LANA
She managed to drive a few meters before stopping again. She went a little further and stopped once more. Time passed like this, between frustrated starts and helpless pauses, as afternoon gave way to evening.
Lana felt like she was going to explode. She wanted to scream until her throat tore, break everything around her, unleash the contained fury in every cell of her body. She dropped her head onto the steering wheel, closed her eyes, and stayed like that. Fighting against the tears that threatened to betray her: tears of humiliation, rage, and helplessness.
She had no doubt: everything was Black's fault. He'd cursed her. If her friend Morgan had told her who did the repairs, she wouldn't have hesitated to avoid it. She'd probably be at home right now, reading some book, instead of stranded once again on a deserted highway, swallowed by darkness.
What could she do? She had no other spare tire. There was nowhere nearby to leave the car, and no way to push it alone. And she couldn't abandon it in the middle of the road, even if it seemed forgotten by God. It would get impounded and she'd be drowning in fines.
So then what? Would she walk home? Would she sleep alongside the owls, out in the open? Maybe, with luck, she'd end up getting to know each one by their call...
Her thoughts were cut off by the sudden sound of a motor slowing down. She glanced in the rearview mirror, first with curiosity and then with disbelief. Lana could feel rage taking over as she got out of the car.
—Did you not get it the first time, or do I need to repeat myself?— she bellowed, taking long strides toward him.
Jacob released the clutch and sat on the motorcycle, unmoved.
—I don't know what you're talking about—he replied with a weary voice.
—Ha!—she spat incredulously. She looked at him with challenging eyes, hands on her hips, as if trying to annihilate him with her withering glare. —Don't play dumb! I told you to leave me alone!
Jacob was struggling to contain himself.
—Why do you think the whole world revolves around you?— he shot back, stone-faced.
—You're following me like some goddamn stalker!
—I'm not following you. —Jacob fired back, irritated.
—Oh yeah?—she clearly wasn't buying it.
—No.
—Then what the hell are you doing here?
Jacob rolled his eyes skyward.
—In case you missed it, this here's the only road into town.
—And you just happen to be driving it at the exact same time as me, right?— She closed the distance between them, voice dropping to a threatening edge—I don't know what game you're playing, but I'm warning you: stay the hell away from me, Black.
He didn't budge, his eyes locked on hers.
—The only thing I was plotting was hitting the store for groceries. Didn't expect to find you stranded. Again.
That was the last straw.
—This is your fault! You jinxed me with your damn words!
Jacob shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips that only pissed her off more.
—Whatever you say...—He revved the motorcycle back to life, but before peeling out, he glanced back at her—Get on. I'll give you a ride.
Lana raised an eyebrow.
—Did you hit your head or something?
Jake sighed.
—Shops are closed, and your car's gonna sit right there, dead, till morning. So quit jerking me around and get on. Unless you'd rather hang out in the middle of nowhere all by yourself.
She hit him with one of those death glares she usually reserved just for him.
—I'm not getting on that death trap. That thing's about to fall apart.
—I wouldn't offer if it wasn't safe. — he said, sounding almost offended.
Lana crossed her arms.
—I already said no, Black. Drop it.
Jake shook his head, frustrated.
—Suit yourself.
He gunned the engine and started to pull away. Lana stood there, thrown off. What was with him lately? She couldn't figure him out, and not being able to read him drove her nuts. Still, as much as it killed her to admit it, he had a point—her car wasn't going anywhere tonight, and the shops wouldn't open till tomorrow.
When she saw Jacob's silhouette starting to fade into the distance, panic kicked in. She didn't want to be alone. Not again.
—Hey, wait!—she yelled. She knew she sounded desperate, and at this distance, he probably couldn't hear her anyway. But to her shock, he did.
Jacob cut the engine and turned around.
—Why?— he asked, flat.
"Why?" She wasn't sure she'd heard him right. But of course, it made sense. She'd just shot him down. She didn't want to go with him or, at least, that's what she'd been telling herself. The truth was something else.
Lana moved close enough to talk without shouting, but kept her distance.
—Because you're giving me a ride home. First and last time.— she spat, hating every word, every second of having to ask him for help.
—Was starting to wonder how long you'd let your pride choke you—he muttered, then jerked his chin toward the back seat.
She climbed on slowly, like touching him disgusted her.
—YYou'll fall off if you don't hold on—Jacob warned, watching her white-knuckle the back of the seat.
