling a cool rush move through her that allowed her to step out of his path and back toward the stairs, "Like I could actually ever find any trouble in La Push. You and Sam's pack have made sure of that." He followed her down the stairs and when she glanced over her shoulder at him, he shrugged in acknowledgment.
Paul texted Maya everyday after he left for Seattle. Her heart would pound when she saw his name pop up on her phone. Their conversation was benign, nothing important, but Maya found herself craving that connection since she knew he wasn't physically near.
It was the strangest feeling. Like a part of you suddenly disappears and you're left feeling lopsided, a little hollow, and a little cold. The ache that grows in the spot that's missing feels whipped with wind that chaps and then burns. She was irritated to begin with that Paul leaving for such a short amount of time could even draw out this kind of reaction—it was as if she'd grown used to being near him and now the rug was pulled out from under her— but the texts helped to alleviate it somewhat.
He sent her pictures of things in his Seattle workshop that he was finalizing and her eyes raked over each photo for detail or any glimpse of him reflected in a mirror, a hand over a table, anything.
By Friday the ache had grown to a nagging presence that was constant. Her fingers itched over the call button during lunch and Jeremy nudged her shoulder.
"You okay?" he said, glancing down at her phone, the screen clearly open to Paul's contact information.
"Mmmhmm," Maya made another noncommittal noise and gave him a smile.
"You should call him," he said pointing to her phone.
"What?" Maya looked at him, almost annoyed. The aching feeling was making her irritable.
"Bet you he'd pick up," Jeremy waggled his eyebrows at her, like it was a dare.
"Shut up, Jer," Maya dismissed poking at the fruit on her plate and glancing back down at her phone.
"Let's make a bet!" he said around the table. Keye and Becks perked up at this. They'd been keeping a low profile from Maya since she'd been moody and distracted. "Because I'm bored. I'll bet $5 dollars that if Maya calls Paul right now, he'd pick up in…...two rings," he said confidently.
"Oh, I'll take that bet. I say two and half rings," Keye countered. Jeremy looked to Becks expectantly. Her eyes darted over to look at Maya.
"Uhhh, three rings," she said.
"Hey!" Maya was honestly shocked that Becks would participate.
"Call him. Call him. Call him," Jeremy chanted as he slapped a five dollar bill on the table. Keye and Becks followed suit.
"You guys are dumb, I'm not just going to call him so you can win a bet," But Maya desperately wanted to hear his voice. Her stubbornness was going to win out.
"Party pooper," Keye said. Jeremy reached around her quickly and pressed the call button on her phone. It connected and started ringing right away.
"Jeremy!" Maya yelled standing up and grabbing her phone, trying to disconnect. But before she could, she heard the familiar, gruff 'Hello' of Paul's voice on the other end and the ache evaporated. She slapped the phone to her ear and said, Uuuh, hi. Paul..It's..it's Maya."
"Yeah, I know. You're saved in my phone. Are you okay?" Genuine worry was etched in his voice and Maya immediately felt bad that he thought she called when something was wrong. She paced away from the table and pushed open the double doors to the quad to get away from the squabbling happening at her lunch table now.
"Yes! Everything's fine. I'm fine," she said, hastily. Fuck, what was she supposed to say now? "Uhhh, what time were you coming back tonight?" Jeez, she sounded desperate. She thought she heard him laugh a little and felt her cheeks burn red.
"Not until late, probably midnight. I've got that expo tonight. I'll come pick you up first thing in the morning if–"
"No! No that's okay. I was just curious. I—" Maya, Keye, and Becks had planned to go to that sketchy club just outside of La Push tonight and she anticipated that she would be in no shape to see him so early in the morning. She trailed off and listened to the silence over the line.
"Listen, Maya...if you want, you can just ask Jeremy to take you over to Sam and Emily's today after school. Being around the others might help with the...the ache," he said slowly, letting out a breath. Maya's eyes went wide. He must have felt it then too.
"Oh," she said after a minute. The bell was about to ring, "Okay...I really am fine. I just wanted to say hi. I'm hanging out with Keye and Becks tonight so, I don't think I'll need to….go over there," Maya was struggling to form complete sentences.
The fact that Paul may have been feeling this ache too sent a shockwave through her. She was almost pleased and it made her uncomfortable. The ache in her belly wanted him to feel that way too, and more than that, she wanted to know that he felt it to reassure her she wasn't being ridiculous. The bell rang above her head and Maya dreaded having to end the call.
