Disclaimers: Twilight is not owned by me.

You all are AMAZING. Thanks so much for helping me reach my goal, and for being such lovely readers/reviewers. I'm happy for the following number and favorites.

Here is a good chapter for you all. Took longer than I wanted, but I believe this was worth the wait.

You all are in for it. And next chapter... damn bruh. That's all I gotta say.

Please enjoy!

Btw, it's intense. Be prepared.


Chapter 7: Two Weeks

Dawnette's POV

Bates' class was shit. Classes with honey-blonde glaring at me/not looking my way/talking to Alice in Wonderland was shit. Lunch was shit. I felt like shit. Today was just shit.

Shit, why was everything shit?

The bell rang and I immediately grabbed my purse, not wanting to look at his stupid face. Or any of their stupid faces; Buff-Daddy was an exception for the fact that he did pay out today. The beautiful amount of 300 was placed in my hand and putting a blazing fire in my wallet where it gently rests. But his Barbie girl, Alice in Wonderland and honey-blonde? Fuck 'em all.

I kept walking till I got to B's monster and opened the door, tossing my purse and textbook I got from AP history in the cab. As I sat in the drivers seat I noticed Alice in Wonderland skipping to the shiny red convertible belonging to you-can-be-who-you-wanna-be-Barbie-girl.

Realizing that not only did they look just alike uncannily with the pale skin, flawless faces and golden eyes―they also knew each other on that level where they carpooled with together.

Whatever. I muttered in my head, rolling my eyes.

After this morning, I decided I wasn't going to give two fucks about Jasper... And that Barbie and Alice were enemies.

With a huff, I pick up the CDs on the dashboard of Bella's truck and started going through them―nothing wiped away the stress of dealing with people like good ol' tunes to jam out to while you drove yourself home.

I flipped through the cds.

Ike and Tina Turner, Greatest Hits...

"Old shit." I tossed it on the seat.

Ike and Tina made good music but they wasn't what I wanted to listen to at the moment.

Rihanna, Good girl Gone bad...

"Bullshit." Tossed that one too.

Rihanna had good music. It was a surprise to me on what this was even doing in B's truck. Someone must have gave it to her. I went through her MP3 player, thinking about borrowing it for the day―she had old shit like The Beatles, Panic! At the Disco and Doris Day. No Rihanna.

At all.

Dance Gavin Dance, Acceptance Speech...

"New shit."

I wasn't in a mood for rawr-rawr-rawr-screamo-rawr at the moment, either. But these guys were good. Plus, all the guys in the band was cute.

Still though.

Nah.

I stopped at the last one―a white CD with Cousin Bella's sloppy handwriting, that read

misc.

"Hm..." I cocked my head to the side and slipped it in, while clicking through songs I had never heard before.

I settled for this upbeat one and blasting the radio up all the way up, bobbing my head to the beat and proceeded to maneuver the truck out of the crowded parking lot.

Of course, the quickest way to Uncle C's house was backed up with traffic from these frantic teens trying to get home just like me. But instead of waiting, because I had an impatient soul, I drive the truck in the opposite direction.

I didn't mind taking the long way home for once... considering the fact that this song was bomb as fuck.

As I drove and dancing in my seat to the song that I had on put on a repeat-loop,

Walk til you're dead

Take every step with me

Walk til you're dead

You think I'm something special

Then walk til you're dead with me

With me, with me

I found myself thinking back to this morning.

His eyes were the most scariest thing I had ever seen. The way they glowed with such lethalness―he was going to kill Mike... had Alice in Wonderland not stepped in.

I guess I should be grateful for that―but I wasn't. If she could calm his ass down and I couldn't, what did that make me?

Oh, right.

Trash.

Nothing important to him.

I forgot that I wasn't supposed to give a fuck and that I only knew the dude for like, three days. (even though it feels as if I've known him my whole entire life)

But when those eyes were like warm butterscotch... I could easily find myself staring into them forever. It is a wonder how they even changed colors like that.

They were red in my dream which was a bigger wonder... but, ah well.

Back to the song.

The track restarted, the acoustics and organ dubbing up and those clear-cut female vocals belonging to such a goddess, started singing the chorus again and I joined in, dancing a little as I rested a hand on the leather steering wheel and drove down the long stretch of road.

