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YEARNING FOR SOMEONE WAS QUITE the intriguing sensation. A feeling that Bailey hadn't felt before, at least not to this degree. It was different but somehow familiar. Bailey knew what it felt like to want something so she could recognize it (after a few moments of self-reflection). However, with Paul, there was something quite foreign. Maybe it was because he was a person? Bailey had never actively yearned for another person before—a person who wasn't family, and this certainly wasn't familial. Bailey had never dreamt of another person before, she'd never woken up thinking of another person either. But Paul was... well, different. He was such an enigma. What was so special about him? Why did he stand out? Why? Why? Why?
"Bailey," came Bella's voice through a void of inconclusive thoughts, "are you okay?"
Days had passed by now, time was moving a lot more discreetly, smoothly. Bella had changed. She wasn't miserable anymore and this time it was genuine. Not to mention she was rapidly improving on her bike to the point that Bailey was beginning to be more lenient on the whole situation—she still strictly prohibited Bella from driving the motorcycle on the open road or in traffic; she hadn't improved that much.
"You look deep in thought," Bella said, almost surprised by her own words. After all, Bailey hardly looked like anything, she almost always had a blank look on her face so for Bella to be able to decipher how she was feeling, well, it had to be something big.
Bailey blinked. She looked down at her breakfast, a meal she'd completely forgotten about. Her bacon was cold, pancakes soggy from being drenched in maple syrup for too long, and her cold glass of juice was now room temperature.
"Why did you become obsessed with Edward?" she asked straightforwardly.
Bella stared at her younger sister for a short while. There were times when she wanted to look into Bailey's mind and wonder what was going on there. Why was she suddenly bringing up Edward again and at a time like this?
"I don't follow." Bella tried to remain calm.
Instead of cluing Bella into what she was thinking Bailey retreated into her mind, pondering what she should do next. There was a chance, maybe a slight chance, that this wasn't like Edward and Bella. At least Paul was alive and at least he didn't crave her blood; she didn't get any indication that he was trying to kill her either.
Unfortunately, similar to how Bella had been with Edward, Bailey wanted to investigate Paul, to know more about him; more about his supernatural side. He had done a very poor job at denying her allegations but that was fine. Bailey was certain she was going to get him to confess, to admit that he was a werewolf... from there, well, who knows. If she recalled what happened with Edward and Bella, they got closer once the truth was revealed. Did Bailey want to get closer with Paul? Or did she just want to uncover another scientific mystery? Only time would tell.
It was Saturday which meant that she and Bella were supposed to go over to Jacob's house. Recently, Bella had become obsessed with finding a meadow; something about a dream, Bailey wasn't really paying attention when Bella was mumbling about it. Bailey didn't think too much about it, but Bella had enlisted Jacob's help to try and find it. So maybe today they would be focused on that instead of the bikes, which meant that they wouldn't need Bailey to be there to supervise.
"I don't think I want to go to La Push today," Bailey admitted as she rose from her seat and placed her dirty plate on the counter by the sink.
"Oh, uh, why?" Bella asked her.
"I don't feel like going out today," Bailey said simply. "You and Jacob enjoy yourselves."
Bailey waited until Bella pulled out in the driveway with the truck before getting ready to leave. She knew that what she needed wasn't here which meant she had to go someplace else, someplace with a seemingly endless about of information, the library.
It was there that Bailey picked out a phonebook and sifted through the last names that started with the letter L. Would a phonebook even have names of people who lived on the reservation? She wasn't sure but it was at least worth a try. It was the weekend so she couldn't count on Paul randomly showing up in front of her school.
"Lahote..." Bailey inhaled sharply when she spotted the name. There it was, a number and a zip code.
Bailey wrote the number down, put the phone book away and took the first bus back home. There she entered an empty house and paced around staring at the number hurriedly written on a piece of paper.
Why was she hesitating? Why was her heart beating so fast and why were her hands getting sweaty? Bailey hated being sweaty, hated the stickiness, the moist sensation. She rubbed her hands against her shift. Then she went to the landline, she stared at the phone long and hard before picking it up and dialling the number. She waited as it rang a few times.
