love story | a twilight fanfiction

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

For the rest of the day after my talk with Jake I was buzzing. Thoughts of Emmett and the Cullen's were pushed to the back of my mind. I'd deal with that later, if at all.

Instead I was focused on Paul Lahote. The boy from the res who was my best friend and so much more. I was his imprint, his soulmate. And he was mine. My mind kept drifting back to the kiss we shared last night, how his lips felt on mine.

I knew at some point we'd have to complete the mate bond so that I don't die, but when the time came I didn't want it to be about that-- about what Emmett had done to me and what only Paul could fix. I wanted it to be special. To be about us.

After getting the okay from my dad, I went over to Paul's house. He had patrol until seven and I was determined to surprise him.

Paul lived alone most of the time. His mom left when he was young and his dad was gone 90% of the time. Tonight was one of those times. I had this whole idea of how I was going to cook him a romantic dinner and maybe make things official between us.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the best track record in the kitchen.

"No, no, no," I groan over the smoke detector's beeping as smoke billows out of the oven, clouding the kitchen quickly. I cover my mouth, coughing as I use my other hand to try and fan it away.

I pull the burnt lasagna out of the oven, sighing as I look at the black charred edges.

I'd left the kitchen for twenty minutes to clean up Paul's room and this is what happens? How did I burn lasagna? I thought it would be the easiest thing to cook since, you know, it sits in the oven. But apparently I was wrong.

I drop the pan on the counter and open the window above the sink, trying to air out the house. Great, I try to do something nice for a guy and I end up smoking out his house instead.

At that same moment the front door opens and I hear Paul's voice behind me, "Why is the house all smokey and what is that smell?"

My cheeks flush in embarrassment and I turn around to face him, "I tried to make you dinner..." I gesture helplessly toward the charred lasagna.

Paul's face breaks into a crooked smile, his cheeks dimpling as he laughs, "Liv, you don't cook."

I let out a huff, walking towards him, "I know, okay. But, I wanted to do something nice..."

"Well, I appreciate it, but you don't need to cook for me, actually, please don't cook for me," He jokes, looking down at me.

I roll my eyes, my heart warming because he knows me. "Whatever. Do you want takeout? Or should we evacuate until the smoke clears?"

"We could go out?" Paul suggests, looking a little nervous all of a sudden. "Somewhere nice?"

My cheeks flush as I realize what he's asking. I smile softly, "like a date?"