First Beach — Tidepool Trail, Northwest Edge
12:19 PM Saturday, March 12th, 2005
Weather: Windy and bright. Tread: Caution advised. Ego Stability: Slippery at best.
Bella hadn't exactly planned to go tidepooling.
One second, she was pretending to sip lukewarm Coke by the fire, half-listening to Jessica try to decipher Mike's fluctuating interest levels, and the next—Mike was hurling a granola bar at Tyler and yelling something about "crab armor" while simultaneously waving her over.
"Bella! You coming?" Mike shouted, already halfway across the logs like a Boy Scout in a sports commercial. His Polartech windbreaker flapped behind him with more drama than necessary.
Bella glanced over her shoulder. Lauren, sunglasses still glued to her face, was whispering something acid-laced into Jessica's ear. Jessica giggled too loudly.
Yeah. No.
Bella stood, brushing sand off her jeans. "Sure. Tidepools sound... dangerous. Let's go."
Mike grinned like he'd just won something. Tyler whooped, already ahead, boots crunching over gravel. Eric trailed behind with his camcorder, narrating like he was filming for National Geographic.
"Tidepools: nature's wettest death trap," Eric said dramatically. "Here we witness the elusive Forks teenagers, venturing foolishly into slick, barnacle-laden terrain."
"Dude," Tyler shouted back, "If I slip, you better get it on tape. Instant YouTube fame."
"It's 2005, man. We still have dial-up," Eric called, voice deadpan. "You'll be famous in like... six months."
Mike hung back a few steps, matching Bella's pace. "You sure you're okay walking over all this? It gets kinda tricky."
Bella raised a brow. "Do I look like someone who trusts gravity?"
Mike laughed, a little too loud. "Fair. Just don't go breaking anything. You know Newton's not great under pressure."
"You mean you're not," she murmured, but not unkindly.
They made it down to the tidepools in a slow, loud caravan. The rocks jutted out like a battlefield, covered in slick algae and spiderwebs of barnacles. Tyler was already knee-deep in a crevice, swearing at a crab that apparently "gave him the side-eye."
"I think I found Aquaman's cousin," Tyler yelled. "He's not friendly."
"Don't antagonize the wildlife," Eric warned, scanning the area with his lens. "I swear I saw that crab flip you off."
Bella took her time. Each step felt like a gamble against fate. She wasn't about to recreate her gym class history on a slippery boulder, thank you very much.
After ten minutes of what she considered an Olympic-level tightrope act, Bella found a wide, mostly dry patch of rock and perched herself down. Knees pulled up. Arms wrapped around them. Solid footing. No falling.
Small victories.
Mike clambered onto a nearby rock, only slightly breathless. "Not bad. You didn't fall once."
Bella smirked. "I save my collapses for emotionally inconvenient moments."
He blinked, clearly unsure whether to laugh or look concerned. "Cool. Yeah. Totally relatable."
Tyler whooped again. "Hey! Who wants to race that seagull? I think it insulted my mom!"
Eric turned the camcorder toward him. "This is how documentaries about teenage Darwin Awards start."
Bella exhaled through her nose, gaze trailing to the tidepool beside her. It was deep and clear, the surface a wavering mirror. Anemones waved gently from its bottom like slow-motion dancers, and tiny crabs scuttled sideways beneath strands of dark green kelp.
"It looks peaceful," Angela said quietly, sitting down beside Bella. She must've peeled away from the others.
"It is," Bella said. "Until Mike tries to wrestle a jellyfish."
"Joke's on you," Mike called over, apparently listening in. "Jellyfish can't even look at me without crying."
"That's not a brag," Eric said. "That's a medical warning."
Bella chuckled softly. The breeze tugged at her hair. The sunlight glittered on the surface of the water, and for a moment, it caught—that warm-gold hue that reminded her of something she didn't want to admit she missed.
Or someone.
A pair of eyes she hadn't seen in days. A name she didn't dare say here.
She rubbed the back of her hand along her jeans and looked down into the tidepool again. One of the fish darted into a shadow.
Some part of her understood that.
"You okay?" Angela asked gently.
Bella nodded. "Yeah. Just thinking."
About shadows. About sunlight. And about what it meant when someone you couldn't stop thinking about kept disappearing every time you got close.