"Try til it hurts!

You've got a piece of me,

try til it hurts!

you think I'm something special,

Then walk til you're dead with me!

With me, with me―" my voice hitched the slightest when a weird clunk! sound was heard and this piece of truck skidded slowly to a stop.

"Son of a bitch..." I murmured to myself, eyebrows furrowed as I tried to crank the truck back up, but failed.

I pulled the key from the ignition and the put it back in and turned. Nothing happened. I tried with more force. Still nothing. This couldn't be happening! The tank got fucking filled last night, so I knew that gas wasn't the issue.

Slamming my fist down on the dashboard, I took the key out. With a huff, I slipped out the truck and walked to the front.

Sure enough, smoke was coming out of the hood when I popped it up, which made me groan.

Because just great.

Nothing could make a sista's day worse except having a broken down vehicle. In the middle of the fucking woods. On a long stretch of road. With a cellphone that had―wow, barely any signal.

Jasper's POV

Nailah kicked the bumper of the truck, knocking her head back and groaning loudly.

Before I knew what I was doing, I walked from behind the tree, revealing myself to her.

Nailah jumped and held her chest, "Whoa!" She shook her head and hollered, "You cannot be coming out the wood looking half-crazed like that!"

I looked down at myself, seeing that I wasn't covered in blood―when I hunted, I tried to be as neat as possible. Not a drop of the elk or moose stained my clothes and I was still dressed in the attire I wore to school today.

Faded jeans, a regular t-shirt and my loafers.

I straightened a wrinkle on my dark blue shirt and apologized, "My apologies, ma'am..." bowing slightly before her. I then come up with the most humanly thing I can think of, "I was just returning from a... hike."

"In fancy loafers like that?" She scoffed, looking down at the designer shoes on my feet, her thin eyebrows raising.

Nailah barely believed that excuse, choosing to turn her head the other way and scratch the nape of her neck.

"White people always wasting money..." She mumbled under her breath, annoyance as her main emotion. I stepped a bit closer once she sighed, "So you can help me right?"

One of her dainty, brown-skinned hands gestured to Bella's smoking truck. "This piece of truck broke down―probably because of my horrible singing." her tiny, plump lips curved into a smirk that put pure porcelain to shame with the way her white teeth shined; I stared in awe at the way one simple smile could have such an effect on me.

She was my Nailah.

"Oh no, Nailah―Dawnette," I quickly correct myself because of the stern look that flashed briefly across her freckled face. "I assure you... it wasn't bad."

Rolling her dark brown eyes, Nailah chimed in a sugary tone, "But it wasn't good either, Jazz." She narrowed her eyes slightly and that's where I was sent a streak of jealousy once my nickname Jazz escaped her lips. That moment then reminded me of this morning and how I felt her feeling once she met Alice.

"Quit jiving me!" My Nailah playfully shoved me moments later, that thin layer of jealousy washing away and turning into giddiness. As her hand grazed over my right shoulder, a chill was sent down my back and a shiver down her spine.

I had to hold my breath and resist from wanting to pounce on her and claim her back as mine. She... wasn't mine to claim... and I had Alice―my mate.

"Wow." Her voice was quiet. And her hand left my shoulder, both arms crossing over her chest. "You sure are cold, Jasper."

I nod once. "Yeah―there's a front moving in... I could feel it during my... hike..."

Nailah purses her lips and faces the truck. I walk in front of the hood and take a peek under, waving the smoke from our faces, before examining the engine and assembly-line.

Having Emmett around when Rosalie and Alice went on their shopping extravaganzas was a relief―we'd just work on his Hummer or Rose's convertible and make adjustments to Carlisle's Mercedes. I was glad I knew alot about fixing cars.

That way I could offer my services to ma'am here.

"Soooo, what's the damage?" She popped up next to me, watching my fingers twist and uncap certain parts of the truck's assembly line.

"Well to start... your radiator cap is jammed." I pointed to the bright yellow cap oozing clear liquid. "And the transmission is acting up." Showed her that too. "And your oil might be low, considering the fact that there's a leak in the engine."

Nailah let out a huff, scratched her head full of tiny curls. Curls I wanted to run my fingers through. But there was excess oil on my hands. And I didn't have permission.

