A/N: So here's my very first fanfic so PLEASE review and tell me what you think. I'm open to criticism and if it's helpful all the better! Hope you like the story, I'm not that great at writing but the story's being running around in my head for the last few months so I wanted to let it out. Also if you have any questions, fire away - I tend to leave out important details when I write because I already know them.

Disclaimer: I don't not own Twilight or any of the characters in Twilight. Basically I'm not Stephanie Meyers. Unfortunately.

Chapter 1

Twenty-four minutes. That's how long until the plane lands and I have to meet my dad for the first time in eight years. Which is pretty long, considering I'm almost seventeen. Meeting people isn't unusual for me, seeing as I've moved 27 times, but this was different. This time my mam isn't here. This time I'd be living with this person. This time I might spend longer than six months without moving. I swallowed back my nerves, taking several deep breaths to calm my racing heart. I was going to look bad enough already after my sixteen hour flight from Dublin, Ireland to Port Angeles, America including two changeovers in Chicago and Seattle. without stressing myself out. I nervously smoothed out my asymmetrical tribal print dress and crocheted sleeveless cardigan and checked my make-up for the third time. My long, dark brown, wildly curly hair was pointless even trying to fix. What if I looked stupid? Yeah, I was comfy and I loved the clothes I was wearing but what if he didn't? Maybe I should've worn proper shoes instead of sandals. For all I knew, Quilette's found bare feet offensive! I wanted to make a good first impression. Well I guess it's not a first impression, but I havn't seen him in so long it may as well be.

I have an unusual sense of fashion, boho chic, with elements of indie as well. Most people find it a little odd, but for me, it's perfect. I eyed myself now critically in my small make up mirror, wondering what others saw. Large, green eyes stared back at me, framed by long thick lashes. My pink, pouty mouth was uncharacteristically frowning and there was a tiny frown line between my eyebrows. My high, prominent cheekbones and light copper skin marked me out as Quilette so I guess at least Dad would recognise me. If it weren't for my green eyes, people would mistake me for a true native, at least until I opened my mouth. My heart-shaped face was surrounded by a halo of my dark curly hair that reached my waist. It was impossible to control, and just hung down to my waist in a wild, tangled mess. I guess I'm not ugly but I'm not pretty either, at least not in the conventional sense. I'm too small, barely over five foot; and too thin, my elbows, knees and hips, poking sharply through my skin. I sighed. I can't change what I look like, just like I can't change the fact that in a few minutes this plane will land and I have to walk out of the airport and greet my father.

Just then, the fasten seatbelts sign came on and an announcement came over the intercom, informing us we would be landing in 10 minutes. As this is my first time on a plane, I don't know what to expect, but I wasn't looking forward to falling out of the sky. Kind of weird that this is my first time out of the country, considering the amount of times I've moved but my mam never wanted to holiday abroad and she wasn't so keen on visiting my dad either. I didn't know what had happened between them, my mam not keen on discussing it, so all I knew was my mam went on holidays backpacking around America when she was 19 and came back pregnant with me. Dad was older than mam but I think that was part of the appeal of it, for her. Whatever happened, I'm here now.

"This is another on-time flight with American Eagle. For special offers, please head to our website." The intercom announcement jarred me to life, we had landed without me noticing. Time to get this show on the road. I stood stretching, my legs stiff from the long flight. I grabbed my bag that I had on the plane with me from the overhead cabins and slowly queued to get off the plane. My heart was racing and my palms were sweaty. "I still have to get my bags," I reminded myself and that calmed me down a little. I waited at the baggage collection point for what felt like hours before I saw my four large suitcases coming towards me. It was weird to think my whole life, and all my memories were in those bags. I grabbed a trolley and began to hoist them onto it. After several minutes of pulling, and a few muttered curses, I had them in place. I began to push it with difficulty, and immediately the top suitcase fell off. I sighed, staring at it for a few moments before bending down to try drag it onto the top again.

"Why don't you just ask for a hand?" said a deep, husky voice behind me. I turned around to see who my saviour was. Behind me was one of the tallest, strongest-looking men I've ever seen. Muscles bulged out of his tight shirt in a way that would have been threatening if not for the soft smile playing around his lips. Obviously Quilette, he ticked the boxes for being tall, dark and handsome. My face, never good at hiding my emotions, was shocked, as I took an involuntary step back. The man let out a booming laugh at my reaction.

"Sorry," I blushed, luckily hidden by my skin, "you just gave me a shock".

"I can see that," he smiled. "Let me give you a hand with your bags".

I hesitated, unwilling to allow a stranger to help me, even if he was obviously strong. His smile grew wider, and I gave in. There was no way I'd get them through the airport otherwise.

"Thanks," I said smiling gratefully up to where he stood, a foot and a half above my head.

"No problem, it's the least I could do after scaring you," he teased, giving me a quick wink, before bending down a picking my suitcase off the ground as if it weighed nothing. He picked another one off the top of the trolley with the other hand. "There, you should be able to push it now."

"Sorry, it's just your size. They don't make them like that at home," I said sheepishly. Not home anymore, I added silently in my head. "Thanks a million for the help," I paused, "What about your own stuff?"

He motioned to a small bag I hadn't noticed before that he was holding in his hand along with one of my suitcases. "Got it right here. Ready?" he asked.

I nodded and began to push the trolley towards customs and security.

"You packed fairly heavily, how long you planning on staying?" he asked, making polite conversation, as we walked.

"Well actually I'm moving here for good, so this is everything I own," I gestured towards the suitcases.

"Okay in that case, I'd say you actually packed pretty lightly," he admitted.

"Well you know baggage charges these days are ridiculous," I joked. "You didn't pack so heavily yourself," I looked pointedly at his own tiny bag.

"True, true," he laughed, giving away nothing. I handed my passport into security and they waved me through, followed seconds later by The Man Whose Name I Didn't Know.

"I'm Aoife, by the way," I said, fishing.

"Nice Irish name for a nice Irish girl," he commented. "I'm Jacob." He caught my quizzical look at his comment and explained, "Your accent gave it away."

"Suppose I never noticed I had one," I mused.

"No one ever does. What brings you to this part of America anyways?" he asked.

"I'm coming to live with my Dad," I explained, not wanting to go into detail and ruin the conversation.

"He must be from the Rez," he commented, eyeing my features.

"Yeah, so must you," I replied, with a quick grin. He laughed his booming laugh again as we walked into the arrivals lounge. I stopped and began to look around, searching for the face I could hardly remember.

"You okay now?" he asked, reminding me he was still there.

"Oh yeah, sorry, I'm grand. Just ditch them there. Thanks a million for bringing them out for me," I said, smiling my thanks.

"No problem at all, it was nice talking to you. I'm sure I'll see you around the Rez," he smiled back.

We said our goodbyes and I watched as he walked out the door, before resuming my search. A few minutes later, I saw him leaning against the wall on the far side of the room. He looked older, tireder than I remembered but I guess that's only to be expected. As I looked, he glanced up and caught my eye. I smiled at him, and he hesitantly returned it, obviously wondering if I was in fact his daughter or just a random girl smiling. I half waved and his smile widened and he began to make his way over, his eyes not leaving me.

"Hi Aoife," he said, his deep voice rumbling.

"Hi Dad".

So what do you think so far? I already mentioned reviews but here we go again - I really would appreciate it!