Author's Note and Prologue

Rachel Black was strong, popular, and loved to torture Paul. Paul was weak, asthmatic, and lived in fear of Rachel. But because Paul's parents were always working, they had been forced to grow up together. Everyday afterschool, Paul was shuffled off to the Black's house where he spent his childhood desperately trying to avoid Rachel's persecutions.

What happens when years later Rachel comes back from college and Paul imprints on her? Paul may find out that for Rachel, not much has changed. She's only back in La Push for a week before moving to Seattle permanently. Can Paul get her to stay? Or will she only ever see him as the boy she used to torture?

This fanfic sprung out of reading not just Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Saga, but also Clichesbullet's fanfiction, Bada Bing, Bada Boom! Most relevant to my story (aside from the whole world Meyer's created!) is Chapter Seven in Clichesbullet's fanfic. In it, we find out that Paul is allergic to peanuts and that Rachel enjoys doing "science experiments" on imprinted werewolves. Testing his ability to heal, she slams a shovel into his nose; and finding out how far his delusional love will take him, she kicks a rock off a cliff and tells him to go fetch. Lovely girl!

All characters belong to Stephenie Meyers and Clichesbullet, and are used innocently and without permission.

Chapter 1. Bad Haircut

Taking Rachel to dinner tonight in Port Angeles was clearly a mistake. I had thought it would be intimate, quiet, peaceful, riding so far through the woods together. But then I heard the backpack unzip, followed by a maniacal giggle. How was she not holding on? And why was she laughing?

Clip. Clip Clip. What the hell? Were those scissors? I abruptly slowed down, trying to see behind me.

"Woah, Paulie. Don't slow down like that. If I stab you, it will be practically unintentional," she quipped. "Keep going. I'm good back here."

Now do I trust Rachel? No. Would I grow an ear back if she cut it off? No. But I was pretty sure she couldn't reach that far up on my head either. So do I keep running and risk her stabbing me?

I sighed in resignation. Why the hell not. It's been like this since I imprinted, right? Except she actually has my heart in one hand and the scissors are stabbing it repeatedly. But what if she stabs herself accidently? That thought had me slowing way down.

"Calm down Pollyanna. I was just curious about something. I'm putting the scissors away."

Just curious about something? Great. This was not going to end well for me. But hearing the backpack zip closed was comforting nonetheless.

Then I heard it: the unbelievable and yet very real sound of an electric razor. Rachel acted quickly, knowing she had about a second before I recovered enough to stop her, and shaved a very neat patch of fur right off my back.

Embry and Sam were laughing hysterically, incredulous that the universe could be so clever as to punish me for life with such an imprint.

You want to play, huh Rach? Well don't mess with a werewolf. We always win. I thought at her silently. It was so much easier being brave as a wolf.

Embry saw the plan form in my head and started laughing. Five bucks says Rachel wins. Um, forever.

Thanks for the support Embry. I appreciate it.

I abruptly laid down and rolled to the side to get crazy barber woman off my back. In another second I had grabbed the shaver in my jaws and chomped it.

Rachel just beamed at me innocently, trying to hold back the peal of laughter that the rest of the pack was freely letting loose in my head for her.

I stepped forward until my face was mere inches from hers and growled. Her eyes got big and her pulse definitely picked up speed but she refused to admit she was scared and instead guffawed at me.

"Yeah right Paul. You won't hurt me."

I growled louder, baring my teeth.

Confusion briefly registered on her face before horror as she caught sight of my humongous drooling tongue lolling out of my mouth, ready to give her the nastiest face bath she'd ever had.

"Don't–"

Hmm, she tasted good. I couldn't stop myself from tickling her in the side with my nose too for good measure.

She shrieked, "Paul, oh my god, Paul. Go away. You're so gross." But she was laughing so hard she couldn't keep talking.

After drying off her face, she tried to look pissed but was fighting a smile. "You're really pleased with yourself, aren't you?"

Of course I was. I nodded.

