Don't Let Go Of Me [ Jasper Hale ]

14 || Reservation Boy

So I put my faith in something unknown
I'm living on such sweet nothing

MIRABELLE SWAN

"GODDAMNIT!"

    I kicked the rusty old bucket for the fifth time. The engine was having trouble starting and no matter what I tried it just wouldn't breathe life again. At this point, my whole upper half was covered in the sleek black smudges of motor oil and other junk. On top of that there was still the big dent in its side from the parking lot incident. The original plan after driving home from school was supposed to be me going over to Wayland's motorboat shack to do a little investigation.

 Dad was still out on the patrol and Bella hasn't returned with Edward yet. Thankfully, she got the good sense to at least send me a message that she was okay.

    The way things were looking now I was going to be spending another night in. I huffed in defeat, grabbing the dirtied towel hanging from the open hood to at least clean my hands up. 'Well, there goes that...' 

Just when the metal hood slammed close a new face popped out of nowhere. On instinct my balled fist lurched out, catching the new guy right in the nose. It took me a second to realize that I just punched a guy in the face. "Oh my god! I am so sorry!"

    He held his injured snout, smiling from behind his hand as I rushed over to check on him. The last thing I needed was dad getting a complaint from a stranger about how his daughter attacked him.

 "Damn girl. That's one strong arm you got." He complimented, half in pain and half from the shock he was probably still feeling. The guy was handling it like a champ. Most people that got served my deadly fists at least lost a tooth. I gave him the rag I was using. He took it gratefully in spite of the smears of grease.

    "Years of dart throwing. You really surprised me."

    "It's all good. Sorry for scaring you like that." We started chuckling at the odd predicament. He lifted a small container of what looked to be home-cooked muffins. Anything homemade was my stomach's favorite. Lunch couldn't have come at any other opportune time. I took them gingerly, smiling widely. "Emily Clearwater asked me to drop these off for your dad. She wanted to show her thanks for working so hard as chief of police. They're blueberry."

    "I will be sure to pass these along. If I don't eat them all, that is."

    The guy dropped the towel once certain his nostrils weren't streaming with blood. Now his handsome, tanned facial features were on full exposure. His short dark hair matched the cocky persona he seemed to give off. I've dealt with guys of his type all the time. 

But mom always said you couldn't judge a book by its cover. So far he hasn't given me a reason to hit him again. His eyes stayed appropriately on my face and not elsewhere. But when I looked into those warm brown pools of his I couldn't help but feel like I'd seen them before.

"I'm Paul Lahote by the way."

    "Nice to meet you. I'm Mirabelle Swan."

    "I know. Jacob talks about you and your sister like crazy. Kind of annoying."

    I'm sure that was a lie. It was as clear as Paul's beet red nose that Jacob only had eyes out for my twin. It was going to absolutely tear him to pieces when he found out she was checking out someone completely opposite from him. "Really? All good things I hope. Are you and Jacob close friends?"