So this is my new story. I really should be working on my others, but the idea just popped into my head and wouldn't go away. In any case, it's my first attempt at a full-length Sam/Bella story so that's kind of exciting for me. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway. Thanks.
I don't own anything to do with Twilight.
I ignored the man standing hesitantly next to me and continued to swig sullenly from the bottle of light beer sat in front of me. I didn't want to talk, didn't want to think; all I wanted to do was sit here, get drunk and wallow.
The unfamiliar drink was disgusting. I had never really drunk a lot of alcohol before, only the odd glass of wine at my mother's house, but when I had originally slouched down on my stool three hours ago and the bartender had raised an expectant eyebrow, the only drink that immediately came to mind was beer.
Next time I would ask for something different. The man in the suit at the other end of the bar had been sinking whiskeys for the last thirty minutes without pulling a face once. Maybe I would try that next.
"Do you mind if I sit?"
I squinted up at the unwelcome intruder and then shrugged. Sam Uley had over a foot in height and over a hundred pounds on me; it wasn't like I could physically stop him from sitting down next to me.
I didn't have to talk to him though. In fact, I was determined to ignore him.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Sam was just as good at remaining silent as I was. He seemed perfectly content to sit next to me taking quiet sips of the drink that magically appeared in front of him. Clearly he wasn't going to be offering an explanation for why he was here anytime soon.
I finished my beer and signalled to the bartender to bring another. Sam immediately shot that down.
"I think she's had enough already, don't you?" He accompanied his words to the server with a hard glare that sent the other man scurrying away pretty quickly.
My mouth fell open in shock at his presumptuous behaviour.
"What do you think you're doing?" My voice rose loudly with my anger.
He took another long draft before replying. "I think we both know that you've had enough for today."
It was neither an apology nor an explanation. Angry tears began to collect in my eyes.
Who was this man to say what I should or shouldn't do?
Sure he had saved me that night I was lost in the forest, and I guessed I was sort of grateful for that – although at times I did wish that had just left me to die of hypothermia out there. Since then though, he had been nothing but an irritation – a strange shadowy figure who lurked in the corner of my eye every time I left the house.
"You don't know me."
It sounded incredibly stupid and childish, but it was all I could think to say.
No-one, least of all Sam Uley, could say that they knew what I meant, how I thought, and whether or not I wanted another drink, just on the basis of seeing me from a distance a few times a week.
"I know that if you have any more to drink now, you're putting yourself at risk," he stated with that infuriating calmness.
I stared at him incredulously for a full minute and then huffing, slid off my stool and headed out of the bar, dragging my coat and bag behind me. I didn't even bother looking in my truck's direction as I traipsed through the parking lot. I may not have wanted to leave already, but I was well aware that I was in not fit condition to drive.
Holding my bag awkwardly, I shrugged into my coat one arm at a time and crossed over onto the main road.
"You shouldn't walk home alone."
Great. Now I couldn't escape him.
I kept walking.
"Bella," he called across the road. "Bella."
The sound of running footsteps came from behind me and then my arm was grabbed, stopping me in my tracks.
"Bella, wait up."
"Let go of me." I gritted my teeth and yanked angrily against his constraining hand.
To his credit, he immediately released his grasp. "Didn't you hear me over there?" he asked.
"Sam..." I looked up at him, trying to fathom out what he was thinking. "I just want to be left alone, okay? I don't want company and I don't want you doing... whatever it is that you think you're doing here."
He blinked down at me. "One of the guys from the res saw you down here at the bar. He didn't think that you should be drinking, especially since you're underage and he gave me a call."
None of that made any sense to me.
"Why is it any of your business?" I waved my hands in the air. "And why, if the Chief's daughter drinking is such a problem then didn't whoever it was call my dad...or, I don't know... tell the bartender that he shouldn't be serving me? Huh?"
He shrugged. "Perhaps he thought that I would be a better option than the Chief."
"You're never the better option, Sam."
I tried to ignore the flash of hurt on his face as I turned my back on him once more and began my trek again. "I'm sorry," I muttered as I walked away. "I didn't mean that."
"Look." He darted in front of me, making me stop again. "I know I'm not your favourite person right now but I can at least help you get back home safely. You shouldn't be walking all that way by yourself this late at night."
I tried to avoid his knowing gaze. "I'm not going home, so it's fine...thank you," I tagged onto the end.
He frowned. "Well where are you going then?"
I shrugged and looked down at the ground, stubbing the toe of my sneakers into the dirt.
His tone grew suspicious. "Where does Charlie think you're going?"
Biting my lip, I forced myself to gaze up at him defiantly. "Charlie thinks I'm staying over at a friend's."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Okay then. Let me take you there. My truck's in the lot and I haven't had much to drink; I can give you a ride to your friend's house."
Well, damn. Now what was I supposed to say.
Without my noticing, Sam had managed to take my elbow and was slowly leading me back across the road.
Huffing at him, I removed my arm from his grip, but continued to follow him to a grey truck parked away from the others. I climbing into the cab, I had to admit to myself that it was lot warmer in here than if I had been taking the long walk home.
Breathing into my hands, I rubbed them together to warm them up as Sam rounding the cab and climbed behind the driver's seat. He turned the engine on without a word and pulled smoothly out of the parking lot.
There were no streetlights on this stretch of road and the darkness, along with the soft hum of the engine and the warmth of the cab, was lulling me to sleep.
