Chapter 4

[Author's Note: I haven't abandoned this. I still have sooooo much in store for it. I've just been busy with work and.. other.. things. lol Hope you enjoy. Things are about to get *spicy*. Don't give up on me. Esto es para ti. Todo lo que hago, lo hago por ti. 9 12-15-22-5 25-15-21.]

When I got home, my dad was playing cards with Billy Black at the kitchen table.

"Billy brought some of his famous fish fry," Charlie said to me as I came into the kitchen and put my keys and wallet on the counter by the door. "Made you a plate and put it in the oven."

Of course I wasn't hungry, but my politeness over threw my lack of appetite and I at least made an effort to eat. I liked Billy. He was my best friend's dad and I'd known him since I was a kid. He and Charlie often went fishing together and even though they were from two completely different walks of life, they got along like brothers. That's why the Dr. Cullen thing had struck such a chord with me. I understood platonic friendship- it was something I was always trying to maintain with Jake- and while that might have defined the relationship my dad had with Billy, that wasn't the case with Carlisle.

Halfway through my dinner, Charlie got a call from work and stepped into the living room to take it. Billy eyed me curiously while I finished but said nothing until I got up to wash my plate.

"Bella, do you have any plans tonight?" He asked, tapping his fingers on the worn table top.

A couple of scenarios crossed my mind, most of which either had me unconscious or completely dissociated with life and focused on my own mental torment. I would have been lying if I'd said I hadn't considered sitting by my bedroom window and staring apathetically out at the forest for an indefinite amount of time. I shrugged. "Not really. Why do you ask?"

"Jake wanted to know," he replied, nonchalantly. "Wanted me to tell you to go up to the shop and see him. He's got something to show you."

The Black family owned a mechanic shop on the Quileute Reservation and Jake worked there inbetween jobs. Most of the time, he did contract work around Washington state- plumbing, electric, carpentry. He was sort of a Jake of all trades.

"Did he say what?" I asked.

"Yes he did, but I'm not telling you what. More incentive for you to go," he said and winked. Then- "You oughta leave this house a little more often. Get out. Meet people. It'll help you."

"I do leave the house," I argued, sticking the plate in the strainer and then drying my hands on one of Charlie's old dish towels. It was so faded and thread bare I was almost positive he'd had it since my mother lived here with him twenty-something years ago. "I have a job now," I said, "Didn't Charlie tell you?"

"He did," was Billy's response. "But those aren't the sorts of people I mean for you to go meeting. Truly, if I had any say, I'd suggest you quit that job and stay away from that family."

"The Cullens?" I felt my eyebrows lift. Everything I'd heard about the Cullens had been positive, or at the very least respectful. The blatant disgust in his tone caught me completely off guard. What wasn't to like about them? I hadn't spent a great deal of time with Mr. Cullen and had yet to meet their teenage daughter, but Ms. Cullen seemed nice. Very nice.

"Yes," he basically hissed. "The Cullens." He was quiet for a moment and then he said, his tone serious, "Listen Bella, I know you're a grown woman and you can make your own decisions but don't get yourself caught in their trap. Charlie got stuck in a Cullen web many years ago and for a long time, I was worried he'd never be able to get out."

"A Cullen Web," I muttered to myself. "With Carlisle." Then, audibly, I asked, "What exactly happened back then? Do you know why Dr. Cullen left?"

Billy did not answer my question verbally, but instead gave me a sort of sullen look, a frown pulling at the sides of his mouth. This was enough to make me want desperately to pry, but my father's ill-timed return kept me from it. So instead of exacerbating an already awkward situation, I thanked Billy for bringing dinner and then excused myself to go upstairs to change. I swapped my cardigan for an oversized sweatshirt, my dress slacks for jeans and my pointed toe Italian leather penny-loafers for a pair of Vans. And then I went to see Jake.

I knew he loved me. I knew what he wanted from me was more than I would ever give him. But we cared about each other and though the spark of hope in his eyes often submerged me in guilt, I relied on his positive energy too much to let him go. And so I drove across the border onto the Quileute Reservation, and up the road to his house. I parked at the end of his dirt driveway and before I was even halfway to the door, he'd come to me, lifted me up and spun me around.

"Damn Bella," he said, "You barely weigh anything. Are you even eating?" He sat me back on my feet and looked down at me. At six foot seven, I barely came up to his chest. He put one of his big tanned hands on the top of my head and frowned. His russet face was framed in long straight ebony locks. "What are you now? Like four feet? Fifty pounds?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm five foot two, Jake. You know that. I've told you that. And I am eating. Your dad brought over his fish fry."

"Could've fooled me," he said, shrugging. His dark eyes rested on my face for a minute and then his gaze slid down to my arms. "Let me see your wrists."

My protest was a quietly murmured, "Jake.." But I didn't stop him when he took my hand, pushed up my sleeve and revealed the puckered white line paralleling my arm.

His calloused thumb traced the scar, and then satisfied with its healing, he combed his fingers through mine. "You've stopped that?"

