Chapter III
Erin Purser
"You, you ran him over?" Quil was trying to remain serious, but the smile that tugged on his lips was giving him away.
The car's heating was on fall blast, and I was bundled up in four layers, and I felt like a plump marshmallow. Quil was beside me in a cotton shirt.
Quil had taken me for a milkshake at the local diner, and we'd met Embry for lunch.
"I think you've just made my day; no scrap that you have made my week, Erin!" He exclaimed, his voice thick with laughter. The laughter made his face crease with lines.
I remained rigid in the passenger seat in astounded disbelief.
"This is not funny, Quil," I grunted, feeling my eyes beginning to sting with emotion.
He turned his head towards me; his mouth had softened upon realising my distress.
"I'm sorry, no, it's not funny... It's fucking hilarious! You must have really pissed him off because he hasn't even mentioned it," he said, smiling gleefully at the information I'd provided.
Quil was my best friend. He may have been Noah's friend first, but he is definitely mine now.
"I nearly killed someone, Quil. You aren't understanding the gravity of the situation." I began pushing back the lump in my throat. "I could have gone to jail; he could have been hospitalised." I began to gasp, feeling my breathing hitch.
A burn crept up my throat, and something ached deep in my chest. I couldn't even bring myself to say his name aloud. Jacob.
He set an uncomfortably warm hand on my knee but withdrew it swiftly as my eyes widened in horror at the physical contact. It burned even through my jeans and thermals.
I didn't like being touched.
"Hey, look there he is." Quil leant forward, honking down on the horn, which had me recoiling into the seat at the horrible sound. "You should go apologise. Will that stop you from getting so angsty? Your real skittish today, Erin," he accused, waving Jacob towards the car.
Of-course Jacob would be at the diner.
"Apologise?" I wailed.
"Yeah, you know, say sorry. Like you said, you could have totally killed him," he mocked.
"This is not funny, Quil," I hissed.
"Oh, Quil, oh my, what have you done? He's coming. Quil, stop him. Quil, do something!" I rushed the words, tripping over the sentence as I looked at the towering man approaching the car.
My hands flapped, insisting on each word. The seat-belt kept me pinned to the chair.
Quil looked over at me. His smile began to fade, and concern replaced the initial humour.
"Erin, it's just Jacob Black." He bit down on his lip as he heard my gasp.
It wasn't just Jacob Black.
It was the man who awoke feelings in me I'd never encountered before and sent my anxiety to dizzying heights. I'd dreamt of him every night since I was about eleven. Around the same time, I was first hospitalised for an anxiety attack. And, oh, how things had progressed from there.
From head to toe, my body began to go numb as the man lumbered towards the vehicle with a frown across his rugged face. He hated me.
Just like Quil, he was not dressed for the subzero temperatures.
My heart rhythm became unsteady, and palpitations rocked me in the chair as my limbs shook. The doctor had told me this was from the stress hormones adrenaline and cortisol flooding my system at the initial instance of the panic attack. My muscles tense, and then as the stressors fade, the shakes begin.
"Erin?" Quil asked doubtfully, his hands fanning, hesitant to dare touch me again.
Quil always tried so hard with my anxiety when I was younger. But I'd kept a lot from him; I'd gotten better at masking as I grew up.
I gasped my breaths as my face met Quil's, and I watched the colour drain from him as I sat splayed out rigidly against the seat.
"Hey, it's okay," he soothed. Okay? It was anything but.
The door opening flooded the car with a gust of December chill and had me escalating into a gasping fit. I rasped for air, unwillingly inhaling the musty scent of engine oil, trees, and cologne.
"Jake" Quil stated more than greeted him with a sheepish look. "Erin wanted to say hi and apologise for killing you, almost," he laughed as he spoke.
"You kept that one quiet," Quil added with a nervous laugh.
I forced my head to move, my eyes wide, and they jerked open. I looked towards Black, expecting a sneer or face of amusement to meet me.
"Is this because of what happened with the car bonnet the other month? You really need to let it go." His words were light, but his face was serious, and his eyes drew into mine searchingly.
He was referring to one of our previous encounters.
Jacob had avoided me since I'd been old enough to stop hanging around with Noah and be able to stay home alone.
We hadn't had many encounters in the meantime.
He'd not been on the reservation much this past year.
But he had been at the garage the other month, and I'd been hanging around waiting for Noah to close up. Noah asked me to shut the lid on a car Jacob had been working on.
Jacob had told me he'd get it, calling to me from the office where they were cashing up and locking the safe.
I had stubbornly pretended not to hear him.
I, of course, didn't know how to shut a bonnet. Well, Noah had shown me a few times, but I wasn't to be relied upon when it came to anything car-related.
