Chapter 1: I Dream of Bella

As Jake drove along the winding roads toward Forks, the towering evergreens lining the highway blurred past his windows, their dark green needles casting long shadows across the road. The sharp scent of pine filled the air, mingling with the earthy smell of damp soil from last night's rain. But Jake's mind was elsewhere—lost, as it often was, in thoughts of the girl who had captured his heart: Bella Swan. The rhythmic hum of the engine synced with his thoughts, his excitement building the closer he got to her. The gray sky overhead cast a pale, muted light over the dense forest, but in his mind, it was Bella's radiant face that he saw, as if she were bathed in sunlight, the world brightening around her.

He'd known Bella since they were children, their lives intertwined through family bonds and countless shared memories. Back then, she had been just a sweet, easy-going girl, always quick with a smile, someone who made him laugh without even trying. She had been the kind of girl who could brighten the dullest day with her infectious energy and playful spirit. But things had changed last year, when Bella had returned to Forks to live permanently with her father, Charlie. Something inside Jake had shifted the moment he laid eyes on her again.

He could still remember the way she had smiled at him that first day, standing on her porch, her long, dark hair catching the late afternoon light. The way it framed her face, soft and shining, seemed almost surreal, like something out of a dream. Her eyes had been gentle, kind, as if they saw right through him but didn't judge. The moment had struck him like lightning, and everything else around him had blurred into the background. It was as if the universe had shifted just for him, aligning in that brief, perfect second when her gaze met his.

All he could see, imprinted deep in his mind, was her face—angelic, breathtakingly perfect. She wasn't just beautiful in the way that made people glance twice on the street. No, Bella had the kind of beauty that lingered long after she left the room, the kind that made your heart ache just thinking about her. There was something so effortlessly captivating about her that it felt almost out of reach, like she was a distant star just beyond his grasp. Every line of her face, the gentle curve of her lips when she smiled, had been seared into his memory. Every time he closed his eyes, it was Bella he saw, her smile like a beacon in the darkness, pulling him back to her no matter how far he went, no matter how long they were apart.

But no matter how often that smile flashed in his mind, reality always came crashing back down. Despite his best efforts, Jake had failed, over and over again, to convince Bella to see him as anything more than just a friend. He had tried in small ways, subtle at first, then more obvious as time went on, hoping to catch her attention in a way that made her see him differently. But it never worked. The moment her eyes met his, he knew—he was stuck. It was as if, from the very start, she had placed him squarely in that dreaded zone: the friend zone.

He could still hear her voice in his head, soft and sweet, trying to let him down easy. The memory was sharp, the sting of it fresh every time he thought about it. Bella had smiled at him—that smile—and told him she liked him, that he was great. But not in the way he wanted. She had spoken with such care, as if trying to cushion the blow, but it hadn't made a difference. "You're more like a little brother to me," she had said, her tone gentle but final. "A close family friend."

That phrase had hit him harder than anything. Like a little brother. He could still feel the weight of those words pressing down on him, boxing him in with no way out. No matter how much he cared about her, no matter how deeply he wanted her, she would never see him that way. To her, he was someone she could laugh with, confide in, even lean on—but not someone she could ever imagine dating.

Jake had replayed that conversation in his mind a thousand times, searching for some kind of loophole, some crack in the wall she'd built between them, but there was none. To Bella, he was safe. Comforting. Familiar. And that was the worst part.

And then, to Jake's dismay, Bella had inexplicably started dating the town's golden boy, Edward Cullen. Jake couldn't believe it. It was as if someone had punched him in the gut when he first heard the news. He had watched from the sidelines, helpless, as Bella's attention shifted entirely to Edward. Each time he saw them together, it gnawed at him, a frustration that built steadily in his chest. He understood why girls found Edward attractive—he had that clean-cut, brooding charm, the kind that seemed to pull people in without much effort. The guy was polished, with that mysterious air that made him seem unattainable, like he wasn't even trying to be liked but somehow was. But there was something about Edward that never sat right with Jake. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, like he was always just a little too perfect. Or maybe it was how effortlessly he seemed to have Bella wrapped around his finger, as if she was under some kind of spell, completely captivated by him in a way Jake had never managed to do.

