It had been four days and Rachel still hadn't accepted his Facebook friend request. He was getting pretty tired of just staring at her profile picture. He needed new material to memorize. Paul wondered why she wouldn't accept his request. He considered that maybe she just didn't go online very often. Or maybe she didn't like him very much. Oh god, if she didn't like him, Paul didn't know what he would do. She had to like him, right? Wasn't that part of the imprint code, or something?

He decided to creep through her friends on Facebook. Maybe he would find something. He was still really curious about that guy in her recent photos. According to the tags, Dylan Quinn was his name. He was about a head taller than Rachel was, assuming they were standing on level ground. He had a bit of a tan to his skin and dark brown hair. His face had a childish roundness making it difficult to place his age. To Paul's horror, there were several more guys in the following pictures. He suddenly felt betrayed by Rachel.

Paul was aware that he was being unreasonable. She was allowed to have male friends. Even if those guys were her past boyfriends, that was in the past. He surely had a past of his own with random girls from school. From high school. Paul had only ever been with girls around his age. He'd never been with an older college graduate. Rachel had probably been with college guys. Guys that were intelligent and sophisticated. Guys that were going to make a good living and live a comfortable life. Thinking about his past and Rachel's probable past made him feel sick to his stomach. He couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't good enough for her. She'd never want him after knowing what college boys could offer her.

As sad and pathetic as Paul thought he was, he couldn't get Rachel off his mind. He wanted to see her so he threw on a pair of shorts he found lying around and a t-shirt from his drawer. It was early in the morning; almost 7am. He knew that was far too early to go knocking on doors, but he was going insane without having seen Rachel in four days.

Listening carefully, Paul could tell one body was awake in the house. He hoped it was Rachel, but somehow he already knew it was Billy. He knocked anyway. Ten seconds later Paul heard the rolling of wheels get louder as Billy approached. The door opened to reveal Billy, whose polite smile faltered for a moment before recovering. Paul got the feeling that Billy wasn't too enthusiastic about his visit. Paul could understand why, though. He and Jake never really got along. Jake probably whined to his dad about Paul all the time. Plus, Paul was quite certain that Billy knew about the imprint already.

Paul suddenly felt awkward. He felt like he should have come talk to Billy about the imprint, rather than have Billy find out through the town gossip. Maybe that would have been the responsible thing to do. Maybe that would have helped make a good impression on Billy. But then again, this was the twenty first century after all. Paul shouldn't need to ask permission from a girl's father to see her, especially when she was a grown woman. So really, he was respecting Rachel's independence as a woman by not speaking to Billy, right? And that was a good thing, right?

Paul cleared his throat. "Good morning, Sir." Paul had never called him Sir before. Paul wondered if that too much now. He didn't want to sound like a suck-up.

Billy nodded. "Paul," he greeted. There was silence between them as they simply regarded each other. Paul was hoping Billy would invite him in, or willingly offer him some information about Rachel. He didn't. Paul was going to have to initiate the conversation himself. "How are you, Sir?"

"Oh, I'm just fine," said Billy, politely, but not polite enough to reciprocate the question.

"Good to hear. I was just wondering how Rachel was doing," said Paul.

"Well she's sleeping right now. It is only 7am."

"Right, right," said Paul. He was getting the feeling that he was unwelcome around here. "Is there a message you'd like to leave for her, son?" asked Billy. Billy had just called him son! Paul was almost certain that Billy called him son on reflex. He and the other elders call all the boys son. Even so, Paul suddenly felt hopeful. One day he would be Billy's son-in-law and Billy would call him son all the time.

Paul smiled. "Not really, I was just hoping to see how she was holding up." Paul thought that sounded thoughtful.

"I see," said Billy. "And you two are going to go to Seattle and Vancouver, is that right? To put up posters for her missing brother. That's very kind of you, Paul." Billy had a special gift of being able to say positive words while leaving you with a negative feeling. Billy was insinuating that Paul was taking advantage of her.

"It's not like that, Sir. I just want to ease her worry. I'll do whatever I can without…" Paul was trying to choose his words carefully, "compromising her safety or wellbeing. No need to worry her with… any unnecessary or supplementary information." Paul wanted to give himself a pat on the back for stringing those words together in an uncharacteristically eloquent way.

