CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

"If you fuck up my hair, I'll kick your ass."

Leah rolled her eyes, a mischievous grin on her face as she weaved a pair of scissors through Zora's hair. "I'd like to see you try, Medina."

The girls laughed together, the raucous noise filling Zora's small, sun-lit kitchen. The two had finished an early morning patrol only thirty minutes prior, and having seen the shagginess of Zora's fur—which made her wolf look less like a predator and more like an overgrown dog—they decided a haircut was needed. She was perched in a chair at the dinner table, one hand shoving a fistful of potato chips into her mouth and the other plunged in a bag of sugar-coated gummy worms. Although she couldn't see Leah's disgusted expression, she could hear the distaste in her voice. "Are you trying to give yourself cavities?"

"It's the breakfast of champions," Zora replied, dusting crumbs and fallen strands of hair from her thigh. "Besides, I'm stress eating."

Leah snorted. "Because of what happened yesterday?"

Zora made a noise of agreement, biting into the gummy worms and wiping her fingers on the denim of her shorts. Patrolling with Leah meant she'd seen the instance in Port Angeles—and the feelings that surfaced when Jacob approached her.

It was dizzying the way a smile could steal her sadness; the way all of her pent up negativity and emotion could evaporate as soon as he looked at her; the way their bond made her need him, the desperate desire to wrap around him and never let go. It was dizzying and terrifying all at once because the desire to be more than friends was taking root. She wanted him, all of him, but if she took the plunge, there would be no return.

So when Jacob offered to give her a ride home after hours of playing Crash Bandicoot at Quil's place—the two of them sitting in his car, a restless silence surrounding them as their hearts beat frantically, Zora staring out of the passenger window, his hopeful eyes fixed on the side of her face—and asked her, "Would you like to hang out, just the two of us, as friends sometime?" she froze. Part of her wanted to say yes, a thousand times yes, that she'd love nothing more than to spend one-on-one time with him. But then her fingertips brushed against the door handle, her hand fitting perfectly atop the indent she'd left behind all those months ago, and the memory of their almost-kiss and the pain and fury that followed came hurtling into her mind.

It's too soon, she thought anxiously. Too soon. Her wariness overruled her desire, and she turned to him wearing a look of apology. "I can't. Not...not yet. You understand, right?"

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, trying to hide his disappointment with enthusiasm and a half-hearted smile. "I understand."

Afterwards, she'd thanked him for the ride and bid him farewell, his question and her feelings lingering in the back of her mind as she tossed and turned in her failed attempt to sleep. It felt wrong to reject him, wrong because pushing him away defied the very nature of an imprint. Whatever sort of connection he wanted, she was supposed to give him. And though she wanted to finally throw caution to the wind, to give him her all and receive him in return, she had to protect herself – she couldn't handle getting hurt again.

"Was it mean of me to say no?" she asked Leah, grimacing at the strange crunchy and sticky combination she was chewing on.

"Of course not," the older girl scoffed. "In fact, I think you were too nice."

"Too nice?"

"Yes – you deserve to tell him 'fuck no, I'm not ready yet.'" She paused, snipping at an uneven section of hair. "And I realize that the imprint"—she pulled a face as she uttered the word—"is making things more complicated, but you still have the right to choose what you want. So be a little selfish for once. If you want to wait, then wait and don't let anyone or anything make you feel bad about it."

Zora was silent for a moment, contemplating her friend's words. It wasn't a bad thing to prioritize her feelings, right? She may have had an unbreakable, supernatural tie to Jacob, but did that mean she had to always choose him over herself? She unconsciously shook her head, earning a hard thump on the head from Leah. "Stop moving or I really will fuck up your hair."

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, a warm smile curving along her lips. "Thanks for the advice, Lee. I love you, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," she waved dismissively. "I know."

"Good. Now say it back."

Unable to fight the amused chuckle that left her, Leah conceded. "Fine, but don't expect me to say it again until next year. I love you, too."