"Hello?" She heard his voice answer on the other end. But he sounded different, he sounded tired. His voice was deeper and raspier than usual. Bailey ignored the warmth that accumulated in her cheeks.
She was silent for a long while—she barely called people, if ever. How did people normally start conversations again? She seemed to have forgotten.
"Hello?" Paul said again. "If this is another prank call, Jared, I'll kill you for waking me up this early on a fucking Saturday."
Bailey licked her lips but then heard moving on the other end of the call and suddenly Paul's voice sounded further away; he was in the process of hanging up the phone while mumbling obscenities to himself.
"You know where I live." Bailey blurted out.
Just before the phone could click—"Bailey?" Paul had rapidly placed the phone back to his ear. "What—how did you get this number?"
"Phonebook," Bailey responded. "I needed to contact you and I didn't know anyone who might have had your number so..."
"Needed to contact me?" He repeated, worryingly. "Why? Is something wrong? Did something happen?"
"Come over." Bailey ignored all his questions. Not intended to be rude, it's just his questions had nothing to do with what she wanted to talk about.
"Over where?" Paul asked cluelessly.
"My house. Bella's gone to meet Jacob and my dad's at work probably till late again, so I'm home alone." Bailey explained. She waited for Paul's answer, but it was silent on his end. "Hello? Paul?"
She looked at the phone curiously. Why had the sound suddenly cut off? Bailey hung up and waited a few minutes. Should she try calling again? Maybe it was something with the cords? She looked behind the phone to see if all the cords were connected properly and didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Maybe it was something on Paul's side?
Five minutes passed by and Bailey was now sitting on the couch waiting for Paul to call her back so that they could continue their conversation but instead of the phone ringing, the doorbell did.
Bailey turned in her seat, was it a salesman or Jehovah's witness? If so she didn't feel like answering the door. But soon the doorbell ringing became excessive knocking so Bailey got up from her seat and made her way to the front entrance. She looked through the peephole and was surprised when she saw Paul standing outside.
She opened the door and he looked down at her. He'd definitely just woken up. He was still wearing pyjama pants and a plain tank top, on his feet were black slippers. Bailey looked him over closely, his hair was unkempt and messy, and there was dried toothpaste in the corner of his mouth.
"Hey, Angel." Paul breathed out with a smile stretched across his face.
Bailey didn't let him into her home just yet. She leaned against the doorframe, looking past him she saw her driveway and the street in front of her house were empty; his car was nowhere in sight, interesting.
"How did you get here so fast without your car?" Bailey asked him, hanging on the door.
"Uh..." Paul was blanking on an excuse. He couldn't exactly say that he had transformed into the wolf and ran the whole way here.
"Well, um," he needed to change the subject. "Happy Valentine's Day."
Bailey stared at him. Valentine's Day? It was already the fourteen of February? Time undoubtedly had rapidly flown by recently.
"How is that relevant?"
"What?" Paul's dark eyes shimmered with amusement. "Don't tell me you're one of those people who have a vendetta against Valentine's day?"
He stepped closer to her so Bailey had to crane her neck up a bit to look at him. She narrowed her eyes before resiting matter-of-factly, "It's a convoluted, commercialized holiday that actively sends the message to both men and women that love is something that can be bought with a box of chocolates and some cheap flowers. Thus leaving people in relationships with unrealistic expectations and shaming single people for not having found love yet as if that's all that matters in life."
Paul blinked. "So you've never had a Valentine's before, have you?"
"I have," Bailey admitted. "But, you know, neurodivergence gets in the way of that."
"What do you mean?" Paul asked, this time serious.
Bailey shrugged. "People, kids, get loud on Valentine's day. They congregate in the classroom and exchange bright coloured cards, some that sing, some smell—the lack of boundaries, social expectations..." Bailey paused, recalling a rather unpleasant memory. "I had my first kiss on Valentine's day. But I didn't ask for it nor did I want it."
