Hi Everyone! This is my first venture into the Jacob/Bella pairing even though I am Team Jacob! This story came to me recently out of nowhere and I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns everything, I just like to play around with them.
Chapter 1. The Even Trainwreck.
"Do you take part in promiscuous acts?" Dr. Jenkins asked…more like implied actually.
This was her last patient for the day, a new patient who only set up an appointment the previous day wanting to see the doctor immediately. Dr. Jenkins told her secretary to schedule the patient for the following month, for she was heading off to Hawaii with her husband of ten years the following night and knew the first session with a new patient to be the most taxing. It was a tedious business, asking the typical analytical questions to determine their case, hearing their history of family diseases as well as the longevity of their depression or mania, as well as the patient filling out the various forms for treatment and insurance carrier. The whole process took about an hour. Very tedious.
But Isabella Swan was an impatient one, for Dr. Jenkins could hear Bertha her secretary explaining politely to the young woman over the phone about the doctor's leave for vacation, at which Dr. Jenkins knew Ms. Swan won herself an appointment the following day by the extremely long sigh Bertha made, clicking on her ballpoint pen to make a note of the time the insistent patient was to torment Dr. Jenkins. She really should've hired a more authoritative secretary.
So the next day, after the doctor ushered out as many of her regulars as possible, idly listening to them complain over the same thing repeatedly, quickly filling out prescription forms, all the while glancing at the slowly moving big hand on the ancient clock to her right. It was almost there. Almost five, but she knew whoever this new patient was, she would be cooped up in her office for awhile, Hawaii and her husband being hours and hours away.
But the minute she saw Isabella Swan walk into her now emptying office, she knew for certain she was in for a long session. Isabella walked in the door, her brown business suit neatly ironed, her brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, without a single strand out of place, her hands rubbing against each other in her black gloves, and her black pumps were shining as if they had just been shoe polished. An extremely neat and tidy person.
But her expression and mannerism was what really stood out to the tired Doctor, for Ms. Swan gazed at the tiny waiting room as if she had no desire to be there, despite her urgency over the phone to get an appointment. She stood erect like a statue, her face displaying a sense of disdain at her surroundings. Before Ms. Swan could see her, Dr. Jenkins immediately ducked her head back into her office, lightly sitting down on her plush brown couch, and began fiddling with her thumbs. She knew most of her colleagues preferred to personally go out into the waiting room to greet and usher in their patients, but the Doctor did no such thing, especially to new patients who demanded to be seen the day she was leaving, so she waited patiently in the room until finished all her paperwork. Hopefully the girl's insurance provider was one they would accept, for it would take longer otherwise.
After exactly a half hour, for Dr. Jenkins' eyes never left the old father clock, Isabella Swan languidly walked in, made a point to look at her surroundings carefully, and slowly sat herself on the brown coach opposite Dr. Jenkins'.
"Do you take part in promiscuous acts?" Dr. Jenkins asked ten minutes later, after she idly shook her hand and began the questioning to determine the girl's ailments.
"No," Isabella said, for she was sure that the doctor meant sexual acts as opposed to masturbation, which she was wont to do on various occasions throughout the week. A girl needed some kind of gratuitous fulfillment, considering she had no social life to begin with.
"Do you ever have thoughts of killing yourself?"
"No," Bella said a little too quickly.
Dr. Jenkins looked up from her notepad, her gaze shifting downward to look at her new patient, her glasses moving its way down to the edge of her nose, but she continued on.
"Do you have bouts of depression?"
"All my life."
"Constantly or sporadic?"
"Yes, have you been depressed all the time or has there been a period where you were actually happy?"
Dr. Jenkins immediately placed the notebook with her questionnaire on the coffee table in front of her separating the two couches. She wanted to get this over with and it was pretty obvious Ms. Swan had some form of Bipolar disorder. She felt a twinge of guilt that she was quickly washing over her diagnosis of a new patient, but damn it if she wouldn't have to cancel or have her flight delayed after months of planning; she needed to get away from Forks as soon as possible; the sleepy town was nauseating.
"Okay, tell me why you have decided to receive treatment?"
Bella raised her eyebrows, hating when people put her on the spot. "I—my dad fucking made me, okay?" She shifted her weight onto her left side, her eyes suddenly focusing on something to the left of the doctor.
Dr. Jenkins was a little taken aback by the girl's tone, but she was accustomed to the occasional outburst of patients, and never let it deter her, for showing weakness and fear amongst those she wished to help would deem her job impossible.
"And why do you think he'd make you?" she asked, forcing her voice to emit a more soothing quality instead of its usual brashness.
Bella still stared at the spot to Dr. Jenkins' left, and her hands, which were placed neatly in her lap, began to twitch slightly.
