This idea popped up out of nowhere a week or two ago, and would not leave me alone. I thought it'd just be a one-shot, but I got this far and it wasn't done. So, it'll be a two-shot instead. Enjoy!
"I'm giving my virginity to Jasper Whitlock tonight," I announce to my best friend Bella. It's the weekend after graduation—well, not mine, but Jasper's. He's throwing a huge party at his house tonight. It's the perfect opportunity. It's also my seventeenth birthday.
She stares at me with that look that says she thinks I'm fucking with her, which is insulting. "Fabulous," she deadpans. "Does he know this or are you going to just pop out of a cake?"
I respond with a glare. I'm completely serious about this decision and I resent her mocking me.
"I'll rephrase," she says, smirking. "Does he know who you are?"
I stomp my foot. (Seriously.) "Really, Bella? Of course he does! His older sister Rosalie used to babysit me," I say, as if this explains everything with perfect clarity. I immediately realize how stupid this sounds. I mean, I was only eight or nine at the time.
She eyes me, her expression of disbelief blatant. "Well, there's an 'in' if I ever heard one," she laughs. A goofy look glazes her face as she pitches her voice high and idiotic. "'Hi, Jasper. Remember when Rosalie babysat me, like eight years ago? Yeah, I thought you might. Our connection was incredible!'"
I punch her in the arm, glowering. She rubs at the spot. I may be small, but I pack one hell of a punch. "It's not like I'm invisible at school, ya know," I hiss, feeling a little hurt. "I have talked to him. Sort of. And he's kinda friends with my brother."
Her expression becomes guilty. "I know that," she assures me. "It's just that this is a serious thing to decide, and you don't exactly run in the same circles."
I ignore this. Nothing will derail my plans. "You're coming with me, right?"
She stares, wide-eyed, subconsciously grabbing a long chestnut lock of hair and chewing on it.
"Oh, come ON!" I groan, pulling her hair away from her teeth. "Tons of people will be there; it's not like we need a personal invite. Plus, it IS my birthday."
"Alice," she hedges. "I just ... I'm never terribly comfortable at those kinds of parties."
I know she's thinking of homecoming when Mike Newton cornered her, stuck his tongue in her mouth, and aggressively tried to cop a feel. I noticed immediately and grabbed Emmett McCarty, who'd been standing next to me. God love Emmett, he marched right over to them and pulled Mike away by the hair. If I recall correctly, Mike peed his pants before Emmett even got a word out. It was fantastic.
I try to be patient, considering my friend's feelings and limitations. The truth is, however, that I am not a patient girl, and blurt out the bait I know will hook her. "My brother'll be there," I say, immediately feeling a little guilty. Regardless, these two need to quit stalling. "It's his birthday, too."
I see her cheek twitch and her lips tighten into a stiff line. "So?"
"Bella." I raise my eyebrow at her. "You think I don't know how in love with Edward you are? You try to hide it, but it's blatantly obvious to me."
Her eyes widen in shock. "Do you think he knows?" She sounds horrified.
I laugh, thinking about his "casual glances" in her direction when she's around. Not to mention something I overheard as I passed by his room late one night. Shudder. "Doubt it. The twin is a little, uh, dense when it comes to picking up such clues."
"And you haven't told him?" She is definitely paranoid.
I crack, unable to maintain this line of conversation when it impedes my forward progress. "You can call me a bitch later, but it is my birthday and we're discussing my soon-to-be perfect happiness."
"Yeah, about that," she starts, but pauses to chew on her lip. "Are you sure? I mean, don't you want it to be with someone you—"
"I couldn't be more sure of Jasper," I cut her off, refusing to let her shoot holes in my logic.
She looks at me, blinking those big doe eyes that Edward writes pages about in the journal he thinks is well-hidden. He should know better than to TRY to keep secrets from his twin. She shakes her head and smiles, resigning to support me.
I steer the conversation back to her attending the party with me, and she finally agrees to go, on the condition that I not tell Edward anything about blah blah "BELLA LOVES YOU" blah. Happily, I accept her affirmative as I go barrelling into my walk-in closet to pick the perfect outfit. It's a special, once-in-a-lifetime night, and though Bella and I are the only ones aware of that (so far), I need to dress the part.