"What do you mean?" He said again. Paul's fists were clenched so tightly he felt his nails digging into his skin. He tried not to let it show on his face, he tried to keep it in.
"I don't like Valentine's day that's all," Bailey explained vaguely. "But, I might like it a little better if I got to see a werewolf."
Her sudden derailment of what Paul thought was going to be a more sombre conversation caught him off guard. He looked a bit discombobulated for a moment before he found Bailey's eyes again. She had looked off though, entirely unfazed.
"Y-you're still on that? Really?" Paul tried to have some confidence in his voice, tried to act as if she was being ridiculous. Unfortunately, his voice had uncharacteristically risen a few octaves. "Werewolves don't exist."
"Just like vampires don't exist right?" Bailey countered.
Paul's words almost got caught in his throat. "Vampires? I—I think you've been watching too many movies."
"I don't watch movies." Bailey corrected him.
"Well, then you've been reading too many fantasy books."
Bailey nodded. "So I'm also wrong to assume that there's a vampire in town that you're hunting?"
Paul's jaw dropped. How the hell did she even know that? That was supposed to be under wraps, covert, a secret. He didn't know how he was going to convince her otherwise. Bailey wasn't dumb, some lame excuse wasn't going to be enough. Paul wasn't prepared for this.
"You're not the first to go speechless at my superior intellect. Don't worry." Bailey added. "It was a matter of time until you found out."
"Found out what?" Paul's voice had returned.
"I'm always right."
She finally let Paul into her house and they regrouped in the living room where he needed to sit down after that whole conversation. Bailey remained silent waiting for him to come to his senses and just admit to her what she already knew so that they could move on to more important things, like a werewolf's physiology and just how that whole situation worked; she had more theories and tests in mind.
"Look, I don't like... this," Paul started to say, treading very carefully. "It's like I don't—" he stopped, rubbing his neck as if it hurt to talk. "Physically, I can't."
She examined him carefully. Physically, huh? He wasn't lying, somehow she could tell. It looked as though he'd let his guard down. He wasn't denying her anymore. But there was something more to it, something that was preventing him from telling her the truth.
Bailey started to think about what she knew already from the information she'd gotten from Jacob. It had all started with Sam and followed by Jared and Paul who joined later on, then recently Embry. Jacob had also mentioned he'd gotten into a situation with Paul where only Sam could calm him down; Sam was also the "face" of their little La Push Gang.
"Sam ordered you not to say anything." Bailey didn't ask, no, it was a statement. She assessed the look, Paul had given her—one of the widened eyes, raised eyebrows and parted lips... she was presumably right. "Physically you can't say anything because Sam is the Alpha."
Bailey got to her feet. That certainly wasn't ideal. How would she get the information that she wanted if Paul couldn't talk about anything? Maybe she could plead her case to Sam? Or maybe she should just use Sam? No, she shook her head, she didn't want Sam.
"Tell him I found out," Bailey said after a while. "Tell Sam that I figured it out for myself and I should be fully informed about you and your... werewolf-ness. It's better for everyone if I have a full picture. If I have all the necessary information."
"Why?"
"Because if a vampire is running around you'll want some help."
Paul smirked amused at the prospect of what Bailey, who was barely average height, could do to help against a vampire.
"Yeah? And how do you plan on helping?"
Bailey gazed at him over her glasses. "Well, I've already killed one before on my own. How about you?"
His smirk was gone.
⍣ ೋ
On Sunday Bailey awaiting some sort of confirmation from Paul that Sam had changed his initial decision. That Sam could see that Bailey was an asset and not some stranger that needed to be shielded from the truth. But, she didn't hear anything. Normally that wouldn't be strange, but things were different now. Paul had Bailey's phone number and not just her home phone number but the one to her cell too. If he wasn't able to call he could have texted her or something.
"Do you want to watch a movie Friday night?" Bella asked Bailey, who had been looking at her phone yet again waiting for some sign of life from Paul.