"Are you alright?" Dr. Jenkins asked, noting the change immediately.
"You have a stain on your couch."
"You have a stain on your couch," Bella repeated slowly, as if she was talking to a child, "Right there." She pointed to a darkening blob the size of Texas that stood out amongst the light brown of the couch.
Dr. Jenkins had no idea, for she remembered having to calm down a patient who just broke into a crying jag over her cheating husband, causing the doctor to nearly spill her coffee all over herself. But that was this morning, and right now it was the afternoon, and she had no idea the coffee she only thought she had spilled over her silk blouse was also on her newly upholstered sofa.
She put her index finger on the couch, which caused Bella to wince. "Something bothering you?" she asked.
"You should put some gloves on before you touch that, or grab a napkin."
"I barely touched it."
"But still, you have no idea how many germs have accumulated on that one stain." Bella leaned over, observing the stain in disdain, "Looks like it's been there for hours, and with this room being infested with dust, this place looks like a hang out place for bacteria."
Dr. Jenkins leaned back, a look of interest evident in her eyes, "You always this concerned about germs?"
"Of course. Just thinking of the filth that anything picks up is disgusting. When I was a kid I saw a documentary of how babies are always subject to bacteria and whatnot because they like to touch everything..." Bella then stood up straighter in her seat, her formerly slow, monotonous tone increasing with nervousness, "They actually showed what it looks like and it entering your skin. Completely disgusted me."
Dr. Jenkins' interest only increased with every word Bella was saying, "Isabella-"
"Okay, Bella. What do you do then to prevent yourself from getting any bacteria?"
Bella scoffed and held up her hands, "I wear these."
"Right," the Doctor commented, casually picking up her notebook again to write down "Obsessive Compulsive."
"Again, why do you think your father feel the need to send you here?"
"Before we continue can you please clean the stain?"
Dr. Jenkins' eyebrows rose, "Of course."
Dr. Jenkins walked over to her desk and pressed the button of her telephone line, "Bertha?"
"Yes?" the soft voice rang out through the speaker.
"Could you bring the stain remover from the break room?"
"Of course, Doctor."
Dr. Jenkins quickly released the button, making her way back to her seat. She immediately knew from the way Bella continued to stare at the now huge stain that she wouldn't be getting another word out of the young woman until the dark spot was gone, which meant more minutes of the Doctor not getting ready for her vacation.
Goddammit! Where the hell was Bertha?
As soon as she thought it, the sweet receptionist walked through the door, eyeing Bella speculatively, for she was a little confused as to what was going on. Dr. Jenkins never asked her to do something so silly during the middle of a session, nevertheless the first one with a new patient. But she obediently used the clean, pink, towel she brought with her and sprayed the cleanser, rubbing out the stain until it was mostly gone.
Some residue still remained but in Dr. Jenkins' mind, it was enough. She needed to get this woman out the door. The old clock already read six- half an hour for her to fill out the paperwork and half an hour to deal with this nonsense of stains.
"Is that better for you?" she asked. She couldn't help it if her voice was dripping with sarcasm. It was a long day.
"Okay then, why do you think your father felt the need to have you enter sessions with me?"
"He says I have no friends."
Dr. Jenkins' pen pressed the paper as it formed the words "anti-social."
"People are boring."
"Why are they boring to you?"
Bella sighed. "Can we please cut the crap? You know this isn't my first time seeing a shrink. When I was younger my Mom made me go to one for awhile, so I already know what my problem is and you're not going to be able to help me; I can guarantee that. So just prescribe to me whatever medication for my OCD behavior and my depression."
Dr. Jenkins was stunned. She felt ridiculous that this young woman already knew what she was going to diagnose her as, as well as question her ability to treat her by already implying that she wasn't up to the job. This fact in itself made Dr. Jenkins even more determined.
"I can assure you, Ms. Swan, that I can treat you. I have helped many patients before you with the same symptoms, which I have concluded without you having to say it because it is plainly obvious you need my help."
"I beg to differ," Bella retorted, smoothing out the invisible crinkles on her tailored pants.
Dr. Jenkins was about to give the stubborn woman a piece of her mind when she instinctively glanced at the clock, which read six forty-five. The flight left at eight o'clock. She had to leave…IMMEDIATELY.
"I'm gonna prescribe for you one hundred milligrams of lamictal and twenty-five milligrams of Abilify," she stated, turning the pages of her notebook until she reached the bottom, where she had slips for prescriptions. She quickly filled out the information and handed it to the girl.
"Go out to the front and turn this in to Bertha and she'll set up another appointment date for you. I want to see you in two weeks," and with that, she stood up, signaling for the girl to do the same.