It takes an hour to be sure of my choice, but after careful consideration, I emerge from my closet confidently. The canary yellow, strapless bandeau dress is casual enough and really comfortable. Plus, bare shoulders? Score. I add a skinny red scarf and red platform wedges. Bella's eyes go wide and she nods enthusiastically.
"Not too much?" I ask, just double-checking.
"No, not at all," she assures me. "You look hot. I'd do ya."
I snort. "Thanks, baby," I tease, "but you're not my type."
Walking into the party, I am amped up from a pep-talk I gave myself just before I left. I smooth out my dress, even though it's unnecessary. I'm glad for the extra height the shoes give me, as Lauren Mallory likes to look down her nosejob at me constantly, and I know she'll be here. The bitch has it bad for Jasper, but he isn't the least bit interested in her. At least, I hope not.
I notice Jasper immediately. His tall, lanky form is leaning over the breakfast bar—currently, the "bar" part is more accurate than usual. He's got a button-down grey and blue plaid shirt on, really worn jeans, and his usual shitkickers. I half expected him to have a cowboy hat on, but he's wearing a ridiculous, cheap sombrero instead. Laughing, he says something with a crap Spanish accent about "de muy bueno dreenk of de day" and picks up a bottle of tequila. Smoothly pouring three shots, he clinks glasses with Emmett and Peter, and tosses his back. Eyes closed, he hums as it burns a trail down his throat. The man just fucking hummed. After tequila. I wonder if he hums like that when he's—.
"ALICE." Bella's whisper was loud—necessarily so, thanks to the music.
I spun to face her, raising my eyebrows in question.
"Is Edward here?"
I want to roll my eyes, because I'm on a mission. However, Bella had given herself a bit of a mission (I'm so proud!): to talk to Edward. Well, it's a start, no? I can't criticize, as my conversations with Jasper to this point have been largely circumstantial and during school hours. I had always hoped he'd be the aggressor.
But Bella was right: I didn't run in the same circles as he did. During the school year, I was down in the art wing most of the time, up to my elbows in developer or paint or clay. He played soccer and ran track, which was how he and Edward became friends. Jasper is incredibly popular, and for all the right reasons: he's not only gorgeous, but also a really good guy. You would never find him throwing someone in a dumpster, or shoving an underclassman in a locker. I may or may not still fantasize about my freshman year when Marcus Aronovich (who was a two-time junior) shoved me down, spilling the contents of my bag all over the hallway. Jasper saw and helped me put everything back in the bag, not even flinching or commenting when he picked up the tampon that was of course included in the mass of stuff I had crammed in it. On the bus home that day, Jessica Stanley told me that during lunch, Jasper had purposefully tripped Marcus as he left the lunch line. He landed face-first in his pizza.
"Hello? Alice?" Bella starts waving her hand in front of my face. "Are you okay? You know you can change your mind, right? I have passes to the movies if you want to do that instead."
I cock my head to one side, slowly processing what she said. "Huh? NO! I, uh, just got lost in thought," I tell her, hoping I wasn't too loud. I looked around quickly, but luckily there is enough chatter and music that my "NO!" went unnoticed. I reconnected to the conversation and finally responded to her previous question. "Edward said he'd be here, but I'm not sure if he's here yet. Don't worry so much! Let's have a drink and relax."
Nudging her toward the bar—and Jasper—I ask her what she might want. She stalls, insisting she really doesn't want to drink at all, as with her luck, her dad Charlie will probably ask her to do a breathalyzer when she gets home. I remind her that one drink early in the evening is harmless, but she insists she'll hold off since she's driving and have a Dr. Pepper or something.
I sidle up and stand near the middle, right next to Jasper, whose back is to me at the moment. The desire to rub up against him like a cat and start purring is strong, but I resist (barely). Instead, I feign indifference and purse my lips as I check out the collection of booze. To be honest, it's a little intimidating, but I pretend like it's all old hat as I cast a wandering glance across the countertop. I can only think of three actual mixed drinks, but have no idea how to make them. Any drinks I've had up until now were either a glass of wine or mixed by someone else, so I would either make it way too strong, or use the wrong mixer.