"Okay."
"Yup." Maya said, not knowing how to sign off. Then, the unmistakable sound of light laughter could be heard on Paul's end followed by a bright, voice:
"Paul! Let's go!" It was clearly a woman and the instant rush of pain Maya felt was unmistakable. She worked to shove that feeling aside but on top of the ache, it was almost too much.
"I'll talk to you later?" He said it as a question. He never posed things as a question to her when it came to things like this. Paul was always so sure. It was always "I will see you later" or "Come over tomorrow." Maya always found comfort in that, but this question threw her off, as did the sound of the laughing woman in the background. Maya's mind went wild with pictures of Paul in the city, a gorgeous blonde woman hanging off his arm and laughing as they combed through the streets together.
"Yeah," she said. "I gotta go." She clicked her phone off quickly and let out a frustrated groan as the ache pulsed through her again.
"We're doing it! We're going to that fucking club tonight if it kills me!" Keye said as she patted on some lip tint in the vanity that lit up her entire room.
"No need for the dramatics, I scheduled us an uber," Becks said, pulling on tight ripped jeans and straightening her cropped, off the shoulder, flouncy black top.
"Okay, so I brought a couple of outfits. One is more weather appropriate, and one kind of goes all hoe." Maya held up the two choices. One was a long sleeved black mini dress that was made of thicker material. The collar dipped low to show her cleavage. She thought she'd pair them with her knee high black suede boots. The other option was a white cotton mini dress with thin spaghetti straps and a straight, low neckline that just peeked at the top curve of her cleavage.
"Oh, hoe it up for sure!" Keye says pointing to the white. "Plus you'll be much more comfortable dancing in that one in this sweaty ass club."
"Oooh, yes the white, the white!" Becks confirms. Maya smiled eagerly and stripped to her black underwear. You couldn't really wear a bra with this dress, but it was tight enough around the chest that it offered her some support. She paired it with some black strappy heels.
"It's not too weird for February?" Maya said as she looked in the mirror. The tight white dress hit just at mid-thigh, showing as much leg as her 5'9" frame allowed.
"No way!" Keye wore a nude colored mini skirt that flared out when she moved and a cropped nude top. Her black hair spilled glamorously down her back and her bright red lip begged for attention.
"Yeah, you look great My," Becks said as she fluffed her own hair. Maya curled the long lengths of her black hair into beachy waves and dotted her cheeks with creamy warm blush. She finished her look with peachy colored lip tint, mascara and smokier eye than she was used to.
"Jesus christ, you look like you're in your twenties." Keye said.
"Good, that means we'll get in easier." Maya said pleased with her work. They had scored fake IDs as sophomores but never tested them out at this place. Something told Maya that the sketchiness of this club would work to their advantage.
"Oh! Uber's here. Let's go!" she said, pulling on Keye's arm as she finished her mascara. Maya tucked her phone into the small purse she slung across her body and they hustled down the stairs of the empty house, laughing with excitement as they piled into the uber.
Maya felt good. When they easily bypassed the front door security—who didn't even glance at their IDs—she exhaled a breath of excitement as the pulsing music of the club beat through her. The ache in her stomach was gone and for the first time since Paul left for his trip, she felt in control and was determined to have fun tonight.
"Drinks first!" Keye yelled as they made their way toward the bar. It didn't take much to get Maya drunk and by midnight, she was happily bobbing and grinding indiscriminately with different men who pulled her around the dance floor.
Maya chugged her fifth drink and bounced gleefully in the club with someone new when a pair of eyes caught hers. There, standing on the other side of the club was Collin Littlesea. His head shot out above the rest of the crowd and Maya stopped her dancing abruptly, suddenly feeling a little sick. She turned her body away from him and moved deeper into the crushing crowd of sweaty dancing bodies to find Keye or Becks. Maya spotted Keye first and made a beeline for her, grabbing her by the arm. Keye swung around quickly about to yell and then squealed with drunken delight when she saw it was just Maya.
"I think I just saw someone from the rez!" Maya yelled over the thumping music.
"Oh cool!"
"No! Like... from Sam's group!" she yelled back.
"So?" Keye mouthed, putting her arms up in an obvious 'who cares' kind of way and turning back to dance with the man behind her.
