Time for the first of my regular summer updates! Sorry that I keep disappearing for the school year, I just have eleven thousand jobs/extracurriculars/etc. on top of my full class load. This may be the last time it happens though, keep your fingers crossed for me to continue updating indefinitely.

Have you ever made what you're pretty sure is the right decision only to spend the rest of your life wondering how things would have worked out if you had tried the other option? Bella has, although she lasted exactly eight and a half days before realizing she made a mistake. Featuring a Quileute party, Angeleah, and some secret werewolf drama. For more deets on those, try the latest chapter of Gratitude!

I spent Saturday writing a list of reasons it was important that I focus on my future.

Pursue dream of journalism.

Make a difference.

Live in warm place.

Avoid life being threatened by overexposure to predators.

Not be stuck in Forks! I underlined that twice. I didn't have to follow that thought to its conclusion; I already knew where it was heading. Not be my mother. I didn't write that one down.

Balanced against all that was only my sadness at not having the Cullens—at not having Edward—in my life. At not exploring their world further. I wanted him—them—to be a part of my life but… I had to be practical. Journalistic instincts were good, but letting them distract me from my plan to get to a place where I could write about anything I wanted would be a mistake.

I tore the list out of my notebook and crumpled it. Why was I trying so hard to convince myself? I didn't need to be convinced. I had weighed all the factors and made the most practical decision—not the stupid one that made other people happy at my expense, but the smart one. The one that made the most sense for me.

I ignored the fact that there was still a part of me that was deeply, profoundly, unhappy.

My phone alarm rang, letting me know that it was seven—almost time to leave for Jacob's. I had never been to a party before, though I had seen plenty in the movies. I didn't know what to wear or what to bring. Nothing I owned seemed appropriate. I settled for black jeans and a dark flannel, hoping I wouldn't look too out of place among the Quileutes. I never wore makeup, but I dug through my closet until I found a (well out-of-date) tube of eyeliner that Jackie had bought me and tried it on, grimacing at myself in the mirror.

I don't look like myself, I thought. No, that was silly. I was wearing the same clothes that I had worn since moving to Forks. I shook my head, determined to ignore the thought. Tonight was about distracting myself from the chaos that seemed to follow me everywhere these days.

I met the eyes of the girl in the mirror and nodded firmly.

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It was 7:55 when I pulled into the Blacks' driveway. I felt self-conscious as I clambered out of the truck and made my way over to the door—this was the first time I had been to this house in years. Everything looked smaller than I remembered.

I knocked; the door flew open to reveal Jacob's grinning face before I had even finished. "Bellaaaaa," he greeted me, yanking me in for a hug. "You're here for our movie night!"

"I'm—what—" I caught sight of Billy over Jacob's shoulder, and stuttered to a stop. "Um, yes, our movie night. Did you decide what we were going to watch?"

"Superbad, obviously. Best movie of last year. I've had it on hold at Blockbuster for weeks." He dragged me into the dark living room. I let him.

"I don't need to stick around and chaperone, do I?" Billy asked, chuckling. He was wearing a jacket, looking as though he were ready to leave.

Jacob scowled. "Of course not," and then he used a word that I didn't know but sounded grumpily affectionate; Billy laughed. "Harry's here," he added, as headlights swept across the living room window. "Win your poker game, or whatever it is you do every weekend."

Billy waved dismissively. "Charlie's on a roll these days, hasn't lost yet this month."

I hadn't known that my father played poker with his friends, but I supposed I wasn't surprised. He would be good at it, I thought—he was who I had inherited my flat resting face from. "You can beat him," I said aloud, trying to sound playful. "Charlie's got a soft spot for you."

"Maybe I will," Billy said, looking more thoughtful than my comment warranted. "You kids enjoy your movie."

He wheeled out the door, and I waited until it was closed behind him. "Movie night? I thought—"

"Plausible deniability," Jacob said, overenunciating each word dramatically. "Everyone's happy."

"So we aren't watching a movie."

"Oh, we're absolutely watching this movie. Like I said, best of last year—and it's rude to show up to a party early anyway."

I had no idea whether that was really a part of party etiquette, but I supposed there was no point in arguing. "Okay, start her up."

We each chose a comfortably worn recliner and settled in for the next two hours.