Bailey looked at her, wordlessly, waiting for Bella to continue.
"Well, I invited Jacob and told him to invite Quil too. You know it's going to be a group thing, but not in the way that you hate because everyone has to be quiet during the movie."
"What movie?"
"Uh, Crosshairs."
"The action one?"
"... Yeah." Bella nodded, already guessing what Bailey's answer was going to be.
"No."
Bailey continued to refuse the offer especially when Bella mentioned that more of her friends would be in attendance including but not limited to Mike Newton. She ended up spending that day in her room not paying attention as the hours flew by while her nose was deep in a book. Every so often she would peak at her phone for some sort of message from Paul but nothing had come of it.
The following day she had school. After class Bailey didn't go straight home instead she went to the library and started writing out a draft essay for her college admissions. It wasn't entirely necessary since she'd already been receiving offers but she was doing it in case she intended on applying to school aboard.
Bailey, despite being confident that she could get into any school she wanted, still wasn't sure where she wanted to go. There was a part of her that wondered if she was ready to be out on her own, wondering if she was ready for such a big change...
Her phone vibrating violently drew her out of her thoughts. Bailey set down her pencil and picked up her cell, she didn't say a word as she answered the call.
"You're still at school, right? 'Cause I've been waiting outside for like forty-seven minutes," Paul asked.
Bailey tapped her fingers against the table as she stared ahead. But she could feel it, it was festering inside her in the pit of her stomach; she was angry. She'd clearly laid out the plan for him to follow but had heard no word from him for an entire day afterward. Now, he was just expecting her to be cordial after radio silence?
She narrowed her eyes. "What a shame," she whispered and then ended the call to continue with her essay.
Not even two seconds later her cell was buzzing again. So, like before, Bailey set down her pencil and placed her cell to her ear as she answered the call.
"Uh, what was that? Why did you just hang up?"
"I can't talk in the library, it's disruptive."
"Why are you in the library?"
"It's a quiet place to work," Bailey answered.
"So you can't just work at your place?" He asked. "Your sister's still in class and Charlie has work, right? I'll drive you."
"No." Bailey shot down angrily. "I don't want to go anywhere with you."
Paul paused for a moment. He didn't know why she was angry at him, he probably should have asked but he was worried that bringing attention to the matter might just make it worse.
In an attempt to defuse the situation, he said, "I'm a werewolf."
He waited for a response from Bailey—she hung up on him again.
Paul sighed and looked down at his phone. He dialled her number again and put the phone against his ear. He waited, the phone rang a few times, it was still ringing... she didn't pick up. He was flabbergasted. What the hell had he done?
Approaching footsteps caught his ears, followed by the gentle smell of jasmine and cinnamon. He looked toward the exit of Forks High School and out walked Bailey, nonchalant as always.
Bailey walked down the few steps and approached Paul, he looked confused but also relieved. He smiled at her before looking down and noticing the notebook and pencil in her hands.
"I have a few questions," Bailey stated. "First, are all Quileuetes able to turn into wolves or just a select few of them? Why do you have to distance yourselves from others? Apparently, Jacob's friend Embry doesn't hang out with him anymore, is that just for the newcomers or for everyone? Do you have all the same abilities as a wolf or are there some enhancements? Is your rivalry with vampires the same as in popularized fiction or not? Does your physiology differ from that of a regular human now? Oh, even if you provide an answer for that question I'll still need a few DNA samples and tests to verify that for myself—"
"Woah, woah, woah," Paul cut in. "Time-out."
Bailey looked up from her notebook at him with a blank expression. "What?"
"Hi, Angel—why, yes, I am doing well today. How are you?"
She furrowed her eyebrows slightly. What was he doing? They'd already talked on the phone what was the point of this?
"Are you going to answer my questions or not?"
"In due time," Paul smirked. "But we're going to do this the right way. I'm not just going to be your pretty little science project."
"Then what do you intend to be?" Bailey inquired, curious.
"It's only fair that I ask you a few questions too. That way we both get to know more about each other."
