Don't Let Go Of Me [ Jasper Hale ]

3 || Figuring Things Out

Broken glass
Broken hearts
Pa pa power pa pa power

THIRD   POINT   OF   VIEW
Paul Lahote is known for being a lot of things. Hotheaded, stubborn, impulsive, just to name a few. He was known as a regular hooligan at the police station; a descendant of a native people on the Reservation; and then there was the Paul Lahote that hung around Mirabelle Swan. This version of him was genuine, without apology or constraint. With her, he could make a joke without coming off as a flirt, take her to a burger place without seeming cheap, and sit in complete silence without feeling like he needed to be filled.

There was an unspoken understanding between the misfit teens. They understood each other even if they never really talked about one another. Paul cherished that feeling - that special connection that was forged at some point unbeknownst to the two.

Mirabelle liked Paul for all the same reasons. But more importantly, she liked that nothing about him reminded her of Jasper. When a person is irrevocably in love, it's hard to imagine what your small corner of the world looked like before them. La vie en rose - seeing through rose-colored glasses. How pathetically accurate. Mirabelle loved Jasper, and she always would. She just needed a moment where everything didn't revolve around her boyfriend. And Paul gave her that moment.

He was a river with its own current. Different in the smallest of ways.

He liked hunting with a gun, Jasper liked using his teeth.
He liked beaches, Jasper preferred forests.

Mirabelle felt a tinge of guilt. For Jasper, he's been waiting over a hundred years to find his other half. He didn't want to waste a single moment or miss out on one precious memory. 'A girlfriend shouldn't want to be separated from their partner, right?' Mirabelle didn't know the answer. If she looked to Bella for guidance, it'd probably be no. But then again, they were never quite the same.

"You know when you said we would do something crazy, this isn't what I had in mind." Mirabelle was handed a sporting gun and welcomed to a wonderful time of disc shooting by the owner of the range. He had directed the teens to a small square plot away from where other hunters were doing target practice. She could still hear the faint firing of different guns over the tall grass surrounding them.

Paul shrugged with a mischievous smirk. "At least it's not something lame like ski ball."

"Lucky for you because I would have demolished your ass. Pull!" The mechanical crank of a lever was immediately followed by the flying ceramic plate that cut through the air. Mirabelle kept a steady aim, then pulled the trigger, watching the plate shatter into a dozen pieces and sprinkle into the grass. She whistled proudly.  "Though it looks like I'm gonna kick your ass at shooting too."

"Where in the hell did you learn to shoot like that?" Paul snatched the weapon, narrowed gaze scrutinizing the seemingly innocent girl.

"My dad's the sheriff. It'd be weird if I didn't know how to shoot." Also, her unnaturally heightened perception and razor vision helped. She moved to the lever, waiting for Paul to finish reloading whilst her eyes roamed the overgrown area. "Speaking of my dad, he's gonna kill me when he finds out I skipped school."

"Nah, he'll let it go," Paul said dismissively. "It's your birthday, that comes with special perks."

"Hm." She grabbed hold of the rusting lever and pulled down hard, slingshotting another disc. It gradually descended a couple of yards out when a bullet pierced its body, scattering debris and ceramic dust midair.