I'd dropped the bonnet hatch on myself.
I had needed stitches at the hospital from the cut, and the bruising had lasted weeks.
The look Jacob gave me right now did strange things to parts of my body I didn't want to think about. It sent me into full hyperventilation. I clawed at my neck, sending searing scratches down as I attempted to breathe. Pulling the scarf that I'd would around myself free and inhaling every inch of cool air I could force down.
It was as if the car was closing in around me. The space felt constricted and narrow. Perhaps if I could prise myself free, I would be safe. But my body was unable to shift; it remained pinned back against the seat, and my breathing hitched.
The minutes rolled on in silence, and the attack continued. The car was crumpling inwards; I was being squashed; I was going to die; and I just sat there.
A feather touch had me blinking back the tears.
Large, calloused fingers, darkened with car oil, rested against my wrist. My breaths became shallow, and the air restriction made my vision fuzzy.
I processed it as Black's fingers resting against my pulse. His thumb began to rub a small circle around it. His touch was burning, but I couldn't pull away.
The impending crushing of the car had paused. My mind had grasped that I wasn't going to die; the car wasn't caving in.
No. Instead, I was being soothed by Jacob Black, and I couldn't decide which sensation was more disturbing.
My heart remained in sudden, rapid beats, but the palpitations had evened out, and I felt the colour begging to return to my face. Hot, red, embarrassed colour.
Emotions were crawling in my stomach, causing a surge of hormones that were making me feel light.
"You have got to show me how to do that." Quil muttered as if I were invisible. Jacob's thumb had stilled, but his grasp on my arm remained.
Had Jacob just brought me out of a panic attack? Again!
I turned slowly to look at him. My face was thick with sweat, and I could sense the red splodges that would have covered my neck. My chest remained rising and falling dramatically. I was exhausted.
He looked at me with a dark glare. Bordering somewhere between hatred and loathing. It made my eyes sting again as he released my wrist.
"Erin, was that one of those things again?" Quil seemed nervous about the question. He'd seen it before, a long time ago. I'd been good at hiding my anxiety attacks from them all.
Only Brian and Noah seemed to know how bad it was, and Jacob, it would seem.
"You mean a panic attack?" Jacob answered, his voice raspy. "Princess here had a panic attack. She clearly has anxiety issues," he said scornfully, his words harsh.
Anxiety issues!
Princess!
My mouth made a perfect 'O' as I looked between the pair who were discussing me with the bluntness revered by medical professionals.
"I have not got anxiety issues!" I roared, my voice flaring into a hysterical wail at Black.
The height of Quil's car had us at eye level, and I knew he could see the tears that were collecting in my lashes.
"Erin," Quil warned. "Jacob was just trying to help," he corrected me, defending his other friend.
I closed my eyes, ignoring the pair, and refocused on my breathing.
Inhale. Hold, hold, hold, hold. Exhale. Inhale. Hold, hold, hold, hold. Exhale. Inhale. Hold, hold, hold. Exhale.
"I don't need help," I whispered to no one but myself, opening my eyes.
The car felt too constricted to be in anymore, and the far safer option for me would be to walk home.
Unclipping my belt, I shifted forward, grabbing the rucksack from the foot-well and shuffling towards the edge of the seat.
Jacob looked pissed now—majorly pissed.
He hadn't always been this moody. Not when we used to play down on the beach when we were younger.
He didn't move from my path, and I was too nervous to speak to him again following my outburst.
I slid down in front of him, my body brushing against his, provoking a disturbing, tingling reaction.
Something rumbled from him, and his eyes were pure ice now. I stared into them, momentarily lost.
"Erin, where are you going now?" Quil leaned over to shout at me as I sidestepped Jacob.
"I'm walking home," I admitted, slinging the heavy rucksack over my shoulders. The thing felt as if it weighed as much as me. It sat uncomfortably behind the parka coat and many other layers.
"The hell you are; after that episode, you'll get yourself killed," he argued over Jacob's head, who remained facing into the car, ignoring me. "You are not in a fit state."
"Quil, over thirty-two thousand people are killed in road traffic collisions in America every year. It is far safer to walk. Cars are dangerous," I answered, stepping forward into the strong wind.
I could hear Jacob's throaty laugh and watched him shake his head back and forth.
My life was spent trying to avoid anything dangerous.
Drugs.
Alcohol.
Smoking.
Cars.
Motorbikes.
Boats.
Planes.
Animals.
People.
Feelings.
Boys.
Lifts.
Heights.
Woodland.
Germs.
Storms.
Water.
Sex.
And Jacob Black, especially Jacob Black.