She blinked. "But I'm human. If you have a few questions I have a few human anatomy books at home that you could borrow—"
"That's not what I meant," Paul began to say. Bailey remained unmoving, looking at him with an empty expression, but then she furrowed her eyebrows and he realized he should explain himself a bit more.
"You're still somewhat of a mystery that I'm trying to crack, that's all."
"I don't think I'm very mysterious," Bailey responded. But didn't object to Paul's idea as long as she got to have her answers she didn't care what he wanted in return. So, now more cooperative than before, Bailey got into Paul's SUV.
Paul didn't have time to pull out of the school parking lot before he got his first questions.
"Do all Quileutes have to potential to become werewolves?"
"Technically we're not werewolves, we're shapeshifters." Paul corrected before beginning his explanation. "According to the legends, Taha Aki or the Great Wolf was the first of us. We used to just be Spirit Warriors, through astral projections. But our spirit forms couldn't do much physical damage to our enemies. Back then, all the Spirit Warriors could do was blow winds into enemy camps and control animals to do our bidding. But Taha Aki, well, he changed everything. Something about a traitor in the tribe taking over his body when he was astral projecting so Taha Aki was trapped in his spirit form. He came across the great wolf in his time of need and asked if they could share his body, the wolf complied. Taha Aki became the first of us. He returned in his wolf form. The people, obviously, were frightened by it. So the wolf shuddered and transformed into a man before their eyes. The man didn't look like Taha Aki's body, but like his spirit self, which they recognized instantly. The traitor tried to run, but Taha Aki had the strength of the wolf and killed him."
Paul glanced over at Bailey who was jotting down everything he was saying.
"Then they all lived happily ever after and all that crap. Everything went back to normal except for one change. From then on Taha Aki forbad spirit travelling. He led the tribe for years and didn't age, fathering a bunch of sons, who eventually found that they could also turn into wolves on reaching manhood. They were all different though and that's because the wolf form reflects the spirit of the man. Many of them became warriors like Taha Aki and didn't age, while the others who didn't like to transform and started aging again."
"So it's only the male descendants of Taha Aki's bloodline that can transform into wolves?" Paul nodded. "I see, and that means that everyone who's currently in the pack is distantly related to each other?"
"It's a small tribe. Pretty sure, two-thirds of them are probably my cousins." Paul chuckled.
"Why is it only—"
"Ah-ah," Paul raised his finger. "That's already been three questions for you. It's my turn now."
Bailey stared at him before letting out a defiant breath and leaning back in her seat. She looked away just in time to catch the large grin that had stretched across Paul's face.
"Let's see here...." Paul muttered to himself. He was doing it on purpose, stalling so that Bailey would get fidgety. He knew that she wanted to get her information, but he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, so she'd have to wait a bit.
"What's your favourite colour?" he asked her.
Bailey shook her head as she looked out the window. Really? He was asking such a useless question as to her favourite colour? How did any of that matter and how would knowing her favourite colour make her less "mysterious"?
"I don't have a favourite colour."
"Everyone has a favourite colour."
"I don't."
"Hmmm, nah, I think you do." Paul prodded.
"Black then." Bailey chose at random.
"Black?"
"Well it's a culmination of all colours, so it'll do just fine."
"But black's a shade, not a colour." Paul came to a spot in front of Bailey's house. He turned to face her and tried not to laugh when he saw how red her face had gotten, either from embarrassment or anger. Whichever she was feeling, it looked adorable.
"I knew that," Bailey said in a frosty tone.
"Of course." Paul's eyes followed as she slide out of his car and shut the door behind her. He hurried to follow her as she walked toward her house. "Seriously, what's your favourite colour?"
Bailey unlocked the front door and looked at him. She met his eyes for a brief moment before looking away. "Blue," she said before stepping inside and letting him in as well.
