A/N Twilight is the property of Stephanie Meyer. Anya Simms is all mine.

Chapter 23: The Commute

JPOV

Fri Jan 28th/05

The Volvo cut through the early morning mist, engine purring smoothly. Eddie boy was at the wheel, jaw clenched, eyes fixed straight ahead. Brooding, as usual. The guy couldn't turn it off if he tried. It didn't take much to know what was bothering him—Bella Swan, of course. He'd spent the night in her backyard, watching her sleep like some kind of deranged guardian angel, and now he was wrestling with the fallout of his actions. I found out when I got home that Emmett had drawn the short straw and kept Eddie boy company.

And in the backseat, Alice sat beside me, radiating that usual mix of perky optimism and smug knowingness that made her both endearing and irritating as hell.

I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the forest blur by, trying to focus on my own thoughts, but it was impossible not to pick up on the storm raging in Edward's mind. He was conflicted, torn between his desire to be close to The Duck and the knowledge that he was putting us all at risk. It was a mess, and part of me couldn't help but compare his situation to my own. Specifically, last night. Dancing with Anya in her living room to "Je l'aime à mourir", her body pressed close to mine, the scent of her hair mixing with the soft notes of the song. And then, after the song had ended, we'd sprawled on her couch. I still had a damn smile on my face, just thinking about it.

Loving someone to death. The irony wasn't lost on me. Hell, it was practically a cosmic joke. A vampire, dancing to a song about loving someone to death. I couldn't help but wonder if Anya picked it on purpose. Maybe she was trying to say something with her song choices.

Did she love me? Or was it just part of the game, leaning into the story she thought we were all stuck in? She'd told me before that she didn't believe this was real. That she was in the Dreamworld waiting to wake up and find herself in a hospital bed in Montreal. But the way she'd looked at me last night, the way she felt in my arms—it sure as hell felt real to me.

I mean, I fucking loved her emotional cocktail of constant joy and contentment. But love her, the person, the woman?

It was getting harder not to think that way about her.

Not that I'd ever let Eddie boy see that. Not with him in full-on brood mode. The guy had spent the night outside Bella Swan's house, watching her sleep. I had to hold back a laugh just thinking about the text Alice had sent, letting me know what Edward was up to.

Anya had found it hilarious, of course. Full blown belly laughs as she sauntered over to her records, looking of the right one: "Wuthering Heights" by Kate Bush, dramatically proclaiming, "And now the song come to life!" Here I was wearing a hole in her floorboards freaking out if Eddie boy was gonna do something stupid and Anya thinks it's the world's biggest joke. She'd just laughed and told me it was all part of the playbook—Edward being Edward, creepy as hell but somehow, in the context of my creator's script, completely normal.

And damn if she wasn't right. Her reassurance had calmed me down, and then we'd ended up making out on her couch like a couple of high school kids. The kind of making out that could go on for hours without feeling like time was passing at all. Her lips, warm and soft, her heartbeat thrumming under my hands. I'd never made out with a human before. Not like that. Not with all the messy, intoxicating emotions that came with it.

It was different. Real different. And I was hooked.

Not once did I think of my bloodlust. I might have had to rein in my strength, to not hold her too tightly but at no point did she complain. She was more than happy to just lie in my arms.

She did know I could snap her neck? Drain her dry? But there was no fear from her. Just happiness and joy, some mischief and her attraction evolving into desire.

For me. The vampire.

The car hit a bump, jolting me back to the present. Alice shot me a knowing glance. She'd seen something in her visions, no doubt. I caught the glimmer of a smile she tried to hide. She always knew more than she let on, but right now, her attention was split between me and our brother.

"Rough night, bro?" I asked Edward, unable to resist the jab.

He scowled at the rearview mirror, his eyes flashing with irritation. "You could say that." he muttered, not taking the bait to elaborate. His thoughts were a tangled mess, I could feel it. Typical Eddie boy—angst personified.

"Hey, at least you didn't have to deal with Kate Bush on repeat," I said, grinning. Alice snickered beside me, and even Edward's lips twitched, despite himself.