Bella obliged, standing up as well and slowly taking the two slips, her gloved hand lightly grasping the papers.
"I'm a bit surprised, doctor," Bella said, already heading out the door, "Never taken these before."
"Good," Dr. Jenkins replied, almost closing the door in the young woman's face, "Now, if you don't mind, I have a very important flight to catch."
Bella raised her eyebrows, to which the Doctor quickly responded, "I'm going on vacation with my husband, which is why I can't see you sooner, which I would have scheduled for you under different circumstances."
"Okay, then" Bella replied, heading out into the reception hall, "have a nice trip."
Dr. Jenkins quickly shut the door, stared at the now nonexistent stain, and proceeded to call her husband, almost certain that he'd wonder why she was already late.
Roll up the socks on the left leg. Roll up the socks on the right leg. Smooth out the crease on the left leg, then the right. All this had to be done before turning on the ignition.
Bella had no idea why; all she knew was that it felt good and right to do so. She made sure to do everything in two's. Even numbers were good, since they had a pairing and none were left out, unlike the odd numbers. She immediately turned the air conditioner to the middle of the dial, left it for four seconds, and proceeded to turn it all the way up. Ah, the beauty of evens.
But before she could begin driving home, she made sure everything else was perfect. Two rearview mirrors, two front seats, two back seats, two blinds, etc. She excluded counting the steering wheel since the passenger side didn't have a steering wheel to even everything out. Once she imagined the four tires located evenly on the front and back of the car, plus the doors on either side of the car front and back, she was ready to go.
She liked to drive fast, quickly counting everything evenly on her way. She counted the traffic light, where she included the actual pole as part of the three different lights to make it even and so on.
She was just glad to get out of that stuffy office. She felt herself getting sinuses just being there, with all the dust being accumulated throughout that room. She could've sworn she saw flies hovering over that Doctor's head and actual specks of dust along the bookshelves. For Christ's sake, when was the last time that shelf was dusted? Bella couldn't contain herself in that seat much longer; she felt the serious need to demand the flighty receptionist to give her all the supplies for cleaning (which she saw they had when the woman brought that cheap, generic shit they called stain remover to remove that massive, yucky, bug infested blob on the couch, for that's what it looked like, a fucking huge blob.
All she wanted to do was go home, curl up with one of her romance novels, and masturbate. She hadn't pleasured herself in over two days, which only helped in building up more sexual frustration. She barely ever got laid. What, with how detailed that special night needed to be, and making sure everything was in it's place and got up to an even number, it was enough to give her partner at the time a serious case of blue balls. So with her extreme OCD, the best she could get was a fully vibrating back massager from Brookstone and slowly place it inside her already wet hole. Ah, heaven.
These thoughts raced through her mind, clouding her senses, which led to her feeling a smack in the front of her car, causing her torso to lean forward from the impact. Bella fully expected the airbag to pop up, but it didn't. She immediately concluded that the impact wasn't big enough. But this still caused a damper to her day. Everything was going perfect until now. Oh, fucking shit. Why the fuck now?
Pissed off, she unstrapped her seat belt and bolted out of the car, slamming the door behind her. It didn't matter that it was her fault for daydreaming of fucking herself, she was pissed and she would blame it on whoever the fuck she rammed her car into.
But before she could give the asshole a piece of her mind, she saw him climb out of the nastiest, dirtiest, piece of jalopy…shit she had ever seen in her life. It was red, with the color nearly faded, and it smelled of gasoline…and garage. Bella immediately checked her hands to make sure her gloves were still in place. Check. The amount of bacteria this hick probably carried around would give her a massive heart attack and she'd have to take two more showers to her usual three a day.
But the man that stepped out of the car wasn't a hick, but a tall, bulky, handsome Native American. He had thick, long black hair that flowed down his back, though it was uncombed and had split ends. He was sweaty, dirty, grimy, and smelled of gasoline and soot. He had grease stains all over his white shirt. But Oh, God! Underneath that white shirt laid the most defined six pack she had ever seen on a man. He rivaled Fabio. She could feel the wetness seeping into her panties. Dammit! She had to immediately take a shower then, for her wetness would probably seep into her tailored pants and she'd have to put them to wash.
This thought made Bella even angrier, and she stomped over to the Indian guy. "How we gonna resolve this?" she demanded, not caring that it wasn't her place to be so upset.
"Hey, Lady, You're the one that rammed into me, if you remember," the guy said, his voice deep and husky, but his eyes looked at her mockingly, as if he found her anger to be somewhat amusing.
"Whatever, you have insurance, right?"
"Sure, sure," he replied, looking her over, taking in her neat, tidy appearance. He took in her face, her legs, and his gaze lingered on her breasts.