As if sensing someone behind him, Jasper turns away from his conversation with Peter and faces me. I do my best to ignore his mildly lingering head-to-toe sweep of me with his eyes, but internally, I'm squealing and fist-pumping like a madwoman.
"Alice Cullen," he drawls, a wicked smile licking his lips like flame. God, I love his smile. It practically takes over his body in the way it radiates his joy. Plus, he has the most perfect, beautiful teeth. Yes, I said teeth. Tequila has enhanced the Texas roots that sometimes highlights his voice, and I have the urge to sigh. He continues before I can. "Where's your pain-in-the-ass twin?"
The excitement that had begun to curl across my face crumbles a bit when it dawns on me he's just looking for Edward. Edward's bizarrely oblivious to the attention he gets, but I swear, sometimes it feels like I'm just Edward Cullen's twin sister. Not Alice. I bite back the taste of bitterness and answer, "He's around here somewhere, I'm sure." Unfortunately, I hear the disappointment in my voice.
"He didn't drive you?"
"Nope! Bella drove," I explain simply, throwing a gesture over my shoulder at her.
He nods. "Hey, Bella," he greets her, throwing out a casual wink.
Uncharacteristic jealousy swarms me as I unnecessarily try to overanalyze the wink, my teeth grinding just a little. I'm feeling a little bit psychotic and amped up, but thankfully, his next words flip me on my head.
"So, Miss Alice Cullen, it would appear you're looking for a beverage," he says theatrically, picking the sombrero off his head and holding it flat against his chest. "Might I assist you in your endeavor?"
I giggle at the joking formality he uses, punctuating it with a snort. He chuckles, smiling wide.
"Why, yes, kind sir," I play along happily, my previous distress forgotten. "I am ever so parched and don't know what to do!" I fan myself for extra effect.
He nods, tossing the hat like a frisbee across the room and starts grabbing at bottles, quickly throwing some concoction together. I see him pour some tequila, but I'm not sure what else. "Try this," he says finally, handing me the cup.
Eyeballing the drink for a second, I blink and look up into his eyes, nearly losing my ability to speak. They're so deep and blue, I want to dive in. He's smiling and relaxed, though not drunk, as far as I can tell. His expression falters a bit as I realize I'm staring too long. I manage to croak, "Um ... what is it?"
He's back with a smirk. "It's called a Cowgirl's Prayer."
Heat crawls up my neck and I blush slightly. Sipping the drink, I taste lemonade with a kick. It's actually really good. I hum in appreciation, savoring the tart and the warm sting of the liquor. Looking up, I see his eyes widen just a little, the smirk slipping. Before I can thank him, however, Eric Yorkie hollers something ridiculous (as well as incoherent) at him from across the room, and he takes off toward him, grumbling.
I'm a little disappointed I couldn't hold on to his attention a little longer, but I try to remind myself I have all night. Or at least until Bella's curfew. My parents think I'm staying at Bella's, but if all goes according to plan, I'll be staying here. It's at this point when I suddenly remember I have no actual plan. I panic a little and gulp down a few huge sips of the drink.
"Slow down, Ali," Bella hisses. "You can't be wasted walking into my house. Charlie will kick both our asses, even if I'm totally sober!"
I spin on her. "I won't be walking into your house at all, Bella," I remind her, trying to sound as confident as possible. Truth is, I'm wavering in that department. "This is my night."
I ignore her eye roll and move to sit on the couch. She spots Angela Weber and her boyfriend Ben, and heads over to talk to them. A wave of guilt washes over me; I'm sure I've been a little bit of a pain in the ass today
I people watch for a little while, enjoying my drink as I feel all my muscles start to relax. This effect is somewhat ruined because Lauren picks that moment to plop her Amazonian ass next to me.
"Wow, Alice, cute dress. Did Gymboree have a sale?" She snarks before taking a sip of her drink.
