the human condition ❁ paul lahote

chapter five: la push's resident hothead

It didn't take very long for both Bella and Jacob to pinpoint the blame on me. After all, Paul's angry, fierce gaze was burning holes into the side of my head—the very side that hurt like a bitch—and the crossed-arm, jutted-out-hip look really just made him seem menacing. Truth be told, if I had my car stopped in the middle of the road by a shirtless, hella-hot bodybuilder, I would probably die. A thousand times. In a thousand different ways. I could be very creative when I wanted to be.

          In a good, on-the-verge-of-literal-death way, though. I could tell by the panic in Bella's eyes that she was fearing for her life right about now.

          "Go see what he wants, Cameron," Jacob whispered, putting a hand on Bella's shoulder. Of course—go and comfort the one with a perfectly intact scalp, rather than the girl bleeding the fuck out.

          Rather than make a remark about this, I instead centered him with a leveled look of bliss; it had always been a dream of mine for Jacob to get on Paul's bad side. Maybe today was my lucky day. Would he knock a tooth loose like he nearly did Jeremiah? That'd sure be a sight to see. Even though Paul and Jacob were of equal size, Paul had a better fighting background, and it wouldn't take long for the uglier of the two to be flat on his back, crying out for mercy.

          I flashed my teeth at Jacob, then looked at Bella. "Why don't you go, Bella? You do have a thing for guys who'll show you attention." I blinked innocently, smiling so wide that my jaw began to ache. It was worth it, though, when a flash of hurt swept by on her face. "Oh, or maybe not. I forget; maybe it was just guys who pretend to care that really get you going."

          "Get the hell out and see what he wants," barked a steaming-cold (Hot? He wishes!) Jacob. When I glanced over at him, I could see that he was nearly shaking with rage, a look of utter distaste in his eye. He really didn't like me, and I supposed that hurting his little pale-faced girlfriend only strengthened that dislike. "Now."

          "Of course, Jake!" I said, faking enthusiasm. "And if he asks—I'll tell him you got my face to look like this. He'll have a fun time making the two of us twinsies. Not like you could get any uglier, though, huh?"

          Jacob reached across me and unlatched the door, shoving it open; too caught in my amusement, I lost all reaction time, and this caused me to flail away from the seat. A part of my mind began to flood with self-resentment—no seatbelt, not even a smidgen of sensible judgment; no wonder I was in this predicament, on the brink of a secondary concussion, all because I had seventy-five-percent of my mind too occupied with provoking Jacob to think he might try and kill me!

          Well, of course, this self-resentment spent a very brief time in my head, because before I could touch the ground—hands already grasping for some sort of handle or surface to elevate myself from a cold, gritty slab of blacktop—someone saved me from my fate. I was mere inches away from slamming my face into the ground, when strong, muscled arms slithered around my armpits and hauled my torso up vertically. A taste of breathless adrenaline, a feeling I had experienced when first enduring my current head injury, was already set in place, numbing the area that was to experience fatal, future trauma, so now, I didn't feel much of anything. Except a strong sense of anxious butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach.

          And that feeling was because—

          "What the fuck is wrong with you, Black?!" Paul Lahote snarled. He pulled me up until my feet were touching a flat surface; he pressed in a finger against my shoulder as though asking, "Can you stand?" and when I nodded my head against his shoulder, he fell back, until his heat disappeared completely. And I was left cold and bewildered, experiencing only half of this stare-down, not willing to take a peek at what shadow was casted over Paul's face. "She could have gotten hurt even worse; are you a fucking idiot?"