—
The trek back from the tidepools was a slow march through wind-whipped driftwood and scattered pebbles, the boys' voices trailing off like echoes of something half-remembered.
Mike's boots crunched on the gravel ahead. "Alright, Bella, you survived the rockslide. Proud of you." His grin was way too bright for a guy who probably planned to tease her mercilessly the second her back was turned.
Bella offered a half-smile, fingers fiddling with the hem of her flannel. "You mean I didn't faceplant in front of the entire coast? Small victories."
Tyler, jogging a few paces behind, threw a mock salute over his shoulder. "That's the stuff of legends, Bella. Next stop: Forks Hall of Fame."
Eric was quietly filming something, probably a hermit crab with attitude or Tyler yelling at a wave. "Careful, Tyler. Ocean's got a better sense of humor than you."
Bella glanced up as they neared the fire ring, and the scene shifted. The crowd had grown—more bodies, more voices mixing with the salt-thick air.
A cluster of teens had settled nearby, darker-haired and sun-kissed, their movements smooth and sure like they belonged to the land and the sea in a way the Forks kids never quite did.
Bella's gaze locked onto one figure leaning against a log, arms crossed, the kind of effortless stance that made her heart do that weird thud thing.
Jacob Black.
She'd met him once, months ago, when his dad had dropped off her truck—her dad's old truck—after some mysterious engine trouble. She remembered playing near the reservation with his elder twin sisters when Jacob was still a kid. Now, he was all grown up, calm and confident, the sort of quiet presence that made the noisy world feel a little softer.
Jacob's eyes flicked her way, just a nod, no big deal, but enough to pull a thread in Bella's tangled memories.
Mike caught her looking and elbowed her lightly. "You good? Need a sandwich or a pep talk?"
Bella blinked, smiled softly. "Sandwich would be great. Thanks."
Angela slid over beside her, settling on the log with a kind of gentle steadiness. Bella appreciated the quiet—Angela was never one for unnecessary chatter, and sometimes that was exactly what Bella needed.
Mike handed over the wax-paper-wrapped sandwich like it was a trophy. "Turkey and lettuce. Real gourmet."
Bella tore a corner and took a bite, the salty ocean breeze mixing with the smokey remains of the fire.
"Looks like the Quileute crew came out to play," Angela murmured, nodding toward the darker-skinned group. "Guess it's a party now."
Bella studied the new faces—some loud, some reserved. Two worlds colliding at the edge of the beach, not quite blending but definitely touching.
"It's… different," Bella said, cheeks warming a little.
Angela's lips twitched into a knowing smile. "That's one way to put it."
The group slowly dissolved into smaller clusters. Frisbees flew. Driftwood was poked at. Some kids headed back toward the tidepools for another round of wet-rock Olympics.
Bella stayed seated, her gaze drifting to the waves, the steady rhythm washing over her like a balm.
Jacob lingered nearby, a shadow caught in the sunlight, and beneath everything—the ocean's roar, the murmur of voices, the crackling fire—Bella felt the pull of something restless and real, as unavoidable as the tide.
She folded her hands in her lap, tilted her face into the wind, and let the quiet ache settle.
—
Bella stayed perched on the log, legs drawn up and arms folded over her knees, as the beach around her slowly unraveled into chaos. Frisbees arced like UFOs. Someone (Tyler, obviously) had started a semi-serious competition to see who could yell the word "barnacle" the loudest into the wind. Angela was off with Eric, trailing Jessica on a mission to locate a tragically lost lip gloss that was probably in Jessica's own jacket pocket. Lauren had gone mysteriously silent—which only meant she was somewhere nearby, plotting the downfall of another girl's reputation like it was 2005's favorite sport.
Which left Bella alone. Which was honestly fine.
The fire popped, a lazy snap that broke the silence just enough.
She was just starting to think she might enjoy the alone time when she heard it—the unmistakable sound of cautious sneakers-on-pebbles approach. Not quite sneaky. Not quite confident.
Jacob Black.
Bella turned just as he came into view, hands deep in his hoodie pockets, expression trying very hard to look casual and not at all like he'd been rehearsing this approach for the last five minutes.