I roll my eyes, not in the mood to deal with her crap. So I go straight for the jugular. "Your ass is fat," I mutter.
She chokes on her drink, giving me a good laugh. She gets up and huffs, stomping away. I feel pretty successful until I see her out to the patio a little while later, pouting and rubbing her water-bra'ed cleavage on Jasper's arm. He isn't pushing her away, which makes me a little sick to my stomach, especially when I see her move in to whisper something in his ear. She gestures to me and then to her ass, undoubtedly whining about my comment and fishing for compliments. He looks up suddenly, catching my eyes. I want to look away immediately, but his mouth curves into a smirk. He winks.
Did you catch that? He fucking winked at ME.
I try to act all laid back, but fail miserably when I grin unabashedly. His smirk turns into a megawatt smile, but Lauren bumps him with her boobs again, distracting him momentarily. Edward walks up out of nowhere. They do that stupid dude-hug with handshake and a backslap, and Lauren and her boobs are forced to clear the area. Thank you, Edward.
He and Jasper get into a conversation, and soon enough, I pry my attention away, even though I caught him glance my way a few times as he spoke. Abandoning my spot on the couch in the front room, I weave amidst the crowd. The party's in full-swing, so it's fairly packed, but not so much that I can't move through easily enough.
Occasionally listening in on conversations and pickup attempts, I count at least two separate girls—other than Lauren—openly lusting after Jasper. One was Bree Tanner, a freshman. She's usually fairly quiet, though she must have sneaked out to come to this party. Still, I have no worries about her as competition. The other, however, was Maria Delgado. Bitch has claws. Jasper dated her before; in fact, she might have been his first. Don't ask me how I know this stuff. It's not like I want to think about it. They broke up last year before the summer, and if her comments were any indication, he initiated it. That said, they must have remained somewhat friendly, for her to be here. Unless she showed up uninvited.
Then again, I wasn't exactly invited, either.
I do my best to push both that thought and Maria out of my mind as I drift into the huge family room. Must be half past drunk-o'clock, because Tyler Crowley is doing some serious damage on the "dancefloor." And I don't mean that in a good way. Several people, also dancing, crane their necks to watch him, rapt with fascination and amusement. However, I notice Jessica watching with disgust. I catch her eye, and we share a laugh.
I watch the smattering of couples and singles dancing, nodding lazily to the music. A good fifteen minutes later, the song changes to one of my favorites. I'm taken a little off guard, for some reason. It's one of the sexiest songs I've ever heard, and I cannot stop my body from reacting. My hips dip and sway as my eyes close, the music running over my skin. Pulse and sweep and I'm lost to it, the sounds insulating me from everything and everyone around. Deep notes resonate in my stomach and lower, fluttering with a sensuality that's new to me.
My imagination spins, imagining Jasper dancing with me, every move communicating a longing that matches my own. Arms circle my waist, pulling me against him, holding me to his chest. I lean my head back into his shoulder as the music intensifies, the beat kicking in. Hips circle together in their own conversation, and my breathing accelerates. Hands roam my body slowly, igniting my skin with want. Lips touch my neck trailing up to my ear, where he takes the lobe in his teeth and sucks very gently before releasing it and whispering in my ear.
"Are you trying to kill me?"
The fog of fantasy I'd surrounded myself with dissipates and I feel the very real, very strong arms around me. I freeze.
"Huh?" Jesus H. Christ! That's your response?
He chuckles, turning me around in his arms. The song is ending, but my night is apparently just beginning. Jasper's eyes are sparkling as he smiles at me. "Hi, there."
"I ... I didn't realize ..." I stammer, stopping myself before I admit that I was fantasizing about him. Hold the phone. If I tell him that, it might help my cause, no?
I look up at him through my lashes. We lock eyes, and I wouldn't look away for anything in the world. "I thought I was only imagining you with me."
He gulps, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. I smile. "You were imagining ... me?" He seems surprised.
I nod, keeping eye contact, but he looks down. A thrill shoots from my fingertips through the rest of my body when he takes one of my hands in both of his, lightly running his fingers over my palm. My breath catches, and he notices, snapping his attention back to my face.
