Burning Up (Jacob Black)

Prologue: Hold On Tight

"I want you to pretend that I've handed you a live grenade. The pin is out and you are holding down the spoon." Jacob instructed tersely.

I twisted my hand into a tight fist around the clutch of the motorcycle, the so-called grenade. My feet strained onto their very tippy toes as I barely managed to straddle the bike. I wobbled weakly.

Jacob squeezed my hand tighter around the clutch, eyeing my grip and then darting his narrowed eyes to my face. Was he trying to freak me out?

I practically crushed the clutch in my tightening grip.

"Very good, Bella." He said, the apple of his left cheek slightly accentuating in a tiny smirk. "Now. I'm gonna kick-start it. You hold on tight."

He walked past me. I felt the metal of the clutch dig into my palm as I fought the trembles in my body. Jacob's foot slammed down on the pedal. The bike and I wobbled, threatening to topple over, as a jagged rumbling erupted from the bike.

My balance was skewing left and right until gravity finally favored a side and I started to tip sideways.

"Woah, woah woah!" I stammered, both my hands too occupied by my live grenade to catch my fall.

Jacob's hand palmed the side of my waist as his other one found the back seat of the motorcycle and tipped me upright.

"Easy now. Steady, steady..." he cajoled. I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or the bike. Jacob had a habit of speaking to machinery. "Clutch?" He checked in.

"The grenade's under control," I reported back, my voice a little shaky.

"That's right," he flashed a grin before his serious expression overtook his face again. "I'm gonna kick start it again." Pause. I took a deep breath. "Ready, Bella?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Jacob's hand lingered on the small of my back as he lifted his foot into the air in preparation to slam down again.

Finally, the bike came to life in an enormous roar beneath me. If I closed my eyes, I would assume I was riding on the back of a hungry lion.

"Take it away, Bell. Bike's all yours now." He dared. "Kick it into first gear."

As my calf muscle bunched up to raise my left foot, I couldn't fight the trembling anymore. My aching fingers twitched around my live grenade as I hesitantly found the gearshift.

"You look scared," he noted. My eyes darted to his face. I expected to see a provoking grin, but instead, I saw his expression pulled together in worry. "You don't have to do this if you're scared, you know."

"No. I want to. I'm fine." I asserted.

"That's what I like to hear. Welp, go ahead then. Break a leg. Or wait– Maybe, uh, don't do that..." his sentences jumbled. He shook his head from side to side. My stomach did consecutive flips. "Ugh, don't mind me. Or, I mean, actually do mind me, when I'm giving you important instructions or whatev—"

"Jacob." I interrupted through gritted, almost chattering teeth. "Don't mess with me right now. Just tell me what I need to do."

He sighed, his eyes on the floor before they snapped back up to me with a newfound intensity. His hand left my back, hovering near me just to be safe.

"That live grenade?" His eyes glanced at my whitening knuckles around the clutch and then back at me. I nodded. "Very slowly... release the spoon." He took a step away from me.

I gulped again. My sore fingers loosened by a centimeter. My unbreathing chest flattened against my pounding heart.

Then, abruptly, a third presence fell over the scene like a blanket. My eyes widened more than they already were.

"Bella," a voice called for me. It was the vocal equivalent to grazing your hand against the smoothness of velvet. Soft and silky. But the voice's tone was an aggravated one, almost hungry for frustration. The voice did not come from the boy standing next to me. My name echoed like I was standing in a long corridor, despite the trees rustling around me.

"Edward?" I thought I said it, but my lips only silently curved around his name.

I felt the coldest of touches fall upon my shoulder. It was painfully vague, like his ghostly hand was barely even there. I flinched suddenly as I felt the spark of it descend down my body.

My hand recoiled off the clutch and I sent the bike flying forward with a violent revving noise. If both my hands hadn't found their death grips on the handlebars, I would have been blown off the bike like being bucked off a horse. Instead, I rushed forward a million miles an hour on top of the deafeningly rumbly bike. I didn't know which was worse. I held on for dear life, which I didn't know if I would be so lucky to keep at this point.

Without thinking it through, I whipped my head back to look behind me. I saw one figure, Jacob's silhouette, standing stiff with anxiety. One figure.

"Bella!" Jacob shrieked in horror.

When I jerked my head back to look ahead of me, my eyes were met with a giant boulder three feet away from the unceasing front wheel of my bike. Brake, brake, brake. How do I brake?