"That all sounds bad..." I hear her mutter, leaning to look into the hood of the truck. Nailah then cranes her neck to look up at me and asks, a hint of hope in her soprano tone, "Is there anything we can do?"

I gulp at her mouthwatering scent fuming my nostrils and swallow back venom gathering in my mouth. She was so damn close. I could see the pulse protruding near her exposed collarbone. I could make out her perked nipples through the thin materials of her tank top she had on underneath the yellow flannel, the glaze of her brown skin and warmness of her freckled cheeks... all too fuckin' tempting.

Holding my breath, I blink my darkened eyes once, twice before motioning to the leak in the engine. "We should stop it from leaking by clogging it with a cloth―here." I pulled my shirt over my head and handed it to her. "This should do the trick, ma'am."

But as she grasped it in her hands, Dawnette froze in place like a block of ice and just stared.

Her plump lips parted and her dark brown eyes slowly wandered around my features, greedily taking in everything they saw―including my scars.

"Jasper..." Nailah's voice was barely above a whisper as she slowly inched a hand out, finger spread, slowly inching towards my chest.

Her fingertips touched my chest was my undoing. A growl found it's way in the back of my throat and I swear my eyes rolled to the back of my head. Her warm, soft fingertips gingerly flickered over a bite mark―1868, a run-in with Peter. We were training and he got a little too frisky. I never forgave him for that I think.

She traced fingers to the next one, all the while her eyes in a daze and plump lips parted. Her breaths were deep and slow―me? I held my fuckin' breath. And let her touch them. She was the only one that could.

"Your scars..." She murmured, swallowing thickly. "So... many..."

Her eyes met mine for a brief second before she slowly inched away. "Do they hurt?" She looked like she wanted to reach forward again, and I felt an unyielding desire well up in her. One that made me want to just push her up against the nearest tree and love her.

But again, there were the precautions.

She wasn't my mate. Who knows if she was my Nailah? She is. But then again she isn't. And Alice. My lil' pixie wife, Alice. I owe her one. She saved me from destruction and how valid was that to pay her back like this?

If Nailah was so phased by these scars... then she had no idea where the true ones were. The many ones I inflicted on myself for leaving her all those years ago. From still holding onto her. From letting her leave me. From loving her. Craving for her.

I grin a wry smile, closing my eyes briefly before saying, "These ain't the ones that hurt most, ma'am."

Once my eyes open, plaid yellow is tossed at me. "Here." Instant reflexes allow me to catch it and I am met with her unreadable eyes.

"What's... what's this?" I straighten the garment and then realize it's the yellow flannel she wore today.

Having that intoxicating scent practically resting in my hands was enough to make me want to drive myself over the edge. The cotton, honey-suckle, exotic fruits―God, I couldn't even pinpoint every single addition to her initial scent. It was so good. It smelled so divine.

It took all the will-power I developed over the years to not bring her flannel to my nose and just inhale. Not to sink my teeth into her soft, chocolate flesh and make her mine. Not to let my arousal to her smell cloud my mind.

"You're shirtless." Dawnette spoke, snapping me out of my thoughts. She flicked my elbow before walking back over to the broke-down truck.

"Cover up, Jazz." She almost sneered, this feeling of annoyance and jealousy arising inside her at the mention of Alice's nickname for me: Jazz.

"Thank you, ma'am..." I barely got out, slowly slipping my arms into the flannel. I held my breath as I did so, inching each flap up to my shoulders, trying my hardest not to get that much on me―I'd probably drive myself crazy. And the very fact that she watched me with such an intensity in her dark brown eyes as I put on her flannel... Fuck, I sincerely hope she didn't notice the erection jutting at the side of my leg.

"I don't stink." Nailah chided, stomping over to me. As she pursed her plump lips, her tiny fingers grasped at the flaps of the flannel. I could hear her heart against her ribcage and her body heat up as she pushed the small, black buttons in the slips. "And you button like―this." Her dark eyes met mine and at the moment the breath that I had been holding sucked out in a gush and all I could do was gaze back.

"Thank you again―" I stopped to breath fresh air as she stumbled back a bit and nodded. She was just as flustered as I felt... "You smell really, really... good."

