Jacob and Bella Story

Chapter Seven

Bella’s P.O.V.

Upon arriving at the theater, Jacob gave me a ten-dollar bill.

I gazed at Jacob, curiosity dancing in my eyes. “What’s this?” I inquired.

“I’m not old enough to get into this one,” Jacob responded.

A hearty laugh eluded me. “Well, so much for age gaps! Is Billy going to unleash his wrath if I sneak you in?” I inquired with a grin.

“No,” Jacob said sarcastically, “I told him you were planning to corrupt my youthful innocence,” with a smirk on his lips.

I chuckled, and Mike quickened his pace to keep up with us. I wish Mike had gone home. His gloominess dampened the party’s atmosphere. But the idea of a solo date with Jacob? That was an unexpected problem I’d rather have avoided.

The movie delivered exactly the thrills and chills it promised in the previews. The opening credits depict an explosion that kills four people and a beheading. Covering her eyes, the girl before me buried her face in her date’s chest. He patted her shoulder, wincing now and then.

Mike’s expression was blank, devoid of interest. He fixed his gaze on the curtain, hiding the screen as if it held all the answers. I had spent two hours gearing up to lose myself in colors and movement—anything but the mundane shapes of people, cars, and houses. Yet Jacob was snickering like a mischievous sprite, amused by our silent tension.

I cast a curious glance at Jacob, my eyebrows dancing in inquiry. “What?” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper.

“Oh, please,” Jacob retorted, his voice low and fierce. “The blood spurted from that man, spraying a gruesome twenty feet in every direction.”

Jacob chuckled again as a flagpole speared another man into a concrete wall.

Afterward, I lost myself in the movie, laughing alongside Jacob as mayhem erupted. The ridiculousness piled on, each scene more absurd than the last, making it impossible to hold back my laughter. How could I untangle the complexities of our relationship? Yet, his joy enveloped me, causing everything else to fade into a delightful blur.

Jacob and Mike settled in beside me, claiming the armrest-like territory. Their palms rested flat, open to the unpredictable. Jacob has always tried to hold my hand; tonight was no exception. He relished the intertwining of our fingers, and honestly, I didn’t mind either. His warm grip has always felt like a comforting embrace. Yet beneath the soft glow of the theater, our connection shifted, with Mike lurking nearby like a silent guardian. I sensed Mike’s presence, nearly tangible in the air. I crossed my arms tightly, wishing my hands would grow numb. About halfway through the film, Mike took the plunge first. Pulling his arm back, he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. Initially, I believed his response was because of the film, but he moaned.

“Mike, are you okay?” I asked.

The couple in front of us turned to look at him as he groaned again.

“No,” Mike responded as he gasped. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

I noticed sweat glistening on his face in the screen light.

A groan escaped Mike’s lips before he fled. I rose to follow him, and Jacob did likewise.

“No, stay,” I said. “I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

Jacob shook his head and came with me anyway.

“You don’t have to come. You can get your eight bucks well spent,” I insisted as I walked out of the theater.

“That’s okay. You sure can pick them, Bella. This movie sucks,” Jacob said.

Silence echoed through the hallway, and no one could find Mike. Grateful for Jacob’s helping hand, I hurried into the men’s room. The door creaked like an old ghost behind me. Moments later, he returned, shaking his head with the weight of unspoken truths.

“Oh, he’s in there all right,” Jacob said, rolling his eyes. “What a marshmallow! Hold out for someone with grit. Look for someone who chuckles at the gruesome, while weaker souls turn their stomachs.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll be looking for someone like that,” I responded.

In the shadows of the dim corridor, we stood side by side. Two theaters flickered with life, yet both remained abandoned. A soothing silence wrapped around us like a cozy blanket. Only the soft popping of popcorn from the lobby interrupted the tranquility.

Jacob settled onto the velveteen bench, a plush island of comfort. He patted the space beside him, inviting me to join his cozy perch. “Sounds like he’ll be in there for a while,” he remarked, with words flowing easily.

With a heavy sigh, I resigned myself and settled beside him. Jacob, a ship adrift in thought, mused on the delicate dance of crossing boundaries. As I breathed easily, predictably, his arm encircled me like an unwelcome wave.

“Jake,” I said, leaning away.

Unfazed by my rejection, Jacob’s arm fell like a feather. He reached for my hand with a charming smile, but I withdrew. What fueled this sudden surge of bravery?

“What? I can’t hold your hand,” Jacob said.

“No, you can. It just means something else to you,” I responded.

“Okay, then tell me something.”

I wasn’t ready for this—not now. Yet, Jacob Black has become my everything, the anchor in my turbulent sea of life. I felt like I had found a home where I felt accepted and safe and could be my true self. He made me happy when I was down, and I preferred being with him more than anyone else. The thought of losing him weighs heavily on my heart, especially if we take that leap. Yet, here he is, intent on tossing us into chaos.