"Hey," he said, voice rough with adolescence. It cracked a little at the end, and he winced visibly.
Bella blinked, then offered a smile. "Hey."
"Uh, you're Bella, right?"
She resisted the urge to smirk. "That's what my Social Security card says."
Jacob huffed a laugh. He looked taller than she remembered, though that wasn't saying much. The last time she'd seen him, he was barely past the "kid brother clinging to a juice box" phase.
"I'm Jacob. Black. Uh, Billy's son. Pretty sure you have our old truck?"
Bella gave him a pointed look. "You and Billy dropped it off, remember? You handed me the keys and told me not to stall out in front of the school."
His smile broke wider, sheepish. "Okay, yeah. I was just making sure you hadn't wiped that from your memory or something."
"Why would I? It was the best truck handoff of my life."
Jacob chuckled and took a cautious seat on the log, leaving a polite space between them.
"So... you don't remember me from when we were little, do you?"
Bella tilted her head, eyebrows knitting. "Not really. But I remember your sisters. Rachel and Rebecca, right? We used to dig fairy traps in my backyard."
His eyes lit up. "Yeah! They still talk about that sometimes. Like, 'Remember that pale Forks girl who hated dolls but liked blueberries and wore two different socks for no reason?'"
Bella snorted. "That tracks. What are they up to now?"
Jacob leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Rachel's at WSU. Full ride. Mechanical engineering. She's basically one failed experiment away from building a death ray."
Bella whistled. "Nice."
"And Rebecca... she's married. Lives in Hawaii now."
Bella blinked. "Wait—married? Like, grown-up married?"
Jacob nodded solemnly. "Yup. Wedding. Husband. House by the beach. She sent us a Christmas card with a palm tree wearing sunglasses."
Bella stared. "How old is she, twenty-one?"
"Twenty-one and a half," Jacob said with mock gravity.
Bella shook her head. "I don't even have a learner's permit and she's living the island dream. Life is unfair."
"Tell me about it. I still have to negotiate just to borrow the Rabbit."
"You mean that boxy little thing that looks like it runs on Capri Sun and hope?"
"Hey," Jacob said, mock offended. "That's vintage."
Bella smiled. The fire crackled between them, warm and easy.
"Well, if it makes you feel better, your dad's truck is still alive. Barely. But alive."
"That thing's a tank. It'll outlive us all."
"I believe it."
Jacob glanced at her, and for a second the moment held—quiet and uncomplicated.
Then—
"Bella!" Mike's voice cracked across the beach like a badly tuned radio. "Ultimate Beach Dodgeball! You in or what?"
Bella sighed. Loudly. "Is that even a real game?"
Jacob grinned, standing up. "With Newton? Probably not. But it'll be loud and mildly dangerous, so... bonus points."
Bella groaned as she stood, brushing sand from her jeans. "He probably thinks this is going on his college resume."
"Captain of Dodgeball. Special Skills: yelling and tripping."
They walked together toward the group forming near the surf—Tyler already shirtless and flexing dramatically, Jessica talking very fast at Lauren, who looked vaguely bored and somehow like she was posing for a camera that didn't exist.
Bella glanced sideways at Jacob. He walked with his hands still in his hoodie, but the tension had bled out of his shoulders. He looked… comfortable.
Not bad for a boy she didn't remember growing up with.
Maybe he'd changed. Maybe not.
But either way, she didn't mind.
Not one bit.
—
Bella lingered on the log beside Jacob, watching the chaos that was unfolding closer to the surf. Mike was shouting instructions like he was leading a boot camp, volleyball clutched under one arm like a sacred relic. Tyler had removed his shirt at some point and was bouncing the ball off his biceps with the smugness of someone born to flex.
"So," Jacob said, nudging a pebble with his sneaker, "how's the truck holding up?"
Bella turned to look at him, lips twitching. "Still a beast. A very loud, very orange beast that makes me feel like I'm driving a traffic cone through a hurricane."
Jacob grinned, wide and genuine. "That thing's a tank. I gave it a full tune-up before we brought it over—new spark plugs, rebuilt the carburetor, flushed the radiator, reattached a heat shield with actual bolts instead of duct tape. It was a labor of love."
Bella blinked. "Wait, you did all that? Yourself?"