Dawnette's POV

"That's your house?" I exclaimed once my eyes got a hold of the large mansion staring back at me.

"It is." Jasper confirmed with a firm nod and small, pasty smile.

I shook my head and crossed my arms. "You jiving me again, honey-blonde?"

This house was the house that Jasper Hale was staying in?

It was good looking. Like a tall glass of water with three ice cubes on a hot summer day. Painted an off-white, decorated with cedar. Modern and stylish, three-stories.

What was I doing here?

Oh, nothing.

Just that honey-blonde offered me to ride back to his place and get Bella's truck fixed. Said his other brother (apparently he had two adoptive brothers) loved fixing cars and was a self-made mechanic. It was wonder how he even managed to get this truck all the way over here. But I figure why not let the dude fix my cousin's truck and get a glimpse into his home-life?

Kill two birds with one stone.

Risk it, to get the biscuit.

Even though I claimed 'fuck him' because of the incident this morning.

"No ma'am, I'm not." Jasper nodded once again, opening the door to Bella's rusty orange truck.

"Mhm. Yet you still call ma'am, huh." I sass, pursing my lips. He swiftly walked over to my side and extended his hand. I stared at it for a moment before grasping it. Nice tight grip. Smooth palms. Soft fingertips. Cold hands.

"Sorry ma'am―I mean Dawnette." He looked down at our hands still intertwined together. His grip tightened and I tightened mine, too.

"Call me Dawn." I mumbled, my eyes never looking away from our hands. The contrast of our skin tones, the way the fit perfectly together. The way they looked so uniformed, locked like that.

I never wanted to let it go, though. And I was hoping Jasper didn't either.

Girl, you better stop. Alice in Wonderland held this same hand this morning, remember?

You right, self-conscious... but I'm holding it now.

He guides me up the three steps leading to the mahogany-clad glass doors―still holding my hand. Which made me giddy as hell.

Jasper chirped, bowing his head slightly, honey-blonde curls following suit. "After you, ma'am―Dawn."

Sadly, I let go of his hand to allow myself to walk in. And that shit hurt. It felt like I was giving away my soul.

Plus my hand felt frozen. He was so damn cold.

That cold front must have really been moving in―on his hands.

I walked around the vast living room, impressed with the color schemes; brown, crème, tan, gold. It was on point. And the use of African artifacts... I turn to Jasper, who I could sense was watching my every move.

"Damn, you part African or something?" I placed a hand on my hip. "Or just trying to appropriate?"

"Esme―my... adoptive mother―she does a lot of traveling. Nigeria is her favorite part of Africa and she just likes to decorate with things she finds appealing." Jasper explained, his southern tone brewing at the top of his voice. "As for culture appropriation*―Esme appreciates but stays in her respective zone. She wouldn't come from Africa trying to be an African or take up their culture as her own, let alone disrespect it."

Regular POV

Dawnette soaked in everything the honey-blonde vampire said, cocking her head to the side.

Decent mother, at least. She thought to herself, before sassing, "And what about you, Jazz?" She wanted to hear his opinions―and it was no surprise that Jazz came out as a sneer―She was still salty* about this morning and Alice in Wonderland.

Jasper must have noticed this, and wryly grinned at her. The feelings of annoyance and slight jealousy was just tugging on his empathic abilities―like a tug-of-war match. "I take it you're not to fond of my nickname, ma'am." He was at her side as he explained, "But, nah. You wouldn't catch me one day deciding to dreadlock my hair and wear Rastafarian colors, claiming to be one. I'm just me. Plain ol' Jasper Hale."

He gestured to himself, another small grin plastering on his marbled face, and then motioned for her to follow.

"Well spoken." Dawnette noted, shrugging her shoulders once.

"Thank you―"

"Dawn." She interrupted him before he could bust out the ma'am.

Jasper smiled a cheeky smile that made his butterscotch―hell yeah, Dawn noticed the fact that the turned dark before―eyes twinkle under the dim lights of the home's living room. "Dawn." He articulated her name as if he was taste testing an expensive wine.

It sent tingles up-and-down her spine at the way her name rolled from his tone―that southern accent booming.

