Thank you all so much for the reviews! You guys are groovy bananas. (Little sisters favorite phrase) No worries, I'm still working on my other fic, Roots. Next chapter coming asap.
"Are you sleeping?" Quil's voice floated through my subconscious.
"Of course I am." I grumbled sarcastically. "Don't you think you should let me sleep, though? I mean, we've been in Seattle for the entire day and now I'm tired." I turned to him and smiled sleepily.
He laughed and rolled down my window, allowing the cool night air to blow in my face.
"You've been up for just over ten hours. I think you should stay awake for the ride home. Besides, you snore." He poked me in the side as he said this, making me squirm.
"And you've been up since when? Four this morning?" I grabbed his hand, holding it at bay from my ribs.
"Five." He admitted, focusing on the road.
I looked down at my hand, still gripping his. For a minute I was lost in a fantasy of Quil and I. Holding hands. Being something more than what we were now.
"So. I thought we talked about those shirts." His vision didn't stray from the road an iota.
"We did. Too bad I like them, isn't it."
"I just don't think you need to dress so... exposing." He furrowed his brow a little.
"Huh. I don't think its exposing at all. Maybe that cute cut-off that we saw today-"
"Don't even go there." He cut me off mid-sentence.
I grinned and slid down in my seat, quickly returning to my earlier thoughts.
"Claire? Are you feeling alright?" Quil wiggled his hand out of mine easily and pressed his burning palm to my forehead.
"As if you could feel any change in my temperature." I said, removing his hand from my head and holding it in my hand again, letting our combined hands swing between the seats of his car.
I looked down at our hands, feeling my pulse increase drastically. His hand was dark and broad, enveloping my tiny light tan colored hand. His callused thumb rested just over the scar that ran across my knuckles; proof that I had decked a kid with braces.
"Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
"What? Yeah. I'm fine." I said, whipping my head around and staring out my window. "Why do you keep asking?"
"Because you have this glazed look in your eye and your pulse is racing."
I ripped my hand away from his, blushing so hard I thought my head would swell and drop off.
"If you're sure." He said, shrugging and gripping the steering wheel with both hands now.
"I'm sure." My eyes shifted quickly to his hand, feeling an ache pass through my chest. I wished I hadn't let it go.
"Fifteen, eh?" He looked over at me and smiled my smile.
"It's no big deal." I grinned back, rolling my eyes inwardly at him. I knew exactly what he was doing.
When things go too... interesting between us- even if it is just holding hands- Quil feels the need to remind me of my age. I always argue that fifteen and twenty-ish aren't that far apart. He points out that there's a huge difference between someone who's fourteen and someone who's in their twenties.
Sometimes he can be so picky.
But he had given me the smile he only reserves for me. Not even my sister- Amy the Maneater- has been able to get it out of him. It's the crooked grin, where raises one eyebrow and his dark eyes dance.
"No big deal," He mocked. "On second thought, you should get some rest. I'll wake you up when we get to Forks."
"I'm not tired anymore." I sat up a little straighter in my seat, willing myself to stay awake.
"Sure you're not."
In the end I did fall asleep on the drive home. I can remember someone unbuckling my seat belt and warm hands pulling me gently out of the car. Being surrounded by heat before they set me on my bed and pulled fresh covers around me.
It could have been my imagination, but I can clearly recall him pressing his lips to my forehead and whispering something to me before he walked out.
The last time Quil tucked me in I was six.
"We're late!" My sister screamed from outside my bedroom, her fist hammering on the door.
By the way she had been going at it I think she was quite intent on breaking it down.
"Would you cut that out?" I opened the door so quickly she almost fell into my room. "I only have one door."
"If you would get out here on time I wouldn't have to resort to such barbaric techniques." She crossed her arms, looking me over with a cynical eye.
"What?" I asked, immediately regretting it.
"Speaking of barbarians." She coughed gingerly into her manicured hand and took in my outfit again. "You are in high school now. Don't you think you could take it a step up?"
I looked at my sister. She was only three years older than I was, and thought that because she was seventeen she had all authority. Perfection leaked from her pores.
Amy was just over 5'6 and slender. Her hair was light brown, professionally highlighted with streaks of blond and hanging down to her back in large, soft curls, framing her heart shaped face. She had perfectly round, warm brown eyes, lined with lashings of black mascara and talcum powder. A slightly curved, pert nose and naturally full lips that had been induced with at least a tube of lip gloss. With her matching purple sweater set and khaki miniskirt, my sister was a schoolgirl fantasy.
Standing next to her at a whopping 5'4 I felt awkward and defective. While she was soft and curvy I was skinny and without the hope of anything more than a B-cup. My hair was dirty brown and poker straight. Curling irons would never cooperate with my hair; not that I ever bothered.
Other than the radical body differences, our faces were slightly similar. Our eyes and noses were identical, but hers made all the more gratifying by then routine make-up she wore everyday.
My mouth was bigger, too. And secretly I loved the fact that I never had to compare myself to a goldfish like I did with my sister.
"Claire," She tilted her head gently to one side and smiled pitifully at me. "Someday someone could very easily fall for your charming little nose or your chest. You have cute little breasts when you don't insist on swathing them in such dark materials."
I wrinkled by nose and tugged on my zip-up sweatshirt. Nothing to make you feel self-conscious like an older sister.
"Maybe some Friday I could skip movie night and drive you down to Port. We could get you some new clothes and a dye all those dark bits right out of your hair. You could look really superlative."
Not only is she drop-dead gorgeous, shes on the honor role. Not that I couldn't be if I tried, but I just never cared enough about school.
"I don't think that's necessary. I'm waiting for that guy who isn't totally centered on my nose or any other nice body parts I might have. I want one who's gonna take the whole package."
Amy looked less than convinced, but I quickly reminded her of the time and her rule on getting to class ten minutes before it starts. Thankfully, this got her moving and I was halfway out the door before I heard her.
"Good luck with that."
No worries, fellow Quil/Claire lovers. They will get into many, many more potentially awkward discussions/situations in the following chapters. Suggestions? Bring it on. :)