He shrugged, trying to look casual and absolutely failing. "Kinda my thing. My dad wanted it to be in perfect shape for you. Said it was a proper welcome gift. So, yeah. Figured if you were gonna drive it, might as well run like a dream."
Bella stared at him for a second. He looked young but competent—like someone who knew exactly where every socket wrench in his garage was. And he was watching her, too, like her opinion mattered. Like he wasn't just saying this to brag.
"So… you build cars?"
Jacob nodded, eyes bright. "Try to. I've got this old '86 Rabbit I'm rebuilding. It's basically a rust bucket held together by dreams, wire hangers, and caffeine. But it's mine."
Bella let out a soft laugh. "That makes two of us barely held together by stubbornness and sarcasm."
Jacob grinned again—big, unguarded, a smile that could probably win small-town talent shows. Bella felt it hit somewhere under her ribs, a strange warmth curling in her stomach. And then—
"Bella," a familiar voice called, sing-song and sugar-tipped. "Who's your friend?"
Lauren.
Of course.
Bella turned her head, already bracing herself. Lauren was all sunglasses and smooth blonde waves, walking like a shampoo commercial flanked by Jessica, who looked intrigued, and Angela, who wore the face of someone regretting every life choice that had led to this conversation.
Jacob's posture straightened slightly. Not tense. Just ready.
"Hey," Lauren said, smile tight. "Didn't catch your name."
"Jacob Black," he replied, calm and polite. "I live over on the rez."
Jessica perked up. "Wait, your dad's Billy Black, right? With the wheelchair?"
Jacob nodded once.
Lauren turned her attention back to Bella. "Interesting. I didn't know you guys knew each other."
Bella shrugged, playing it cool. "We've met. He and his dad dropped off the truck. Remember the one I almost ran over your flip-flops with?"
Lauren laughed, but it was brittle. "Ohhh, right. The truck that sounds like it's powered by rage and gravel."
"I prefer to think of it as 'vocally assertive,'" Bella said dryly. "It's got character."
Jacob smirked. "It also has a killer alternator. I'd like some credit where it's due."
Angela looked like she was trying very hard not to smile. Jessica bit her lip, glancing between them. Lauren just kept going.
"Crazy how no one invited the Cullens," she said, tossing the comment out like a lit match.
Bella's stomach tensed. Jessica blinked. Angela's smile dropped.
Silence stretched.
From a few feet away, a tall Quileute boy with broad shoulders and a don't-mess-with-me aura stepped forward. His eyes were steady, his voice flat but firm.
"They don't come here."
Just like that.
The air shifted.
Lauren opened her mouth, then shut it. Something about the way he'd said it—matter-of-fact, like gravity—made it clear there wasn't going to be a follow-up.
"Right," Jessica mumbled, fiddling with her hoodie sleeve.
Angela cleared her throat. "Um, I think Mike's about to start another game."
"Bella!" Mike yelled on cue, waving both arms like a guy hailing a cab in New York. "You in? Tyler's threatening to do push-ups if we don't start!"
"Already doing them!" Tyler yelled. "You're welcome, ladies!"
"Please make it stop," Angela muttered.
Jacob leaned toward Bella. "Wanna play dodgeball, or fake a twisted ankle and walk the beach instead?"
Bella stood, brushing sand off her flannel. "Tempting. But I'm about one more Lauren comment away from pretending I fell into a tidepool and drowned."
Jacob chuckled, rising with her. "We could make it look convincing."
As they turned to leave, Bella felt the weight of the Quileute boy's words settle over her.
They don't come here.
Not a rule. A fact.
And beneath that—something colder, older, and sharp around the edges.
She glanced once over her shoulder, catching the shimmer of sunlight on the water.
The tide was still coming in.
And it carried secrets with it.
—
The tide whispered beside them, low and steady, brushing at the sand like it was trying to erase everything that had happened since they got here. Bella walked beside Jacob in that awkward, high-school pace—not too close, not too far—her hands jammed in her jacket pockets like they might escape if she wasn't careful.
"So," Jacob said, breaking the quiet with a voice that cracked just slightly. He winced and cleared his throat. "How are you liking Forks?"
Bella gave a soft laugh, not really at him, more at herself. Or maybe just everything. "It's... very moist."