That afternoon was just spent with data collection. Bailey was gathering everything that she learned from Paul's answers and then created whatever theories would come from them. Paul asked his useless questions, things like her favourite animals, her shoe size, the last thing she ate—stupid things. Bailey continuously rolled her eyes at every question he asked her but still managed to get used to their routine. Every day that week Paul came over to her house when no one was home and she continued with her examination of this new werewolf, or rather shapeshifter discovery.
By the end of the week on Friday, Bailey had gathered tools—materials for a few small experiments to confirm a few of her hypotheses. She got up and hid all of it in her room while waiting for Bella to get home. She'd instructed Paul to come over a bit later today given that Bella was going to the movies with her friends so she'd be stopping by home a little earlier.
After about two or so hours had gone by, she heard the sound of a car coming into the driveway. She'd been in the kitchen making herself some tea, so she picked up her mug and looked out the window to see a very familiar car parked in front of her house. Jacob was leaning against the hood.
"You finished it?" Bailey popped her head out of her front door. Jacob's Rabbit was fully functional it seemed.
"Yup, got it done last night." He grinned widely. "Are you coming to the movies with us?"
Bailey shook her head, as she adjusted her glasses. "No. I don't like movies, let alone action ones."
"Oh." Jacob nodded. "You haven't been over in a while either... are you avoiding me, Bails? Fallen in love with my charms."
"Hardly." Bailey shot down. She had picked up on his teasing tone of voice, it was rather exaggerated. "I've just had other plans." She stared at him. "Have you fallen deeper in love with Bella's charms?"
He fell silent. Jacob's russet cheeks became a little pinker as he looked away. At that moment his eyes found the approaching rusted old pick-up, and he cleared his throat, standing up a bit taller while leaning against the hood again.
Bailey furrowed her eyebrows as she watched Jacob rearrange his position.
"No way!" Bella shouted as she jumped out of the truck. "You're done! I can't believe it! You finished the Rabbit!"
Jacob beamed. "Just last night. This is the maiden voyage."
"Incredible." Bella held her hand up for a high five.
He smacked his hand against hers, but left it there, twisting his fingers through hers. "So do I get to drive tonight?"
"Definitely," Bella said, and then she sighed.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm giving up—I can't top this one. So you win. You're the oldest."
"Please, give me enough time and I'd be able to fix a car," Bailey stated confidently. "How many times do I need to remind you that my overall intellect and unlimited potential makes me the oldest here?"
Bella seemed to have just noticed Bailey was there. "Bailey, where are your pants? It's February!"
It wasn't anything ridiculous. Bailey was just wearing a sweater, an old one of Charlie's that she'd found lying around, and leggings.
She ruffled her hair before pulling on her leggings. "They're the thick kind with the faux fur lining inside." She sipped some of her tea. "And I have hot tea."
Bella didn't seem convinced that it was enough to make Bailey warm in this weather. But before she could say anything Mike Newton's Suburban chugged around the corner. Bella pulled her hand out of Jacob's, and he made a face that she wasn't supposed to see.
"I remember this guy," Jacob said in a low voice as Mike parked across the street. "The one who can't seem to take a hint." He looked over at Bailey. "Is he still confused?"
"I haven't had any classes with him all year so I hope not," she said. "However, some people are hard to discourage."
"Then again," Jacob said thoughtfully, "sometimes persistence pays off."
"Most of the time it's just annoying, though," Bella stated.
"Agreed." Bailey nodded.
Mike got out of his car and crossed the road.
"Hey, Bella," he greeted her, but his eyes had regrettably found Bailey first. She looked away from him pretending as though he did not exist; he was still staring. "Hey, Bailey, are, uh, are you coming too?"
"No," Bailey answered flatly. She sipped her tea some more as her eyes drifted around; she was incredibly uncomfortably whenever Mike was around.
Jacob stepped in front of Mike's line of vision, blocking Bailey from view. Mike looked up at him.
Bella glanced briefly at Jacob, too, trying to be objective. She'd told Mike that she was bringing him describing Jacob as a sophomore from La Push. He didn't look like a sophomore at all, though. He was just so big—Mike's head barely cleared Jacob's shoulder; Bella didn't want to think where she measured next to him—and then his face was older-looking than it used to be, even a month ago.