Billy nodded, looking unconvinced still. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Paul?" Billy was politely kicking him out. "That's it, Sir." Paul hadn't had very much practice talking to girls' fathers in the past. The girls he saw never brought him home to meet her parents, and that was just fine with Paul because he didn't care to meet them. Now he was almost regretting not meeting those girls' parents. If he did, then he'd have valuable experience and he'd know what to say to Billy now. He'd know how to charm Rachel's father.

Paul came back around noon and was pleased to find Rachel alone in the house. Billy must have gone over to Sue Clearwater's house for lunch. He knocked on the wooden door and waited for her light footsteps to approach. He was surprised not to hear the sound of the lock unclicking. He would have to have a word with her about leaving the door unlocked. As safe at the res was, he didn't want her leaving the door unlocked. "Paul!" said Rachel. It was a relief to Paul to see that she was much more pleased to see him than Billy was.

"Hey, Rach," Paul smiled. "How's it going?" She opened the door a little farther. Paul's smile disappeared as he noticed she looked thinner, paler, and more tired than when he saw her four days ago. "Are you feeling alright?" Something was wrong. He thought she might be sick. He was angry with Billy for not telling him about Rachel's state. Paul didn't wait for Rachel to answer his question. He placed the back of his hand on her forehead. She didn't feel any warmer than usual. "Paul, I'm fine, but I think you're the one that's not." Oh no. He had over stepped the boundaries. She didn't appreciate him coming into her personal space like that.

He was about to apologize when her voice spoke again. "You're burning!" she exclaimed. That was a huge relief to Paul. She was concerned for him, not scolding him!

"No, I'm fine. I'm always this warm."

Rachel didn't look like she believed him. "That's what all the boys are saying. Are you sure you all haven't caught something?"

"Positive, Rachel," said Paul, eager to get back to talking about her health instead of his.

"Well, I checked Embry's lymph nodes the other day, against his will," said Rachel. Paul only knew of three places where lymph nodes were found: underarms, neck, and groin. The thought of Rachel checking one area in particular made him want to vomit and also strangle Embry. "His neck felt a little swollen. He might have mono. Maybe you've caught something from him recently," suggested Rachel.

Paul's urge to vomit disappeared when Rachel confirmed that she only checked his neck. Then Paul realized what that meant. Why was that ass always so lucky? He wished Rachel would touch his neck instead of Embry's. He took calming deep breaths, as subtly as he could, to control his bubbling rage. It wasn't subtle enough. "Paul?" asked Rachel timidly. "Are you alright?" Paul closed his eyes for a moment. He imagined what her hands on his neck would feel like: soft and soothing on his skin. Then he wanted to imagine what her hands would feel like against his neck if they were kissing. That brought a new thought to mind: what would her lips feel like against his neck? Paul decided to keep his thoughts of a tight leash. Letting them run wild would only torment himself more.

"Yeah," he answered. "But you're not, Rachel. Have you gotten any sleep lately?" Billy said she was asleep when he came over, but she looked so tired she couldn't have gotten much sleep in the past few days.

"Yeah, I've been sleeping," said Rachel almost defensively. Paul took that as a sign that she was lying.

"Right." Paul agreed sarcastically. "And let me guess, you've also been eating too?"

"Yes," said Rachel, through clenched teeth. Paul didn't mean to make her angry, but she couldn't just deprive herself of food and sleep. He wasn't going to allow it.

Paul raised his hands in surrender. "Okay," said Paul, though not fully convinced. He didn't want to make her any angrier so he figured he would change the subject. "So, Seattle and Vancouver?" Rachel's scowl disappeared and was replaced with a hopeful smile.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "When?"

I'd go anywhere, anytime for you. Instead he said, "Whenever you're ready to go."

"Let's figure out when everyone else is free to go," suggested Rachel.

Paul was planning this to be a two person trip. No need for the guys to give him a hard time throughout the whole trip. "Well, a lot of the guys are busy these days. And we really do want to get going as soon as possible, right? The sooner we get those posters up the sooner Jake might come home." Paul was using her anxiety to his advantage which he knew was wrong, but he couldn't stop himself.

"You're right. So tomorrow then?" asked Rachel.

"Sure. It's a long drive to Seattle so we should hit the road early in the morning. I'll come by around five, we'll get to Seattle by ten, then put up posters for a few hours. We'll hit the road again and hopefully get to Vancouver before the day ends, get a motel or something, put up posters in the morning and then we can head home."

"Okay. That sounds like a good plan," she told him. That sounded like the end of a conversation. Paul wanted to prolong it, but couldn't think of what to say. It was getting awkward now. Four silent seconds had passed.

