Author's Note:

This is a working draft. Normally I publish my stories already completed but this time I'd like to see how the reviews and feedback I get shape the story as I write it. So please let me know what you think, what you'd change, etc! Everything will be within the Twilight canon and as always, I'm grateful to Stephenie Meyer's for allowing her readers to fill out the world she created.

Hold On

Chapter 1 - Not A Nun

My heart was racing. Was I really going to do this? My legs pulled against the tangle of blankets and slipped off the couch onto the carpet. My hands were pushing me up until I was sitting on the edge of the couch breathing hard. He was going to kill me. But Kate's words were ringing in my ears, louder than my fear.

It was drizzling outside. The world covered in mist. This whole thing was surreal. It wasn't me. I shouldn't be doing this. But…abruptly, I stood up, careful to not let the blankets fall on the still cluttered coffee table. Through the big curtained front window, the streetlamp bounced shadows around the room as I moved toward the darkened hallway.

"Just breathe," I whispered to myself. "Just go down the hallway, open the door, and get into the bed."

I'd done this a million times. Why was I so nervous now? The indignation of my five-year-old self floated back to me suddenly and I smiled, relaxing a little as I crept slowly forward. Any time it would thunder storm, any time the dog would wake me up, anytime I felt like it really, I would sneak out of my house, holey pink blanket in hand, and walk the two blocks over to Quil's house. I never liked sleeping by myself when I was little. Crawling into Quil's bed was so much cozier.

Usually he would be there, but some nights his bed would be empty when I made my spontaneous entrance. On these nights, my disappointed pout would quickly turn into a wailing siren loud enough to draw one of the pack over, or to wake up Embry in the next room over if he was at home. As soon as I saw one of the pack come in, I knew Quil would be back soon, but I still kept up my irrational fit until he came in. After a year of so of that, mom, dad, and Quil, had all decided that I could come over to his house once a week, on Friday nights only, for a sleepover. It would save all of them an early heart attack.

That tradition had stuck. But now, eight years later, I was sleeping on the couch; now my dad made a face anytime it was Friday night and saw me heading over to Quil's house; and now my so-called friends were talking continually about boys and how unfair it was that they couldn't date yet.

Last Monday, Kate had apparently decided it was Pick On Claire Day because she teased me that I couldn't understand what she and my other friends were going through because I never did anything wrong, that I wasn't interested in boys or being kissed. And then everyone laughed because I didn't know what I was missing. That's when they started calling me a nun. I've been "The Nun" all week.

Anger filled me with determination. I was the opposite of a nun. I had been freaking engaged, betrothed, whatever, to Quil, since I was two-years-old. I didn't need their little flirtatious games and dramatic stories. I had a real life already. I opened the door slowly and saw Quil somewhat sprawled over his bed, lying on his stomach, his pillow pushed out from under his head, snoring the deep sleep of an overworked shape-shifting werewolf. Going over to one side of his massive King size bed, and squeezing myself into the upper corner of it, I curled around his abandoned pillow, and let my breathing settle down, watching Quil.

He was wonderful; I was so lucky to have him. Of course, I had had fantasies about when we were older, or rather, when I was older. We would walk down the beach together holding hands. We would cuddle on the couch and watch movies. He would rub my back and run his massive hands all the way down my waist length hair, like Jared always did to Kim, as we listened to stories at the bonfires.

But then my face twisted at the sour image of Kate talking about kissing boys. I didn't want to kiss Quil. I couldn't even imagine wanting to kiss him. It would be weird. And thinking about his body, that was even weirder. Sure he had lots of muscles, but all the pack boys did, as far as I could tell. They just looked that way. I couldn't understand how all the girls went on and on about how cute he and the other guys were. I don't think I had ever found a boy cute. I mean, I guess, Quil had a nice smile. But he was just Quil, my imprint.

An imprint that would probably be pretty mad when he woke up and found me in here. I smiled again as the same memory hit me. I remembered him storming around his room, wringing his hands in the air, to emphasize that it was NOT okay for me to sneak out of my house. My five-year-old self would be giggling and bouncing on the bed, not listening to a word he said, and then when he would get close enough, I would launch myself off the bed and into his arms.

I must have fallen asleep lost in memories, because the next thing I knew the bed sunk down and sprung back up as Quil flew out of it and away from me.

"Claire! What are you doing in here? Claire wake up."

The loss of warmth was disappointing. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter wanting to savor the last couple moments of a night spent sleeping with Quil.

"Claire!" He had crouched down next to the bed. I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to open mine.

Adrenaline suddenly twisted my stomach. Yeah, he wasn't happy with me.

AN: Reviews?