Clearer (J.HALE)

13

The waves were gentle that day, lapping at the beach rather than rolling and crashing.

I sat on a rock and stabbed at the sand with a stick I'd found near the cliff, drawing shapes. The weather was mild, but I was still cold, bundled up in one of Aunt Meg's thick winter coats. My stomach had started to change, firming and doming outwards, so I was thankful for the largeness of the garment. I wore loose shirts and heavy sweaters and was getting away with it for the most part.

I missed Jake.

This fact surprised me, as I hadn't known him long enough to miss him, surely. Ever since he'd told everyone I was pregnant and I'd stormed off, I hadn't seen him. Not at the beach, not at the house, not anywhere. He didn't call, he didn't drop by. It stung.

"Imogen?"

I looked up in surprise. "Oh, hi, Bella."

The brunette gave a small smile and trudged toward me, clumsily large boots sinking into the sand. "I thought it was you. Saw someone sat down looking sad and immediately recognised you."

I let out a quiet laugh. "I'm very good at it. Considering taking it up professionally."

"You should," she said. "You'll be a raging success."

I grinned at her. "What brings you down to La Push?"

"Visiting a friend," she answered. "Decided to come down to the beach for a bit."

I hummed, nodding my head.

"What are you thinking about?"

I blew out my cheeks. "Who says I'm thinking about anything?"

"Your expressions give you away," she said. "Very easy to read."

I wrinkled my nose. "That's not good."

"It's not really bad, either."

"The beach just seemed like a fitting place for an existential crisis."

"Philosophical. Dangerous territory."

We exchanged an amused look.

The greyish waves seemed to smudge into the off-white sky, like someone painting the scene had gotten distracted mid-brushstroke.

"I was meaning to call you, actually," I said. "I've still got your jacket."

"Oh, don't worry about it," she said.

"I'm not a thief, Miss Swan."

She cracked a grin. "Good to know. Daughter of the police chief, and all."

"Actually, my house is, like, a two-minute walk from here," I said. "We could go and get it now. So I don't forget."

She paused a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

The sand swallowed up our shoes on the way across the beach, saturated with chilled water. It soaked into my socks.

"What did you do with your friend this morning?"

"Oh, just hung out in his garage."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Fun."

"Not as boring as it sounds," she chuckled. "He's a budding mechanic. Fixes cars and bikes and stuff. It's cool."

"Huh," I mused. "I know someone like that. Though Jake doesn't stop talking long enough to actually fix anything-