"I never started that," I said. "It was a one time thing, I wasn't supposed to-" I cut myself off, licked my lips and carefully considered my choice of words. I had meant to be blunt with him, but the worry painting his expression led me to a different response. "I'm doing better," I lied. Then, in an effort to change the subject I said, "Billy told me you had something to show me?"

That did it. His twenty-six year old face lit up like a teenage boy. "What til you see," he said, and began to pull me up the hill to his father's garage. "You know that plumbing job I did in Tacoma last week? Guy had a 1983 MK1 Yamaha Venture Royale," he said. "And I bought it off of him for a good price."

He may as well have been speaking a different language to me but I was happy he was happy, and when he lifted the garage door and revealed a motorcycle it all made sense.

"Liquid cooled V4 engine, five speed transmission, full golden frame, brown leather seats and-" Jake went to stand by his prized possession and beamed at me proudly as he said, "The radio actually works."

In all actuality, I cared about motorbikes just as much as I cared about motorvehicles and that was really not at all. But he didn't show me to impress me. He was excited and I was his best friend. It was my duty to at least feign interest. The thing was aesthetically pleasing, at least, and it was enough for him when I went forward, stroked the seat with my fingertips and said, "It's really pretty."

"Wanna go for a ride?" He asked me, the worry plaguing him now replaced with a mischievous glint.

"To where?"

"To Emby's," he said. "He has something I need to pick up."

He drove fast, zipping in and out of curves. My arms were securely around his chest, my eyes closed, the wind in my hair. My dad would have lost it to see me riding without a helmet, but I didn't care and Jake didn't care and the freedom and risk was invigorating. My heart pounded the entire time. And though I knew that my mind should have been focused on my surroundings, my thoughts wandered and my wondering led me back to her.

Was there truly a chance that our interaction had been absolutely innocent? Was that possible following her "visceral" comment? Was she flirting with me? Was I losing my mind? Was she actually into me?

Embry grew and sold weed. He had a bag of bud for Jacob to pick up. As the sheriff's daughter, I really should have waited outside, but my curiosity and tendency to self-sabotage got the better of me. We went inside. Embry pulled me into a big bear hug and smooshed me against his chest. Quill and Paul, two of Jake's other friends, were seated on an old sofa, playing a fighting game. They offered greetings as well, in between furious controller button pressing.

"The prodigal Swan returns," Embry said, smirking. "Jake reel you back in?"

"When exactly was I reeled in before?" I asked him, tilting my head to the side.

He laughed and put up his hands in defense. "Hey, I didn't mean to imply anything," he told me. But he shot a look at Jake that definitely reflected some kind of implication.

"Cool it Em," was Jake's growl of a retort.

His friend's eyes retained suspicion, but he changed the subject as requested. "So you're back in Forks now?" he asked me. "For good?"

I shrugged. My long term plans were practically nonexistent. "I don't know."

"So what are you doing? Are you back at home? You're not still bartending in Seattle are you?"

I shook my head.

"She's a PA now," Jake told them. "And you'll never guess for who."

Embry looked to his friend with interest. "Who?"

"The Cullens," my best friend provided, his tone nearly as icy as his father's.

This caught even the attention of the two guys on the couch. Quill had one of his hands down in a bag of potato chips but he paused and looked at me, "You're working for them?" Paul's expression mirrored his friends'.

By that point, curiosity had gotten the better of me and I had to have some answers.

"Someone better fill me in," I said, falling down onto Embry's worn recliner. "Up until Jake's dad said something, I thought the Cullen's were revered."

"Revered?" Paul scoffed. "Because they paid for half the town? You can buy everyone else maybe, but not our tribe." His pals all grunted in agreeance.

"What is it?" I wanted to know. "Some kind of old family feud?"

The guys all exchanged looks and then shrugged almost simultaneously. "Pretty much," Embry said, "yeah."

Paul, the eldest of them, leaned forward and retrieved a long thin joint from the coffee table and lit it with a cheap black Bic lighter. He took a long drag and then exhaled it up, so that the curl of smoke swirled towards the ceiling. Then he looked at me. "Wanna smoke, Swan?"

Jake was behind my shoulder. He put one of his long fingered hands on my waist and said into my ear. "You know you don't have to if you don't want to. Charlie-"

"Isn't here," I finished as he lit it and took the first hit. "Yeah, I'll join."

—

I hadn't smoked in a few months and so naturally I got too high. So to keep me safe, Jake put his bike in the back of my truck and drove me back to Charlie's. It was close to midnight by the time we pulled up in front of his house and Billy's vehicle was gone. I assumed my father had gone to bed, but I still sat in the passenger's seat for a minute getting up the courage to go inside and check. I felt like a teenager again, afraid of breaking my curfew.

"I had a good time tonight Bella," he told me, both of his hands still tightly wrapped around the steering wheel. "It felt like old times. Like before you moved away and got so.." He hesitated, perhaps searching for the right word, and then he settled on, "busy."
"Busy," I echoed, unconvinced. "You mean, before I started dating Edward, don't you?"

He chuckled and ran one hand through his long shiny black hair. "Yeah," he replied, his tone sullen. "Before that happened."