I want to kiss him. I really want to kiss him. We're staring at each other, and I am desperate to break the stalemate, so I reach up with my free hand and slip it around the back of his neck. I'm really thankful for the wedges, because they bring me to a perfect height for this. I tip my chin up and lean my body toward him. He senses my intentions and quickly lowers his head.
The moment our lips meet, I'm in heaven. Our mouths move slowly at first, parting slightly to taste one another. The tip of his tongue licks my upper lip and my knees buckle. I wrap my arms around his waist to steady myself as he does the same, pulling me against him. He bends his legs and lifts me; my feet dangle and my shoes fall off. Our faces are level, so he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. I never want it to end. I do, however, want more—so much more, but we're in the middle of a party and I know people are probably watching us. This is where I have to dig deep and find some balls to ask for what I want, because I have a feeling he won't be the one to suggest it.
Regrettably, I have to tear myself away to do so. I press my cheek against his, my lips right at his ear. "Take me upstairs."
I brace for rejection—why, I don't know, but I do—but his hands tighten at my back, and I swear I hear a growl.
"Jesus," he says, his voice gravelly. "You are trying to kill me, aren't you?"
I giggle and he loosens his grip. I slide down along his body and my bare toes curl around the long fibers of carpet. All I can focus on is the feel of his fingers surrounding mine as he tugs my arm. I follow easily up the stairs, but we only get a few steps up before he stops, turning and picking me up impatiently. It feels natural and comfortable as my legs seem to wrap around him like it's an old habit, as though they know something I don't. My back hits the wall with a soft thud, my hips encased in his strong hands as he kisses me again. Every kiss is better than the last, his breath picking up, his hums vibrating my lips with promises of more.
He kisses down my neck until he reaches my scarf, which gets in his way, so he reaches up with one hand to snatch it off, pushing his hips into me to pin me to the wall. I can feel him, hardening against me. I shiver, and I'm not sure whether it's a nervous or excited shiver. I choose to think the latter.
My ankles cross behind his back, pushing me against his button-fly even more. His lips leave me as he sucks in a breath before rushing to carry me the rest of the way up the stairs. He makes it to his room in four long strides, slamming the door with his foot. A few more steps and he sets me on my back, crawling over me with a hungry, predatory look on his face.
I lift my head and kiss him. This time, I'm not timid about initiating it. In fact, I've a surge of confidence and twist my fingers into his curls, tugging lightly. His denim-clad erection pushes against me. His eager response is such an ego boost, I smile against his lips and gasp. My mind circles as we kiss: I love you, I love you, I love you...
Releasing his hair, I feel my way along his back, trying to memorize the planes of his body, before deciding I need to feel skin. I ghost my palms around his ribs, stopping to feel his heartbeat. My eyes are drawn there as I press my hand to his chest. He's panting, and I realize I've stalled. I look up to kiss him as my fingers find the buttons. Working shakily to remove his shirt, he grins into the kiss.
It might be nothing short of a miracle that my unsteady hands manage to get his shirt open. Before I could push it off his shoulders, he rocks back onto his knees and rips the shirt off his arms. His eyes are dark, gleaming with lust, and fixed on me. Something inside takes over and I sit up fast, taking his belt in my hands. Part of me feels like I'm watching this happen, but at the same time, every sense is on overload.
The worn, soft leather slides through my hands. The buckle clinks against the copper button on his jeans, echoing through my ears. The faded spice of his scent fills my nose, mixed with a faint note of tequila and lemon that rests on the back of my tongue. Locking eyes again, I get the buckle undone and pull the belt from the loops, tossing it away from us.
My hands freeze as the first button on his jeans is undone beneath my fingertips. This is as far as I've ever gone with anyone and it doesn't escape my notice. Okay, I've never undressed anyone at all, let alone gotten all the way to the pants-off part.