"Uh, why don't I give you my number? Just in case, or something." Rachel nodded in agreement. She took her phone out and slid it open to reveal a bright blue keyboard. Her thumbs worked quickly to input his information. She handed it to Paul so he could fill in his number. His fingertips felt the edges of stickers on the back of her phone. He flipped it over to reveal several worn stickers on the back.

When he was done he slid her phone closed and pressed the camera button on the side. Very quickly, before Rachel could protest, he took her arm and spun her around. He rested his head atop of hers while his free arm was wrapped around her waist to keep her in place. His body burned wherever her body met his. It was an odd sensation as he hadn't felt warmth since his pre-werewolf days. What was even odder was that her body was much cooler than his and yet it still elicited a potent burning sensation. He wondered if she felt it, too.

He held the phone out in front of them. "Say cheese," he told her. The camera snapped with a mechanical shutter sound. "Aw, that's a keeper!" Paul said after taking a look. He looked genuinely happy in the photo. Rachel, on the other hand, had a stunned look on her face. Her eyes were big and wide, while her lips were slightly parted. Paul thought she looked very cute. "No way. That's not staying. Delete it right now." Paul ignored her request. He set it as his caller I.D. profile.

"Let me see it," demanded Rachel.

"Just a second." Rachel reached for her phone, only Paul was much taller. He raised her phone just out of her reach, much to her chagrin. He sent a text from her phone to his so he could save her number. When he felt a buzz in his pocket he said, "Here," and handed it back. "Don't change it. I like it." Rachel made a sour face when she saw herself. "It's cute," offered Paul. "You can take a photo on my phone and we'll be even, okay?"

Without a word, Rachel stretched out her upturned hand. Paul grinned and placed his phone into her palm. "Well?" asked Rachel, with mock impatience. "Get over here," she motioned for him to join her in the camera frame. Paul shook his head.

"I changed my mind. I want a photo of just you," said Paul. Paul saw the blush creep onto her pale skin. She suddenly got shy and lowered the phone. Paul still wanted a photo, so he took it out of her hand and said, "Here, I'll take it for you." Paul could tell she didn't like being the centre of attention, but he took the photo anyway. Paul though she looked very pretty with her dark hair framing her face and her pink lips slightly upturned at the corners in a shy smile. Even with the camera's poor, 1.6 megapixel resolution, her eyes still had a captivating sparkle. "Beautiful," he muttered. He set it as her caller I.D. photo. Later he would set it to his background screen, too.

Rachel was blushing even harder now. Her cheeks were bright red. He imagined they probably felt warm, too. He briefly wondered if her ears were red as well.

"I'll see you early tomorrow morning," said Paul, finally satisfied with getting her number and a photo. After feeling her body against his once, he was craving her touch again. He pulled her in for a hug, making sure to commit the smell of her neck and her hair to memory. She smelled like vanilla. It wasn't a manmade chemical vanilla scent either. It was a light and fresh scent that only enhanced her natural scent even more. It was intoxicating. Everything about her seemed to stimulate Paul's heightened senses even more. The sight of her beautiful face seemed to have a bright golden glow cast over her that made her so salient in his eyes. It was hard for him to not look at her. The sound of her voice was melodic and soothing like no other lullaby. He could pick out her voice from a mile away. The touch of her skin left a trail of fire and desire. The smell of her skin made his head spin. The only sense that hadn't been sent into overdrive yet was his sense of taste. He desperately wondered what she would taste like. He imagined she would be sweeter than ambrosia and be more addictive than any drug.

Paul spent the afternoon patrolling and came back to the Black's house in the evening. He wished he didn't have to patrol that afternoon. He wanted to text her since he just got her number. It was a little hard to press the tiny buttons with paws for hands, so he didn't get a chance to message her and see what she was up to. Now he would see what she was doing. Luckily it was dark enough that he didn't need to hide in the concealment of the forest trees. He padded up to the house but stayed in the shadows. Peeking through the slit of the curtains, he saw Rachel's figure pass back and forth a few times. From her quick appearances, he gathered that she was wearing pajamas and her hair was tied up. Paul hoped that she was going to sleep. He didn't like seeing her look so fatigued. Paul through he ought to get some sleep, too, but he was far too focused on Rachel. He could only rest knowing that she was sleeping, too.