Silence settled back in, but my mind kept drifting. Last night with Anya felt like a turning point. I'd spent so long on edge, wondering what the hell was happening between us, and now it was like the fog had lifted. I didn't care if it wasn't part of some epic love story like Edward and Bella. Anya was different. Our thing was different. It was more real, less wrapped up in that fairytale bullshit.

Edward's eyes flicked to me then, picking up on my reflection, and I could feel his curiosity spiking. He was trying to figure out what was different, why my experience with Anya seemed so much simpler than his with Bella.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You were with her last night, weren't you?"

No, I was in her backyard watching her sleep. Oh wait, that was you. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, noting the tension in his jaw. "Yeah," I admitted, keeping my tone neutral. "We spent some time together."

Edward's brow furrowed, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and—if I wasn't mistaken—a hint of jealousy. "And?"

I shrugged, trying to downplay it. "And it was good. We talked, we laughed... danced a little."

"Danced?" Alice chimed in, her voice light with curiosity.

"Yeah," I said with a small smile, remembering how Anya had pulled me into that moment. "She put on a record, and we just... danced. It was nice."

Edward's thoughts shifted, his confusion deepening. "It's so different for you," he muttered, almost to himself. "Why is it so damn easy."

I let out a soft sigh, knowing where this was heading. "Edward, you're making it hard on yourself," I said quietly. "You're overthinking everything, analyzing every move you make. With Anya... it's not about that. She doesn't expect me to be anything other than who I am. There's no... performance."

Alice reached out, gently squeezing my arm as if to show her support. "You're just being yourself," she added. "And that's what she wants."

I hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty passing through me. The truth was, Anya hadn't laid it all out in the open. She'd never directly confronted me about the worst parts of my past. But she knew more than she let on. She'd dropped hints—my real name, my time in the Confederate Army, that I sparkled, even the dark struggle with my "vegetarian" lifestyle. She teased me about it sometimes, her words light but never careless. If I pieced together the breadcrumbs she'd scattered, it was clear she had a pretty good grasp of who I used to be. Yet, she never pushed me to admit it, to lay it all bare. That unspoken understanding between us was oddly comforting, but also unsettling in moments like this.

Lost in thought, I must not have kept my mental guard up as well as I should have. Eddie boy caught the flicker of doubt in my mind, and his eyes narrowed, sharpening on me like a predator honing in on prey.

"What the hell does she know, Jasper?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

I sighed, feeling the weight of his question. "She knows enough," I finally said, my tone measured. "She knows the basics—who I was before, the bloodshed, the battles I fought in more ways than one. But she doesn't push for details. It's like she's made peace with it on her own, without needing me to confirm every dark corner of my past."

Edward's jaw tightened, his frustration not entirely quelled. "And that's enough for her?"

In that moment, I heard the faint whisper of Anya's voice from the night before, her words soft and sleepy as she snuggled up against me: "Team Jasper to the end." The memory brought a smile to my face, a warmth spreading through me that I couldn't quite hide. It was so Anya—uncomplicated, straightforward.

I let out a quiet laugh, and the tension in the car lightened just a fraction. Turning to my brother, I met his conflicted gaze with certainty. "Yeah, Edward," I said, my voice steady and sure. "It absolutely is."

But Eddie boy was still stewing in his uncertainty. I caught the faint mutter under his breath—something about Bella being different, about how she could never understand. I struggled to contain an eye roll, but Alice didn't even try. Beside me, she let out a soft laugh, clearly amused by our brother's internal turmoil, though I doubted it was helping matters.

Pulling into the school parking lot, I spotted Anya running up the steps, her trademark navy blue coat flapping behind her, rain boots splashing in the puddles, and her O'Keefe umbrella held high against the drizzle. The joy and contentment radiating from her hit me like a wave, warm and infectious, and I couldn't help but smile.

I turned to Edward one last time, choosing my words carefully, much like Anya did whenever she spoke of our "creator." "Edward," I began, my voice calm but firm, "this is your love story. Unconventional, maybe, but ultimately, it's just that—a love story. And if our creator wrote it, I'd say it's a safe bet that Bella will understand."

A/N: We're on track for daily updates (Mon - Fri) next week. Happy Friday!