“You like me, right?” Jacob asked.

I nodded.

Jacob’s eyes glowed with a playful gleam. “And you think I’m kind of beautiful?” he asked with a charming smile.

“Jake,” I pleaded. “Please don’t do this.”

“Why?”

“I’m broken,” I responded, my voice trembling. “I feel like a car that’s permanently stalled, unable to run. It’s only fair to be honest with you.”

Jacob’s expression shifted, deep in thought rather than in mischief. “It’s about him, isn’t it?” he inquired, curiosity knitting his brows.

A wave of discomfort washed over me. Jacob’s choice to skip Edward’s name was fascinating. He picked up on nuances I had never revealed.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Jacob said.

I nodded gratefully.

“But don’t get mad at me for wanting to hang out with you, okay?” Jacob said, grabbing my hand. “Because I’m not giving up. I’ve got loads of time.”

Jacob’s grip was firm yet gentle, and he comfortingly pressed my hand as he offered support. His touch sent energy up my arm, and I tensed up as these feelings became more vigorous.

I sighed softly. “You shouldn’t waste your time on me.” Yet, amidst my words, I secretly hoped he would.

If only he could accept me, damaged but still worthy of love.

“It’s what I want, as long as you aspire to be with me,” Jacob said.

His words made me smile, lighting up my heart. “Honestly, I can’t picture not loving every moment with you,” I responded.

Jacob beamed, his grin brightening the room. “I can roll with that,” he responded.

“Just don’t expect more from me right now,” I warned him.

I tried to pull my hand away, craving a bit of distance. Yet Jacob, ever so determined, tightened his grip. “This doesn’t bother you, does it?” he questioned, curiosity dancing in his gaze.

Jacob squeezed my fingers, and I sighed. “No,” I said.

I had to be honest. I knew we should keep our distance, but Jacob’s hand felt nice and warm in my cold hands. I never wanted him to let go.

“You don’t care what he thinks?” Jacob asked, nudging toward the bathroom.

“I guess not,” I responded.

“So, what’s the problem?”

I showed our connected hands, which were now intertwined. “The problem is that this carries a different weight for me than it does for you,” I said. “If we’re going to keep this friendship alive, we probably shouldn’t be holding hands.”

“Well,” Jacob said as he tightened his hand around mine. “That is my problem, then.”

I sighed. I can’t vie with Jacob. “Fine,” I said, my voice tight with barely suppressed anger. “Don’t forget it, though,” she reminded him, her words heavy in the chilly air.

“I won’t. The pin is out of the grenade; I’m ready, eh?” Jacob asked.

Jacob’s elbow jabbed me hard in the ribs, eliciting an involuntary eye roll. His air of entitlement suggested he thought that joking was his special privilege.

Jacob chuckled softly, filling the air with warmth. His pinky traced gentle patterns on my skin, creating a pleasant tingle that flowed through my body.

Jacob’s gaze landed on a mark on the back of my arm. He twisted my hand for a better look. “That’s quite the peculiar scar you have,” he remarked. “What’s the story behind it?”

Jacob’s index finger followed the faint crescent scar on my skin. It barely touched me, but it sparked a fire inside my body. I gasped at the sensation, leaving me breathless.

I scowled. I couldn’t tell Jacob. I knew he didn’t know about vampires, and I couldn’t tell him that James had bitten me. I asked, “Do you honestly expect me to remember where all my scars come from?”

I waited for the memory to surface, hoping it would reopen the wound in my chest, a wound that Jacob’s presence had been healing.

“It’s bitterly cold,” Jacob remarked, lightly tracing the scar with care.

Mike emerged from the bathroom, pale and sweaty—a specter of despair. His visage told tales of utter defeat and inner turmoil.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, do you mind leaving early?” Mike asked.

“No, of course not.”

I took my hand free from Jacob’s and went to help Mike walk.

“Is the movie too intense for you?” Jacob asked, heartlessly.

Mike glared menacingly. “I didn’t actually see any of it,” he responded, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Before the lights went down, nausea overwhelmed me.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

“I was hoping it would pass,” Mike responded.

“Just a second,” Jacob said as we reached the door.

Jacob returned to the concession stand, determined to find an empty popcorn bucket. The lady’s eyes met Mike’s, and, like magic, she swiftly passed a bucket to Jacob.

“Get him outside, please,” the lady begged.

The lady was the one who would have to clean the floor.

I pulled Mike into the frosty air, where his breath turned to mist. He inhaled deeply, aware of the moment. Jacob joined our silent crusade. His support was palpable. United, we maneuvered Mike into the backseat—a tight squeeze. With a serious expression, Jacob handed him the bucket—a vital lifeline in this chilling scenario.

