Twilight AF
Chapter 8
Jessica almost kills us on the way to Port Angeles. First from several near collisions due to her lead foot, and second from boredom. She doesn't shut up about squinty eyes for the entire hour-long trip. Her date had gone well, he kissed her, he's well hung—I had to fake a coughing fit to conceal my snort over that one—yada, yada, yada... It got so bad even Angela met my eyes through the rear-view mirror and rolled hers. I'm relegated to the back seat, but the furthest away from Jessica I can get in her squishy little car, the better.
Okay, yeah, I'm kind of happy for her—in the sense that it will keep the lecherous bastard away from me—but the girl is ad nauseam as fuck.
Angela's into Eric but she barely mentions him. I assume out of second-hand embarrassment. On the other hand, I don't mention Clark, either. Mainly because I'm bummed out that I haven't seen him in four days and if I start bullshitting, Jessica will spread it around town again. I don't exactly want him getting a massive head over it and using it as leverage against me.
. . .
Compared to Forks, Port Angeles is almost cosmopolitan. You can actually smell the ocean on the breeze as opposed to soggy, water-logged trees and soil. We don't stop to window shop, though; we head straight to the department store, and already I'm regretting my decision to come. Especially when Jessica stares at me like I have mental leprosy when I fess up that I've never been to a dance before.
"Why not?" she practically screeches, turning every single head in the near vicinity.
"Because all the guys who asked me were assfaces," I answer truthfully with a nonchalant shrug.
"Does that mean you're into Tyler?" Angela asks while I practically asphyxiate on my own saliva.
"Who?" I demand.
"He said you agreed to go to prom with him," Angela clarifies, glancing around the room suddenly looking nervous. No doubt from the homicidal look on my face.
"Who the fuck is Tyler?" I whisper harshly as I wrack my brain to separate one pimply-faced boy in town over the rest.
"He almost ran over you last month, remember?" Jessica deadpans like a bitch.
"Oh that guy!" I scoff loudly. I'm terrible with names. Sue me. "Whatever, he's delusional. I'm going out with Clark that night."
Jessica's expression is dubious, because she still can't get over the fact that the resident hottie demigod is into me and not her.
"Why do you keep calling Edward Clark, Bella?" Angela giggles.
"It's an inside joke between us." Turning, I start flipping through racks of dresses, bored with this shit already. I don't wear dresses. I'm more of a jeans and chucks girl, so why Angela wants my advice is anyone's guess.
She's going to the dance with Eric, so I'm beginning to suspect she's a masochist.
"Lauren will be happy to know you're not into Tyler, then. That's the reason she doesn't like you," Jessica tacks on like it's not an open secret that I literally cannot give a fuck about less.
Though, to be honest, I'm low-key bummed it's not about Clark. I'll still lord it over her with him regardless.
"You can tell Lauren from me that she has shit taste in guys and he's all hers," I say dryly before picking out a bright orange, puff-sleeved number and holding it out to Jessica. "Hey, this color will look great on you."
"Ew."
For the next hour I'm forced to sit and spectate as Jessica and Angela try on one dress after another while they gauge my opinion. Angela's tall and thin and everything looks good on her. Jessica is a tangerine with a perm and only one looks semi decent.
I'm nice enough to point it out knowing she won't listen anyway. She doesn't disappoint, and decides on a purple, one-shouldered thing with waist ruffles.
With dresses done and dusted we head to the shoe department, and after Jessica vacates to the bathroom, I take advantage and hit Angela up for details.
"So, Angela..." I begin after helping her strap on a pair of silver stilettoes.
"Hm?" he asks, thrusting out one, long leg, pointy-toed in inspection. They're a bit disco for my taste, but whatever.
"Do the Cullens...take a lot of time off from school?" Jesus fucking christ, I hate myself.
"Yeah," she answers not appearing to pick up on my investment, or not bringing it to my attention like Jessica would, "when the weather's nice they go hiking and stuff like that. Even the doctor and his wife goes."
"Huh." I consider it for a moment, but come up blank. Or maybe I just don't want to have to delve into the fact they appear to hide from direct sunlight. I'm really not ready to accept that Clark only wants my blood. Not without a full blown hissy fit anyway.
"They're outdoorsy, I hear," she adds, smiling at me warmly, and I decide on the spot that she's my new best friend.
"Apparently." I return her smile just as Jessica crashes back on the scene, shoving cheap costume jewelry in my face. "Oh, those are great, Jessica."
Once we're done, Jessica and Angela head back to the car to dump off their purchases. This is when I ditch them. I need to something to keep me occupied on the weekends before I go out of my mind; something that doesn't involve erotic day dreams about Clark, at least.
I spied a book store on the main street as we pulled into town, and plan on raiding it.
"Okay, we'll meet you back at the restaurant in an hour, then," Angela says after I talk her out of accompanying me. Jessica says nothing; she doesn't give a shit.
"Sure," I reply, before turning and heading in the opposite direction. We agreed to eat dinner at an Italian restaurant on the boardwalk; which shouldn't be hard to find on my own. I just have to head toward the ocean.
I have a real shit sense of direction, though.
The store I thought sold books is actually a hippie incense shop that makes me sneeze the instant I stop at its entrance. It's something my mother would be into, but it's a hard pass for me. I decide to cut my losses and head back to the restaurant, while at the same time, also losing the fight to keep Clark out of my thoughts. I can't deny it though; he and his weirdo foster family go AWOL on sunny days. The good doctor to boot. Even in theory it's sus. Then I start wondering if he'll bail on me if the sun's out on the day of our date, or whatever the hell it is.
Or is that off the table, now?
Naturally, with my head full of that grotesquely good looking asshole, I soon realize where ever I'm going, it's in the opposite direction of the waterfront. I wind up in some dirty back alley, far removed from the main street—if I even knew where that was, which I don't.
Digging around in my purse, I pull out my phone to switch on Google Maps only to realize the battery's flat. It's my own fault, I kept it on secret record last night hoping to catch Clark crawling through my bedroom window. It died sometime around 3am. At least that's when I think it did.
Knowing I'm just going to have to wing it, I cross several streets, heading toward the sound of traffic. I end up in another dead end. This time, where four grungy-looking guys are hanging around drinking and smoking pot by the smell of them.
The instant they spot me they collectively turn and head toward me, laughing and making crude jokes as they do with the obvious objective of me hearing.
With warning bells going off in my head, I immediately do an about-face and leave the same way I came; they follow, because wouldn't that be just my luck? Not to mention, the pepper spray I swiped from the old man to use on squinty eyes is back at home under my bed.
"Hey gorgeous?" one of them calls out, and gorgeous? They're obvious drunk, not stoned. Not to mention, they're grown men well into their twenties, wearing flannel and jeans that look like they were made in the eighties.
What the hell is it with this place and the eighties? Even my father wears 501s with wide legs and a button fly.
I ignore them and yeet the hell out of there.
I can't seem to find my way out of these deserted back streets, and the further I go, the deeper into them I get. The upside is I've given the sleazy guys the slip.
I end up sandwiched between creepy-looking brick warehouses with broken, blacked out windows and seemingly no way in or out. There's barely any street lights and it's crawling with stray cats. I feel like I've wandered onto the set of some b-grade midday horror movie where the generic-looking teenager does stupid shit and is the first person to bite it. The thing is, I have no damn idea where the commercial section of Port Angeles even is anymore, and I'm pretty sure I can hear those sleazy bastards heading my way as if they...deliberately lead me here.
I glance over my shoulder just as they round a corner and come into view, all clichéd dark and shadowy in the distance.
"There you are!" one of them calls out, words slurring like he's about to puke.
Fuck my life.
I decide to throw caution to the wind and break into a full run knowing I'll probably fall ass over tit and knock myself unconscious. Those fuckers behind me quickly follow, and gain on me. They sound clumsier than I am, but are faster, but that's not exactly hard where I'm concerned.
There's light at the end of the tunnel though, and I make it past the run down commercial buildings onto a street of some sort that appears to lead into heavier traffic.
It's too late, though; they've caught me.
They approach slowly, while I quickly glance around for something I can use as a weapon. If these fuckers mean to off me, I'm taking them with me. It's a grungy, ghetto of an area and scattered everywhere is chunks of gravel, cement, and other such industrial debris.
I hastily shove the equivalent of four bricks inside my purse ready to swing it, and grab a section of metal piping roughly three feet in length.
"Stay back!" I warn, raising the pipe above my head ready to fracture some skulls. My voice is trembling and giving me away, but knowing I can't help it, I decide to contradict myself.
The first asshole approaches me brazenly, his hands out like he's going to grab me around the throat, but raising the pipe higher, I smack him point-blank in the face with it. I'm pretty sure I hear bones cracking, while the greasy fucker starts howling in pain and clutching his face.
"You fucking bitch!" he screeches with blood spurting between his fingers, and fuck...
The world immediately starts to slant and then spin, and I'm on my way down. The pipe slips from my hand, and just as the shrouded night's sky comes into my line of sight, the revved-up sound of a car's engine and screeching tires momentarily breaks my swoon.
I glance toward it automatically, dazed and disorientated, and get fully ensnared in the headlights because my life is a complete fucking cliché. But I recognize this car. It's silver, small...
Wait.
It comes to a skidding stop, almost taking out the letches in the process, before the passenger side door flies open.
"Get in!" a voice from within practically growls, and I definitely recognize that voice, but I don't immediately move.
My mind is being overrun by a thousand questions, and ...is he angry? And how did he know I was—
"Bella—get in!" he demands a second time, his voice rising and actually sounding threatening.
This time I don't hesitate, and lunging forward, I throw myself inside and slam the door shut behind me.
Without another word, Clark shoves the car in gear, it lurches forward and then back before it does a complete one-eighty, throwing me around like a puppy.
"Jesus!" I burst, reaching out impulsively with my left hand to anchor myself to him.
My fist finds his shoulder, and damn, his muscles are hard.
"Put your seat belt on," he instructs me after stiffening in his seat.
I let him go and turn to look squarely at him. I immediately pause. He's definitely pissed, and ...it's fucking hot. How the hell can he look even better-looking when he's acting like a stalkery sociopath? How is that even fair?
"Did you hear me?" he barks out, making me jump.
"How did you know where I was?" I demand, my back straightening, because asshole, you did not just use that tone on me. Okay, he did just save me from being probably raped and murdered, but still...
"Serendipity," he mutters dryly to himself.
"What?" I say blankly in reply, slowly shaking my head, but I comply and snap my seat belt enclosed around me with trembling hands. All without severing my eyes from him.
His nostrils are flaring, and it's ...doing things to my libido. He looks like an archangel come to seriously fuck up a legion of demons, as opposed to a warthog like any normal person would look.
"What's... are you okay?" I start over, because I'm beginning to question exactly what the hell's going on here. I think I might be having a nervous breakdown.
"Fine," he says sarcastically and when he glances at me I realize his eyes are back to being a bright honey gold.
His eyes change color, he doesn't like the direct sunlight; he comes out at night acting like a psychopath in shining armor...
I don't reply, and he remains quiet. I continue watching him, watching as the murderous tension eases from his expression even as he runs several red lights with complete ease. I mean without even flinching, while I almost choke in terror.
Then, out of nowhere he stops the car. For the first time I glance around me; we're flanked by forest on an elbow of road, and I'm pretty sure where back on the interstate.
"Bella..." His voice is beginning to edge with milk and whiskey again.
I meet his gaze and practically moan. "Yeah?"
"Are you alright?" Okay, he hasn't got his anger completely under control. Actually, he kind of looks like he's about to lose his shit.
"I-I'm okay..." I stammer, my eyes fixed to his jaw as he clenches and unclenches it repeatedly.
Mother of god...
"Distract me," he says stiffly, sucking his breath stiffly in through his nose.
"Huh?"
He huffs and I'm pretty sure he also tsks. "Tell me something. Just talk about anything. I need to ...calm down." He squeezes his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.
"Um..." I wrack my brain, but I'm pretty sure it's turned to moosh. "Uh...so that assface...what's-his-name—you know, the guy who tried to kill me, making you go all Clark Kent in a phone booth?" He sighs to himself wearily but doesn't respond. "Anyway, he's telling everyone I'm going to the prom with him, so come Monday, I'm going to neuter that asshole."
He almost smirks in response, scoffing his breath softly, so I take it as a good sign that he's not about to chomp down on my veins. "I did hear something like that," he admits, his voice well and truly crooner-smooth again.
"I'm sure you thought it was real hilarious," I say ruefully, making the grin twitch broader on his face. "Feel better?"
"Not really," he mumbles, his expression darkening right on cue again.
"So, why are you so pissed off?" I put to him, almost wanted to shy away from him. This asshole sure knows how to be intimidating when he wants to be.
"I ...get like this sometimes," he confesses, his voice barely audible as he turns to stare out the window into the light rain. "I'd really like to turn around, hunt those guys down and tear their throats..." He stops suddenly as if catching himself while my mouth falls completely open. "I can't right now, though."
"...Okay." I eye him dubiously because if that sentence didn't just scream vampire, I don't know what would. "So you going to tell me how you knew where I was?"
He doesn't answer, but I don't bring it to his attention; I'm caught in a moment of ogling him and the obscenely beautiful way he looks in semi-darkness with nothing but the partially concealed moonlight reflecting off his perfectly symmetrical face.
I need to get another look at his teeth...
"What?" he responds to my stares, busting me in the act.
"Uh..." I pull my eyes from him and gaze out into the woods to my right. I catch the time on the dash in the process. It's just past six-thirty. "I'm late meeting Jessica and Angela for dinner," I randomly admit.
Without a word he starts the engine, does a U-turn, and heads back toward town.
This guy drives crazier than Jessica. He weaves in and out of traffic, runs more red lights and stop signs doing well over the speed limit, and all with complete nonchalance. He arrives in what feels like two minutes, as I hold my breath frightened out of my wits, before pulling his car swiftly into a tight, parallel parking space adjacent the restaurant in a single movement like a complete show off.
I turn to stare at him because how the hell did he know which restaurant to go to? I never divulged that.
"Coming?" he turns to me to ask when he cuts the engine and moves to open his door. "What?"
"Stalker!" I accuse him.
His grin breaks easily across his face this time before he draws himself fluidly from the car so fast he almost appears to blur.
"What are you doing?" I ask slamming the door and hurrying to fall into step with him.
"What does it look like?" he says holding his keys up to switch on his car alarm. "Taking you to dinner."
"Who says I want—"
"Shut up and stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track them down too," he orders sounding exasperated as he jerks his head in the direction the two of them are headed thirty or so feet away.
"Track them too?" I echo as my mind struggles to keep up. "You tracked me?—how—"
"Later!" he snaps, his tone flaring hotly again.
"This isn't over, you creepy, weird..." I'm too flustered to find conclusion, and turning I half run after the two retreating figures feeling like I might keel over.
Jessica abuses me, squeezing out nonexistent tears about how she thought I was dead. I'm forced to swallow my scoff and self-respect and offer her up humility. For Angela's benefit at least, because she was genuinely worried and I feel shitty over it.
"I got lost, and my phone's dead. Then I..." I stop myself before I can bring up Clark. I'm not giving Jessica an excuse to leech into the one-on-one I'm about to have with him. Of course I have no idea the sociopath is right behind me.
"Do you mind if I join you?" he asks all gentleman-like from over my shoulder.
I spin on my heel and stumble against him. "What?—"
"Bella and I ran into each other," he elaborates, righting me and hastily throwing me a frustrated scowl.
"He stalked me!" I correct him, elbowing him away from me as Angela giggles.
Jessica only pouts. "We already ate."
"Yeah, sorry, Bella," Angela adds with actual sincerity. "It was getting late and we were hungry..."
"It's fine," I say, my eyes on Clark as we continue to glare at each other, "but I'm not hungry!" I directly challenge.
"You should probably eat something," he retorts, his teeth clenched.
"What are you?—my father?"
"Are you always like this?"
"Around creepy assholes who follow me everywhere? Yes!"
He ignores me and turns to Jessica whose jaw has currently hit the pavement. Angela only stares with comically wide eyes. "You guys don't need to wait around. I'll take Bella home."
"What!? No you—"
"God, you're annoying," he cuts me off, and grabbing the sleeve of my shirt again, exactly like he did on Thursday, he proceeds to drag me back to the restaurant.
"See you tomorrow, guys!" I call out over my shoulder, winking slyly. That one was all for Jessica. "Will you stop pushing me around!?" I demand after turning back to him, but he has an iron grip on me. "And I said I'm not hungry!"
"Humor me," he replies drolly, and walking to the front entrance he holds the door open.
"You're so chivalrous, Clark," I say sardonically, brushing past him impatiently, but I'm not impatient, or angry, or anything that I'm presently portraying. What I'm pretty certain is I'm about to burst all over him. In what context I have no idea.
He only sighs before he comes to a standstill beside me. There's only a few people inside. A guy with a neckbeard, and two middle aged couples. And me and Clark of course.
The instant the hostess spot us, she makes a beeline in our direction.
"Table for two?" she asks in full phone-sex voice as he she completely drools over Clark, her eyes slowly canvassing every inch of his body. She ignores me, and I'm not sure what pisses me off more.
"Yes," he replies, his tone polite but slightly standoffish, which makes me smile. "Somewhere private," he adds, his eyes intent as he bores them into her.
She flushes, turns beet red and almost drops, then turning, she shows us to our table in the far back corner on wobbly legs. I mean, I know he's a sex god and everything, but there's no need for complete lack of decorum and to come onto a guy while he's clearly in the company of someone else.
"Thank you," he romances her more once we're seated.
As the hostess leaves I openly snort. "Are you able to not be weird for five minutes?"
"How am I being weird?" he asks, his eyebrows raising with what looks like genuine confusion.
"You were putting spells on her."
He snorts this time, his smirk reappearing. "No I wasn't. I vetoed warlock, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"Do you really think I put spells on you?" he leans slightly forward and asks, looking a tad too eager.
"Whatever you call it," I mumble, glancing hastily away because whatever he does, he's doing it now.
He chuckles softly.
"Hello, my name is Amber and I'll be serving you tonight."
I look up just in time to see Amber's expression smooth out in shock. Obviously the hostess filled her in, but whatever she said apparently didn't do Clark justice.
"What can I get you to drink?" she asks him. I might as well be invisible.
"Bella?" He turns the question back to me.
"Coke," I answer simply.
"Two cokes." He looks up at Amber and clears his throat. I get the impression he's making a concerted effort to act normal.
"I'll be right back with them," she outright drools over him while I come very close to banging my forehead on the surface of the table.
"Oh my god..." I drop it to my palms instead.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asks, concern suddenly palpable in his tone.
I move my hands and stare at him. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You don't feel sick? Dizzy?"
I shrug a single shoulder. "Kinda, but your driving is insane."
He sighs again and rubs his brow with his fingertips. "Bella..."
"What? I'm fine."
"Most people would go into shock." He's studying me, his weirdly glowing yellow eyes inspecting every point of my face for obvious contradiction.
"Stop doing that—and why would I go into shock!?"
"Do you realize what could have happened to you?" He raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow, while his expression is almost hostile again.
"What could have happened to me?" I ask in deliberate monotone. "I'm pretty sure I broke that first guy's nose."
"Are you ready to order?" Amber returns and puts the question directly to my vampire hottie again.
Without looking at her, he again turns to me. "Bella?"
"Uh..." I pick up the menu and hastily scan it, deciding on the first thing I read, "Mushroom ravioli."
"And you?" Amber asks Clark from beneath her lashes.
"Nothing for me," he replies.
"Nothing for Clark. Huh," I say pointedly.
"What?" he enquires.
"Let me know if you change your mind," Amber continues to make a needy annoyance of herself.
"Sure," Clark says, waving his hand to dismiss her, and I hate to say it, but I really like this creepy guy who's probably a vampire. "Drink," he commands.
"You really going to order me around?" I say, picking up the glass regardless because I am pretty thirsty.
"Yes." He's unapologetic.
"Weirdo." I down the glass as he pushes his toward me. "Nope, I'm full. I can't drink as much as some people."
"Huh?" He plays dumb, as I shake my head, smiling slyly to myself.
"Nothing," I say as an involuntary shiver runs along my spine. A subconscious reaction to what I'm not sure I can admit to myself just yet, I suspect.
"Are you cold?"
"No." I shudder again, because I am. Though I'm pretty sure it's a combination of things, cold being the very least of them.
"Do you have a jacket?" he continues to pester me.
"I—shit I left it in Jessica's car," I admit just as Clark slips out of his. That's when I realize what he's wearing. A tan leather jacket over a tight-fitting white turtle neck. I come very close to laughing because literally no high school kid alive dresses like this.
On another note, he's actually really buff beneath his middle-aged-man clothes.
"Here you go." He passes his jacket across the table to me.
