It's Our Last Chance to Feel Again

KATHERINE

"You know what my problem is?"

"You have stalker instincts?"

My head snapped in the direction of where my dad's voice had came from to show him the ferocious glare I had on my face. Catching sight of his worried expression, I turned back around with an air of satisfaction, and resumed looking out the window. Didn't my father understand that it had been a rhetorical question?

Honestly. Men didn't know anything.

Take Jacob for example. I bet he had no idea how much it killed me everytime he wasn't around. I bet he had no idea what I'd give for even a glance of his smile. I bet Jacob had no idea how a simple laugh of his makes me dying of a heart attack that much more likely. I bet he had no idea that I was completely crazy over him. I bet he had no idea how much effort I put into controlling the spasms that take over my muscles everytime he touched me.

"No," I started harshly, emphasising that one word with so much strength, my father's worried expression changed to one of fear, "My problem is that I'm boring."

"You're not boring..."

"We've only begun having proper conversations for less than a night, and already I can't think of anything eventful that happened in the last fourteen years of my life," I spat, cursing myself for foolishly thinking that education was truly more important than having a drama filled social life.

My father looked stumped for a while, before he gently explained, "That's just because you are-"

"Boring."

My father must have detected the tone of finality in my voice, because he said nothing more. The silence that enveloped the room was deafening, but I kept my intense stare on a half-naked Jacob and a girl I didn't recognise.

I guess I should have taken the hint when my dad had distracted my frighteningly focused spying on Jacob because at that moment, Jacob chose to take in the view of his surroundings. The moment he caught my eye, I felt the blood rise to my cheeks. Great. Now he knows how much of an obsessive freak I am.

I sighed thankfully as he turned away, but then moaned when I caught sight of my reflection in the window. I had to have horribly stubborn hair that decided to imitate a lion's mane. My theory was once again proven right. I could never just be normal in front of Jacob. Not even once.

I suppose it's payback for me being a bitch to my dad.

What the hell. Why stop now?

"Of course Jacob wouldn't- what's that word... Oh, yes- Imprint on someone as painfully dull as me. Look at her," I sighed, my eyes watching as the girl's facial features contorted into a scowl, "She's way prettier than I am."

My father moved from his previous seat in the living room to the kitchen counter where I was sitting on to glimpse at the girl I was currently envious of. "She's not that pretty," He shrugged.

I scoffed, "Of course you have to say that I'm prettier than her. You're my dad."

"Who said anything about you being prettier?" He guffawed, before erupting into roars of laughter.

His noises were cut off, however, by another of my ferocious glare, and reduced to a mumble. "She had to inherit her mother's lack of sense of humor."

"I bet the story behind that injured hand is anything but boring," I sighed spitefully, suddenly wishing someone would punch me in the eye just so I'd have something interesting to talk about. How did the girls in my school do it? How did any girl do it, for that matter? They made having conversations look easy, and for some reason, they always seemed to have something interesting to talk about.

Being a girl takes way too much effort.

"Who is she, anyway?" I asked my father, curiosity getting the better of my bitter feelings.

My dad's eyes narrowed as he tried to recall if the girl was familiar to him. "I think her name's Belle, or something of that sort."

"Belle," I repeated, although it came out sounding as more of a question than I had intended.

"Belle, Bella, Bello, I don't know. They sound about the same to me," He shrugged, and even though I rolled my eyes, I couldn't help but smile at his cluelessness and nonchalance.

"I don't think her name is Bello," I mused, the smile still gracing my lips.

"Yeah, you're right. Bello's probably her brother," My dad replied, before he hopped off the kitchen counter and went back to the couch he had previously been sitting on in the living room, "So what do you feel like doing?"

I shrugged, ignoring the fact that he probably couldn't see it, and continued to watch as whatever-her-name-was and Jacob had their conversation. "How interesting do you think the topic of their conversation is?"

My dad looked over at me from the living room, a thoughtful expression crossing his features before he replied, "Depends on how interesting you think the value of her life is."

"What, you honestly think her life is in danger?" I snorted, surprised that I could actually understand what my dad was talking about.

"Her life's always in danger. She's obviously got some sort of curse on her. Either that, or she is the curse," he managed to get out, before bursting out into laughter.

What a jokester, I thought, with a roll of my eyes. And he said I had a lack of sense of humor? Right.

"So basically, her life's pretty full of drama?"

My dad shrugged, and I scowled as I watched Jacob run back into the woods, "Do you have any expired food?"

My dad snapped his head in my direction. "What? Why?"

"Jacob seemed pretty concerned when I had food poisoning."

-

The first thing Uncle Jack did when I arrived back at his place was lead me to the couch, where he brought me a glass of water and made sure that I was comfortable, before he began his rambling. "Oh Kat, I'm so sorry. I didn't know your stomach was so sensitive. I shouldn't have tried that new recipe with horseradish. I should have just stuck to Worcestershire sauce. I knew it would've been a bad idea. You always stick to your original recipe. But your mother used to make wonderful chicken with horseradish, and I thought I'd surprise everyone but... I'm so sorry."

In all honesty, his ramblings did annoy me a little. But I wasn't going to complain. That was the first time I'd ever received such a welcome from him, and I intended to enjoy every second of it while I sipped my water.

When my cup was finally empty, I looked up at Uncle Jack and calmly said, "I don't think it was the horseradish in your chicken. I actually don't think it had anything to do with your chicken."

"Oh? But... But you ate loads of it. Everyone saw you," Uncle Jack frowned.

I nodded. "Yeah, but it wasn't the only thing I ate. I ate those two sausages too. I think my stomach was just really pissed with me for putting so much in it, and I guess all that different food must have made my stomach even more upset. I really don't think it's your fault."

A look of relief washed over Uncle Jack's face, even though he still remained skeptical. "You're absolutely sure?"

I shrugged, intending to answer him but changing the topic entirely when a thought suddenly hit me. "Do you mind if I use your phone? I've got a very important call to make."

Uncle Jack frowned at my abruptness, but let it slide all the same as he nodded his acceptance.

"Thank you," I smiled and reached over to grab the cordless that stood on the kitchen table from where Uncle Jack had left it.

Furiously punching the numbers I had locked in my head as a little girl, I kept the determined frown on my face. I ignored my anxiously beating heart as I brought the phone to my ear.

It took six rings, before a man's voice rung over from the other end. "Hello?"

With all the confidence I could muster, I spoke.

"Hey Daniel. Is my mom there?"