Lana glared pure poison at him. Then, with obvious reluctance, she wrapped her arms around his waist.
—Don't enjoy this too much, Black.
—Trust me, I won't.
The engine roar tore through the silence, and soon they were flying down the asphalt.
Overhead, the stars flickered like they were laughing at some private joke, and the moon hung low and sharp against the horizon. Under different circumstances, Lana would've found it peaceful. But right now, everything felt surreal, like some half-baked dream.
Her. On Jacob Black's motorcycle.
A nightmare.
Or maybe not.
To her absolute horror... she was actually enjoying the ride.
She shook her head. What was happening to her?
"Hormones. Just hormones. Get it together," she thought, annoyed.
A few minutes later, Jacob pulled up in front of her house. Lana didn't waste two seconds getting off.
—You breathe one word about this, and you're a dead man. You hear me?—she warned, stepping right up in his face.
—Right. Like I'm dying to go around telling everyone I gave you a ride home—he shot back with a sarcastic grin.
Lana huffed, swallowing her rage, and spun around. She'd barely reached her door when his voice carried across the yard.
—You're welcome, by the way!
Then, the sound of his motorcycle fading into the night until it disappeared.
●●●
Lana paced back and forth across the living room, laying out the whole story for her sister, while Mary Kate watched from the couch, half-distracted—phone in hand, that annoying little smirk playing on her full lips.
She looked perfect even in pajamas: blonde waves tumbling down her back, that angular, sculpted face straight out of some high-fashion spread. And it wasn't a joke—she'd actually been in one. A scout had spotted her in a London boutique mid-argument with a salesman over shoe colors. Since then, her modeling career had exploded, and right along with it, her addiction to social media.
—You seriously don't get it— Lana muttered, exasperated.
—Don't get what? Never judge a book by its cover?
—Hey! I'm being serious!
Kate snorted and glanced up.
—Don't get your panties in a bunch. You know I live to mess with you. If I'd been in your shoes, I probably would've straight-up cried: dead car, empty road, no signal... and your sworn enemy giving you a ride home. Total nightmare fuel.
—Exactly!
Kate shook her head, then whipped out her phone and-without warning-snapped a photo.
—Why the hell did you just do that?
—Facebook.
—What?!
But Kate was already typing away, thumbs flying. She was welded to that thing, her whole life revolving around nabbing the perfect shot for her followers.
—Chill. It's funny—she said, flashing the screen: "My baby sister surviving Nightmare on Dark Street."
Lana made a face. She preferred "Black Street."
—You're not actually posting that.
—Already did.—She winked, all mischief.
—I hate when you post pictures of me. I've told you like a million times.
—Relax. You look hot, per usual.—She shrugged, eyes back on her screen—Anyway... from what I caught through the window, this Black dude's got something going on.
Lana shot her an incredulous look.
—I cannot believe you just said that.
—What? Admit he's sexy.
And yeah—much as it killed her—she admitted it. She could spot a good-looking guy. But that didn't change the fact that Jacob Black was unbearable, and they couldn't be in the same room five minutes without tearing into each other.
—I need a bath. Maybe I'll drown myself and forget this conversation ever happened.
Kate laughed as Lana stormed off.
—Taking that as a yes.
She booked it up the stairs, and the second she opened her bedroom door, Prada—a fluffball Shih Tzu—launched at her like a tornado. Her mom had bought the dog on impulse, but of course Lana ended up doing all the work. She'd hated her at first: just a hairy potato with legs. But eventually, she got attached. Attached enough to drop cash on a diamond-studded collar.
She was mid-pet when her phone buzzed. Morgan.
Lana didn't waste a second tearing into her. They'd known each other since kindergarten, which meant she knew exactly how unreliable her friend's impulses could be.
—And what was I supposed to do?—Morgan fired back—If I'd told you who it was, you never would've taken the help.
—And that would've been better, thanks. Now my car's stuck in Bumfuck, Egypt and...
She caught herself. It wasn't that she didn't trust Morgan, but the fewer people who knew Black had chauffeured her home, the better.
—And...?—her friend pressed.
—And I'm in a crap mood— she muttered. Which wasn't entirely a lie.
She could hear the grin through the phone.
—I got you: Epsom salt bath.
Lana smiled despite herself. For Morgan, baths cured everything.
—Fine. Just this once.
—You won't regret it.
And she didn't. Lana sank into the warm water, then crashed onto her bed. She was out cold in minutes. No bad mood, and no Jacob Black haunting her brain.