Jacob blinked. "Moist?"
"Yeah. Like living inside a mouth."
Jacob let out a surprised bark of laughter. "That's so gross. Accurate, but gross."
Bella shrugged. "I mean, the town's fine. Trees are pretty. Everyone at school either stares too hard or not at all, so that's fun."
Jacob shot her a look, amused. "Yeah, I bet you're real popular."
Bella snorted. "You'd think being the new girl would give me some kind of Disney Channel glow-up. Instead I got a bio partner who might be trying to murder me with eye contact."
Jacob grinned. "Sounds intense."
"It's a vibe," Bella said, then glanced at him. "Hey, thanks again for the truck. It's kind of a tank, but in a good way. Solid. Loud. Comforting, in a 'might survive an apocalypse' sort of way."
"That thing'll outlive both of us," Jacob said, clearly pleased. "I replaced the brake pads and rewired the ignition. Even flushed the radiator."
Bella blinked. "You did all that?"
"Yeah. Cars are kinda my thing. I've been rebuilding a Rabbit in our garage. Looks like it runs on Capri Sun right now, but one day it'll be beautiful."
She smiled, half-flirting, half-sincere. "You don't look fifteen, you know."
Jacob paused, and a grin pulled at his mouth, teeth flashing white. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Bella resisted the urge to cover her face. "Definitely was." Probably. Unless it came off creepy.
Before her internal monologue could spiral further, she pivoted. "So that guy back there—your friend? He said the Cullens don't come here. Like, ever."
Jacob's smile dimmed, and he looked toward the surf. "Yeah. They're not allowed on the reservation."
Bella blinked. "What? Like, actually banned? Did they steal someone's parking spot or..."
He chuckled lowly but didn't answer right away. His sneaker scuffed at the sand. "It's old stuff. Tribal stuff. I'm technically not supposed to talk about it."
Bella lifted a brow. "That sounds suspiciously like the start of a story."
Jacob glanced at her sideways. "You like scary stories?"
Bella shrugged. "I read Dracula in eighth grade and didn't sleep for a week, but sure. Let's go."
He led her to a driftwood log, sun-bleached and sea-scarred, and they sat. The breeze ruffled Jacob's ponytail and Bella's hair equally, turning them both into vaguely gothic silhouettes.
Jacob rested his elbows on his knees, his voice quieter now, almost careful. "So, legend goes, the Quileutes are descended from wolves. Not regular ones—spirit wolves. Shapeshifters. Warriors who could turn into wolves to protect the tribe."
Bella tilted her head. "Okay, that's actually cool."
He smiled. "Yeah. Not sure how much I buy it, but my dad tells it like it's gospel."
He glanced at her. "Then there's the other part. The cold ones."
Bella's brows drew in. "The what now?"
"Pale. Fast. Strong. Cold skin. Not human. Not exactly alive. The stories say they drink blood, but it's... symbolic. Or whatever."
Bella didn't respond right away. Her heartbeat thudded in her throat like it was trying to send Morse code.
Jacob studied her, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Hey—don't worry. They're just legends. Campfire stuff."
She nodded, but her mind had already gone somewhere else. Somewhere with golden eyes, marble skin, and a biology lab that smelled like bleach and secrets.
Just stories, she told herself.
But some stories wore too much truth to be fiction.
—
Bella folded her legs up on the driftwood log like she was trying to become smaller. Not from the cold—though the wind did have teeth—but because Jacob was looking at her like he was about to say something Important with a capital I. And Important was never just interesting. Important was almost always uncomfortable.
Jacob wasn't smiling anymore.
He was tracing invisible lines in the sand with the toe of his sneaker, voice quiet. "Okay, so... my great-grandfather—Ephraim Black—he was the tribal chief way back when. He and the elders… they knew about the cold ones."
Bella squinted. "Cold ones like...?"
"Like, actual cold ones," Jacob said, glancing at her. "Vampires."
She blinked. "Wait, that's what we're calling them? Not Nosferatu? Or, I don't know—Children of the Night?"
Jacob snorted, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Hey, I'm just quoting Grandpa. If you want cinematic flair, we can dig up a fog machine and Bela Lugosi later."
Bella's lips twitched despite herself.