With the windows down, we embraced the cool, crisp night air. A frosty breath of hope for Mike whirled around us in the car. I wrapped my legs tightly to fend off the chill, crafting a cozy cocoon.

“Chilly again?” Jacob asked, putting his arm around me again.

“You’re not?” I asked.

Jacob shook his head.

I glanced at Jacob, worried. “You must have a fever or something,” I remarked.

It was freezing in there. How was Jacob not cold one bit?

I pressed my fingers to Jake’s forehead, and he felt like a furnace. “Whoa, Jake. You’re on fire!” I exclaimed.

“I feel fine,” Jacob said. “Fit as a fiddle.”

I furrowed my brow as I reached for his head. His skin felt like a sunlit ember beneath my touch.

“Your hands are like ice,” Jacob complained.

“Maybe it’s cold,” I said.

Mike surrendered to his stomach’s rebellion in the backseat, emptying into a bucket. Meanwhile, Jacob stole a worried glance over his shoulder, silently pleading for his car’s survival.

The journey home stretched, each mile thick with Jacob’s silent thoughts. His arm, a warm and gentle shield, encircled me against the biting wind. The chill was oddly refreshing, like a brisk, cool embrace, invigorating my spirit.

Guilt draped over my heart like a heavy gray blanket as I stared through the windshield. I had misled Jacob, driven by a selfish desire that clouded my judgment. My message was simple, yet it somehow got lost in translation. I would have let him down if he had imagined anything beyond friendship. How do I help him grasp how I’m feeling right now? I felt as empty as an abandoned, decaying house, echoes of the past lingering in the shadows. Months of solitude had turned me into a burden, a weight on those around me. I managed some minor repairs, such as polishing a tarnished façade. The front room sparkled weakly, but it hardly sufficed. Jacob deserved a loving home, not a rundown renovation project. His valiant efforts couldn’t restore the person I used to be. Still, pushing him away felt like losing my last connection to the light.

I weighed the best way to convey my boundaries to him. The mere thought sent chills racing down my spine, prompting Jacob to hold me tighter.

As I drove through our suburban streets, I dropped Mike off. Jacob shadowed us, ready to whisk me back home. On the way home, Jacob was silent. An awkward hush enveloped the car. I couldn’t help but wonder—was he wrestling with the same shadows of self-doubt? Did he, too, reflect on his choices?

“I would invite myself in,” Jacob said as he pulled beside my truck. But you might be right about the fever. I’m feeling a little... strange.”

“Oh no, not you too! Do you want me to drive you home?” I asked.

Jacob shook his head, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “No, I’m not sick yet. Just feeling a little strange. If it comes to that, I’ll pull over,” he said.

“Will you call me as soon as you get in?” I asked.

“Sure, sure,” Jacob muttered, frowning while gazing into the abyss. He bit his lip, uncertainty weaving through his thoughts like shadows in the night.

As I opened the door, freedom beckoned like a long-lost friend. But Jacob’s fingers—gentle as a whispering vine—gripped my wrist, halting my escape. His touch radiated warmth, igniting that spark again that danced within me.

I eyed Jacob, worry shadowing my expression. “What’s wrong, Jake?”

“There’s something I want to tell you, Bella, but it’s going to sound corny,” Jacob responded.

With a heavy sigh, I sensed where this was heading. “Go ahead,” I prompted, my curiosity piqued by our theater talk.

“It’s that. I know you’re unhappy a lot, and this helps nothing, but I wanted you to know that I’m always here for you. I won’t ever let you down. I promise you can always count on me. It sounds corny, but you know that, right? That I would never hurt you?” Jacob asked.

I smiled. Jacob’s words brought butterflies to my stomach. How can I put boundaries between us when he says things like that? “Yeah, Jake. I know that. And I already do count on you, probably more than you know,” I said.

Jacob’s smile pierced my heart like a dagger.

A strange look crossed Jacob’s face. “I think I’d better go home now,” he said.

Jacob let go of me, and I got out of the car quickly.

“Call me!” I yelled.

I watched Jacob cruise away, confidence radiating from him. As his car vanished, an unsettling chill washed over me. The once-bustling street sat empty of life. No familiar flutter of nerves accompanied this moment; instead, an eerie heaviness settled in my bones. It was a feeling that defied logic, lingering like a shadow.

Though I never sought to lean on Jacob, guilt still shadows me. Loving Jacob wasn’t on my agenda, yet I stand smitten. My heart races for Jacob Black; my cravings are relentless. This dependence, once a drizzle, has turned into a storm. I’ve tumbled deeper into him like I did for Edward. The mere idea of causing Jacob’s pain sends chills down my spine, yet it feels inevitable. He’s convinced time and patience will buff my jagged edges, but I know better. Still, I struggle to stop him from trying to mend me.

Jacob is my best friend. I will always love him, but it will never be enough.