My first impression of the party was that it was loud. Jacob didn't quite touch my elbow as he steered us through the crowded kitchen; around us, teenagers talked and flirted while sipping from beer bottles and red cups. I already hated it.

Jacob pressed a half-full cup into my hand and I sipped it. Jackie and I had stolen her mother's tequila and margarita mix a couple of times during sleepovers in Phoenix, but this didn't have the same bite. "What is this?"

"Embry's famous jungle juice. Go easy on it, would ya?"

I didn't know what that was, but I took another sip. It was like drinking fruit juice, although I couldn't tell what kind of fruit it was. Maybe several of them. Hoping that the living room would be a little less overwhelming, I pushed my way through a knot of people talking in the doorway. The room was dimly lit and emptier, if not quieter—the speakers hummed with something deep and bassy.

"Bella!"

I spun around, feeling a little disoriented. Angela was breaking off from a trio of dancers, still wearing the red dress she had picked out for the dance, though she had ditched the shoes. She caught my arm and steered me to the side of the room, away from the unmarked dance floor. "Hi!" I said, feeling overwhelmingly grateful that she was there.

"I didn't know you were coming!" she said, putting her mouth close to my ear so I could hear her without yelling.

"I didn't know you were coming either!" I said, loudly. "Is the dance over already?"

"I wasn't feeling it," she said, shrugging. "Everyone else was having a good time, though."

I couldn't suppress a giggle. "Oops. Sorry. It's not funny." I was feeling a little warm, so I took another sip of my drink, staring around at the house. "Do you go to parties a lot?"

Angela laughed softly. "No, not often. A couple of times a year. I… wanted to run into someone here."

My head felt a little fuzzy, so I abandoned my cup on the mantelpiece. "Oh yeah?"

She flushed. "It's nothing."

"Okay." It felt uncomfortable to be pushy. This is not good journalism, the voice in my head whined, but I ignored it. "Are there usually this many people here?"

She laughed again. "Bella, this is pretty small. There are—what, twenty people here? If that. Usually it isn't a party unless at least forty show up."

I tried to imagine forty people in the space and couldn't. "That sounds hellish."

"It's still not that many. Most of the Forks kids don't party and most of the Quileutes prefer to hang out without us anyway."

"Oh." I couldn't really think of anything else to say, so I leaned back against the wall. Angela seemed content to let the conversation die. She took another sip of her drink, eyes on the kitchen door.

The door slammed open. A minute later, a Quileute girl slipped into the living room. I heard Angela's fingers tighten around her plastic cup.

"You look killer," she said, in a low voice. I was surprised that the girl could hear her over the music, but her head whipped around and she stared at Angela. We were wearing almost the exact same outfit, but her jeans were ripped and her flannel looked comfortably worn. I felt like a poser, wishing I could be wearing the light blouse and capris I had gotten used to in Phoenix.

"The murdering kind, I assume, since the hot kind is clearly taken."

Angela actually blushed. I stared at her, wondering if this was who she had wanted to run into. "I came straight from the dance."

The girl looked angry for some reason. "Yeah, nobody told me that I would be headed straight from the docks to a party, either."

I felt like I should try to be friendly. "You work at the docks?"

"No." She glanced at me, eyes dark. "I was trying to be funny."

I leaned back against the wall, feeling deflated. I'm really not that good at making connections, am I?

Beside me, Angela laughed softly. "I get it." The girl looked angrier, and I wondered what was going on. "You've got a little something on your face."

"What?"

"A frown."

The girl's face lit up. She laughed, suddenly transformed by her good humor. "I deserved that."

"Bad day?" Angela looked sympathetic, an expression I recognized from many conversations with her.

"Ex." The girl flapped a hand toward the kitchen, and Angela nodded.

"Sorry."

"Want to go outside for a while?" The girl cut her eyes at me, and I wondered if I was invited. I didn't think so.

"I'd love to," Angela said, then hesitated. "Will you be okay, Bella?"

"Yeah," I replied, hoping it didn't sound like the lie that it was. "Go on."

Angela pushed away from the wall, holding a hand out to the girl. I didn't stare. "C'mon."

They slipped out the door together and I let out a breath, feeling abandoned. The conversation in the kitchen was getting louder—I could hear Jacob's voice in the hubbub. I thought about seeking him out, but couldn't bring myself to walk back into the kitchen. I looked down at my hands, wishing that I hadn't come. This wasn't my scene.