Zora heaved a sigh of boredom, her eyes heavy and her face void of any expression as she rearranged cans of beans and vegetables. Shortly after her haircut and the three-hour long nap she managed to squeeze in, she had to give up her afternoon to work at the grocery store.

Work was hardly exciting, but being positioned at the cash register was usually more eventful than doing more menial chores. It was her task for the day before she showed up two minutes late and earned a lecture from Mr. Navarro, the store owner, about time management and punctuality. She'd been demoted to stocking shelves, one of the most tedious jobs, and without Jared to entertain her—it was his off day—she was in for an excruciatingly long shift.

One hour down, four more to go.

She was in the middle of organizing pinto beans, bent over and reaching into a cardboard box when she heard another person step into her aisle. Usually, she'd continue her work and wouldn't pause unless a customer asked her for assistance. But as she caught the person's scent, her body stiffened and her movement ceased as she muttered a series of expletives under her breath. She knew it well—heavily-doused cologne, spearmint gum, and a hint of perspiration. Sighing again and affixing herself with a pointed look, she stood and faced the smirk of Allen Walker.

"I'm digging the short hair."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "How many more times do you need to be told to go away?"

"Damn," he snickered playfully. "No 'hello' or 'how can I help you?'"

"Both are reserved for people who aren't a pain in the ass."

"See, now that's what I like about you. You don't mince your words."

She rolled her eyes impatiently. "Listen, Walker, I don't have time for any of the bullshit you're probably gonna spout. Tell me what you want so I can get back to work."

"Relax, Zora," he said, his lips pulled into a lazy grin and his hands up in surrender. "I didn't show up here just to bother you."

That's when she heard it—the small, distinctive uptick in his heart rate. Despite the easygoing air he was trying to give off, he was nervous about something. She narrowed her eyes at him—what the hell was he nervous about?—and waited for him to continue.

"Would you…" he paused for a moment, "like to go on a date with me?"

Her narrowed eyes widened. She was shocked – at both his question and the strangely meek demeanor he was displaying. Of all the encounters they'd had, she couldn't recall any hesitance or him stumbling over his words. He was always confident, so annoyingly sure of himself and the pick-up lines he used to insinuate that he wanted to sleep with her. But maybe it was a façade, only present when he had an audience to watch him. And a date? Not once had he seemed interested in actually getting to know her – until now, anyway. She was confused in a humorous sort of way, and as she watched him fidget slightly under her harsh gaze, his self-assurance slowly slipping away, a hearty chuckle escaped her.

"You're joking, right?"

He blinked, seemingly unsure of how to react. "Uh, no, I'm not joking."

"But why would you want to go on a date with me?" she questioned, her words accusatory. "You don't even know me."

"Exactly," he replied. "I don't know you, so I want to get to know you."

She scrutinized him, her brow furrowed as she looked him up and down. It could all be a cunning ploy to get in her pants. Not that she'd ever consider giving it up to him, though, because there was only one person she wanted to do that with and—get a grip, Zora, she scolded herself, pulling her thoughts away from the dangerous territory of her mind that involved very mature fantasies.

Noticing her expression of disbelief, Allen spoke up. "I know that I've come off a bit strong in the past—"

"A bit?" she interjected.

"Okay," he admitted. "Too strong. And clearly that's not something you're into, so I wanted to just…be straightforward with you."

She was still studying him, searching for any indication that he was lying to her. And while she stared, she couldn't help but notice that he wasn't unattractive. She could see why he was popular with girls from La Push—the dark, mirthful eyes, the full lips, the long hair he parted down the middle and pushed behind his ears. And that ridiculous smirk he gave, the one he was wearing now as he noticed her gaze fixated on him. She promptly looked away, her face growing warm as she muttered "goddamn pretty boys" under her breath and haphazardly shoved a bunch of cans into their designated spots.

"So, what do you say?"

