Twilight is not mine. Tragic, I know.

Chapter three is still being thought up.

Drastic change of subject, what do people think of the new Harry Potter film, I think it was brilliant.

Reviews=Updates: Updates=Reviews?

Enjoy.

She looks so cute when she's watching movies.

"See, now that right there is never gonna happen," Quil proclaims, pointing at the television with a handful of popcorn.

"Suck it up Q," I reply, my mouth full of the popcorn Quil just handed to me.

"Seriously, the dude's gay!"

I roll my eyes, smacking him on the arm. "If you don't want to watch, go away."

He grins, "I'm having too much fun annoying you Claire-Bear," he coos.

"Just shut up," I snap, in no mood for being mocked. I'm not feeling my very best at this particular moment, and Quil would not stop pointing out all the flaws in my favourite romance movie. Last night's date was not all that successful.

Trevor was very good looking. He had the typical blonde hair and blue eyes combo, and a school boy charm that most of the girls in my school found irresistible. When he'd asked me on the date everyone nearby practically answered for me. I didn't have a chance to explain that I had my sights set on another, much hotter boy.

Trevor had put on some disgusting cologne that smelt of fish, and his old, rusty car stunk of crisps. He was obviously intimidated by Quil, and had decided it was appropriate to drill me on exactly why he was at my house. I was used to guys being curious about Q, but it really bugged me when Trevor asked.

"We're like best friends," I replied, holding my breath for fear of passing out from the overwhelming smell.

He sniggered. "What a loser," he'd scoffed.

"Why?" I asked defensively.

"Hanging out with someone half his age. Bit of a saddo isn't he?"

"No, he's really cool actually," I retorted, my voice harsh. "He has the nicest cologne." That shut him up.

Conversation after that was awkward and stilted, and when we finally reached the cinema, he decided we'd go see some film about zombies, without even asking me. I didn't even know what film we were going to see until we arrived in the actual screen room. The movie was dreadful. It involved a lot of screaming and blood and gore. He tried the move on me, you know, yawning and stretching the arm until it's wrapped around the poor girl next to you. His armpits stunk of fish too.

"Awesome, wasn't it?" He asked once we were standing outside the cinema.

I nodded, trying to seem enthusiastic. "Yeah, but I don't really get why that girl suddenly grew fangs."

He stared at me for a second, before launching into a monologue about how the girl had been bitten when she was sleeping, but hadn't realized it, and the forces of evil had invaded her mind, so really she'd led the people into a big trap subconsciously.

"Oh. Thanks," I'd said, before focussing on finding the car. "Where to now?"

He'd grinned at me. "I was thinking Mcdonald's, I'm a bit skint right now. You don't mind right?"

"No, that sounds cool." Romantic.

"But I got something to make everything more fun," he declared proudly, before reaching back and hauling a six pack of beers from the back seat, with my help.

Now I'm all for some beer, but I found it just a little creepy that the dude had a six cans in the back of the car. But the way I saw it, beer was the only thing that was going to make the date better, so I got started on the first can.

The rest of the evening became a little blurry from then on. I can very vaguely remember Trevor trying to kiss me when I got out of the car, but I made a run for it to my door, giggling hysterically and fiddling with my keys until Q let me in. I couldn't remember the conversation we'd had, but Q had filled me in at breakfast this morning. I personally feel he's exaggerating.

"Quil!" I'd exclaimed, throwing my arms around him. "You know what I think," I slurred, pulling away and treading clumsily through the doorway, "I think you don't smell at all of fish."

"Right..."

"And, I also think that when you wore your shirt earlier you ruined my day." At this point I'd pouted, apparently.

"Just how much have you had to drink?"

"Why?" I'd asked, wiggling my eyebrows, "Wondering if I'm drunk enough that I won't remember anything tomorrow morning?"

"No, wondering how stupid you must have been to drink so much alcohol. At least, I hope it's alcohol," he said sternly.

I waved the suggestion off with my hand. "Of course it is, I had a few beers is all. And anyway, stupid girls are sexy girls, don't you think?"

"I think it's time you got to bed," he'd said, trying to hide a laugh.

"Quil!" I'd gasped. "What would my parents think? You need to control yourself mister!"

He'd lifted me up, saying, "This is why I don't like you going on dates Claire."

"I think you're jealous," I'd whispered, very loudly.

"Really? And why is that?"

"Because you know all the arguments we have?" He nodded bemusedly. How he managed that I do not know. "Well, my friend, these arguments result in one thing. Sexual tension."

By this time we were in my bedroom and Q had plonked me down on the bed, tucking me under the covers.

"Night Claire-Bear," he'd called.

"Night Q," I'd mumbled into the pillow, already on my way to sleep. "Do me a favour and don't wear a shirt tomorrow, OK?"

He'd laughed and headed out of the room.

I had remained fully dressed and fast asleep until this morning, when I was awoken by Quil, sitting on the bed and whistling some dumb ass tune just to annoy me.

"Quil," I had growled menacingly.

"Yup?" His voice was sickly sweet, and far too innocent.

"Are you aiming to have a pillow thrown at you?"

"Oh no, a pillow! Gosh, now I must leave!" He'd cried, before continuing with his damn whistling.

I rolled over to shove him off the bed, but immediately regretted my decision, forced to slam my eyes back shut after the light streaming through the window hit my face. "Owhahowwwww," I'd groaned, raising my hand to press against my forehead. "Q, please go away. I feel like absolute crap, and I can't remember half of what happened last night, so please , can you just leave me in peace?" My voice was croaky and my throat felt unbelievably painful.

He'd sighed, before lying down next to me on the bed. "Claire-Bear, I know from experience that the best thing to do when you're hung-over is to get up, have a paracetamol, have a big glass of water and a coffee, and try to avoid thinking about the headache. I don't like you being in pain any more than you do."