It frustrated Jake to no end. He could see Edward wasn't putting in any real effort. Yet Bella looked at him like he was the answer to every question she'd ever had. And Jake—he was stuck on the outside, watching, knowing deep down that he could give her so much more if she'd only let him.

Charlie frequently came over to watch the big games at Jake's house, and Bella always came with him. She never seemed particularly interested in the games themselves—Jake wasn't even sure she could name the teams—but she liked hanging out with him in the garage, keeping him company while he tinkered with his car. Those moments had become something of a ritual for them. The steady rhythm of tools clanking, the scent of motor oil in the air, and Bella's voice cutting through the silence. It was during those times that she talked—really talked—and when she did, she didn't hold back, especially when it came to Edward. Or, more often than not, her frustrations with him.

Bella seemed to lack any kind of filter when it came to discussing the more personal aspects of her relationship. She vented about Edward's shortcomings like it was nothing, like she was talking about the weather. To her, they were just casual remarks, harmless complaints, but to Jake, each word hit harder than she could ever know. Every offhand comment felt like a punch to the gut, each one a reminder of the distance between them, of what he longed for but couldn't have. And worst of all, it was Edward—Edward, of all people—who didn't seem to appreciate what he had right in front of him.

"It's like he's afraid to touch me," Bella had said one afternoon, her voice full of exasperation as she leaned against the workbench, arms crossed tightly over her chest. The frustration in her voice was unmistakable, but it was the words themselves that had nearly stopped Jake in his tracks. He had paused, wrench in hand, as her words swirled in his head like a storm. Afraid to touch her? The thought didn't make sense to him—couldn't make sense.

His hands gripped the wrench harder, willing himself to focus on the task at hand. But her words echoed in his mind. Afraid to touch her? He couldn't help but wonder if Edward was gay. That was the only thing that made sense, right? How else could anyone have Bella Swan—beautiful, smart, funny Bella—right in front of them and not want to touch her, hold her, kiss her every chance they got? It baffled him. Every time Bella vented about it, it felt like someone was twisting a knife in his chest. All Jake could do was stand there, nodding along, pretending to be the supportive friend, while inside he was screaming to trade places with Edward.

If he had Bella—if he were the one she wanted—he'd never hold back. He wouldn't hesitate for a second to show her how much she meant to him. He'd hold her close, kiss her properly, the way she deserved to be kissed. Every day, he'd make sure she knew she was wanted, desired. But here he was, stuck in the role of the friend, listening as she shared her frustrations, her disappointments. Each time, it stung more than he'd ever admit.

"I mean, what kind of boyfriend doesn't even want to kiss his girlfriend properly?" she had continued, her tone somewhere between amusement and bitterness, her frustration clear as day. The question had hung in the air between them, like a challenge she was trying to work out herself, as if she couldn't quite believe it either.

Jake clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep tightening the bolt, to focus on anything but the anger building in his chest. What kind of boyfriend? The wrong kind, that's what. Edward was wrong for her in every way. Jake knew it, deep down, in his bones. But there was nothing he could do. He was stuck, listening to her talk about Edward's hesitations, his distance, while every part of him ached to show her what it could be like—what they could be like together. He'd been ready for Bella for what felt like forever, and yet, here he was, on the sidelines, while she talked about a guy who clearly didn't see her the way Jake did.

It stung—more than he could ever admit.

Over the past year, Jake had grown—a lot. He had shot up to well over six feet tall, his once lanky frame filling out with hard-earned muscle. His arms were thick and defined, the kind of strength you could see at a glance, and his chest was broad and strong, built from years of working with his hands. Countless hours spent in the garage, lifting heavy parts, and the physical labor around the house had sculpted his body in ways even he hadn't expected. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride when he caught his reflection in the mirror, seeing the transformation that had taken place. He wasn't the scrawny kid Bella used to know. He was a man now, and every part of him wanted her to notice—really notice.

But it seemed like Bella had blinders on, unable to see the changes right in front of her. Instead, her attention was locked on Edward Cullen and whatever strange hold he had over her. Jake couldn't figure it out. It didn't make sense. What did Edward have that he didn't? Sure, Edward had that quiet, brooding thing going on, but he had heart. He had known Bella since they were kids, and that connection ran deep. He could make her laugh, make her feel at ease, while Edward... well, Edward seemed like he was always keeping her at a distance.