Dawnette followed Jasper up a grand staircase, her fingertips roaming over the polished wood and different furniture pieces. He stopped in front of a door in the middle of the hallway and opened it, gesturing for her to walk inside.

"Cool room but this big bed?" His bedroom was painted a dark burgundy color, with dark carpets instead of hard, cherry wood floors like the rest of the house. One large, gaping window that showed the miles of forest and woods that the house was surrounded by. Like her room back at her uncle Charlie's house.

Sparsely decorated with mahogany wood items and that hulking, king sized bed in the middle of the room.

"I sleep wild..." Jasper trailed off, his eyes gawked at her.

"I see." She whispered, looking around the room.

When she turned to face him, he was closer than she expected and she slammed directly into him. It was like stumbling back and hitting a wall―of course, there was the part of that incident where after you hit the wall, you'd bounce off of it and before she could, he grabbed her arm, steadying her, which made sure she didn't fall―in the process pulling her impossibly closer.

Being this close to him made her skin prickle.

That simple accident that conspired in less than five seconds, was like a chain reaction. An atom splitting.

Because all she could do is stare into his eyes and all he could do was gaze back into hers. And her smell. She scent was so damn good that Jasper Whitlock stopped breathing. The air was so fucking thick with her smell―the cotton, the honey-suckle, the exotic fruits... her permeating arousal... He had to stop breathing. He had to hold in his breath because his arm was slowly wounding around her wide hips and slender waist, his long and nimble fingers gingerly trailing over the small of her back... he was hard. And he didn't give a shit if she felt it, either. He didn't care about fixing her cousin's truck or about his family out hunting. He only wanted her. His Nailah. And she wanted him. Her Major.

It was silent... the only thing heard being Dawnette's hitched breaths escaping her parted lips every second or so.

For her, she had no idea once-so-ever on what was going on between her and this boy. He incited such feelings from her―overly intense feelings that sent her over the edge. Three days. Not two weeks. Not a month. Not a year. Three days been in town. And in those three days, she never thought she'd dream such a passionate dream about a complete stranger, nor be this close to said stranger that didn't feel like a stranger―especially after what he did this morning, which pissed her off.

Any guy that pissed her off, it was a bye.

But for him?

Mr. Jasper Hale?

She changed that. And she changed her own fucking code for this nigga and don't know why.

It felt right.

But this right here? Him holding her like this was gonna' get them both in trouble.

Dawnette saved them both when she blurted out over the silence as her eyes roamed down to his lean arms wrapped tightly around her waist, firm hands resting on the small of her back... inches away from her ass, "I've never heard of an Alaskan with a southern accent."

Was it wrong for her to want him to grab it? Yes, it is! Dawn screamed inside. But... his hands... the way he's holding me... Lord, please. I'm about to catch the Holy Ghost...

Jasper blinked twice and resumed breathing again, "What was that?"

He seemed to have realized he was holding her so close and hadn't released his hold on her, Jasper slowly let her go and took a step back. The feeling causing a small rip to sear right through his dead heart.

The tension between them, the chemistry, his hardness, their want and passion they had for each other just a few seconds ago complete disappeared―Jasper dulled his and her senses, making them both completely feel like none of that happened.

"Ya' accent," she mocked, trying to sound southern. "Bitches―people at school 🐝 like, you and whoever your family is... are from Alaska."

Jasper shifted before simply saying, "I... date back to the south."

"Same. Georgia for me." - "Cordele." Other than Forks for summers and any type of school breaks she got off, Dawn was a Georgia baby. Something her mom said about living there for generation after generation?

Jasper was thoughtful of that, a dreamy smile plastering on his face, "I've been there before. Plenty of times. You must be used to the heat."

She snickered, roaming fingers through her short curls, "Hell yeah! Why you think I went for the short look?"

"I was wondering that―you looked beautiful with your long curls... still look it even with 'em short like that."

"You speak as if..."

"I speak as if I could see you with them." Jasper quickly interjected. "Sorry if that was―"

"No... it's fine." Dawn brushed it off, with a wave of her hand.

She motioned to his bed.

"May I?"

"Please." Jasper nodded quietly.

Dawnette gently took a seat on the big bed cast off in the middle of his burgundy painted room. "You know, I might just let you keep that flannel."