She was turned away from him, stocking the shelf with more force than necessary and remaining quiet as she contemplated her answer. Do you really have to think about it? She chastised herself. Just say no and send him on his way. Only she didn't want to say no – which filled her with conflicting feelings. She wasn't interested in him, couldn't be even if she tried. And she was well aware that he was too persistent and maybe a bit shady. But why did she have to say no? Because that was what her pack would expect her to do? Because of Jacob? The mere mention of his name brought forth a surge of warmth, the brightness of his smile and the deepness of his laughter clouding every inch of her mind. She loved him—more than he knew, more than she could comprehend—and despite the unwavering devotion she felt for him, despite the mystical tangle the two found themselves in…she was still a teenage girl, one who wanted to know what it would be like to go on a date.

Zora didn't and could never resent Jacob, but she couldn't deny the difficulty she still faced in allowing herself to trust him completely. He was in the process of earning it back, and though she was grateful for his effort, it was hard for her to let the walls she'd built—walls meant to keep him out, to keep her safe—deteriorate. Maybe it was hypocritical of her to deny Jacob's proposal, to tell him she wasn't ready when she was considering accepting Allen's offer. The fact of the matter, though, was that only one of them had repeatedly broken her heart, and as a result, she had more trust for one than she did the other.

So, she was going to follow Leah's earlier advice – she was going to be a little selfish for once and do something for herself without thinking of how it would affect someone else. She faced Allen, feeling determined and pushing aside any traces of regret. "Alright, I'll go on a date with you."

"Really?" he said incredulously.

She nodded. "On several conditions, though. One: Don't say any creepy shit. And two: Hands to yourself."

The cocky demeanor she knew and didn't love returned. "You drive a hard bargain," he smiled playfully, "but I'll agree to your terms."

"Seriously," she pointed a finger at him, "don't get any ideas." She reached into the pocket of her apron, pulling out a ripped receipt and a purple pen. Sloppily, she jotted down her address and handed it to him. "Pick me up on Friday, six o'clock. And don't be late."

He accepted the piece of paper, a small, triumphant grin on his face as he promised to see her soon. He backed away, throwing her one last wink before heading towards the exit. His excitement was infectious, and while she was reluctant to show it, she couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her as she resumed her work.

In the back of her mind, though, one person lingered, and she knew that whatever explanation she offered, he was not going to be happy.

The golden light of the evening sun streamed in through the kitchen windows and screen door, the orange haze warm and illuminating as Jacob worked alongside Emily. The house was strangely quiet—save for Sam's rumbling snores emanating from behind the closed door of his bedroom—as his pack mates were either patrolling, working, goofing off somewhere, or relaxing in their own homes. He'd been partaking in the last action, but the silence that surrounded him—amplified by the absence of his father who was fishing with Charlie Swan—created a barrage of thoughts that he didn't want to address. He figured the noise and bustle of Sam and Emily's place would distract him, but once he arrived, he was unpleasantly surprised at the lack of bodies crowding around the refrigerator.

With an inaudible sigh and a half-hearted smile, he offered to help her bake the dessert for tonight's dinner; and now he found himself cracking eggs into a large glass bowl, a small frown etched into his features.

Emily was observant, though, and noticed that his usual exuberance was dimmed. She nudged him with her elbow, pointing at the bowl of egg yolks sitting in front of him. "You're getting pieces of shell in there."

"Oh," he murmured, seemingly pulled out of whatever preoccupied state he was in. He moved to the sink to wash his hands. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay," she said. "Is something bothering you? You seem kind of down."

He'd resumed his spot beside her, his eyes trained on the bowl as his fingers struggled to pluck the minuscule pieces of shell out of the yolks. "I just…I have a lot on my mind."

She wore a gentle smile, his tone of voice revealing to her who was engrossing him. Zora. "Do you want to talk about it?"

His fingers paused, his back tensed as he mulled over her offer. It wasn't that he didn't want to confide in her—she was one of the people he was most comfortable sharing his troubles with, after all—but the reasoning for his downheartedness felt wrong, ridiculous even. Zora had every right to tell him that she couldn't spend time with him. And though he knew that she would be hesitant, he thought she was finally warming up to him, finally comfortable enough to be alone with him. He couldn't have been more mistaken.

He exhaled deeply. "I asked Zora to hang out."

Emily wore a surprised expression. "Just the two of you?"

