Pretty Boy: Paul Lahote Love Story

Bury the Hatchet

Edited 6/20/22.

A/N: This chapter contains mild swearing.

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A serene backdrop of an ombré sunset hangs above shimmering water. The ocean's surface appears vibrant pink with wisps of bright yellow floating toward the sun. Crashing waves leave behind different types of small shells; some broken and some not. Smooth, round pebbles join the beautiful fragments alongside stray pieces of seaweed.

Sitting a few feet from the ocean is Marshall. His eyes are closed, but he takes everything in with his other senses. Salt water wafts into his nose. Gentle sprinkles caress his arms. Warmth from the setting sun kisses his skin. His feet remain shielded as they're buried beneath a mound of sand. Black waves of hair dance alongside a refreshing breeze. A ghost of a smile rests on his face. He doesn't react much to scuffling feet and competitive banter in the background.

Some of the other pack members are playing a game of soccer. Heat ripples away from the group in response to their hyperactive movements.

Marshall doesn't mind. He's happy that everyone's having a good time in spite of recent events.

With the reappearance of Victoria, and tensions continuing to rise with the Cullens, life has felt stressful. Busy. It feels like every other day there's a new problem to deal with. The Uley pack members haven't had much time to just be people. Because of this, Sam suggested a beach day to help raise everyone's spirits.

Thankfully, it's working.

"Heads up!"

Marshall's ears catch a fast approach before he opens his eyes. His arm moves out of reflex. A soccer ball that was headed straight for his torso is caught. He flips his hand in a gesture to present the ball. Golden eyes reopen upon his favorite scent coming closer.

"Sorry about that, Marshmallow."

"You're fine, Tiger. Don't worry about it."

A strong arm wraps around Marshall's shoulders. He smiles into the cheerful set of kisses given to him. One more is plopped onto his cheek before Paul takes the ball back over to the others. The vampire props his head against his knees. He watches as the game commences.

People are shoved and pushed. Long legs kick up piles of sand. Jokes are strewn throughout lighthearted insults. And everyone continues laughing.

Such a jovial setting is almost ruined when a presence settles beside Marshall. He keeps his eyes on the game, but his overall sense of tranquility lessens. He knows who's behind him based off of the scent; it's just surprising that they aren't saying anything.

Neither of them do.

He isn't sure if this off putting silence is better than constant arguing. An air of awkwardness encompasses the space. It makes him shift in his spot.

More time passes, and stagnant silence persists between them. He can hear fingers drawing random shapes into the sand. A single eyebrow is raised in confusion.

"Is something the matter, Leah?" He turns his head toward the female to take in her appearance.

She's sitting with her legs crossed. Her back is hunched. An unfocused gaze is pulled downward, framing her face with loose locks of hair.

Even with a drooped posture, Leah appears rigid. She looks genuinely uncomfortable.

"No- yes? With you, no."

Marshall blinks. Shrugging, he brings his attention back to the ocean in front of them. Sparkling water calls him in. He rises from his spot to get a closer look.