She just leaned forward and whispered in my ear before climbing back on, "We'll see who's laughing when you phase back and have a giant bald spot on your head."

Damn her little science experiments. She was probably right and I would have a big patch of hair missing.

Just hope it's from your head dude.

You're hilarious, Sam.

"I'm a bitch Pauleek. Believe me when I say that you can't possibly love me, imprint or no."

I barked at her. She was so ridiculous. Rachel was fun. Granted that fun came at my expense most of the time but –

"I should know. I've had loads of flings. I mean more guys than any decent girl would care to admit. And it's never about love. It's just nice to have someone around at night."

I couldn't help the strangled howl. I wanted to scream at her to not talk about other guys. But of course Rachel was taking advantage of my silence to cut off more than a spot of hair on my back.

"And you know what I've found, it doesn't really matter who. As long as we didn't talk – and we usually didn't –"

Oh my god. Did she have any idea how much she was hurting me?

"–It was all the same. Guys by night. Me lost in the stacks at the library by day. I liked that life. I still do. Can't you understand why it doesn't make sense for me to stay here? Aside from the obvious lack of reading material in La Push. The things that I like here I can find anywhere. There's nothing holding me here. I mean, yeah, I'll admit I've had fun with you; how many people in La Push can even stand to be in the same room with me, much less want to hang out. And it's not everyday you get to ride or shave a wolf to dinner. But when I'm in Seattle, people don't even think there's anything odd about me. They dig my attitude. We can just talk, be silly, without this continual pressure of everyone thinking they know me, and my family. I can't stand the judgment." She paused a moment and then really quietly sighed, "or the pity."

Pity? I slowed down. No one pitied Rachel Black. I mean maybe right after her mom died, people here definitely pitied the Blacks, but if anything that just made her even more mysterious. She was adored in high school, universally popular. What did she know about social pressure? I slowed down to a walk. We were almost at the restaurant.

"I mean it's easy to hang with you. But it's nothing more than I can find wherever I go."

Suddenly, I was pissed. "I'm nothing that she can't find somewhere else?" Where did Rachel get off saying something like that to me? She noticed me. I knew the way girls reacted to me, the way she reacted to me last night. I needed to make her admit it, that I WAS different than all those other guys; that I AM more than what she can find out there.

So I phased, quickly hiding her face against my chest before she could conjure some horribly derisive expression.

She gasped and tried to back away; but amazingly enough, she was speechless.

In the silence, my confidence seemed to grow as other parts of my body did too. Whoops. I bent down slowly brushing my lips down her hair until I was breathing in her ear. "I'm not just any guy, Rach. You want me too."

She shivered and I started to feel her relax against me.

"You want me," I tried again. I knew she wouldn't stay under my spell forever. I knew she wouldn't even stay in my arms forever. My confidence was quickly souring.

As if she sensed my armor failing, Rachel broke out of her trance and started to squirm. "Oh Paulianne. Give it up. Such an impressive demonstration of manhood and yet, all I really want to do is eat dinner. Quickly. Let's have as few witnesses as possible seeing us together."

Damn, I was so close. "Say Paul," I growled quietly.

She just turned her face up toward mine to glare.

I didn't move an inch. My lips were practically brushing against hers now while I spoke. "Rach. Say, 'I want you, Paul,' and then we can go eat." I forgot which one of us was in the trance. I closed the millimeter gap between our lips, turning slightly so I was kissing the corner of her mouth, her jaw, down her neck, and onto her shoulder blades.

Rachel tried to keep still but her breathing got shallower and she couldn't help the moan that escaped with a quiet, "Paul." And then as though furious with herself, she tried yelling at me, even though her breathing was still coming in gasps. "Damn it Paul, fine." Then losing the emotion in her voice, she deadpanned my words back to me, "yes, I want you. Oh Paul. I want you. "

The sarcasm would have been effective if she hadn't gasped half way through it. My heart soared and I just smirked at her a moment before quickly kissing her mouth. "I want you too, Rach." Then I grabbed my bag of clothes she had let drop and dashed off to change.

It was going to be a great night.