As Jake drove toward Charlie's house, carrying a batch of Harry Clearwater's famous fish fry in the passenger seat—a gift from his father to Charlie and Bella—his mind kept circling back to her. He hadn't seen her in a week, but to him, it felt like far longer. Time seemed to stretch painfully whenever they were apart, each day dragging on in her absence.

He missed the way she lit up when she saw him, that smile of hers that made his chest tighten and his heart race just a little faster. The way her laughter filled the air when they hung out in the garage, easy and carefree, made everything else feel lighter—like the weight of the world fell away when she was around. And though she didn't seem to notice how much he had changed, Jake couldn't help but hope that maybe, one day, she would.

As Jake pulled up to Charlie's house, the familiar sight of Bella's faded red truck caught his eye, parked in its usual spot in the driveway. The old, beat-up vehicle stood out like a relic from another time, its rusted edges and worn paint a sharp contrast to the effort he'd put into restoring his own car. Still, just the sight of it made a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. After all, Charlie had bought the truck from his father. It was the car Jake had grown up with. But more than that, it meant Bella was home. Eagerly, he parked behind her truck, his heart picking up its pace as he hopped out, the soles of his boots crunching against the gravel beneath him. Each step toward the front door felt lighter than the last, anticipation building in his chest as he imagined Bella opening the door, her face lighting up with that familiar smile that never failed to send his heart racing.

He knocked, stepping back slightly, one hand resting loosely at his side while the other held the fish fry. Silence greeted him. Jake cocked his head, frowning slightly, and knocked again, his knuckles rapping a little harder this time. Still nothing. The quiet was unnerving, but he shrugged it off. Maybe she's in the shower, he thought with a smirk, the idea sending a flash of heat through him. He quickly pushed the thought aside, forcing his mind back to the task at hand.

Remembering the spare key Charlie always kept tucked under the worn welcome mat—his idea of security—Jake crouched down, lifting the corner of the mat and retrieving the small, slightly tarnished key. He chuckled to himself as he stood up. Who would ever break into the Chief's house anyway? The thought made him smile, a private joke only Charlie would appreciate. No one in their right mind would try it, not with the Chief of Police living there.

Jake slipped the key into the lock, the metal clicking softly as the mechanism turned. The door creaked as it swung open, the hinges groaning in protest. He stepped into the entryway, the familiar scent of home—wood polish and faint traces of dinner from the night before—wrapping around him. He paused for a moment, standing just inside, and called out, "Hello?" His voice echoed slightly in the stillness of the house, but there was no response.

Maybe Bella wasn't home after all. Either way, Jake stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The house was quiet, but familiar in a way that made him feel at ease. He headed straight for the kitchen, his boots making faint thuds against the hardwood floor as he moved through the entryway.

Reaching the kitchen, he crossed the floor without thinking, his steps instinctive. The soft hum of the refrigerator filled the silence as he opened the freezer, a rush of cold air meeting him. He slid the container of fish fry inside, nestling it between leftovers. Charlie and Bella would appreciate the delivery, as always.

He was about to leave, the freezer door still halfway open, when a faint sound stopped him in his tracks. He froze, his hand still on the door as he strained to listen more closely.

"Jake?" The voice was familiar, but there was something different about it—an edge of desperation that made his attention sharpen. It was Bella.

Jake straightened, feeling a subtle shift in the air around him. He closed the freezer door quietly and turned toward the hallway, listening more closely.

"Jake, can you help me, please?" she called again, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability that he wasn't used to hearing from her.

His brow furrowed in concern, but he didn't hesitate. Bella needed help. Without wasting a second, Jake made his way to the stairs, his footsteps heavy but swift. He ascended quickly, taking the steps two at a time as he made his way to her room at the end of the hall.

As Jake reached her door, he pushed it open without hesitation, and what he saw inside made his entire world tilt. His breath caught in his throat, and for a split second, he felt like the ground had dropped out from under him.

There was Bella Swan, the love of his life, buck naked, spread-eagle on her bed, her arms and legs cuffed to chains so tight she could barely move.


Holy moly! Jake sure wasn't expecting that. Let me know your thoughts on the first chapter.