Sadly, neither of them ended up sleeping that night. Paul watch Rachel the entire night, through the tiny slit between the curtains. She was constantly up and about. Several times she left her room and returned with a hot cup of coffee. He immediately wonder how she liked her coffee. She probably liked lots of sugar and cream, judging by her like for sweet fruits. He wondered what brand she was drinking and if she had a preference. He would have to find out exactly how she liked it prepared because he hoped that one day he would be waking up with her every morning and making her coffee. With his fantasies of the future aside, he wondered why she was drinking so much coffee when she hadn't slept in a while. He wondered why she was purposely trying to prevent herself from sleeping.

Eventually Paul noticed that she stayed put for a while. She stopped passing by the slit in the curtains so Paul had to infer what was going on. She hadn't moved in a while, but her breathing was too quick for her to be asleep. She could have been sitting at her table or lying in bed. Maybe she was reading. Or listening to music. Oh, what Paul wouldn't give to know what she was doing. He went home to shower and get a few items that he would need over the next two days. He'd been out as a wolf for most of the day, and there was no need for him to smell like mud beside Rachel. A shower was a good choice. He drove his old car over to the Black's house. He didn't want to phase after just showering.

It was early in the morning when Paul appeared at the Black's front door. Five in the morning as promised, Rachel opened the door before Paul could even knock. Her hair looked damp indicating that she must have taken a showed after he left. That brought naughty thoughts to Paul's mind. He focused on the smell of vanilla coming from her hair instead of letting his thoughts run wild. "Did you sleep well?" Paul asked her. He wasn't sure why he asked. He already knew the answer.

"Yeah. You?" Liar.

"Same here." Another lie, except Paul didn't need as much sleep as a regular human. He could go for a few days without sleep if he really needed to. Most of the time he chose not to use his super-werewolf-need-less-sleep powers and slept a solid ten hours a day.

"Ready?" she asked him. He nodded.

"Do you want to take my car or your car?" asked Paul.

"Mine," she said as she went to throw her bags in the back seat. "You want to drive?"

He was glad she was going to let him drive. "Sure," answered Paul. He easily caught the keys that she tossed to him. He looked down at the heavy set of keys and suppressed a chuckle. On her keyring was a plastic wolf howling at the moon. It was from Great Wolf Lodge. It was fairly worn out, so Paul concluded that she must have gone with her family years ago. Paul wondered whether Jacob had a keyring similar to hers as well. That would be ironic.

Paul opened the driver's door at the same time as Rachel opened the passenger's door. He wished he had gone over to open the door for her but it was too late now. Rachel had already slid into the passenger's seat and had begun to buckle up when she noticed Paul was still outside of the car. He was looking at the seat, as if contemplating it. "What?" asked Rachel.

"This seat is like three inches from the wheel. I'm feeling claustrophobic just looking at it. How in the world do you sit in here?" Paul began adjusting the seat. He set the seat as far back as it would go and lowered it to the bottom.

"Not all of us are freakishly tall. Those of us that are average height fit just fine," she said, lightheartedly. He liked it when she teased him.

Paul was in his seat now. "Oh yeah? So how do you fit, then? You're not average height, Rach," he teased. "You're barely the size of a doll. How do you reach the pedal?"

"You're just jealous that I can fit into small spaces and children's clothing."

Paul had the key in the ignition. "Really now? And just why would I want to fit in children's clothing?" He turned the key and felt the car rumble to life.

"Hey, I save a lot of money. Children's clothing is much cheaper and more durable, too."

He couldn't help but ask her, "Are you wearing children's clothes right now?" She looked down at what she was wearing. Paul's eyes followed suit. She was wearing dark blue jeans which Paul thought fit her legs very well. She was wearing a button up shirt but left it open so that that her blue shirt could peek out underneath. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. It was a very tomboyish look that suited her well, he decided.

"Maybe," said Rachel, her voice going a little higher. Paul learned that her maybe was a definitely in Rachel language. He didn't care. He rather liked what she was wearing. It was plain and simple but very attractive, in Paul's opinion.

Paul only grinned in response. He searched around the control board for the radio button. He found what he was looking for and music filled the car, only Paul didn't recognize the song. It had an old retro sound to it. He took a closer look at the station. He hadn't heard of that station before either. He flipped through all the stations on her radio. None were recognizable. "Do you listen to any music from this century?" Immediately after he said that he wished he could take it back. He hoped she wouldn't take offense to his question. He realized now all he had done this morning in the past five minutes was razz on her and her car.

"Does 80s-inspired music produced in this century count?"

