Emme Fenway's life is heating up, spurred on by her father's death and an impromptu move across the country.
That heat isn't the problem, though. The problem is that Quileute boy, and he's bringing a heat all his own...
6. Crime Scenes.
Rating 5/5 Word Count 1986 Review this Chapter
Give him time. That's what Sam had told me. Hell, that's what everyone told me. So I gave Paul all the time in the world, just like they said. I didn't give him a chance. Not that it really mattered, though. I hadn't seen hide or hair of Paul since I had gotten myself kicked out of La Push nearly three weeks ago via supernatural means. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same about Jacob.
"Seriously, Em, I love your house," Jacob said through a mouthful of brownie, plopping beside me on the couch. "I think I might move in. Think Lissy will share her room?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "I doubt it. That little rug rat is really territorial. Besides, you can room with me." I waggled a brow suggestively, earning a look somewhere between horrified and scandalized from Jacob. "Kidding, Jake," I clarified, popping a bit of brownie in my mouth and shoving him playfully.
"Let's not kid like that," said Jacob, taking a monstrous bite out of the slab of brownie he cut himself. "Besides, I only like it here for the food."
"Jerk," I accused. "Would you like me to airlift some brownies to your house so you can leave mine?"
He thought a minute. "Nah, I guess I like the people here, too."
A little piece of brownie fell out of his mouth as he spoke. "Charming," I said, grabbing a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table and wiping his face like I would Lissy's.
"Thanks, Ma," Jacob said sarcastically, wiping his own face with the back of his hand.
"You're welcome," I laughed, getting up and tromping to my kitchen. Emphasis on my. We, being myself, mother, and Lissy, finally got our own house. It was a little out-skirts-of-town thing that mother fell in love with, and I only had one room, but hey! It was mine. Mine was great. I had been camping out on Bella's couch for so long, it was nice to have a real bed. It was even nicer to have all my things from Gatlinburg, even if they were crammed into one room. I had everything, now. Including my jeep. It was good to be a free bird.
"Hey!" Jacob yelled, balancing his pan of brownies on my stack of magazines on the coffee table. He found me with my face in the fridge and pouted. "You left me."
"Honestly, Jake, you are such a baby." I emerged from the fridge with a Ziploc of sliced cantaloupe. "Maybe you should room with Lissy. You belong in a nursery."
He slapped an oversized hand over his heart. "Ouch, Emme. Ouch."
I dumped a few slices of cantaloupe on a plate. "Whatever, baby."
"Did you just call me baby?" he asked, flabbergasted.
"Not in the affectionate sense of the word," I teased. "In more of the infantile, immature sort of way." I smiled at him brightly.
"Like I said, ouch." He tapped his chest. "Right here."
"Dork." I shoved a piece of fruit in my mouth. Jacob sauntered to me, stealing one of my slices of cantaloupe and glaring daggers.
"Now that I resent, Em." He at the cantaloupe in what seemed like one enormous bite. "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a dork."
"That's right," I said darkly, eating my last piece of cantaloupe and putting the dish in the washer. "You're just a bonehead."
"That was cold." I turned to the doorway where Embry was leaning in the frame. "You know how he feels about your endearing term." Jacob threw an apple from the basket on the counter at him. Jacob's posture screamed ‘not funny.'
"Hey, Embry." I smiled, waving. "Ever heard of knocking?"
"Why should he?" asked Quil, appearing behind his friends. "Don't you just expect us by now?"
"I swear," I said, exasperated. "You three move in a..." I didn't get to finish. Jacob did it for me.
"Pack?" he inquired, snickering just a little. Quil and Embry joined it. Oh, the irony, I thought.
I grabbed a dishtowel from the sink and threw it at Jacob. "Yes. Exactly. So why don't you just pack yourselves back to La Push?"
"So is the playstation still in the living room or is it in her room, Jake?" asked Quil, totally ignoring me.
Jacob didn't miss a beat. "You know, I really have no idea. Do you, Embry?" Jacob said, hands on his hips. I snorted a little trying not to laugh.
"Nope, Jake, I don't know. I guess we'll have to go back to La Push and play mine..." Embry drawled, peeking at me from the corner of his eyes and looking painfully like a little boy trying to get his way. I glanced at the other two boys who were showing me two mighty impressive pairs of puppy dog eyes. I giggled a little.
"It's still in the living room. The games are in the basket by the bookcase." So I caved. Was it my fault they were insanely good at the begging and pleading thing? Most definitely not. I smiled to myself as they trooped to the living room like soldiers to play my new playstation. I had bought it about a week and a half ago after the first night the whole pack visited me. Entertainment was vital when you had the pack together, and I had been unprepared. After playing hide ‘n seek in the dark with that group, let's say I'm too eager to repeat the offense.