"I haven't seen you around before," a low voice said beside me. I jumped, glancing up quickly to see one of the older Quileute boys in front of me.

"Um, hi," I said, feeling awkward. "I just moved."

"No shit," he said, sounding impressed. His eyes were dark and piercing, and I had trouble looking away from him. "Where from?"

"Phoenix." His attention was making me uncomfortable.

"Really? What's it like there?"

"Hot."

He laughed like I'd made a joke. I couldn't imagine why. "Just like you."

"Oh, um," I stuttered, taken aback. "Um, no—"

"C'mon," he said, getting a little closer. "I'm just joking around."

Edward's face flashed into my mind; I remembered our long conversations, and how thoughtful and interesting they had been. I felt at ease around him—much more than I should, given his dangerous nature. I missed him.

He leaned a hand on the wall, boxing me in. "I'm Paul. It's nice to meet you—"

I felt forced to reply. "Bella."

"Bella. What a beautiful name."

Voices were raised in the kitchen. An upset girl, an urgent guy. Paul's attention was diverted; he scowled in the direction of the altercation, and I felt relieved.

"—leave me alone—"

"Maybe you should go see if everything is okay?" I suggested, unsure whether I was more hopeful that he would fix the problem or just that he would leave.

He sucked in one cheek. Glanced between me and the kitchen, where the noise was getting louder. "To be continued, Bella."

I can't think of anything I'd like less. I knew it was a lie as soon as I thought it. There was one thing I'd like less. I just didn't want to admit it to myself.

As he headed back in the direction of the kitchen I felt strangely empty. I wasn't sure where Jacob was, but I wanted to go home. I leaned up against the wall and wished that I hadn't come.

A girl darted through the living room, calling for someone named Leah. A guy followed her. Through the half-open front door I heard the girl who had left with Angela snarling something. My new acquaintance hurried after them, glowering. I couldn't hear what was said, only the emotions—anger, desperation, more anger.

As quickly as it had begun, the crisis ended. The door swung back open to reveal only Angela remaining. She looked upset. That was shocking in and of itself; I couldn't remember the last time I had seen her without a smile.

I wanted to ask what had happened. I didn't. "Are you okay?"

"I think I'm just going to head home," she sighed. "I don't know what that was but I think the night is definitely ruined for me."

"Sorry," I said. "It sounded wild."

"Do you need a ride?" You could always count on Angela to be nice.

"Yeah, actually." I didn't want to go looking for Jacob—didn't want to ruin his party just because mine wasn't going so well. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all." She smiled, but the expression was off somehow. Fished out her keys. "Happy to help. Saying any goodbyes?"

I was not, so we headed out to her little car. I tucked my knees up on the seat and tried to compose a text to Jacob. hate ur parties but not u. No. not a party animal i guess. That was funny but still didn't quite get the message across. not in the mood tonight, got a ride home. thanks for the invite 3

It would have to do.

We sat in silence most of the way home, listening to Angela's stereo murmur in the darkness. I didn't recognize the songs, but they sounded sweet, maybe a little sad. It felt right. I caught a snippet of lyric—You're so much different than me, followed a second later by and it's love—and sighed.

"Something on your mind?"

A friend's car late at night was the kind of place you shared secrets, right? "I… met someone," I blurted out. "I thought it was just…" I struggled for a word, settled on one even though it wasn't quite right, "tutoring... and I ruined it, of course." I laughed, a little bitterly. "Too busy thinking about what might happen to notice what was happening." It felt strangely good to admit what had been gnawing at my mind this whole time. It wasn't just the opportunity to learn more about vampires that I was missing, it was one vampire in particular. "Sorry, it's stupid."

"Not at all," Angela sympathized. "I think falling in love with the right person at the right time is kinda rare." She stared through the windshield, looking like she was talking about something else. "It sucks, sorry."

"Yeah." It helped, somehow. A minute later we pulled up in front of Charlie's house. "Um, thanks."

"Anytime."

She waited until I was in the house to drive away.

I tucked myself into bed and stared at the ceiling. I felt like I was about to cry, but no tears came. How did I get myself into this? More importantly, how was I going to get myself out?