Psyche:

Psyche – (N) beloved of cupid; human soul; human mind

I used to worry about being late to school, homework due, getting my chores done, keeping myself on my parent's good side, and so on and so forth. My old daily life seemed so pointless and trivial when real matters that were life threatening, loomed just outside the old routine of normal life. Vampires roamed the forests and there was even a coven lurking in the high school and the hospital, in Forks. They were vegetarians – ha, yeah. Bloodsucking leeches that don't want to drink the blood of the living, of humans? I don't believe it.

But, I didn't believe I was a werewolf when I phased for the first time, either. I was ready to check myself into the insane alum the first chance I had. There was no way werewolves existed and the legends were true. No fucking way.

When Sam came in and told me, thoughts alone, about how he hadn't believed it either, (after slapping me when I started yelling and freaking out about how this was all a dream – claiming if he pinched me I would wake up from it all), I started to realize that maybe it wasn't all hababalloo, like the moon being made of cheese.

I was jealous when Jacob phased back so quickly after his first transformation into a werewolf. It took me two fucking weeks and it took him two minutes. He seemed so superior to us it make me what to throw up.

I was lucky enough to imprint first though – to the most beautiful girl.

Of course, it took some convincing on my part. It was a little shallow of me not to notice Kim sitting next to me for the… whole year.

It was just a normal day at, what they call, school – complaining about the work and the teachers. Moaning down the hall about how much I don't want to go to Beginning Painting because I couldn't draw for anything. I was only taking the class because I needed a Fine Arts credit to graduate. But, I had only successfully made a fool out of myself every minute I was in the class. It was embarrassing showing my fruit bowl off when it looked more like a blob of color than anything – something a three year old would to with finger paints. Quil teased my constantly about how it was modern art and my art was something no one had even thought of before called shit. He said only the crappy-est drawers could paint shit.

But, anyway, it took almost the whole period to notice that my soul mate was sitting next to me, as quiet as a mouse. She asked if she could borrow my red paint.

"Here," I muttered uninterested – that was until I caught her eye. Her eyes were the deepest brown I had ever seen – like dark chocolate and I like chocolate.

I unnerved her, at first. She thought she had something on her face or I was making fun of her or something. She didn't realize that she was beautiful and took my breath away.

Her looks weren't anything special, really. It was more that it was her, as a whole. The way her cheek bone were high and elegant, long eye lashes, black as ink, brushing the tips of her cheeks when she blinked, and the curve of her lip – pouted slightly that made my blood boil. The way her hips swayed unconsciously and her frame, willowy, graceful could entertain my eyes for hours with movement and endless curves. I will not deny that I thought she was appealing in an attractive, tempting, mesmerizing kind of way. I could stare at her for hours and never be fully satisfied.

The rest of the period I was too scared shit-less to even talk to her, but I had this overwhelming to touch her – to see if she really was real.

I knew I imprinted. The feeling I felt was just as strong as Sam's, just as scary, just as frightening. I didn't know what I was going to do. Would she even talk to me?

She was shy and nervous around me, but it was okay since I was just as nervous. I didn't want her to leave me alone – I wanted her to like me.

I liked her. A lot.

I took her to the movies she wanted to see, the beach and collected beach glass and other shells and things, walked her to class, and walked her to the bus every day after stopping my her locker, so she could put her books away.

The first time I kissed her was… kind of an accident – unplanned if you will. But, when are they?

We were at her locker and she had dropped her note pad after trying to dig her Spanish books out of her pack. The note pad was flipped open to a page she'd be doodling on the last period.

Being the gentleman that I am, I bent down to pick it up, only to find my name all over it, complete with hers next to it with hearts and "love" writing all over.

"What's this?" I said grinning giddily. I held the book up to her.

She was redder than a tomato and didn't meet my eye. "I don't know…"

I cupped her cheek and pushed her silky hair behind her ear. I grinned roguishly, making my voice a whisper. "Were you thinking about me?"

She cleared her throat nervously and her eyes flickered to mine. I was so insanely happy I wasn't thinking properly – logically.

So, I bent down and kissed her. I was on cloud nine, lost to all humanity.

Since then, we've just been. It's nice.

I get to hold her hand and hug her any time I want. I don't have to act so nonchanuntly about putting my arm around her, like those cheesy chick-flicks. I can give her sweet kisses and whisper how much I love her in her ear.

And the best part is, she says: I love you, too.

Daily life is just to pointless when I have to worry about vampires attacking and Kim – her happiness being so much for important than what time classes start or what chores I still have to do or how happy my parents are with me (which I'm not sure is in the "good" area at the moment). I can't help that I feel bad for the average Joe that can't transform into a big wolf.

They're really missing out.


Author's note: So… how was that? It's my first fan fiction story.

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