Snow On The Beach - Jasper Hale

Chapter Eight

"Where are we going, rebel?"

Roslyn had barely pulled out of the school parking lot before Jasper's quiet curiosity got the better of him. Neither of them had a seatbelt on and Jasper was turned in his seat to face her fully.

Roslyn grinned, glancing at him quickly. "I was thinking of Edward and Bella's meadow, but he would probably have an aneurism if he found out, so we're going to the baseball field."

Jasper's mouth opened in a silent ah, nodding as he hummed along to the radio. Roslyn pulled out her phone, pressing call on the last number she had texted. Dean was the one that answered and she resisted an eye roll at the sound of his voice. 

"What do you want, Roslyn?"

"You're getting what you want," she started, speaking louder so that she didn't have to turn down the radio. 

"There's a lot that I want. Be specific," Dean interrupted. "And turn the Bon Jovi off, I can't hear a word you're saying."

"No, and don't interrupt me." Roslyn's voice was a low growl, but she made sure he heard every word. "If you want to learn about the..." She turned to face Jasper, holding the phone away from her face. "What do you call yourselves?"

Jasper shrugged, an amused look on his face. "We usually just call ourselves vampires. The Quileutes call us cold ones, though, if that helps."

"It doesn't," Roslyn muttered, turning her attention back to where Dean was ranting angrily over the phone. "Shut up. One of the nice vampires of Forks has offered to put on a little demonstration of their species. We'll be waiting in a field off the 101. I'll send you the exact coordinates, but if you're not there by 4, we're leaving."

She didn't wait for a response and hung up, tossing her phone carelessly into the back seat. Jasper was smiling when Roslyn looked over and she rolled her eyes, pushing his face to the side with her free hand.

"What?"

"Nothing." His accent made the simple word hold so much more weight than it should have.

Roslyn narrowed her gaze at him, meeting his bright golden eyes and not looking away. "Whatever."

They left the mustang parked safely off the side of the road and ran to the field. It wasn't officially a race, but Roslyn was proud to say that she made it there before Jasper, and she refused to let him live it down.

"Dealing with some chronic pain, old man? You're getting slow."

Jasper's soft laughter may as well have been deafening for how it broke the stillness of the field. "I'm only two years older than you."

"Maybe to the rest of Forks, but you fought in the Civil War." Roslyn danced out of reach as he moved to smack her arm. "That makes you at least fifteen years older than me. Hence, old man."

Jasper was watching her now, his eyes calculating as he worked out the math in his mind. "How old are you?"

Roslyn looked at him blankly. "Hundred thirty-six."

Jasper just blinked, cocking his head to the side like a dog trying to understand English. "I'm a quarter century older than you. Maybe I am an old man."

"Just say 25 like a normal person," Roslyn said, laughing at the horror taking over Jasper's expression.

The sound of bickering reached their ears and they both fell silent, listening intently. Jasper's eyes were flickering between the direction of the voices and Roslyn, trying to read her emotions and match them. She remained unresponsive, though, only offering him a mildly irritated snarl when he forced an elated feeling on her.