I forced myself to open my eyes, knowing he was right, and shuffled over to the side of the bed opposite from where he was lying, trying to manoeuvre myself so I could get out. Eventually I managed to end up upright, and I very, very slowly began to exit the room. "I'm gonna go make some breakfast," Q had called to me in the bathroom whilst I tried to remove some of last night's make up. Never again, I had vowed to myself, would I let some sleazy guy give me alcohol.

I tried very hard to function properly with a hangover from hell. I'd changed into some tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt with Uggs, before trying my best to glide down the stairs with no sudden movements so as not to upset my almighty headache. Upon making myself some coffee, I had learned of my endeavours last night from Q, who told me of my drunken foolishness with great satisfaction.

I gave him the finger when he dissolved into hearty laughter, grabbing my bowl of cereal and my mug of coffee, and stalking into the living room to watch a movie, where Q had joined me, and now here we are, watching rom-coms like there's not tomorrow.

"We should probably try to get your hangover cleared up before Whit comes back," Q suggests.

My sister, Whitney, is staying at a friend's all weekend, probably out partying or something. She's university in Seattle and comes to visit sometimes, but the folks had already booked their weekend so she said she'd catch up with some old friends. We've always been party goers, and promised we'd hit the clubs in Seattle this weekend, but she's obviously forgotten. It's a shame, really, we were always quite close. She loves Q, but he "isn't her type" apparently. Thank the Lord, I don't think I could stand any competition from her. We're the same, except for hair colour, same piercing blue eyes, but I'm honey brunette, whereas she's striking blonde. She's one of those typical cheerleader types that every guy falls for. Not Q though. Q's mine.

I'm not in love with Q, or anything, but I just have this claim on him, and get all protective of him. It's not like I haven't thought about him in that way, but it's always seemed really awkward. I guess I'd better keep things as they are.

"I'm fine. And anyway, she won't be back 'till tomorrow. She texted me earlier."

"Fine. We should try and get your hangover cleared up anyway."

"You think?" I reply sarcastically. "Way to state the obvious Q."

"Sheesh Claire-Bear. No need to get all stressy."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Maybe I wouldn't be so 'stressy' as you so kindly put it, if I didn't have you sitting next to me."

I hate being horrible to Quil, but sometimes I just can't help it. It's like the words just come out before I have a chance to stop them. I guess I take him for granted really, he's always been there for me whenever I need him, and I don't know why, or how I'm supposed to repay him. It's not like he has any womanly issues that I know of.

"Hey, Q, do you have a girlfriend?" I ask, not turning from the screen.

He peers at me inquisitively. "No, why?"

"Just wondering. Why not? I mean, you're a good looking type guy and, you know, you're quite nice and not annoying when you want to be. I don't see why you don't have a wife and kids by now."

"Good looking, am I?" He asks teasingly.

"You didn't answer the question," I snap.

"Neither did you."

I roll my eyes, wondering how he can be so infuriating. "You're alright looking, I think some people would say." I turn to look at him expectantly. "Your turn."

"And are you some people?"

"Just answer the question!"

"I've forgotten it now."

"Oh for freak's sake! Bugger, neither can I. Cheers Q. I answer your question but you won't answer mine. Real fair."

"You can't even remember the question!"

"And whose fault is that?"

He sighs and turns back to the movie, signalling the end of our conversation. My phone bleeps, indicating a text message from Trevor.

Hey babe, had a gr8 time last night. Should do it agen sum time. Trev xxx

Ew. I hate text talk, it bugs me beyond belief, and I make no secret of it at school. I hate incorrect spelling. I hate that he called me 'babe', when we've only been on one date. I'm just deleting the message when Q leans over to see what I'm looking at. He sniggers and I elbow him away.

"So, Claire-Bear," Quil says. "I'm being serious, did that guy try anything on with you?"

He's looking at me expectantly. "No."

He raises his eyebrows. Oh for heaven's sake, why is it I can lie to everyone but him? He sees right through me. It's kind of disconcerting. "Fine. He tried to kiss me right before I got out of the car. But I ran away. That's why I was laughing so much when you opened the door."

"Right," he chortled. "Ran away? Don't you think that was a little harsh?"

"The guy was a sleaze."

"Can't argue with that."

"Wow, there's something I never thought I'd hear you say."

"Well, there's a first for everything," he replied thoughtfully. "You don't ever hate me, do you?"

"What?" What's Q on about now?

"Well, I mean, when we're arguing. You don't hate me?" He looks concerned.

"No!" I cry, perhaps too quickly. He relaxes, obviously relieved. "Blimey, where did that come from?"

"Dunno," Q mumbles, turning to look back at the television. "Just wondering's all."

I can tell our conversation is over. Q and I never really watch movies properly, we always end up arguing over some cheesy line, on whether it's adorable or gay. Q totally ruins the moments half the time, always laughing or digging me in the ribs with his elbow. It's familiar though, sitting here with him, watching his repulsed expression as he watches the screen. Freak, he's gorgeous. Shaggy, chocolate brown hair that's just the right length and gains blonde highlights whenever it's sunny, rare in La Push, and big chocolaty eyes that I could spend all day staring at. I don't though, Q would tease me to no end.

"Oh for freak's sake, kiss her already!" I yell at the screen.

Q frowns and turns to me. "I think he's just waiting 'till the moment's right, you know?"

I raise my eyebrows. "And you think that guy's gay..."

"No, I just mean that you shouldn't get mad at him for not kissing her yet. Us guys, we have stuff to deal with."

"What's the point in waiting? Seriously, he's gonna kiss her eventually, so why not get on with it?"

"Yeah, I guess," he mumbles, standing up. "More popcorn?"

If only she knew.