She smiled, trying to lighten the mood a bit. It was either awkward around them or tense; awkward or tense with emotions.

"It looks good on you. Better than it looks on me." She added, letting dark brown eyes look at each aspect of him in her clothing. It was an L-sized shirt that she picked up in the men's section at the Albany mall in Georgia. It looked good on her and she liked certain baggy clothing, so she got it along with the rest of the outfits brought that day.

And with it on Jasper, even though it was baggy on her, it fit him like a glove. The flannel, which he rolled up to his elbows, complimented his lean body. He was good-looking. And not just the weird, honey-blonde that thought it was cool to constantly look like he was in pain and have a staring contest/play mental Dawnette-Says.

Dawnette was quiet, looking up at Jasper who towered over her. His scarred, marbled face was blank as if he wasn't even here. But it was okay, because Dawn used to do that too. Go to a different world in the back of her mind. Except she didn't wince like he did just now.

She shot up the instant the honey-blonde shivered like he just had been shot with a jolt of electricity.

"Something wrong, Jasper?" Dawn questioned, automatically grabbing a hold of his hand, squeezing tightly.

"Just a migraine." He sighed heavily, pinching his temples when she let his hand go.

"Here. Sit back." Smiling sheepishly, Dawnette pat her lap with both hands, an ominous clapping sound coming from her thick thighs. "I'll massage your temples."

At the sudden request, Jasper was already on the floor before she could even blink, but he was skeptical, murmuring, "Ma'am, I don't think―

"I ain't licensed. But I do massage good. Trust my hands." She pat her thighs again, flexing her dainty fingers.

"Ok―ay." He slurred his words the moment her warm fingertips touched his frozen temples, massaging them in a circular motion. She sat above him on the bed, and he sat on the carpeted floors of his bedroom; but she motioned for him to scoot closer, with his body resting in between her legs.

It was weird, though.

It's not everyday that she offers to massage someone's temples. But as said so many times before, it felt right. Everything with him felt right. She barely knew this dude. But damn.

She was into it as much as he was into it. She was applying the right amount of softness and pressure to his temples, soothing his headache. Hell, Jasper didn't even have one anymore the moment she touched his head.

"What kind of music do ya' like?" Jasper found himself asking.

Dawnette answered with a soft laugh. "My music taste consists of songs I play on repeat until I get tired of hearing them and the lyrics are stuck in my head."

"And hobbies?"

"Anything." She sighed. "And you?"

"The same goes for me." He smirked.

Jasper chuckled and Dawn joined in.

To him, it was nostalgia. After the Confederate surrendered in the war and he broke off from Maria for those couple of months to stay with Nailah, they'd sit on the porch of the house he built her, just basking in each other's feelings. Jasper would feel the love from her and he'd emit the love right back with his empathic abilities he figured he had.

And when he'd get his migraines from feeling too much from her and others, she'd massaged his temples.

This was his Nailah. There was no doubt about it.

And once his head stopped hurting... he'd slowly trail kisses up her thighs... and somehow, he subconsciously found himself doing that right now.

Dawnette froze in place, her eyes widened and breath hitched once she felt Jasper's cool lips on her thigh. And how he slowly trailed his lips up her thigh.

She moaned slightly at the feeling of his cool breath―even through her wool tights, she could feel his lips.

She lay down, her back fitting the soft mattress―Jasper appearing to hover over her, his lips inching towards hers.


Theme song of chapter

Walk Til' You're Dead by FKA twigs

Two Weeks by FKA twigs


*―references

Culture Appropriation ― The act of taking customs, practices, or traditions from one culture (usually by a member of a dominant culture) to either mock or simplify the meaning or significance of that piece of culture. Also, taking/wearing something from another culture and appreciating it only when it is not on the body of a member of that culture.

Salty ― pissed, upset


A/N:

Damn, I hit y'all with the major cliff-hanger.

What did you all think? This one took a while too because I wanted the right words to be said.

Anyways, what did you all think? Intense? Funny? Crazy? What's going to happen next?

Review and let me know! I have a goal of at least 30 before the next chapter. Let's reach it again!

Thanks For Reading!

Stay tooned for the next chapter! It gets very, very intense.

Kumi-Chan/Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan