IT WAS ALL VERY CHILDISH. WHY ON EARTH SHOULD EDward have to leave for Jacob to come over? Weren’t we past this kind of immaturity?
“It’s not that I feel any personal antagonism toward him, Bella, it’s just easier for both of us,” Edward told me at the door. “I won’t be far away. You’ll be safe.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
He smiled, and then a sly look came into his eye. He pulled me close, burying his face in my hair. I could feel his cool breath saturate the strands as he exhaled; it raised goose bumps on my neck.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, and then he laughed aloud as if I’d just told a good joke.
“What’s so funny?”
But Edward just grinned and loped off toward the trees without answering.
Grumbling to myself, I went to clean up the kitchen. Before I even had the sink full of water, the doorbell rang. It was hard to get used to how much faster Jacob was without his car. How everyone seemed to be so much faster than me. . . .
“Come in, Jake!” I shouted.
I was concentrating on piling the dishes into the bubbly water, and I’d forgotten that Jacob moved like a ghost these days. So it made me jump when his voice was suddenly there behind me.
“Should you really leave your door unlocked like that? Oh, sorry.”
I’d slopped myself with the dishwater when he’d startled me.
“I’m not worried about anyone who would be deterred by a locked door,” I said while I wiped the front of my shirt with a dishtowel.
“Good point,” he agreed.
I turned to look at him, eyeing him critically. “Is it really so impossible to wear clothes, Jacob?” I asked. Once again, Jacob was bare-chested, wearing nothing but a pair of old cut-off jeans. Secretly, I wondered if he was just so proud of his new muscles that he couldn’t stand to cover them up. I had to admit, they were impressive — but I’d never thought of him as vain. “I mean, I know you don’t get cold anymore, but still.”
He ran a hand through his wet hair; it was falling in his eyes.
“It’s just easier,” he explained.
“What’s easier?”
He smiled condescendingly. “It’s enough of a pain to carry the shorts around with me, let alone a complete outfit. What do I look like, a pack mule?”
I frowned. “What are you talking about, Jacob?”
His expression was superior, like I was missing something obvious. “My clothes don’t just pop in and out of existence when I change — I have to carry them with me while I run. Pardon me for keeping my burden light.”
I changed color. “I guess I didn’t think about that,” I muttered.
He laughed and pointed to a black leather cord, thin as a strand of yarn, that was wound three times below his left calf like an anklet. I hadn’t noticed before that his feet were bare, too. “That’s more than just a fashion statement — it sucks to carry jeans in your mouth.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
He grinned. “Does my being half-naked bother you?”
“No.”
Jacob laughed again, and I turned my back on him to focus on the dishes. I hoped he realized my blush was left over from embarrassment at my own stupidity, and had nothing to do with his question.
“Well, I suppose I should get to work.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t want to give him an excuse to say I’m slacking on my side.”
“Jacob, it’s not your job —”
He raised a hand to cut me off. “I’m working on a volunteer basis here. Now, where is the intruder’s scent the worst?”
“My bedroom, I think.”
His eyes narrowed. He didn’t like that any more than Edward had.
“I’ll just be a minute.”
I methodically scrubbed the plate I was holding. The only sound was the brush’s plastic bristles scraping round and round on the ceramic. I listened for something from above, a creak of the floorboard, the click of a door. There was nothing. I realized I’d been cleaning the same plate far longer than necessary, and I tried to pay attention to what I was doing.
“Whew!” Jacob said, inches behind me, scaring me again.
“Yeesh, Jake, cut that out!”
“Sorry. Here —” Jacob took the towel and mopped up my new spill. “I’ll make it up to you. You wash, I’ll rinse and dry.”
“Fine.” I gave him the plate.
“Well, the scent was easy enough to catch. By the way, your room reeks.”
“I’ll buy some air freshener.”
He laughed.
I washed and he dried in companionable silence for a few minutes.
“Can I ask you something?”
I handed him another plate. “That depends on what you want to know.”
“I’m not trying to be a jerk or anything — I’m honestly curious,” Jacob assured me.
“Fine. Go ahead.”
He paused for half a second. “What’s it like — having a vampire for a boyfriend?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s the best.”
“I’m serious. The idea doesn’t bother you — it never creeps you out?”
“Never.”
He was silent as he reached for the bowl in my hands. I peeked up at his face — he was frowning, his lower lip jutting out.
“Anything else?” I asked.
He wrinkled his nose again. “Well . . . I was wondering . . . do you . . . y’know, kiss him?”
I laughed. “Yes.”
He shuddered. “Ugh.”
“To each her own,” I murmured.
“You don’t worry about the fangs?”
I smacked his arm, splashing him with dishwater. “Shut up, Jacob! You know he doesn’t have fangs!”
“Close enough,” he muttered.
I gritted my teeth and scrubbed a boning knife with more force than necessary.
“Can I ask another one?” he asked softly when I passed the knife to him. “Just curious, again.”
“Fine,” I snapped.
He turned the knife over and over in his hands under the stream of water. When he spoke, it was only a whisper. “You said a few weeks. . . . When, exactly . . . ?” He couldn’t finish.
“Graduation,” I whispered back, watching his face warily. Would this set him off again?
“So soon,” he breathed, his eyes closing. It didn’t sound like a question. It sounded like a lament. The muscles in his arms tightened and his shoulders were stiff.
“OW!” he shouted; it had gotten so still in the room that I jumped a foot in the air at his outburst.
His right hand had curled into a tense fist around the blade of the knife — he unclenched his hand and the knife clattered onto the counter. Across his palm was a long, deep gash. The blood streamed down his fingers and dripped on the floor.
“Damn it! Ouch!” he complained.
My head spun and my stomach rolled. I clung to the countertop with one hand, took a deep breath through my mouth, and forced myself to get a grip so that I could take care of him.
“Oh, no, Jacob! Oh, crap! Here, wrap this around it!” I shoved the dish towel at him, reaching for his hand. He shrugged away from me.
“It’s nothing, Bella, don’t worry about it.”
The room started to shimmer a little around the edges.
I took another deep breath. “Don’t worry?! You sliced your hand open!”
He ignored the dish towel I pushed at him. He put his hand under the faucet and let the water wash over the wound. The water ran red. My head whirled.
“Bella,” he said.
I looked away from the wound, up to his face. He was frowning, but his expression was calm.
“What?”
“You look like you’re going to pass out, and you’re biting your lip off. Stop it. Relax. Breathe. I’m fine.”
I inhaled through my mouth and removed my teeth from my lower lip. “Don’t be brave.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Let’s go. I’ll drive you to the ER.” I was pretty sure I would be okay to drive. The walls were holding steady now, at least.
“Not necessary.” Jake turned off the water and took the towel from my hand. He twisted it loosely around his palm.
“Wait,” I protested. “Let me look at it.” I clutched the counter more firmly, to hold myself upright if the wound made me woozy again.
“Do you have a medical degree that you never told me about?”
“Just give me the chance to decide whether or not I’m going to throw a fit over taking you to the hospital.”
He made a face of mock horror. “Please, not a fit!”
“If you don’t let me see your hand, a fit is guaranteed.”
He inhaled deeply, and then let out a gusty sigh. “Fine.”
He unwound the towel and, when I reached out to take the cloth, he laid his hand in mine.
It took me a few seconds. I even flipped his hand over, though I was sure he’d cut his palm. I turned his hand back up, finally realizing that the angry pink, puckered line was all that was left of his wound.
“But . . . you were bleeding . . . so much.”
He pulled his hand back, his eyes steady and somber on mine.
“I heal fast.”
“I’ll say,” I mouthed.
I’d seen the long gash clearly, seen the blood that flowed into the sink. The rust-and-salt smell of it had almost pulled me under. It should have needed stitches. It should have taken days to scab over and then weeks to fade into the shiny pink scar that marked his skin now.
He screwed his mouth up into half a smile and thumped his fist once against his chest. “Werewolf, remember?”
His eyes held mine for an immeasurable moment.
“Right,” I finally said.
He laughed at my expression. “I told you this. You saw Paul’s scar.”
I shook my head to clear it. “It’s a little different, seeing the action sequence firsthand.”
I kneeled down and dug the bleach out of the cabinet under the sink. Then I poured some on a dusting rag and started scrubbing the floor. The burning scent of the bleach cleared the last of the dizziness from my head.
“Let me clean up,” Jacob said.
“I got this. Throw that towel in the wash, will you?”
When I was sure the floor smelled of nothing but bleach, I got up and rinsed the right side of the sink with bleach, too. Then I went to the laundry closet beside the pantry, and poured a cupful into the washing machine before starting it. Jacob watched me with a disapproving look on his face.
“Do you have obsessive-compulsive disorder?” he asked when I was done.
Huh. Maybe. But at least I had a good excuse this time. “We’re a bit sensitive to blood around here. I’m sure you can understand that.”
“Oh.” He wrinkled his nose again.
“Why not make it as easy as possible for him? What he’s doing is hard enough.”
“Sure, sure. Why not?”
I pulled the plug, and let the dirty water drain from the sink.
“Can I ask you something, Bella?”
I sighed.
“What’s it like — having a werewolf for a best friend?”
The question caught me off guard. I laughed out loud.
“Does it creep you out?” he pressed before I could answer.
“No. When the werewolf is being nice,” I qualified, “it’s the best.”
He grinned widely, his teeth bright against his russet skin. “Thanks, Bella,” he said, and then he grabbed my hand and wrenched me into one of his bone-crushing hugs.
Before I had time to react, he dropped his arms and stepped away.
“Ugh,” he said, his nose wrinkling. “Your hair stinks worse than your room.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. I suddenly understood what Edward had been laughing about earlier, after breathing on me.
“One of the many hazards of socializing with vampires,” Jacob said, shrugging. “It makes you smell bad. A minor hazard, comparatively.”
I glared at him. “I only smell bad to you, Jake.”
He grinned. “See you around, Bells.”
“Are you leaving?”
“He’s waiting for me to go. I can hear him outside.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll go out the back,” he said, and then he paused. “Hold up a sec — hey, do you think you can come to La Push tonight? We’re having a bonfire party. Emily will be there, and you could meet Kim . . . And I know Quil wants to see you, too. He’s pretty peeved that you found out before he did.”
I grinned at that. I could just imagine how that would have irked Quil — Jacob’s little human gal pal down with the werewolves while he was still clueless. And then I sighed. “Yeah, Jake, I don’t know about that. See, it’s a little tense right now. . . .”
“C’mon, you think somebody’s going to get past all — all six of us?”
There was a strange pause as he stuttered over the end of his question. I wondered if he had trouble saying the word werewolf aloud, the way I often had difficulty with vampire.
His big dark eyes were full of unashamed pleading.
“I’ll ask,” I said doubtfully.
He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Is he your warden, now, too? You know, I saw this story on the news last week about controlling, abusive teenage relationships and —”
“Okay!” I cut him off, and then shoved his arm. “Time for the werewolf to get out!”
He grinned. “Bye, Bells. Be sure you ask permission.”
He ducked out the back door before I could find something to throw at him. I growled incoherently at the empty room.
Seconds after he was gone, Edward walked slowly into the kitchen, raindrops glistening like diamonds set into the bronze of his hair. His eyes were wary.
“Did you two get into a fight?” he asked.
“Edward!” I sang, throwing myself at him.
“Hi, there.” He laughed and wrapped his arms around me. “Are you trying to distract me? It’s working.”
“No, I didn’t fight with Jacob. Much. Why?”
“I was just wondering why you stabbed him. Not that I object.” With his chin, he gestured to the knife on the counter.
“Dang! I thought I got everything.”
I pulled away from him and ran to put the knife in the sink before I doused it with bleach.
“I didn’t stab him,” I explained as I worked. “He forgot he had a knife in his hand.”
Edward chuckled. “That’s not nearly as fun as the way I imagined it.”
“Be nice.”
He took a big envelope from his jacket pocket and tossed it on the counter. “I got your mail.”
“Anything good?”
“I think so.”
My eyes narrowed suspiciously at his tone. I went to investigate.
He’d folded the legal-sized envelope in half. I smoothed it open, surprised at the weight of the expensive paper, and read the return address.
“Dartmouth? Is this a joke?”
“I’m sure it’s an acceptance. It looks exactly like mine.”
“Good grief, Edward — what did you do?”
“I sent in your application, that’s all.”
“I may not be Dartmouth material, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that.”
“Dartmouth seems to think that you’re Dartmouth material.”
I took a deep breath and counted slowly to ten. “That’s very generous of them,” I finally said. “However, accepted or not, there is still the minor matter of tuition. I can’t afford it, and I’m not letting you throw away enough money to buy yourself another sports car just so that I can pretend to go to Dartmouth next year.”
“I don’t need another sports car. And you don’t have to pretend anything,” he murmured. “One year of college wouldn’t kill you. Maybe you’d even like it. Just think about it, Bella. Imagine how excited Charlie and Renée would be. . . .”
His velvet voice painted the picture in my head before I could block it. Of course Charlie would explode with pride — no one in the town of Forks would be able to escape the fallout from his excitement. And Renée would be hysterical with joy at my triumph — though she’d swear she wasn’t at all surprised. . . .
I tried to shake the image out of my head. “Edward. I’m worried about living through graduation, let alone this summer or next fall.”
His arms wrapped around me again. “No one is going to hurt you. You have all the time in the world.”
I sighed. “I’m mailing the contents of my bank account to Alaska tomorrow. It’s all the alibi I need. It’s far enough away that Charlie won’t expect a visit until Christmas at the earliest. And I’m sure I’ll think of some excuse by then. You know,” I teased halfheartedly, “this whole secrecy and deception thing is kind of a pain.”
Edward’s expression hardened. “It gets easier. After a few decades, everyone you know is dead. Problem solved.”
I flinched.
“Sorry, that was harsh.”
I stared down at the big white envelope, not seeing it. “But still true.”
“If I get this resolved, whatever it is we’re dealing with, will you please consider waiting?”
“Nope.”
“Always so stubborn.”
“Yep.”