I went back to the living room and plopped between Quil and Embry. I grabbed one of my magazines, putting the pan of brownies on Quil's lap and propping my legs on Jacob's back where he sat cross legged on the floor. Jacob protested a little but got over it pretty quickly when he noticed he was losing, and I rolled my eyes and tried to tune out the yelling and screaming. I sat there for almost an hour listening to the banter around me, sweating up a storm in the process of my brain vegetation. I thought I was too young for hot flashes, I thought, dabbing lightly at my brow dramatically. Then it hit me.
I was sitting surrounded by three guys who run at a healthy one oh eight, one oh nine or so. Not very bright. Of course I was sweating before I knew it, that natural thing called breathing getting a little bit more difficult. I slammed People on the coffee table and clawed my way to my feet.
"Hey, watch it, Em!" Jacob protested as I attempted to kick him out of my foot space and only succeeded in knocking the controller from his hands.
I would have apologized, but I was halfway on the path to rampage. "Don't we have a damn air conditioner in here?" I could hear the boys laughing as I viciously attacked the thermostat, bringing it down from its toasty seventy seven degrees to a (hopefully) chilled sixty two. I went and stood under a vent for a moment, ignoring the cackling werewolves pointing at me. I felt sticky all over, like I had just ran a mile or two in Tennessee quality humidity.
"I'm going to go change clothes. This is gross," I gestured to my sweat dampened clothes.
Embry cackled. "You do that, Em." I popped him on the head lightly as I passed, not willing to injure myself any worse than I already was because of something stupid Embry said. The nice little brace I had earned from slapping him at Jacob's house had a tendency to be ridiculously itchy, and I really didn't want to sport a matching one on the other hand.
I came back to the living room after trading in my jeans and shirt for soffees and a tank top, moseying into the living room to find a full fledged wrestling match between Jacob and Quil. I couldn't exactly tell who was winning, or if there was even supposed to be a winner, so I stood next to Embry behind the couch, which seemed to be the designated ‘safe' zone. I shoved him in his side carefully with an elbow, avoiding his ribs because they might seriously injure my poor funny bone.
"What's up with them?" I asked, gesturing to the brawl in my living room and noting sadly that they had destroyed my magazines. I felt a touch of anger flit through me when I saw the shattered brownie pan beside the tattered magazines. "Wolves are so destructive..." I muttered.
"Hm? What was that Emme?" asked a highly amused Embry.
"I said herd them back to La Push," I said flatly. Embry looked confused.
"No you didn't. You said wolves are destructive." I was amazed. Embry has ears... and he knows how to use them.
I shoved him again. "Well this is what I'm saying now. My mom's going to be back with Lissy in about thirty minutes and I really don't want to explain the three guys I've had over while she was out."
"Oh." Finally. Realization. "Gotcha." Embry jumped into the impromptu wrestling match, slowly but surely hustling Jacob and Quil out the back door and into the frickin' national park I called a backyard. I wasn't surprised when the yelling and grunting turned to yipping and growling, and even less surprised when the sounds of their brawl trailed away to silence. I sighed, picking up the shattered piece of what had been a nice glass pan and threw my magazines back on the coffee table. Aside from the giant gash across George Clooney's face, it really wasn't that bad...
Clean up was always so much worse than mess up. I cut up the bottoms of my feet stepping on glass I wasn't aware was there, and I permanently pressed brownie into the carpet. The brownie was easily enough doctored into non-existence... I moved the rug. The cuts weren't so easy. After I was sure I wasn't leaving bloody footprints, I found a pair of flip flops and finished cleaning up the remains of the shattered pan. Thank you, Jake, I thought, more than slightly ticked and forgetting Quil was equally at blame. It took most of my thirty minutes before mother got back to finish disposing of the evidence that three highly destructive werewolves had been there.
I should so clean crime scenes.
I was kicked back on the couch reading torn George Clooney when mother and Lissy shuffled into the house. Lissy was shrieking and mother was making huffy, angry noises. Apparently grocery shopping didn't work out to well for them. I sighed, dropping poor shredded George on the coffee table and headed upstairs to my room. I didn't really feel like talking to either of them if neither were going to be pleasant. I barricaded myself in my room leaning against my door for a moment before loping to my desk and turning on my laptop, which lived on my desk and operated as my desktop. I blinked a few good times, unable to pinpoint what exactly was amiss. I shuffled to the bedside table, grabbing my ipod off my little pile of junk that had accumulated there. I went back to the desk, finally realizing what was wrong.
The window was open.
I dropped my ipod on the desk, warily approaching the window. I pulled the antique-style window closed, dropping the lock all the way. Mother had told me to leave the lock halfway because it would get stuck, but I really didn't care. Anything could waltz in through an open window. Anything could have... well, not really. My room was on the second floor. Nothing could jump that high, right? Something could, I thought bitterly, catching a glimpse of something silvery slipping away into the woods. Werewolves could.
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