Luckily, he holds my face and kisses me again. I can later admit to myself that I was happy that it stalls us for a moment, and that it doesn't seem like he noticed my hesitancy. My hands grip his sides as his caress their way down my neck and over my shoulders. I whimper as I feel his fingers trace the top of my dress before he dips them behind the top hem.
"This okay?" He asks, and I melt. He's asking my permission even though I nearly just had my hands in his pants. I sigh, nodding vigorously. He chuckles lowly, dragging the fabric down to expose my breasts. They're nothing significant, but at least they're perky. "Mmmm."
I laugh out loud at his apparent approval, encouraged and emboldened. I push my chest out, seeking the attention he's more than ready to give. Between his hands and his mouth, I'm not sure which feels better. His tongue swirls around one nipple, his palm gently rubbing the other. "Ohhh... oh, my God..."
I decide quickly that the dress has got to go and push it further down my waist. He lifts himself up to help me get the dress down and over my legs, discarding it for me. Crawling back up and over me, his body presses down, pinning me. He warms me, the cool of the air-conditioned room having chilled my skin in his brief absence, but he also calms me. There's a comfort there that I have never felt before, a security that soothes the most sharpened nerves. That's not to say my breathing is slow, or even. It's not.
His lips attach to my neck as I feel a hand working its way between us. I gasp as I feel his hand breach the top of my red hipster briefs. Fingertips stop, delicately resting just before they reach hair. I'm about to wonder whether I should have tried getting a wax, but he's checking with me again.
"I can stop, Alice," he says, his voice quiet, but strained.
"No," I manage, barely. "Please, don't stop."
He continues his exploration, his long fingers finally touch me as his mouth finds mine. I'm not even sure what he's doing, but I'm amazed at how good it feels. He presses and slides, circles and pinches, always gently and enough to make me want more. "Don't... stop... God, please don't stop."
When I say this, he groans, and a finger slips inside. I tense slightly out of surprise, the feeling so new and yet, wonderful. I gasp aloud when he adds a second. He works me like a musical instrument, a different sound emitted for each movement, each press, each twirl. Sparks seem to spread from where his fingers move, heating my body from the inside to the outermost layer of my skin. Every muscle goes rigid as the most incredible feeling crashes over me, an ecstasy previously foreign to me. The sound of my orgasm feels odd to my ears, but it must be exactly what he wants to hear, because I finally notice him chanting "That's it, beautiful ... yes..."
Coming down slowly, he lips kiss their way back to mine, and my response is forceful as I kiss him hard. I suck on his lips like nothing has ever tasted better. Murmuring through kisses, I grab his face with my hands. "Want you... I want..."
I almost don't notice when he lifts my hips to tug at my underwear. My stomach tightens and I realize zero hour is really here. This is actually happening. I lift my hips up and my panties seem to disappear as our kiss slows. Pushing up, he leans over toward the nightstand and opens a drawer. I turn my head back so that I'm staring at his ceiling, incredibly glad there's not some Playboy poster up there. In fact, I look around and see for the first time that the majority of what he decorates his room with is maps, interspersed with a few band posters.
I hear the sound of a condom wrapper ripping and have to stop myself from startling. I don't know why that sound made me nervous; I'm more than positive I want this. I've been in love with Jasper Whitlock since I could understand the concept of love. I don't have time to analyze much, though, as Jasper's lips cover mine, sucking any clear thought right out of my head.
I'm both proud and mortified by the ridiculously would-have-been-really-loud moan that erupts, half swallowed by his kiss. I realize suddenly that the sexual being I saw in myself was fantasy, and in reality, I haven't the same confidence. Nerves skitter about under my skin, but his hands smooth over my bare sides and hips, making me forget myself all over again.
A hand travels over my ass, sliding along the back of my left thigh. Tingles light up a trail wherever he touches me, and despite the feelings I've harbored for him, I am amazed. I feel his grip shift behind my knee, gently moving my leg wider until he can settle his hips against mine. I feel him sliding against me, pressure exactly where it needs to be. At least I think so, because it feels really good. Weird, but awesome.
"God, Alice," he breathes against my cheek, his lips planting kisses along my chin to my ear as he slips back and forth. He's obviously ready, but he's waiting for the final green light. "You're sure, yeah?"