I closed my eyes for a moment as the drug coursed through me and then I rolled my shoulders and took a deep breath. "Well," I told him, in an effort to clear out whatever aura had set up residence in the cab of my truck, "Edward and I are completely over. I don't want to have to resort to quoting Taylor Swift but.." I cleared my throat and with a stern expression I recited, "We are never ever ever getting back together."

Jake smirked at me. "Good." A few moments slipped past and then he said, "Do you remember how I used to help you climb out of your bedroom window in the middle of the night? We'd go to one of the beaches up on La Push and sit on the driftwood and-"

"Tell ghost stories," I said, "yes, I remember."

"Do you remember I told you one about the Cullens once?" he asked me. "It was right after you moved back to Forks full time. I was probably fifteen so that woulda made you sixteen or seventeen."

My mind was way too hazy from the weed to remember anything that far in the past so I shook my head. "No."

"Think real hard Bella," he said, "And when you remember tell me, okay?" He got out of the truck, came around to my side and opened my door. Before my feet were even touching the pavement, he'd crushed me against his chest in a tight bear hug. "I love you," he mumbled into my hair, "you know that?"

"Yes," I said, "I know that."

"If you wanted to," he went on, not loosening his grip at all, "I mean we could-"

He must have sensed me stiffening because he let me go and stepped back.

"I'm really high Jake," I told him.

His eyes were practically boring through me, but he did not press the issue. Instead he told me goodnight, made me promise to text him in the morning, got his bike out of the truck and disappeared down the street.

I'm not sure how I made it up to bed that night, but I fell in with my clothes still on and passed into a fitful sleep. I tossed and turned for hours and then woke up soaked in sweat. I practically had to peel my jeans off of my legs. My abstinence from smoking must have lowered my tolerance because I was still incredibly stoned. I got up and jerked the window open, desperate to feel the cool air on my face. Standing there, in a stiff ray of moonlight, I yanked off my sweater and tried to calm myself down. But nothing worked. I unhooked my bra and lay on top of my covers in nothing but my underwear. My heart was pounding. I shut my eyes and allowed the events of the day to drive recklessly through my mind. When my focus fell on her, it was like mentally slamming into a brick wall.

"I'm a purveyor of fine goods," she had said, "and recently I came across something I'm very interested in acquiring." Ugg… How could I resist what I was about to do? I could see her as clearly as if she were standing in front of me. Her eyebrows were slightly lifted, her perfect lips parted. I could see her breasts rise and fall with each breath she took. "I like your hair down." Her sultry purr, the way her mouth moved as she spoke, the way she looked at me. Like a meal. I jerked my underwear off, kicked them into the floor and put my hand between my thighs. The second the tip of my middle finger touched my clit, I audibly sighed and let my visions take me away.

Edward and I met in a Biology class in college. I'd been casually dating women for a year at that point. I told him that. He asked me if I was a lesbian and I said no. He was handsome and rich and polite and everything I should have wanted. Everyone (except Jake) said we looked good together. Even Charlie liked him. But the urges didn't stop and eventually the craving I had for women got in the way. Eventually, we discussed opening up the relationship and bringing in a third. But I didn't want to share.. with him. So we broke up. I spiraled, lost touch with reality and attempted suicide. I failed. I wound up back in Forks. I was miserable beyond belief, even high as hell.. But in her kitchen, with her fingers combing through my hair, none of that mattered.

I stroked my slit until I was slick and then I pushed two fingers inside of my wanting cunt. I imagined the way her face would look during pleasure- the way her eyebrows would furrow, the way her lip would twitch. I pumped and without meaning to, felt myself mouth her name. Rose.. I brought my fingers out, rubbed myself until I was sighing, and then shoved them back in, eliciting a quiet gasp. I thought about her gorgeous blonde hair creating a curtain around my face as she lowered herself over me, her perfect fingers stroking my dripping hole, threatening to slip in, to claim. My legs were wide open, my hips involuntarily lifting to meet my own thrusting digits. I brought my other hand up and cupped my bare breast, rolling it in my palm, wondering what it would feel like to feel her lips wrap around my hardened nipple. Pleasure took over and I writhed, eroticism leading me to a quickly building orgasm. When the wave of euphoria finally crashed over me, I said her name again, and again and again. Rose, Rose.. Rosalia Cullen..

When my eyelids fluttered open in the dreamy afterglow, at first I saw only the open window and the softly fluttering curtains. The weed and the climax had me out of my mind. That's why, when my drunken gaze fell on her, I didn't scream. Instead, I sucked in a ragged breath. Why would I be afraid in the presence of an angel? She was leaned against my bookshelf, her arms crossed over her generous bosom. When our eyes met, the edge of her mouth lifted very slightly. She was even more gorgeous than I had envisioned her. She was the kind of beautiful that made me physically ache. There I was, completely naked, my fingers glistening with my own cum and she was poised like some kind of goddess. I didn't think I could be any more taken by her- and then she spoke.

"Was that for me Baby?" she asked, her whisper verging on a growl. My lips parted to speak but in the way of a dream, I couldn't get the words out. She understood me somehow regardless. Her smile became more pronounced and when she spoke again, her accent twisting her words enticingly, I nearly peaked again. "Good girl," she cooed, "Now taste."

—-