JК
Breaking Dawn :: Meyer Stephenie
Страница: 80 из 429“Your sister said to go ahead and help myself to anything I wanted.”
I tried to make my voice sound like I wasn’t about to punch him. “Is Rachel here now?”
It didn’t work. He heard where I was going and shoved the bag behind his back. The bag crackled as he smashed it into the cushion. The chips crunched into pieces. Paul’s hands came up in fists, close to his face like a boxer.
“Bring it, kid. I don’t need Rachel to protect me.”
I snorted. “Right. Like you wouldn’t go crying to her first chance.”
He laughed and relaxed into the sofa, dropping his hands. “I’m not going to go tattle to a girl. If you got in a lucky hit, that would be just between the two of us. And vice versa, right?”
Nice of him to give me an invitation. I made my body slump like I’d given up. “Right.”
His eyes shifted to the TV.
I lunged.
His nose made a very satisfying crunching sound of its own when my fist connected. He tried to grab me, but I danced out of the way before he could find a hold, the ruined bag of Doritos in my left hand.
“You broke my nose, idiot.”
“Just between us, right, Paul?”
I went to put the chips away. When I turned around, Paul was repositioning his nose before it could set crooked. The blood had already stopped; it looked like it had no source as it trickled down his lips and off his chin. He cussed, wincing as he pulled at the cartilage.
“You are such a pain, Jacob. I swear, I’d rather hang out with Leah.”
“Ouch. Wow, I bet Leah’s really going to love to hear that you want to spend some quality time with her. It’ll just warm the cockles of her heart.”
“You’re going to forget I said that.”
“Of course. I’m sure it won’t slip out.”
“Ugh,” he grunted, and then settled back into the couch, wiping the leftover blood on the collar of his t-shirt. “You’re fast, kid. I’ll give you that.” He turned his attention back to the fuzzy game.
I stood there for a second, and then I stalked off to my room, muttering about alien abductions.
Back in the day, you could count on Paul for a fight pretty much whenever. You didn’t have to hit him then—any mild insult would do. It didn’t take a lot to flip him out of control. Now, of course, when I really wanted a good snarling, ripping, break-the-trees-down match, he had to be all mellow.
I tried to make my voice sound like I wasn’t about to punch him. “Is Rachel here now?”
It didn’t work. He heard where I was going and shoved the bag behind his back. The bag crackled as he smashed it into the cushion. The chips crunched into pieces. Paul’s hands came up in fists, close to his face like a boxer.
“Bring it, kid. I don’t need Rachel to protect me.”
I snorted. “Right. Like you wouldn’t go crying to her first chance.”
He laughed and relaxed into the sofa, dropping his hands. “I’m not going to go tattle to a girl. If you got in a lucky hit, that would be just between the two of us. And vice versa, right?”
Nice of him to give me an invitation. I made my body slump like I’d given up. “Right.”
His eyes shifted to the TV.
I lunged.
His nose made a very satisfying crunching sound of its own when my fist connected. He tried to grab me, but I danced out of the way before he could find a hold, the ruined bag of Doritos in my left hand.
“You broke my nose, idiot.”
“Just between us, right, Paul?”
I went to put the chips away. When I turned around, Paul was repositioning his nose before it could set crooked. The blood had already stopped; it looked like it had no source as it trickled down his lips and off his chin. He cussed, wincing as he pulled at the cartilage.
“You are such a pain, Jacob. I swear, I’d rather hang out with Leah.”
“Ouch. Wow, I bet Leah’s really going to love to hear that you want to spend some quality time with her. It’ll just warm the cockles of her heart.”
“You’re going to forget I said that.”
“Of course. I’m sure it won’t slip out.”
“Ugh,” he grunted, and then settled back into the couch, wiping the leftover blood on the collar of his t-shirt. “You’re fast, kid. I’ll give you that.” He turned his attention back to the fuzzy game.
I stood there for a second, and then I stalked off to my room, muttering about alien abductions.
Back in the day, you could count on Paul for a fight pretty much whenever. You didn’t have to hit him then—any mild insult would do. It didn’t take a lot to flip him out of control. Now, of course, when I really wanted a good snarling, ripping, break-the-trees-down match, he had to be all mellow.