This angered Bella more than anything. "How long will it take for the police to get here, you think?" She immediately thought of her father, who was chief of police. Fuck, she didn't need his shit right now as well. She barely wanted to acknowledge the fact that her father would be the one likely to come over and take their case.
The Indian guy shook his head, snapping out of his little daze. "Don't know, why don't you call them?" he said mockingly, then broke out into a loud, deep laugh.
She clenched her fists together, all though she couldn't keep a firm grasp because of her thick gloves, "I don't know, I just moved here."
The bulky, garage stinking man walked over to where their two vehicles bumped head and rear and looked at the damage.
"Lady, there's not even a bump on your car or mine."
"What?" She asked, heading over herself to take a look.
Her car was perfectly nice. No indent, no paint scratch, nothing. She then gazed at his piece of shit truck as well, and noted that it looked well enough. It didn't look fine to her, but not because of anything accident related.
"I don't think we need to call the police," the guy said casually, still looking at her with interest.
"Good. Are you sure there's nothing wrong with your car? You want me to. .." Bella didn't even know what she was asking. She figured he would want to receive some recompense, for after all, she WAS the one who slammed into him.
"No, No harm done," He said quickly, moving slightly to the left where the sun shone, further defining his perfectly sculpted body. For some reason, although she barely knew if the man even showered, she couldn't help but think what it would feel like to run her tongue across his chest.
"Okay, then" she replied, turning to get back into the car before a new load of wetness would make its way into her already soaking and filthy pants.
She already opened her car door and was about to start her ritual when she felt a knock at her window. She nearly jumped and saw that he was pressing his stain-filled hand on her newly cleaned window. She immediately pressed the button on her left to lower the window down, with the man instinctively taking his hand away.
"Just wanted to say that if you need anything for your car…oil change, tire rotation, or if your car isn't working fine because of our little incident, but I doubt it wouldn't be, you can come to my auto shop," and he handed her a crumpled, greasy, thick business card with the name of the place as well as the number engraved in the front. Bella noticed his fingers as he handed her the card. They were bulky, like the rest of him, but there was dirt in the edges of his nails, and sweat oozed from his fingers and his palms. Disgusting.
"No, thanks. I'm okay," she replied quickly, not even attempting to accept the card as she mentally began to count everything in her vehicle, in an effort to hurry up her ritual so she wouldn't have inhabit the same space as this dirty man in front of her.
"I just recently had my oil change as well as my tires rotated."
"Oh," the guy replied, running his dirt accumulated nails through his long hair, deep in thought, "Okay, then."
Bella smiled weakly, kind of feeling bad that she was being so rude. "Thanks, anyway."
She began to raise the window again and attempt to begin her sock rolling ritual when she heard a tap on her window again. Holy Fuck! What did this guy want?
"Yeah?" she asked, this time a little rudely.
"Sorry, I- I'm an impulsive guy and when I'm interested in something-," he ran his hand through his hair again and Bella wanted to vomit, "Look, the thing is…I find you very attractive and I was trying to get your number," he smiled sheepishly, showing a full set of white teeth. Bella was shocked. She couldn't believe such a gorgeous set of teeth belonged to such an unkempt guy, but then again she didn't expect him to have such sexy fucking abs.
"But I guess I wasn't making myself more clear."
Oh, God. He was going to ask her out. A Native American mechanic wanted her number, probably to fuck. Oh God, she needed to get laid but he was so physically dirty.
"I wanted to know if I can get your number so I," and he stressed the "I" part, "could call you sometime, without you needing an oil change or your tires rotated. Probably take you out for dinner or something."
Bella's mouth hung open. God, why couldn't he be clean and kempt? Cut his hair maybe? Change his profession? She would have let him into her car and would have let him bang the shit out of her if he did. But no, and as she stared at the hopeful, smiling guy before her, she didn't even have to really think about her answer.
"Sorry," she mustered sweetly, 'I have a boyfriend," she lied.
"Oh," he said, immediately backing away from her car, suddenly looking sheepish, "I feel like an ass."
"Don't, "she said quickly.
"Hey, no worries, okay?" he said, embarrassment evident in his voice. He began to walk away and waved at her from a distance. Bella watched him get into his crappy truck and drive off.
She felt guilty but the kind of girl she was and the kind of guy he was wouldn't ever work out. She just couldn't believe that a guy had asked her out. She hadn't been on a date in forever. She immediately went through her ritual. Left sock rolled down, right sock rolled down, crease on the left leg smoothed out, crease on the right leg smoothed out, but while she was doing her ritual, she felt satisfied in the idea of having something new to masturbate to, for those ripped abs was still the hottest thing she'd ever seen in her life.