Intrigue
by Laura Spudzmom
Chapter 12
For moments, she searched his eyes, both of them remaining silent as she processed. Then her gaze softened and shock filled him at the sympathy suddenly pouring from her. “Oh Jay,” she whispered. “It’s okay to be different, honey. I won’t judge you for it.”
His brows tugged down as he tried to catch her meaning. Surely, this couldn’t be a true reaction to such a serious revelation? “Huh?” ‘God damn, Whitlock, ya been around how long now, and that’s the best ya can do?’
Her smile was slow and sweet, her eyes filled with sympathy as she scooted closer, her hand now palming his cheek. “Your family…did they reject you over this—your beliefs, your lifestyle choice? Is that why you left Forks and you’re here all alone?”
“Uh, I’m not catching your meaning…” He tilted his head, looking puzzled. “Aren’t you at least a little disturbed?”
She got a fierce look on her face. “No. You have the right to believe and live the way you wanna live. That’s what I love about the city. People aren’t as judgmental of alternative lifestyles as they are in small towns.”
“Alternative…” he muttered, admittedly a bit dazed at her reaction. No… “Are you serious?” he asked, his brows climbing to new heights as determination rolled off her.
“Jasper, there’s a vampire and witches club that meets at the coffee shop where we met. Haven’t you ever seen them? They’re hard to miss.” She grinned. “Maybe we could go and meet some like-minded people. I’ll even go with you, although, we might stand out a bit since they all wear nothing but black,” she finished with a tiny frown. “Maybe we could swing by Hot Topic…this could be fun…”
Jasper shot to his feet, pausing to toss her a look that was a perfect mixture of disbelief and exasperation before pacing away. Stopping once he’d crossed the room, he rested his hands on his hips and hung his head, now fighting the completely inappropriate and almost overwhelming urge to laugh.
She thought he was into play-acting—role play—whatever it’s called! And, she was completely prepared to play along if her musings were anything to go by… ‘Jesus, is this how she reacted when Edward told her?’
Somehow, he didn’t think so. He frowned, somehow insulted by that. ‘He fits the part better than I do, the little emo creeper.’
Carefully, she approached him, placing a warm hand on his back. “Jasper? Are you okay? Oh god, I jumped the gun, didn’t I? I’m pushing you too hard…” she rambled.
Turning, he pulled her into his arms, cupping her head where it rested on his chest. “Bella, I love you darlin’ but what am I gonna do with you?”
She drew back and frowned up at him. “What do you mean?” She watched, bemused as he reached up and removed the brown contacts from his eyes, finally revealing eyes the color of a fine merlot as his gaze locked with hers once again.
“When I said I’m a vampire, I didn’t mean a human that likes to role play,” he said quietly, carefully, as they faced each other. “I was born in 1844 in Houston, Texas and changed into what I am in 1863. I am not human, Bella, and I haven’t been human for a very long time.”
“Your eyes…” she whispered, one shaking hand reaching to trace a single finger over the darkening circle under his eye. “You…” Her gaze darted up to meet his. “You’re serious,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” he said, his tone grave as he waited for her to freak and run or collapse.
She did neither. Instead, she stumbled over to the couch and slumped down, her head in her hands a few long moments before looking back up at him. “Your brother—he had gold eyes…”
Jasper gave a slow nod, his brow creased in concern as her emotions swirled into an indeterminate cocktail of shock, anger, loss, and sorrow before she choked, “Edward.”
The next second, she shot to her feet and charged toward the kitchen, making it to the sink just in time to vomit violently.
Gazing after her, Jasper winced and headed to the closet for a face cloth while muttering, “That went well, Whitlock. Whaddya got for an encore?”
Just then, his phone rang and he groaned, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling while berating himself for voicing such a question.
He damn well should’a known better.
For moments, she searched his eyes, both of them remaining silent as she processed. Then her gaze softened and shock filled him at the sympathy suddenly pouring from her. “Oh Jay,” she whispered. “It’s okay to be different, honey. I won’t judge you for it.”
His brows tugged down as he tried to catch her meaning. Surely, this couldn’t be a true reaction to such a serious revelation? “Huh?” ‘God damn, Whitlock, ya been around how long now, and that’s the best ya can do?’
Her smile was slow and sweet, her eyes filled with sympathy as she scooted closer, her hand now palming his cheek. “Your family…did they reject you over this—your beliefs, your lifestyle choice? Is that why you left Forks and you’re here all alone?”
“Uh, I’m not catching your meaning…” He tilted his head, looking puzzled. “Aren’t you at least a little disturbed?”
She got a fierce look on her face. “No. You have the right to believe and live the way you wanna live. That’s what I love about the city. People aren’t as judgmental of alternative lifestyles as they are in small towns.”
“Alternative…” he muttered, admittedly a bit dazed at her reaction. No… “Are you serious?” he asked, his brows climbing to new heights as determination rolled off her.
“Jasper, there’s a vampire and witches club that meets at the coffee shop where we met. Haven’t you ever seen them? They’re hard to miss.” She grinned. “Maybe we could go and meet some like-minded people. I’ll even go with you, although, we might stand out a bit since they all wear nothing but black,” she finished with a tiny frown. “Maybe we could swing by Hot Topic…this could be fun…”
Jasper shot to his feet, pausing to toss her a look that was a perfect mixture of disbelief and exasperation before pacing away. Stopping once he’d crossed the room, he rested his hands on his hips and hung his head, now fighting the completely inappropriate and almost overwhelming urge to laugh.
She thought he was into play-acting—role play—whatever it’s called! And, she was completely prepared to play along if her musings were anything to go by… ‘Jesus, is this how she reacted when Edward told her?’
Somehow, he didn’t think so. He frowned, somehow insulted by that. ‘He fits the part better than I do, the little emo creeper.’
Carefully, she approached him, placing a warm hand on his back. “Jasper? Are you okay? Oh god, I jumped the gun, didn’t I? I’m pushing you too hard…” she rambled.
Turning, he pulled her into his arms, cupping her head where it rested on his chest. “Bella, I love you darlin’ but what am I gonna do with you?”
She drew back and frowned up at him. “What do you mean?” She watched, bemused as he reached up and removed the brown contacts from his eyes, finally revealing eyes the color of a fine merlot as his gaze locked with hers once again.
“When I said I’m a vampire, I didn’t mean a human that likes to role play,” he said quietly, carefully, as they faced each other. “I was born in 1844 in Houston, Texas and changed into what I am in 1863. I am not human, Bella, and I haven’t been human for a very long time.”
“Your eyes…” she whispered, one shaking hand reaching to trace a single finger over the darkening circle under his eye. “You…” Her gaze darted up to meet his. “You’re serious,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” he said, his tone grave as he waited for her to freak and run or collapse.
She did neither. Instead, she stumbled over to the couch and slumped down, her head in her hands a few long moments before looking back up at him. “Your brother—he had gold eyes…”
Jasper gave a slow nod, his brow creased in concern as her emotions swirled into an indeterminate cocktail of shock, anger, loss, and sorrow before she choked, “Edward.”
The next second, she shot to her feet and charged toward the kitchen, making it to the sink just in time to vomit violently.
Gazing after her, Jasper winced and headed to the closet for a face cloth while muttering, “That went well, Whitlock. Whaddya got for an encore?”
Just then, his phone rang and he groaned, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling while berating himself for voicing such a question.
He damn well should’a known better.
DISCLAIMER: Twilight and its inclusive material is copyright to Stephenie Meyer. Original creation, including but not limited to plot and characters, is copyright to the respective authors of each story. No copyright infringement is intended.