He went on. "Anyway, most of them—cold ones—were killers. But the ones who showed up near here? They were different. Said they didn't feed on people."
Bella felt her mouth go dry. "And people… believed that?"
Jacob looked over, eyebrow arched. "What would you do if a vampire told you they were going vegan?"
Bella hesitated. "Ask to see their fridge?"
That got a full laugh from him, warm and short-lived.
"They hunted animals," he said. "Swore it. Said they just wanted to live in peace. My great-grandfather didn't love it, but the tribe didn't have the strength to fight them. Not then. So they made a deal."
Bella leaned in. "A deal deal? Or, like, supernatural handshake deal?"
Jacob's gaze drifted toward the surf. "A treaty. Real binding stuff. They stay off our land—we don't expose them to outsiders. Everybody stays breathing."
Bella stared at him. "Wait. That's why the guy at the fire said the Cullens don't come here?"
"Exactly. They're not allowed on Quileute land. Still part of the agreement."
She frowned. "But... if the Cullens are good, why make a treaty at all?"
Jacob exhaled. "Because even good predators are still predators. You ever trust a lion just because it says it's full?"
Bella looked down at the sand. Her nails dug into her sleeves without her realizing. Something about that analogy scraped a little too close to home.
"So," she said slowly, "these... Cullens. The ones the treaty was with. What happened to them?"
Jacob paused.
Then looked her dead in the eye.
"They're still here."
Bella blinked. "Still—wait, still still? Like, descendants? Or—?"
"Nope," Jacob said, voice flat. "Same Cullens. Same faces. Same everything. Carlisle Cullen was the one who made the deal. He's the one living in that glass mansion on the hill right now."
Bella felt something cold bloom in her stomach. "That was, what, sixty years ago?"
"Seventy, give or take," Jacob said. "They haven't aged. At all. That's kind of their thing."
Bella stared at him, trying to mentally connect the facts with the impossibility. The pale skin. The golden eyes. The absolute lack of breath. Edward's voice in the hospital: "You can trust me."
Yeah.
Right.
Jacob must've caught her expression, because his voice softened. "I know it sounds nuts. I didn't believe it either when I was a kid. I thought dad was just messing with me."
Bella tried to play it cool. "And now?"
Jacob leaned back on his elbows, eyes on the horizon. "Now I think sometimes the scariest stories stick around because... they're not just stories."
The silence between them thickened like fog.
Bella rubbed her fingers along the hem of her sleeve, grounding herself. "You really believe it?"
"I don't know," he said honestly. "But there are rules. And the Cullens follow them. Which means something, I guess."
Bella nodded slowly, mind whirring. Don't come onto Quileute land. Don't expose them to outsiders. Cold ones are always dangerous.
And Edward Cullen... hadn't just looked like a lion.
He moved like one.
Elegant. Lethal. Silent until he wasn't.
Jacob stood and stretched, his hoodie riding up just enough to flash a strip of tan skin. "I probably wasn't supposed to tell you all that."
Bella looked up, startled. "Why did you?"
He offered a lopsided smile, sun in his expression again, even if the warmth didn't quite melt the chill that had settled between them.
"Because you asked," he said simply. "And... I figured you could handle it."
Bella swallowed, trying not to let that answer affect her as much as it did.
"Thanks," she said. "I think."
He started walking again, kicking a rock down the shore. "Don't mention it. Seriously. Like, don't. If my dad finds out, I'll be washing the Rabbit with my toothbrush until I'm thirty."
Bella followed, mind still stuck on Jacob's words. Same Cullens. Ninety years. Golden eyes. Too fast. Too strong.
Just a story.
Right?
Right?
She wasn't sure anymore.
And the ocean didn't answer her either.
—
Bella had barely stood up when she heard her name being hurled across the beach like a Frisbee.
"Bella!"
She turned just in time to see Mike Newton sprinting—well, more like dramatic-jogging—toward her, sand flying up around his sneakers. His windbreaker flapped like a neon flag of concern. Behind him, Jessica trailed with a kind of chaotic pep, her glossy ponytail bouncing like it had its own soundtrack. Probably Hilary Duff.
"We've been looking everywhere," Mike panted, stopping a few feet short. His cheeks were flushed. Not from the run. "You okay?"
