Hells Angel

After the bonfire, Jacob walked back to his house. He wanted some time to clear his head. He dug his cell phone out of the pocket of his shorts and dialed Bella's number. He wanted to hear a familiar voice. He wasn't ready to admit that he wasn't completely over her yet.

”Jacob?”

“Hi, Bella,” he whispered. “How are you?”

”I'm okay. Why are you calling?”

He frowned. “Edward doesn't want us talking, does he?”

”He's not going to know. I can shield—remember?”

“Yeah,” he said, sighing. “I remember. I just wanted to talk to someone who understood everything that happened with Nessie.”

”Jake, stop. We're moving on—You should do the same. We're all finally at the point where it doesn't consume everything that we do. Don't tell me you're still grieving.”

“It's different, Bella. She was your daughter and my imprint—I can't just move on from this,” he said. “God, I thought you of all people would understand where I'm coming from with this.”

”Jake, just move on. Don't call me again, okay? I can't talk to you. It just stirs up everything, okay? I can't think about her as often as you can.”

“You really are one of them now, Bella,” he spat hatefully, hanging up his phone. Instead of feeling better, he felt worse than before.

+

Avery spent at least an hour the next day trying to decide what to wear. She had never been the type who wanted to look amazing or fashionable, but she at least wanted to look decent. She settled for wearing black tights, a cream colored tunic with a black design on its neckline, and her knee high buckle boots. She straightened her hair and placed a solid black headband in it, pulling on her black bracelet and her Hell's Angel jacket. She shrugged, deciding she looked decent enough, and grabbed her purse, heading downstairs to wait for Linley.

“You look nice, Aves,” her father commented. He was sitting at their piano—he had always wanted to learn but, as luck would have it, he wasn't exactly...good.

Avery shrugged. “Thanks, dad.”

“What are you and Linley doing today?”

“Game Night with her friends.”

Jack looked over at her. “Is that a joke?”

Avery sighed. “Unfortunately not. They're serious about this whole bonding thing.”

“Well, I'm glad you have a friend,” he said, pounding out a couple of notes.

His daughter laughed. “Dad, you're really bad at that,” she told him.

Jack smiled. “I know. But I feel it's useless to have this piano and never play.”

“True,” she said, shrugging as the doorbell rang. “I guess that's Linley. I'll be home later, okay?” she said, kissing her father's forehead before walking over to the door and throwing it open. She paused. “What are you doing here?”

Jacob shrugged. “Lin asked me to come over and get you.”

“Of course she did,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Everything okay, Aves?” her father shouted.

“Yeah, dad,” she told him. “I'll be back later.” She pushed Jacob out of the doorway and walked past him, slamming the door shut.

“Avery—“

“Stop,” she said, walking down the stairs and to the driveway, Jacob following close to her. She stopped and turned around, causing him to stumble. “I highly doubt Linley asked you to come get me. I'm not an idiot. I know when someone is lying to me.”

Jacob looked down, feeling guilty. “I wanted to apologize, Avery. I was an asshole yesterday.”

“Yes. You were,” she said.

“Well, now that we've agreed upon that,” Jacob said, smiling slightly. She stared at him. “It...was a joke?”

“A bad one,” Avery said.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged. “Look. I'm trying to apologize. Are you going to accept it?”

She shrugged, careless. “I don't know.”

Jacob shrugged. “You're going to make me work for it, aren't you?”

Avery fought a smile. “It's very possible that I'm going to, yes.”

Jacob smiled. “Okay. Okay, fine, I can work with that.”

+

“Avery! Be the deal breaker—how many boxes of macaroni should we make?” Quil asked. “Three or four?”

Avery's eyes widened. “Is this a joke?” she asked.

Jacob shook his head. “It's a very serious dilemma with us,” he said. “We eat way too much.”

“Too true!” Linley said, waiting for the water to boil on the stove.

“Go with five,” Avery said, shrugging.

Quil's eyes widened. “Five?” He looked between his friends. “I think she's one of us.”

Jacob laughed. “Not exactly.”

“Well, I mean, besides the fact that she's a girl, she's pretty much the same,” Quil said, grabbing five boxes of macaroni out of the pantry and handing them to Linley.

Linley stared up at him. “She's not like you,” she said. “And that's all my macaroni, you guys.”

“Go get more tomorrow,” Seth told his sister. “Cookies or cake?” he asked.

“Can't go without desert,” Quil said, nodding.

“I'm just saying, I make an amazing brownie,” Avery said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sam looked over at her. “Amazing brownies?”

She nodded.

“Two boxes!” Sam yelled, reaching for them and setting them on the counter.

Jacob laughed, leaning over towards Avery. “Sam isn't usually one to act childish like the rest of us. He has some complex where he thinks he has to be mature all of the time.”

Avery nodded slowly.

“What else do we want? Hot dogs?” Quil asked, digging a pack out of the refrigerator and tossing them to Linley. “Just make the whole thing.”

Avery's eyes widened. “You have to be kidding me. There's only seven of us and we're making ten hot dogs, five boxes of macaroni, and two boxes of brownies?”

All five of the boys just stopped what they were doing, staring at her for a minute as if she had grown a second head.

“Okay, I mean, it's not a bad thing,” Avery said. “Just...surprising.”

“Nice save,” Linley said, pouring all of the noodles into the boiling water. “Who wants to set up the table?”

+

“Stop, stop, stop, Quil, you're explaining this all wrong,” Avery said. “You're just confusing the poor boys even more. Okay, here's how you play the game. There are red cards and green cards. On the red cards, there's a noun—a person, a place, an event, whatever. On the green cards, there are adjectives—sultry, sexy, and so on and so forth—“

Seth laughed.

Linley slapped her brother's arm. “Grow up, Seth.”

“Anyway.” Avery shook her head. “Each person gets a set amount of cards and one person goes first. That person who goes first flips over a red card, revealing a noun, and then they close their eyes. Everyone else picks a green card best to describe that noun. Now, it can either be serious or funny. One time I played, my dad set down Rosa Parks and I set down sultry. Needless to say, I won,” she told them, laughing. “But everyone sets their card down and then the person opens their eyes, and picks the best one. Whoever picked that card then takes all of the green cards and sets them aside. Whoever has the most cards at the end is the winner.”

“Why couldn't you describe it like that, Quil?” Embry asked, rolling his eyes.

“That's exactly what I said!”

“You lie!” Embry said. “You had to throw out 'therefor' and all these big words that you don't even know the definition of, first of all.”

“You're just listening to her because you think she's hot,” Quil said. “I was explaining it just fine.”

Avery blushed slightly, hanging her head down, before starting to pass out the red cards.

“It doesn't matter, guys,” Sam said, “let's just play the game. Avery, you go first.”

“Okay,” she said, setting down her green cards and picking up a red one. She smiled and set it down. “The Holocaust,” she announced, shutting her eyes. “Do your worst.” She heard some laughing and hushed whispers, the sound of cards being shuffled.

“Okay, we're ready,” Linley said.

Avery opened her eyes, pursing her lips as she scanned the cards laid out on the table. “Naive, pathetic, smelly, sultry, fake, and ghetto. What to choose, what to choose,” she said, tapping a finger on her jaw. “It's horrible but I'm going to have to go with fake—pathetic was a close second, though.”

“Score!” Jacob yelled, grabbing all of the green cards. “I love winning. So do I pick a red card now?”

Avery nodded, watching as Jacob laughed and straightened his cards. He looked up at her for a second and his smile faltered before falling off of his face. Avery looked down, sighing softly, deciding to ignore it and continue with the rest of her evening.