My eyes fluttered open. Sam was glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
He took one hand off the steering wheel as if he was going to reach towards me, but then thought better of it.
"Bella, where am I going?"
His voice sounded very far away, almost dreamlike. I couldn't understand what he was saying though.
"Your friend's house," he clarified. "We're nearly back in Forks and I don't know where I need to take you."
That woke me up. The friend's house. The one I had told Charlie, and now Sam, that I was staying out tonight.
Crap. This wasn't working out at all like I'd planned earlier on this afternoon, when in a fit of misery at Jake's rejection in front of his new gang of friends, I had felt that driving to Port Angeles and getting drunk was a really good idea.
At the time I hadn't really worried about how I would get home or where I was supposed to sleep.
I stayed silent, my mind racing as I tried to work out an answer to my problem. I could stay with a friend, I guessed. I expect that if I showed up at her door Angela would let me in, maybe Jess would too, but staying with either of them would require an explanation for why I needed someplace to stay. Plus, the odds on getting caught out by one of their parents were quite high. Charlie was at home so I couldn't go back there – again, more explanations would be required, especially if I showed up without my truck. And the last possible solution to the problem of where I was sleeping tonight, my truck, was currently sat in a parking lot an hour's drive away.
In the old days, the one person I would've been able to turn to in a situation like this, the one person I could rely on, was…
I burst into tears, unable to stop them rolling down my face at the thought that Jake didn't want to be my friend anymore. Normally I tried my best to never cry in front of anyone; I didn't like anyone seeing me that vulnerable. It seemed, however, that the four beers I had consumed that afternoon had lowered my defences completely and now I was a hiccupping, sobbing mess.
The truck slowed and then rolled to a stop. The next thing I knew I was being gathered in hot arms and placed on Sam's lap while he ran a hand soothingly up and down my back.
It almost felt like the tears were never going to stop. I had held it all in for so long and now it was all coming out. I didn't know how long I cried for before I realised that I was still curled up on Sam's lap, my face buried into his neck. The low rumbling I had vaguely noticed was in fact coming from his chest pressed against mine rather than the truck engine which had been switched off without my noticing.
I struggled to compose myself as Sam made low, crooning sounds, trying to get me to calm down. As comfortable as I felt in that moment, I couldn't forget that Sam was the reason why Jake wasn't talking to me anymore in the first place; he was part of the reason why I was upset.
Drawing in several deep, shuddering breaths, I managed to stop crying, and I brushed impatiently at my wet cheeks, annoyed at myself for showing weakness in front of someone else.
I forced myself to push away from his warm embrace and slide back over to my own side of the cab. I seemed to be doing nothing but apologising to Sam today. No-one would ever believe that I wasn't normally this bad-tempered…maybe it was all the beer.
Sitting back in my seat, I resolutely pushed my hair back behind my ears and stared straight ahead, waiting for Sam to start the truck again.
He didn't move.
I finally chanced a look at him only to start when I found him watching me intently.
"You don't have a friend's house to stay at, do you?" he eventually asked, his voice carefully even.
I looked away from him before I answered. "No. Since…" I couldn't continue.
There was a long pause.
"Where were planning on staying?"
I shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it. I only said that so that Charlie wouldn't worry about me."
He sounded angry when he next spoke. "He's got every right to be worried if you're going out doing stupid things like getting drunk with no way of getting home."
It was true; I knew it was true. It still hurt to have a man who was a virtual stranger tell me this though.
I just shook my head, unable to talk, to defend myself.
Sam sighed and I glanced across at him.
He looked…tired. One hand was rubbish at his temple and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. But then, if he really was as exhausted as he looked then why was he wasting his time driving all the way to Port Angeles just to pick up a drunk girl he didn't really know.
Eventually, he started the truck again and pulled back onto the road.
I looked around anxiously as we turned off the main road into Forks. "Where are we going?"
He grimaced. "Back to mine. You don't have anywhere to stay and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you wander the streets all night."
My heart sank. Go to his house? To stay? I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him, especially when I thought about Jake and the haunted look that came into his eyes when he talked about the older boy and his gang.
"I don't want to go back to yours. I've changed my mind; I want to go home."
He scowled at me. "Don't worry about your virtue, sweetheart. I've got to go out again as soon as we get back. You'll be perfectly safe and I'll drive you back to Port Angeles in the morning to pick up your truck."
I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I couldn't think what to say and before my brain could engage with my mouth we were pulling into a long downhill drive and parking in front of a small two-storey house.
He turned off the engine and climbed out of the truck, leaving me behind. I stayed where I was sitting. I didn't know what to do. I could leave now while I had the chance, make my way across to Billy and Jake's and hope Charlie wouldn't be too mad at me, or I could take Sam up on his offer to stay at his while he was off doing... whatever.
Something told me that if I stepped through that front door though that things would change. I didn't know how or why, but a tingling in the base of my spine warned me that this decision was one that would change things.
As I sat there a spot of water appeared on the windscreen, follow by another, followed by a torrent.
Well, that settled it then. If I tried walking away now then I would end up drenched. Plus despite my reservations towards him and his suspicious behaviour, Sam had looked out for me tonight.
I took a deep breath and then let myself out and ran towards the house. I hesitated on the porch for a second, staring into the gloom of the house and then stepped through the open door.