Synching With the Devil's Son

Chapter 26

Bella's P.O.V.

As soon as Lucien walks away with the pot in his hands and is out of earshot, my friends all turn on me and Liz says, "Okay, spill it girl."

I look at them with an innocent expression and decide to play dumb. "Spill what?"

Harmony scoffs and says, "Twenty four hours ago you wanted nothing to do with Lucien. Now you're holding hands?"

Scarlett nods and says, "You took off into the woods last night, and we fell asleep before you got back. What happened?" When Scarlett announces that, Jeff, Harmony, Mic and Liz startle and focus their attention on me.

"Yeah," I stammer, embarrassed about my behavior after dinner. "Umm, that...well...everyone went to bed and I panicked." I start to explain. "Between the weed, the alcohol and the thought of sharing a tent with Lucien, I realized I was going to vomit, and I didn't want to give him any more ammunition against me." I look around the circle of my friends, and all but Trish look confused by my statement. Their confused looks ignite my anger. "None of you realize how awful he has been to me since transferring here. I almost didn't come this weekend knowing he was invited, and then you all forced me into the same tent as him...he refused to sleep outside, and you all know I certainly cannot sleep in the open..." I trail off as Liz starts to grimace.

"Bella, I'm so sorry! Why didn't you say something. I would have slept with you if I had known!" Liz tells me with regret in her voice.

"Yeah," Mick counters. "We don't want you to be uncomfortable or feel forsaken."

I see Ryan lift a shoulder at Jeff, and then Jeff turns to me and asks, "Why didn't we know you had such strong feelings against Lucien? I thought everyone liked him."

When Jeff says that to me, I realize that all of Lucien's torment was done mono e mono. He never said anything snide to me in front of anybody else. I remember having this conversation with Trish and her surprised expression when I told her...she'd never seen it either. Why did he purposefully single me out? Did he get some sick perverted pleasure from torturing the girl who was foolish enough to find herself alone on the dark road with no cell reception and no weapon? He must have heard the rumors about me. Is that why he was always so cruel, so quick to point out my mistakes? Did he get satisfaction from my misery? A low boil starts percolating in my blood...I'm going to kill that bastard. This has all been an act, hasn't it? He was pretending to care, acting like I mattered, when in fact he received some kind of perverted pleasure in my pain. Well, I'm not going to play his game any more. I look back at my friends and with false gaiety say, "It doesn't matter anymore. Lucien was my rock last night, everything is fine." I smile broadly at everyone, and they all buy my act, everyone except Trish.

I try not to stomp off as I head to my tent. I throw myself into it and stand there, my hands fisting while I close my eyes, trying valiantly not to scream in frustration. "Bella," I hear Trish quietly say outside my tent door. "Just come in," I tell her. "I know you didn't buy the performance I put on out there."

She crawls into my tent and gives me a small smile. "I didn't, but it was certainly Oscar worthy." I give her a small smile and she reaches for my hand, a look of concern on her face.

"Tell me what happened last night."

And so I do. I tell her everything, from the relief I felt when Lucien pulled me out of the bushes, to the astonishment when he gently cleaned my wounds and washed the blood off me, using the shirt off his back. I tell her about the bear, and she sits back with a gasp, putting her hand over her mouth. Then I tell her about how Lucien scared it away and carried me back to camp. I recount how I fell asleep in his arms, waking up and realizing he left me fully clothed and put his towel down to keep my sleeping bag clean. I even tell her how he asked if he could kiss me this morning, and offered to get water so I could take a hot bath. All through my dissertation, Trish listens and doesn't interrupt. This is one of the many things I love about her. She doesn't pretend to have all the answers, she's just there for me. This time, though, she has something to say.

"Bella, you may not be ready to listen, but I'm going to tell you something I think you need to hear."

I swallow and nod my head, preparing myself to hear Trish suggest I tell Lucien to fuck off. I'm not sure I am ready to do that, but what she says surprises me.

"I've seen the way Lucien looks at you when he doesn't think anybody is watching," she begins, looking up to try to find the right words. "Remember when we were in third grade and Roscoe Hartfield kept throwing paint at me in art class?" I nod, not following her train of thought. Roscoe was the class bully, so throwing paint and having tantrums were nothing new for him. "Well," she continues, "my parents and I had to have a sit down with he and his parents. Turned out he just liked me and didn't know how to express himself." She's quiet for a moment, waiting for me to catch up. When I don't she continues. "Lucien likes you Bella, and I think we can all agree he's a bit emotionally stunted, silent and broody."

"So you think he picks on me because he likes me?" She nods, still holding my hand. "Look what he did for you last night," she points out reasonably. I nod my head again, remembering how surprised I was at his behavior. Some of my ire dissipates with that realization, but not all of it. "I don't know, Trish. When I think about my past experiences with him, I'm having a hard time reconciling that person with who I was with last night. I don't know if I can make myself trust him completely, or feel like he isn't playing me somehow."

"Then talk to him Bella. Tell him what you're feeling and why."

"I know, I know," I say, looking down at my lap. "It seems like an awful lot of work for a relationship that will only last a few months," I say under my breath, but she heard me.

"You don't know how long your relationship will last, or even if the two of you will have a relationship. But, if he knows how you feel, and he continues to pick on you, then you have your answer, right?"

She's right, and if I'm being honest, I do have a lot of questions for him. I sigh, grabbing my clean clothes, some shampoo and soap, and exit the tent right behind her. Lucien is back in camp and is tending the pot of water he's put on the coals to heat up for me to bathe with. When my eyes catch his and he smiles, my heart stutters. 'I sure hope I'm not about to make a fool of my self,' I think, gathering my courage and walking over to him.

"Hi," he says shyly, looking me up and down. I realize with that softly muttered word Trish is right, and I don't know why I didn't see it before.

"Hi, is that for me?" I ask, nodding toward the pot full of water.

He smiles and nods. "Yep, and it's probably warm enough if you'd like me to carry it somewhere private where you can get cleaned up."

"Umm, yeah, but I forgot my towel, I'll be right back," I tell him, scooting towards our tent. When I emerge, Lucien is holding the handle of the pot, it's contents steaming, and I look at it with longing.

"Lead the way," he tells me, following close behind as I head out into the woods.

I find a small clearing and ask him to put the pot in the middle of it near an outcropping of rocks. The sun is beating on them, and I think it will help keep me warm as I'm washing up. He nods and sets it down, adjusting the lid as it slides off so nothing can get into the water before I use it.

He turns to me and says, "I'm going to go clean up in the river. Give me a holler when you're done and I'll help carry all this stuff back."

I narrow my eyes at him, my suspicions alighting anew, but all I say is, "Sure thing. I'll save some warm water for you if you want."

He waves a dismissive hand in my direction as he walks away toward the sound of the rushing river. 'Right,' I think, 'you're going to pass up this opportunity to watch me undress. I call bullshit on that one mister.'