"Hey, Mike! Do you remember Jacob Black?"
"Not really." Mike held out his hand.
"Old family friend," Jacob introduced himself, shaking hands. They locked hands with more force than necessary. When their grip broke, Mike flexed his fingers.
Bailey heard the phone ringing from the kitchen and took the opportunity to slip away from the group. She went up to her room, gathering her things as she waited for Bella, Jacob, and Mike to leave already. She could still hear them downstairs, something about the others bailing on the movies because of a stomach bug.
Thankfully, they did leave eventually. It wasn't even two minutes later that Bailey heard the doorbell ring. She left her things behind, descended the stairs and opened the door to reveal Paul. Bailey knew that he was fast, he was a supernatural creature who was designed to hunt vampires... he had to be fast. But his sudden appearance was a bit suspicious.
"Were you waiting for them to leave?"
"Maybe," Paul said, seemingly pleased with himself.
"That's creepy." Bailey stared him down.
"I was being time-efficient," he explained while walking into her house without being invited in. Perhaps it was because he'd been over every day that week, he'd gotten too comfortable too quickly. Quite the opposite of Bailey who was still rather confused about how she felt about him; she still had to determine whether she liked these new feelings or not.
"What's on the agenda today? More questions?" Paul stood in the hall. He turned around and watched as Bailey shut her front door and glanced at him.
"I still have a limited set of tools so I'm just going to do a quick overview of your physique," Bailey explained.
"Overview of my physique?" Paul chuckled. "Is that code for something?"
"No. Why would it be?" Bailey walked straight past him toward the stairs. Paul deflated a bit until she said, "Everything's in my room so just follow me."
"Your room...." Paul echoed and hurried after her. He seemed to have an entirely different idea of what was about to happen.
When the two of the reached the attic Paul felt a bit cramped. The ceiling was low and it was a bit cramped with all the books and paper scattered on the floor. He tried to make sense of some of the notes but the culmination of very extensive and lengthy equations made his head hurt.
"Sit." Bailey pointed to her bed as she went to pick up a clear bag with what looked to be medical tools.
Paul sat down and watched as she unzipped the bag and first pulled out a stethoscope. She down by Paul putting the earpiece in and holding onto the end.
"Lift your shirt," she instructed him.
Paul rose an eyebrow. "Try not to faint," he joked.
Bailey didn't really get it though. He was almost always shirtless it wasn't anything new. She placed the diaphragm against his chest. Paul moved ever so slightly as the cold metal touched his bare skin. He continued looking at Bailey, watching her as she attentively listened.
"Breath in for me." Paul did as he was told. "And out." He exhaled. Bailey moved the piece to his back, asking him to repeat the process which he did. Once she was finished she removed the earpiece and scribbled in that notebook of hers.
"What are you wearing?" Paul asked. He noticed that the sweater Bailey was wearing was clearly too big for her and honestly didn't match her usual style.
"A sweater."
"No, I meant, who does it belong to? Is it yours... or like an ex-boyfriend's or something," he murmured.
"It's Charlie's—my dad's. I was cold and it was just on the couch so I wore it." Bailey told him.
"Oh." Paul nodded. Bailey ruffled through the clear bag, putting away the stethoscope and switching it out for a thermometer. "Do you have any?"
"Any what?" Bailey switched out the batteries in the thermometer. She was fairly certain that Paul was just asking his irrelevant questions again and so she wasn't really engaged in the conversation.
"Ex-boyfriends." Paul looked at her, anxiously awaiting a response. Instead, Bailey pointed the forehead thermometer at him and waited for the temperature to pop up. When it did her eyes widened slightly.
"That can't be right," she explained, setting the thermometer down and opting to use her hand. She briefly placed the back of her hand against Paul's forehead before pulling it back in surprise. "You're burning up. You better not have come to my house sick because if this is contagious I swear—"
"It's just my normal body temperature, these days at least." Paul leaned forward slightly. "It was only a matter of time till you found out."