Bella arched an eyebrow. "I'm fine. I didn't wander into the ocean and get swept away by a kelp demon, if that's what you're worried about."
Jessica rolled her eyes. "Mike thought you got kidnapped or like, fell in a crevice or something."
"There are crevices?" Bella asked, deadpan. "Why didn't anyone tell me? I love dramatic exits."
Jacob, standing just beside her, let out a short laugh. "She's fine. We were just talking."
Mike's eyes cut to Jacob like he was trying to solve a particularly frustrating math problem. "Right. Jacob Black, right? From La Push?"
Jacob nodded, easy and polite. "Yep. Our dads go way back."
Jessica squinted at him like she was trying to place him in some ancient yearbook. "You're Billy's son, right? Didn't you used to have braces and, like, a mushroom haircut?"
Jacob grinned. "Guilty. I'm hoping the glow-up's working for me now."
Bella snorted. "It's working."
Mike's posture stiffened. Bella didn't need to see his face to feel the change in temperature. That subtle shift from "concerned friend" to "territorial golden retriever."
She sighed inwardly and stepped a few inches away from Mike's looming shadow. Subtle. But necessary.
"Relax, Jacob. Mike Newton is not my boyfriend," she said, hands diving into her jacket pockets before she could do something stupid like gesture too obviously.
Jacob smirked. "Didn't say anything."
Bella smirked back. "Your eyebrows are very loud."
Jacob shrugged. "Can't help that. It's a genetic thing."
Mike was still standing there like he was buffering. Jessica, meanwhile, was chewing her lip, practically vibrating with curiosity.
"So, what were you actually talking about?" she asked, her voice high-pitched with nosiness. "Because when we saw you walk off, I said it looked like you were going off to have a moment."
"Wolves," Bella said, breezy as hell. "And vampires. Normal things."
Jessica blinked. "Wha—"
"Folklore," Jacob added helpfully. "Scary stories. Just for fun."
Bella gave a tight-lipped smile. "You'd love it, Jess. Very Buffy-adjacent."
Jessica looked like she wanted to keep interrogating, but Mike cut in with a forced brightness.
"Everyone's getting ready to go. Tyler's having a meltdown because he can't find his keys and Eric's convinced seagulls stole them."
Bella nodded, glancing back at the tide, then to Jacob. Her chest squeezed in that annoying, warm way.
"You should come visit Forks sometime," she said. "Y'know, once your apocalypse-mobile can legally leave La Push."
Jacob gave a mock-wounded look. "It's not that bad."
"It runs on spite and duct tape."
"And dreams."
"And probably fumes."
He laughed, and she felt it more than heard it—something easy and sincere that cut through the weight of what they'd just talked about. It grounded her. She needed that.
"Cool," he said, quiet now. "Maybe I will."
Bella looked at him, really looked, and said just as softly, "Cool."
Mike was fidgeting beside her, his eyes darting between them like a tennis match. "Anyway, we should go. People are starting to throw things."
Jessica nodded. "Tyler threw a cooler."
Jacob chuckled. "Then yeah. Definitely time to run."
Bella stepped backward a few paces with Mike and Jessica, then turned to Jacob one last time.
"Thanks. For the story. And the truck. And not letting me die dramatically on a beach rock."
Jacob gave her that same lazy grin, all sun and something else that lingered in the air. "Later, Swan."
"Later, Black."
She turned, walking toward the parking lot with Mike and Jess, but glanced back just once.
Jacob was still standing there, half in shadow, half in gold, the breeze tugging at his hoodie and the surf humming behind him. He looked like he belonged to the shore.
To stories.
To something old.
Bella pressed her hands deeper into her coat pockets as she walked. The sand felt different beneath her shoes now. Like the beach had changed somehow—or maybe she had.
Mike tried to start small talk. Jessica was still gossiping about Lauren. But Bella barely heard them.
All she could think about was what Jacob had said.
Vampires.
Cold ones.
Treaties.
And the Cullens who never aged.
Her heart thudded loud in her chest, and the wind caught her hair as they stepped off the beach.
The ocean behind her whispered like a secret.
And she wasn't sure yet if she wanted to know the ending of the story.
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Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!