"Well, aren't you a gentleman." I take it flashing him a wiseass smile as I clumsily slip my arms through it. The first thing I note is it's not warm—at all—like it should be, but I've long stopped being surprised by him as I bring it discreetly to my nose. It smells like Windex, and something else... Not cologne, but something I can't quite put my finger on. Whatever it is it's an aphrodisiac.
I might be starting to wheeze.
"That color blue really suits you," he says, completely surprising me.
"Huh?" I look down at myself and force back the blush. "Oh, does it?"
"Yeah." He pushes the bread basket toward me then, and with a huff, I shove it back.
"Would you stop pestering me to eat? It's weird! I'm not going into shock!"
"You should be. A normal person would be," he points out in some kind of emphasis that makes me want to laugh again, because I am definitely the normal one between the two of us.
"I ran into a few creepers. I cracked one of them over the head." I shrug. "But then this really weird guy from school, who doesn't eat and watches me sleep, swooped in with his girl car and rescued me." I flutter my eyelashes at him teasingly as his expression turns blank.
"I don't watch you sleep..." He blinks and breaks eye contact, only making him look more obvious. He glares at me then, and this time, I do laugh.
"Why are you so moody? Usually you're only an asshole when your eyes are black."
"What?" he says vacantly, looking suddenly stunned.
"Huh?"
"You ...noticed that?"
"Um...how could I not notice?" I eye him dubiously. Does he really think I didn't notice his eyes change color? Are vampires supposed to be clueless?
He's suddenly glancing around the room, his eyes everywhere but on me. In the process he attracts the attention of the over-eager waitress again. She practically sprints over to us.
"Have you changed your mind?"
"No thank you," he answers curtly, and pouting like squinty eyes she skulks back to the kitchen. "I wear contacts," he offers up lamely after meeting my gaze again.
I scoff not even minimally convinced. "Of course you do."
Dropping his head to his hand he starts rubbing at his forehead again.
I smile to myself. Truth be told, I like making him hot under the collar. "So Clark..."
"Edward," he stresses.
"I'll call you Edward when you fess up."
He groans not nearly as under his breath as I think he intended. He does that a lot, weirdly. "What do you want?"
"What are you doing in Port Angeles?"
"Next."
"What?" My back straightens again, because he is not going to brush me off like this.
"Next question."
"No!"
"I'm not answering," he says stubbornly.
"Because you were stalking me. Again."
"Believe what you like," he grumbles.
"You can read minds. That's how you found me," I say matter-of-factly, making him speechless again.
"I... I mean... do you mean hypothetically?" he practically pleads, making me smirk.
"Sure, why not."
He pauses momentarily to frown to himself. "Hypothetically, if I could read minds, I would have got to you sooner, but I got distracted." He rolls his eyes then, but to himself or at me, I'm not sure. "How the hell does anyone almost get murdered in Port Angeles?"
"Hypothetically?" I prompt him, because hypothetically my ass. "And who said they were going to murder me?"
"I..." he breaks off to smile, almost in resignation, or maybe he's putting another one of his sex spells on me. There's something in his expression that looks torn, though. As if he wants to trust me but isn't sure if he can.
I decide to put his mind at ease. "You can trust me, you know."
He bows his head and expels a heavy sigh. "I know, and I was wrong. You're much more observant than I gave you credit for."
"Maybe stop being so condescending, then," I offer, returning his smile even as his fades.
"You're..." He breaks off to laugh humorlessly. "Jesus. Have you always been a magnet for trouble?" he changes course.
"Are you trouble?"
"I'm the biggest trouble you will ever find," he leans slightly forward and says lowly, and I'm not going to lie, it's the most erotic thing anyone has ever spoken to me.
I reach out on impulse and grab his hand. It's cool. Lusciously cool. The kind of cool that makes you quiver and your skin prickle.
He tenses again but doesn't pull free. He only stares at me with that same frustration again. "What...?"
"You are insanely..." There's no word for it. At least not one I want to say out loud just yet, anyhow.
"Bella..." His voice has turned husky, his eyes looking like they're about to start glowing again.
"Please tell me the truth, Edward?" I practically beg him, and I am one hundred percent bewitched by him. If he really can't put spells on me and this is all just a hyped up, physical reaction to his face I am so fucked.
He nods once slowly, his gaze remaining fixed to mine. "I followed you to Port Angeles—"
"You followed me?"
"You already know that, but... I had no idea you were about to face certain death again," he pauses to scoff to himself in some kind of irony. "I have never known anyone who's so prone to trouble in my life."
