I was at a loss most of the time during the day; it wasn’t like I’d moved to Forks permanently, so I didn’t have a job or anything. This was supposed to be sort of like a vacation (I know, classy, right?). So, I ended up spending most of my time writing. I tried reading, but it seemed like the world was devoid of new books; or bookstores, at least. Not that I searched particularly hard.

I wrote stories, mainly; scenarios involving whatever happened to be inside my head at the time. I found that I really liked to write, and wondered why I had never pursued it before. I guess it had seemed like I was already in a story.

There were, of course, the awkward times in which I was stuck with writers block; as though the muscles in my hand had seized up-or perhaps the creative muscles in my brain. And it wasn’t like it happened not-very-often; it was a regular occurrence, one which annoyed me hugely.

Obviously, I spent a good deal of time with Jacob too. He’d finished school by now, and so was working pretty much full time in his garage; but he seemed to do something else as well, because all too often I found that he was unavailable, or simply not in his house. I wondered at this, but he always called to apologise, despite not having or giving a reason. I didn’t worry too much about those times; we weren’t as close as we used to be, and due to our drifting apart, there was probably loads of stuff he didn’t share with me. I understood that, and didn’t mind, although I often wondered just what it was he was hiding.

It was one of the days when I was totally, bored at a dead end of ideas or things to do, so I decided to drive over to the reservation, to see if Jacob was in. As always, I was a little wary, in case I saw any of the other members of the pack. I wasn’t yet sure how they’d react to me when I saw them-and I wasn’t in any rush to find out.

As I was driving, I thought about bringing the truck to Jake’s garage to get it checked out. After all, it was so old that it was hardly going to be in fantastic condition. Of course, it was about that point at which I realised that it had been Jacob who had brought it over, and so he must have had it before. It also, therefore, stood to reason that he would have serviced it himself. And by this time, I was pulling up to the house.

It didn’t seem like anyone was in, but I still walked up to the door and knocked a few times. My assumptions proved correct, I turned around to the truck; but upon hearing voices, turned again to walk towards the garage. I was surprised that Jake (I could hear his voice) hadn’t acknowledged the engine of the truck, and come to see me-but although I could not hear exactly what was being said, it seemed like a somewhat heated or passionate discussion; perhaps drawing the participants’ attention away from outside noise.

The wide doors were open, but just concealing whoever was inside. I tuned out the words which were being said due to disinterest, and though it did not rest on my conscience well-as I did not know who was talking or what was happening-I continued to approach the garage. The voices were now softer, the volume decreasing, and had I been attempting to listen, it would have been unlikely I would have been able to hear properly.

A girl with shockingly blond hair was facing away from me, her head tilted up. Her pale green strappy top and white three-quarter lengths raised my eyebrows (this was Forks, after all), but they didn’t shock me as much as what I was next.

Jacob, leaning over her, bent down, embracing her thin frame, kissed her. A vivid image suddenly filled my mind-I was surrounded by trees, and Jacob was towering over me, his head bent down to mine, lips covering my own.

I felt nauseous.

As quietly as I possibly could, I walked back to my truck, started my engine, and drove away as quickly as the whining engine would allow.