He nodded. "As friends, of course, but…she said no."

He felt her pat his arm, a gesture of reassurance as she smiled up at him. "She'll come around eventually, Jacob."

"What if she doesn't, though?" he questioned, the thought enough to send a jolt of panic through him. "What if – what if I've ruined everything?"

The look on his face was such a boyish expression that Emily's smile softened. It was times like these that she remembered how young he and the others were. Despite their size, their strength, and the responsibilities resting heavily upon their shoulders, they were still teenagers—in age and at heart—who were prone to making mistakes.

"You haven't ruined everything," she told him. "You and I both know how much she cares about you. And we both know why she feels uncertain."

The reminder was gentle, but it filled him with dismay anyway. He was well aware that he was the reason for her uncertainty, and he would give her all the time she needed, be her friend for as long as she wanted until she no longer felt that way about him. That didn't mean it was easy, though. Every day, his resolve for maintaining a friendship waned as his steadily-growing feelings deepened. He could feel the bond between them, the sheer force of the magnetism that drew them together. He accepted it, accepted the way it pulled him towards her, the way it made everything – the conversations they had, the smiles and laughter and lingering stares they shared, the short moments they spent together – feel right. He knew she felt it, too, and it amazed him how much restraint she was able to put forth, especially because he was agonizingly close to giving in, to have her and be hers.

But she wasn't ready.

"I know," he said quietly. "And because of that, I'll wait as long as she wants me to."

His words, reminiscent of what Sam once told her, brought a smile to Emily's face. "Good. And like I said, she'll come around eventually."

The conviction in her voice comforted him, her optimistic assurance ceasing the fretful thoughts rushing through his mind. "Thanks, Emily," he smiled back at her, his low spirits finally lifting. He continued baking with her in a jovial mood, one that couldn't be brought down by Paul as he sauntered through the doorway, uttering a snarky remark about Jacob being gifted at getting rejected by girls. His mood couldn't be brought down by Quil and Embry's insistence that the chocolate chip cookies he made were overcooked. His mood couldn't even be brought down by the glum expressions Seth, Collin, and Brady wore—the most genial trio of the pack—as they entered the kitchen, large slushies in each of their hands.

"Why do you guys look like kids whose candy just got stolen?" he joked, mixing another batch of cookie dough.

The three of them shared uneasy glances, communicating silently with their eyes before Seth spoke up. "I, uh, have something to tell you, Jake, but I think we should…talk about it outside…"

He chortled. "Just spit it out, kid."

The three boys looked at each other again, and then Seth sighed. "We were at the gas station buying slushies, and that Allen guy was there filling up his tank and"—he paused to gauge Jacob's reaction, noticing that he still seemed uninterested—"well, we overheard him talking on the phone with one his friends or something about…about a date he has on Friday."

Jacob raised an eyebrow at him. "Why are you telling me this?"

"The thing is…" Seth shifted uncomfortably, "uh, the date he has…it's with…it's with Zora."

Jacob's mixing stopped abruptly. In fact, most of the commotion in the kitchen halted, the silence deafening as all eyes focused on the gangling boy. "What did you say?" Jacob murmured, his tone of voice a mixture of disbelief and something darker, an undercurrent of rage slowly seething towards the surface.

Seth coughed awkwardly. "He's got a date…with Zora."

Multiple things happened at once—the spoon Jacob held snapped beneath the pressure of his grip, splintered pieces of wood littering the counter and falling into the cookie batter. And as if summoned by her name, in walked Zora still wearing her work uniform, caught mid-laugh with Leah. Her eyes quickly found his, and upon seeing the intensity with which he glowered at her, her laughter died down immediately.

Shit.

AN: I hope you enjoyed the ever-present drama. And a quick thanks to all of the people who've recently followed and/or favorited this story! Y'all are wonderful.

Along with writing this chapter, I've spent the last few days editing some of the old chapters. Also, I gave Zora's mom a name (it's Autumn), so here's a head's up in case you see it in upcoming chapters. Stay safe and healthy! And please let me know what you think! :)