Maya suddenly realized that she didn't want Paul to know she had been here tonight. She was hyper aware of the fact that he might not be too pleased that she was in a club dancing with men she didn't know who were overly familiar with their hands on every part of her body.
Maya kept her head down and after a few songs of dancing with the some blonde-haired man who took every opportunity to touch her ass, she convinced herself that Collin hadn't seen her and everything was fine. A few songs later as she whirled around the dance floor with someone else, she noticed that the guy she was dancing with was looking nervously over her shoulder. He caught her eye, leaned toward her and said loudly, "Do you know that guy?"
Before Maya had a chance to respond or even turn to look at who he was talking about, a firm arm circled her waist and pulled her sharply backwards into a hard body. The guy she was dancing with yelled "Hey!"
Maya didn't see the exchange between the man who now had hold of her and the guy she was dancing with, but he quickly retreated into the throng of the club. She spun around in the arms of her assailant about to push him with both hands and tell him to politely fuck off, when she came face to face with the towering figure of Paul Lahote.
Maya's eyes went wide in shock and her mouth dropped open a little bit. He looked down at her with a deep frown on his face. Still, he looked entirely too good in the blue pulsing lights of the club. Maya was definitely drunker than she thought because she felt extremely comfortable in his arms. Her hands floated down to rest on his forearms and in response his grip tightened around her possessively.
"Time to go." He dipped his head to her ear to be heard over the music. It wasn't a question. Maya held him there, her hand grasped firmly around the nape of his neck, her cheek pressed against the stubble on his jaw. His hands slipped down so that they were tightly fitted to her hips; the thin fabric of her white dress felt like no barrier at all for the hot heat that pulsed from his palms. She ached to feel his hands on her bare skin. He pulled back ever so slightly to look at her, their faces dangerously close, and then he said "Fuck." The sound was swallowed by the music, but Maya revelled in the thrill that ran through her when he said it.
He held her gaze, his eyes searching hers before he stood up straight, circling his arm around her waist and pulling her through the crush of the crowd. Maya stumbled as she tried to turn and look over her shoulder where Keye and Becks had been dancing.
"Collin's got them. Let's go," he replied to her worried look. He easily pulled her through the club—they must have looked like quite a sight. Finally out in the biting cold night air, Maya snapped back into reality, the haze of the club rinsing from her. She suddenly felt his too hot hand on her hip and the all too familiar weight of it made her panic.
"Let go of me." she said, prying at his fingers. He loosened his grip and she pulled hard away stumbling a few steps into the parking lot. Maya whirled around, her lips set in a tight line. His eyes were all fury.
"Get in the car." he said with a tone of finality that she instinctively knew not to disobey. Even still, Maya rooted herself to the spot.
"I'm fine!" she all but shouted into the dark cold air.
"Maya." She could hear the anger bubbling under the surface in his voice. "Get in the car, now."
"I was fine in there! You didn't need to come." She pointed lazily to the door. Her eyes drooped in clear intoxication.
"You're out of your depth here." Paul said through gritted teeth taking a step toward her.
"Who asked you?!" she shouted. Paul's jaw tightened and she noticed a tremor ripple through him. He kept his tone calm, commanding.
"I'm telling you one more time: Either you get in the car now or I put you in there myself."
"Oh fuck off, you wouldn't," Maya said in a slurring laugh. She tried to cross her arms and legs at the same time and ended up losing her balance for a second. Paul automatically reached for her but she held a hand out to stop him.
"Maya." he said seriously.
"Paul," she mocked.
He made a noise not unlike a growl under his breath and strode toward her, sweeping her up and over his shoulder. She squealed in protest but it didn't seem to faze him. He easily deposited her into the passenger seat, fastened the seat belt, and shut the door a little too hard in one quick moment. Maya sulked and started to fiddle with the seatbelt like she was going to make an attempt to get out.
"If you touch that seatbelt, you'll regret it. Trust me." Paul warned, as he settled himself into the driver's seat. Maya looked at him incredulous. There was clear anger etched on his face, but she was a little too drunk to care. As he skirted them off down the dark road back toward the rez, Maya leaned her head against the cool window and drifted off to sleep.
After what felt like no time at all, Maya has the sensation of being carried. Her head rested gently against the firm, fire-hot chest and her arms automatically looped around Paul's neck as he carried her easily through the doorway and into the dark house.
