THE ONLY EXCEPTION. . .
A witch forced over the Atlantic to a small town called Forks. There she is faced with vampires, shapeshifters, high school drama, a clumsy human girl, and an incessant hotheaded shapeshifter that is somehow continuously pop...
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HE COULDN'T STOP THINKING about his late night encounter with the British embodiment of Kat Stratford, herself. Celeste... whatever her last name was. Even though it's been a couple days since he's seen her, she always crossed his mind. Which frustrated and intrigued Paul to no end, he only talked to her for a good ten minutes and yet she's been infecting his mind ever since their conversation. Paul found himself wanting to know more about her. Why she moved to Forks out of all places, why she looked ready to let the ocean sweep her away, and what happened to her that caused her eyes to look as if they've been through hell and back. He sensed her pain, her sadness, even the momentary happiness as they exchanged witty comebacks. (Perks of having heightened werewolf abilities.)
Paul had a fleeting feeling of hope that maybe, he'd have a new friend. Someone who didn't know the rumors about him, who didn't think he was a junkie throwing his life away. Someone normal. But Paul knew it wasn't right, it was dangerous. Bringing in a human who didn't need to know about the supernatural world. All because of his own selfish wants. So he supposed Celeste's denial of seeing him again was a good idea, Sam would think so. Yet if something was such a good idea and the right thing to do, why'd Paul find himself yearning for the complete opposite? To hope that his ancestors were on his side and fated another meeting between the two of them.
God, he felt like an absolute moron. Here he was in Emily's house, sitting at her dining table with about dozens of foods he could snack on and his best friend that he could crack jokes with. But instead– Paul chose to stare into his sketchbook, adding fine details to the drawing of the girl that abruptly rammed into his life. It was stupid, he felt stupid! And he was so immersed by his drawing that he failed to notice the nosy werewolf peering over his shoulder. But a snort and a crumble of muffin falling onto his head broke him out of his concentration.
"Who's the pretty girl?" Jared asks, his mouth stuffed with blueberry muffin.
Paul wipes the crumbs off his head, "No one." He deflected which resulted in a look of disbelief from Jared.
"I guess no one did something right. Another one of your conquests?" He smirks cheekily at Paul who immediately shakes his head, "Nah–man. It's not like that."
Jared raises his eyebrows, "Oh! So it's something serious?" A broad grin plasters on his face as he slaps Paul's shoulder, "My man! Well– I respect and appreciate this girl for being able to tie you down."
"Jared! I'm not dating her. She's just a girl I met a couple nights ago." Paul shuts him down, his voice raising a tad. He huffs in annoyance before leaning back into his chair.
"Wait, I don't understand. You– Paul Lahote, notorious ladies man! The boy every father on the Rez quivers at the thought of! Just met some chick and didn't try to screw her." Jared slowly says, not believing the words coming out of his own mouth.
"I don't try to screw every girl I meet," Paul grumbles.
He snorts, "Yeah! And Sam is totally not into Emily."