"Maybe my number was up with what's-his-face's van, and you're just fighting fate," I say, clearing my throat and grabbing my empty glass for no reason other than needing something to grab onto. I'm three seconds from flinging myself into his arms.
"Your number was up the first time I met you," he speaks after a moment, deadly serious and in a tenor I have not heard from him before.
My head snaps up, and my eyes lock to his. I know he's admitting to wanting to eat me, but I can't get past how hot it's making me.
I nod in a fractured movement, because no matter how he makes me feel, I always knew even if I couldn't admit it. No one alive looks like the Alaskan supermodels, and he didn't have cryptosporidiosis, or gastro, that first day in Bio.
He wasn't grossed out by my boring, vanilla ass, either. He wanted to kill me.
I don't know why he had to be such an asshole about it, though.
"You remember?"
I nod again. "I swapped seats with Jessica," I mumble like an idiot and sounding like I'm in a trance. He's definitely putting something on me.
He breaks into a grin and is forced to smother his laughter beneath his breath. "But you're sitting opposite me now."
"Did you give me a choice?" I snap myself out of it and remind him, glad for a breather. "You snatched me off the streets and then dragged me here against my will."
Right at that moment Amber arrives and places my meal before me, all the while continuing to blatantly ogle Clark.
I look down at it, but truthfully, the thought of eating it makes me want to puke.
"Eat," he orders me again.
"You know how weird it is when you get all parental on me?" I point out, my brows raised.
"Do you want me to fess up?" he quotes me dryly.
Conceding, I fork a square of ravioli, shove it in my mouth and chew mechanically. "Your turn."
He sighs again. He does that a lot, as well. "It's harder than it should be—keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone easily, once I've read their mind..." He looks up at me, realizes I'm frozen to the spot and staring at him mouth agape, and frowns. "What...?"
I mean, I guessed that he could read minds, but he really can.
Holy shit! He's been reading my mind this whole time. I'm three seconds from hyperventilating, except—and I'm not nearly as ashamed to admit it as I am—a very large part of me is turned on by it.
"You really can—"
"Keep eating," he interrupts.
Begrudgingly, I skewer another piece and swallow. My stomach is ick, though, and I'm not sure if it's nerves or anticipation. Or sexual desire.
He continues, "I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully—like I said, only you could find trouble in Port Angeles—and at first I didn't notice when you took off on your own. Then, when I realized that you weren't with her anymore, I went looking for you at the bookstore I saw in her head. I could tell you hadn't gone inside, and that you'd gone south... and I knew you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street—to see if anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I had no reason to be worried... but I was strangely anxious..." His mind appears to drift, and he's losing himself in it.
I clear my throat in an effort to break him from it.
He blinks rapidly a few times and lightly shakes his head. "I started to drive in circles. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then—" He doesn't elaborate, and he's glowering to himself again. Looking hotter than sin in all his terrifying, beautiful fury.
"Then..." I coax him, my voice losing volume. This shit is real. He can read minds and can't go out in the sun...
Maybe someone slipped me acid.
"I heard what they were thinking," he says quietly, the anger steadily returning to his face. It darkens and as he glances up to meet my gaze I realize for the first time that this guy is fucking frightening! He moves his hand through his hair again. At least I think he did, but he did it in a movement that was too fast for my eyes to follow. "It was very hard for me to take you and leave them... alive."
I'm pretty sure I start to sway while Clark continues gazing vacantly down at the table. He's completely still. Not moving an inch. Not even breathing.
I don't say a word. I can't. Not without losing my mind in front of Amber and neckbeard guy. So I stay as quiet as possible, most definitely going into shock.
When he finally looks up and meets my eyes he's not Clark anymore. Or sex hair. He's Edward, creepy, beautiful, probably immortal and really old, but dangerous, who should not exist outside of young-adult romance novels. But he does, and he's openly admitting to stalking me.
The question remains: why?
There can only be one answer. He wants to eat me.
He better fuck me first.
A/N: That's all for today. I originally wrote 15 chapters. I followed the book as much as I could and veered off as well. I will finish fixing up the next 7 chapters but after that I'm not sure if I'll continue. It's pretty silly, but OP Bella is such a mary sue that it always annoyed me. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and I promise I will update Black Swan no later than a week. Or two.