"Found out what?" She asked. He was awfully close, it was making her nervous. But it wasn't the same feeling that she'd gotten with Mike. This was different. The tinkling in her stomach—butterflies—despite them she didn't want to pull away. Curiously enough, there was a part of her that wondered what would happen if she got closer.
"I'm hot."
Bailey blinked. His words knocked her back into reality. She used the thermometer to push him away and jot down some theories in her notebook. Her guess was his alarming body heat was a product of his cells generating vast amounts of energy. She needed to run a few more tests though... tests that required equipment that she just didn't have.
"Now I'm going to need some hair and saliva from you," Bailey said as she held up some scissors and a mouth swab test. "I need to see just how different or similar your DNA is compared to a regular human's."
Paul looked at the items then back at Bailey's serious expression. "Fine, but answer me this—what do you look for in a guy?"
"Swab, cut and I'll answer." Bailey pushed the items into Paul's lap. She waited for him to pick them up before she sincerely answered his question. "Is this platonically or romantically?"
Paul cleared his throat quickly. "Uh, b-both, I guess." He was too afraid to admit the one he was actually interested in.
Bailey nodded and sat back on her hands. "I don't know what I look for in a guy platonically or romantically. I don't think I've had enough experience to adequately determine what I'm specifically looking for."
"What about Jacob?" Paul asked. "He's your friend, right?"
Bailey nodded. "He is. But I'm not sure if I could say he's ideally what I'm looking for in a friend. Would we have become friends if I had established criteria at the time that suited my needs? I can't say for sure. He's been good so far, although I could so without the pining for Bella it gets awkward at times; I don't know what do to when it happens."
Paul laughed silently. The thought of Jacob pining after Bella was hilarious to him.
"Maybe Jasper's my ideal," Bailey said thoughtfully.
Paul's face fell.
"Jasper? Huh." He clenched his jaw, his tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he tried not to jump to any conclusions—he was failing at that. "Platonically or romantically?"
"Platonically. He already has a girlfriend." Bailey paused for a moment. "However, if he didn't then perhaps it could have become something romantic—"
There was a loud snap sound that interrupted her. She looked at Paul, confused. He had his eyes shut while breathing deeply. Bailey gazed lowered to her hands and she noticed that the scissors she'd given him were snapped in two, like glowsticks.
"I'm sorry," Bailey whispered.
Paul's eyes opened slowly and he stared at her. Now, why was she apologizing? He wondered. She hadn't done anything wrong.
"Sorry for what?"
Bailey shrugged her shoulders. "You got mad right? Most of the time when people get mad at me it's my fault. I'm not good with words, even if I'm getting better. So I thought I should apologize just in case."
"It's not you," Paul clarified immediately. "I just get angry sometimes. But I promise it'll never, ever, be because of you, okay?"
"I'm not so sure you can keep that promise. Eventually, I'll say or do the wrong thing at the wrong time... I always do. I'd say that's why a fair amount of people hate me or at least find me irritable."
Bailey jumped slightly when Paul moved forward again. This time he'd gotten rid of the space between them entirely, his forehead pressed firmly against hers as he gazed into her blue eyes. Bailey wasn't sure what to do. Her forehead felt as though it was on fire but so did the rest of her body, her face flushed scarlet. She looked back at him unsure of how to proceed.
"It doesn't matter what you say or do, it's impossible for me to hate you, Angel." He said softly.
Bailey didn't know what to say so she didn't say anything. Instead, she just nodded her head.
They stayed like that for a while, foreheads pressed together and staring. Bailey had no idea what to think. She could just feel his forehead against her, the subtle tinkle against her face every time he breathed, his scent—he smelled like laundry detergent, the good kind, probably a name brand like Gain or Tide. Being so close to him she could spot the brown in his eyes. Obviously, Bailey knew that human beings couldn't have pitch-black eyes but from a decent distance, his irises could easily pass for black. But now she could see the brown in them. It was his pupils that were black, his dilated pupils...