I can't speak, but I nod and grip his shoulders. The warmth beneath my fingers excites me and frees my tongue; my breath transforms into pants and quick gasps. I plead, nearly hiccuping, "Jasper ..."
His hungry mouth nibbles my neck, soothing the small bites with tongue and the salve of soft lips. I feel his body shift against me, his hips pulling back and aligning himself with me. I tense for a moment as he presses forward, entering me partially. It's tight, a strange pressure. He groans, kissing along my neck and mumbling things I can't quite make out except for my name. I close my eyes and smile. I'm really thrilled, because I'd been expecting it to hurt a lot more.
Then, he thrusts forward.
The pain is sharp, immediate, and all too shocking. I shriek. My body goes rigid, my eyes fly open, and my nails cut into his back. I'm horrified most by the strangled cry. He immediately stills, his head snapping up so that he can find my face. As soon as I look into his stunned, alarmed blue eyes, my lids clamp shut. I can't look. I want to hide. My skin goes cold, but sweat beads all along my forehead.
"Alice?" His voice cracks loudly. He continues in a softer tone. "Are you—? Were you a ... virgin?"
I can't quite bring myself to speak over the deafening humiliation currently blaring through the loudspeakers in my head, so I simply nod once. He says nothing to this, but I feel him lift himself up on his arms, moving away from me. Damnable tears sneak through my lashes and run down my cheeks. He sighs.
The smooth cotton of his sheets suddenly feel like they're mocking me. I suck a stuttering breath in through my nose as the bed shifts. All my muscles are clenching with or without my permission, so when he pulls out of me, I whimper. I hate the sound.
The only comforts—the heat from his skin and the weight of his body—are gone. The bed bounces a little bit after his retreat, and I allow more tears to fall. Quiet sobs begin to wrack my chest. All I can think of is curling into a ball forever. How ridiculous am I? How did I get here? How did I convince him to even get this far?
Any belief in myself shatters as I hear a faucet turn on, the water running in the attached bathroom. He's washing me off of him. I can't believe I let myself think...
My hands cover my eyes as the embarrassment crushes me. How can I show my face? He'll tell his friends, who'll tell everyone they know, and then all of Forks High will know how desperate and sad I am. As I cry, images of transferring to a new school for my senior year flash through my mind, only bringing tears faster.
I have no idea he's even in the room again until I feel warm, damp cloth between my legs. "You're bleeding a little." His voice is soft and gentle, much like his touch.
I cry harder, as though this is cause for shame. I know it's not, but emotionally, it's as good as a bullet list of your every dark secret printed on the front page of the New York Times. I'm mortified. I push his hands away and turn on my side, gripping sheets and pulling them over me, over my head. My breakdown continues, my body shaking slightly as I weep. I'm hoping for a little Nightmare on Elm Street action where I am devoured by the mattress, never to be seen again. I could go for not having to leave this room through the door and anyone seeing me. I'm going to have to leave somehow, though, and the thought petrifies me.
The bed dips behind me, and I feel him at my back. I don't bother trying to explain myself, but he doesn't ask. His body is soon flush with mine, cocooning me. His skin feels soothing, and for a moment, I'm really confused. The sheet is pulled from my face, exposing me to the air once again. His lips are brushing against the shell of my ear, and his long fingers softly collect the tears from my cheek.
He doesn't speak at all, but molds himself to me, wrapping his arms around me. His hand settles on my stomach, flat and warm against me. I sniffle a bit, feeling pathetically like a kid, but moments later, my tears cease, and a beautiful calm settles over me.
I can hear the music from downstairs, vibrations rumbling mildly through the floor and occasional shouts from a particularly drunk partygoer. His room is silent, otherwise, save his soft breaths as they sweep across my jaw. I soon find myself falling asleep, wrapped in Jasper and safety and ... love?
A/N: Jasper will take the reins next chap. It's not complete yet, but will be up soon!
Thanks to MaleficentKnits & Effbit for prereading/betafying. I FLOVE YOU BOTH.