I don't have time to wait for their reaction. Instead, I feel something gurgle inside me. I make it to the kitchen, where I vomit into the garbage can. If I had thought my throat was raw before from the alcohol, I was wrong. It's burning now.

Note to self: stay away from vodka.

Someone is behind me, holding back my hair as a puke up my guts. I continue to grip the garbage can as tightly as possible.

"Come on, Fawn," Quil says. "Just puke it up."

"That's what I'm doing," I tell him, right before more vomit splashes out of me.

Once I'm done, I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I hope that I don't accidentally trigger my gag reflex and puke all over again. Finishing up, I spit into the sink and look up at myself.

The guys here really think I'm pretty. My dirty blonde hair covers my round face. My green eyes are big and glossy. A tear streams down my face, and I cannot tell if it's a consequence of vomiting or part of the horror of trying to see myself through someone else's eyes. I wipe the tear away with the back of my hand, staring back at my face.

I don't look any different from when I first got here. Maybe I should have dyed my hair.

When I return downstairs, Quil and Embry are gone. Jacob is still sitting on the couch. His head turns as the stairs beneath me creak.

"Fawn?" he asks.

I nod, taking a few steps closer to him. "Yes, it's me."

"I figured you would've gone to bed," he chuckles. "Should've thought better."

"All I needed was to brush my teeth," I point out. "I can keep playing."

"It's probably best you didn't," Jacob says. "You can't hold your liquor like the rest of us."

Right, because they are built like tanks. I join him on the couch, leaning my head back. When I look over at him, a question spills over my lips. Like a waterfall.

"Why did you hate me?" I ask.

He scoffs, "I've never hated you, Fawn. Not once."

"They why were you so rude at the bonfire?" I ask. "And in the car, you were so demanding."

"Don't you think I would've kicked you out if I hated you?" he asks, shaking his head. "I just... I wanted to keep you safe in the car. At the bonfire, I... I was in a sour mood. It wasn't fair of me to take it out on you. I'm sorry."

An apology was all I needed to hear. It soothes me over. The convent never apologized to me. Not when I would tear myself up training to them, not when they would gaslight me whenever I showed disbelief. Only once I arrived in Forks and La Push have I heard apologies. This one smooths over all of my rough edges.

"It's okay," I tell him. "I'm sorry for being so difficult. I was worried you were a cult, like the people I ran away from."

"Well, we do have a bit of a cultish nature to outsiders, I'll give you that," Jacob smirks.

He reaches forward and finds a shot glass on the table. He carefully pours vodka inside. I reach over to guide his hands, making sure they don't spill. He's warm to the touch. Hot, like the bonfire all those nights ago.

"You're cold," he points out. "Do you want a blanket?"

I shake my head. "I'm good, thank you."

With that, he takes the shot and pounds it back. He's drunk more times than I have tonight, but he seems much soberer than me. Vomiting gave me some clarity. Being near Jacob does not.

"I like living here," I say. "The backyard is so nice."

Jacob shrugs, "it's nothing like Sam and Emily's. They actually have a nice property. We live in a shit hole, like most of the reservation"

"Speaking of Sam and Emily," I say, smiling at him. "The wedding is a week today. Are you excited?"

"I'm probably not going," he says.

"What?" I ask. "Why?"

He shrugs, "Sam and Emily's families don't really know about my situation," he gestures to his eyes, "and I don't want everyone finding out at once. It would ruin their day, I think. You're going in my place."

I feel bad. Jacob and Sam, while they don't seem close, must have some sort of mutual arrangement. It sucks that he can't go, just because he's newly blind.

"How recent did it happen?" I ask.

He shrugs, "like, right before you arrived, basically. I don't really want to talk about it."

Fair enough. I imagine I would be pretty sensitive too if I had lost my sense of sight. I cannot imagine what it is like.

With my help, he pours himself another shot and downs it. I feel myself getting sleepy. Consequently, I find myself curling up in a ball next to Jacob. I don't want to go to bed just yet, especially since I've never had this positive of an interaction with him. Instead, I yawn and rest my head against my knees.

"You aren't so bad, Jacob," I tell him.

He laughs, "really now?"

"No," I agree. "Just stubborn."

That he is. I feel my eyelids getting heavy. I've heard of people choking and dying on their vomit while drunk. Hopefully, I'm all puked out, so there is no need to worry. If I did pass out, Jacob would be here to call for help, which is nice.

I can't tell why his presence is comforting. I could convince myself it is because I don't want to be alone. However, I know that's not it, because I specifically want Jacob here. Not Embry or Quil, who by all accounts like me more and are closer to me. No, I want him.

"You getting tired?" he asks.

"Never," I say.

He groans, before standing up. "Fawn, you're impossibility difficult."

"I am not," I tell him. My eyes are shut and so I can't see him, but he doesn't know that. For all he knows, I am right as rain.

"Well, I think I might head up to bed," he says. "You're welcome to sleep on the couch, but I've got eyedrops to put in."

The floorboards creak as he goes to leave. I sit up upright and turn my head, watching him slowly lumber up the stairs.

"Wait," I begin.

He stops and waits. His body is so still, but his hand clings desperately to the railing. "What?"

"Did you really mean what you said?" I ask him. "About your first impression of me."

He sighs, "I'm many things, but I'm not a liar. Your voice is music."

My breath is stolen from me. I can feel my stomach churning, but I'm not worried that I'm going to vomit.

He takes a few steps back down the stairs and approaches me. "Why? What was your first impression of me?"

It would be too embarrassing to say what I really saw and thought and felt. "I wanted to befriend you. Being blind and all, I thought I could relate on some left. Since I'm hard of hearing and all."

"Right," he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It sticks up on end, becoming a black, spikey mess.

With that, he heads upstairs.

I go into my room, bringing in the kitchen garbage can with me in case I wake up and feel like the bathroom is too far away. Lying down in bed, I relax and try to lull myself off to sleep. All I can think about is Jacob, and alcohol, and that woman with the sunglasses who never seems far away.

In the morning, I have to peel myself from bed like I'm Velcro. I am so tired, and my head is pounding. I'm nauseous too; I am more nauseous than I have been in, perhaps, years. I drag the garbage bag back out into the kitchen with me.

"I was wondering where that went," Quil laughs. "How are you feeling?"

I sit up at the kitchen table, where there is already a plate of toast for me. I think plain toast is all that I can stomach right now anyway, so while the boys make eggs I chow away.

"How aren't you guys hungover?" I ask.

"I'm surprised you are, given how much you upchucked," Quil jokes. He's cooking some eggs, so he only glances at me while he speaks. "Seriously, you should go easy on liquor."

"You were egging her on!" Embry points out, shaking his head back and forth. His hands are buried in the sink, washing the prep dishes. "Ridiculous."

"Where's Jacob?" I ask.

The two look at each other, then back at me.

"Out for a ride with Bella. Why?" Embry asks.

"Don't worry, she's married," Quil reminds me, again.

I don't get why he feels the need to do that.

Out the window, I see her, watching me. The Asian woman with the sunglasses. She puts a finger to her lips then ducks out of view.

I get up and run outside.

"Where are you going?" Quil yells after me. "Shit."

When I round to the side of the house, she's gone. As if she was never there.

I must be so hungover I'm hallucinating. Unless in the ten seconds it took me to get here, she somehow sprinted 100 feet into the forest, she never was here.

Embry arrives behind me, "What was that??

"It was a bird," I tell Embry. "Wanted to get a better look. It flew off."

~~~~~

Well, I'm happy with this. It's a bit rushed because life gets you sometimes, but I like it. Some bonding. Some truth. Some lies. What else is this story if not deception after deception?