Paul laughed. "No, it doesn't. Should I even bother to look through your CDs?"

"Erm, no…" she said in an embarrassed tone. Paul thought it was cute how she got embarrassed.

"Did you eat breakfast yet?" asked Paul.

"Uh, yeah," she answered. Paul assumed that was another lie but he didn't argue.

"You mind if I stop by a drive thru to get something?" he asked her.

"Sure," she nodded. Paul planned to make her eat, whether she wanted to or not. She couldn't starve herself. He would be the worst imprinter if he let her.

They pulled up into a McDonald's drive thru. Paul ordered a large coffee for himself and a medium coffee for Rachel, against her protest. He looked at the menu and felt in the mood for an Egg McMuffin, some waffles, and an apple pie. He ordered a fruit salad for Rachel, knowing that she would like fruit.

"You sure this is just breakfast?" asked Rachel.

"Hey, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Gotta eat a big breakfast," he told her. "Here," he handed her the fruit bowl.

"I'm not hungry," refused Rachel.

"Fine, but you'd better eat it at some point today." Paul was getting really worried about her. Did she have an eating disorder? He remembered that she was eating at the bonfire the other day. Paul wanted to know what was going on with her now. Maybe he would ask her about it very carefully later.

Paul pulled out of the drive thru and back onto the road with one hand on the wheel and one hand holding his breakfast. He got into the far left lane, preparing to make a left hand turn. He flipped the turn signal on and heard the ticking of the signal.

"You can't eat and drive!" exclaimed Rachel. "That's dangerous!"

"What? I do it all the time," he mumbled through his mouthful of muffin. The light turned green and Paul made his one-handed left turn. From the corner of his eye, he could see Rachel holding onto the handle provided on the roof. She looked terrified. He swung into the far right lane this time and headed onto the high way. Paul followed the winding ramp and merged into the light morning traffic. Paul wasn't sure what the big deal was. He'd seen people drive and apply make up at the same time. He'd even seen a man reading a novel on the highway before. Besides, he was a skillful werewolf with excellent spatial and coordination abilities. Even ordinary people could handle driving and eating at the same time.

Rachel gulped audibly. It probably wasn't audible to the regular human, but Paul's sensitive ears picked up on it. Paul suddenly felt terrible, remembering that she had been in a car accident long ago. She, Rebecca and Jake were fine, but her dad ended up in a wheelchair and her mom didn't make it. He couldn't blame her for being extra cautious now. He couldn't imagine what it was like for her to be in such a traumatic experience and what it must have been like to grow up without a mother. Paul put down his breakfast so he could grip the wheel with two hands. He slowed down the car to match the legal speed limit, hoping it would ease her worry. When that didn't completely satisfy her, he slowed down to ten below the limit. He knew that he would get honked during the entire trip, but if it made Rachel feel better then he'd travel at a snail pace for her.

He turned to see that Rachel looked considerably less worried. He wanted to tell Rachel that she never needed to worry when she was with him; that he would take always care of her. He wanted to her to know that he would protect her from everything; that she could trust him with anything. Instead, he remained silent.

Every now and then his eyes would wander to Rachel's body. She was always looking out the window with a thoughtful expression. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking about, but he got the feeling that she didn't want to talk.

Paul was surprised to see Rachel move from her position looking out the window. He was pleasantly hopeful when she picked up his waffle. Maybe she was finally going to eat now. Instead she held the waffle up to his mouth. "Here," she offered. She was feeding him. Though that was not what Paul had anticipated, he gladly accepted and took a bite. Paul was pretty hungry, but then again he was always hungry. He was torn between wolfing down his breakfast to satisfy his hunger, and conserving his food so Rachel could continue to feed him. Against his stomach's request, he decided to take small bites. When there was one bite left of the waffle, he deliberately let his lips graze her fingers. He wanted so badly to let his tongue slide against her fingers but he restrained himself from doing so.

"Hit me again," said Paul.

"Waffle or muffin?"

"Waffle me," he decided. Again, he took small bites and let his lips touch her skin whenever he could. Paul couldn't wait until he was allowed to touch her and kiss her. He couldn't continue to steal casual touches like this for much longer. It was driving him insane. He also wanted her to touch him, too. He'd noticed that she never made an effort to make contact with him. He wanted their relationship to progress past friends… or whatever they were. Paul wasn't even sure if they were friends exactly. He didn't know how she felt about him.

She didn't treat him like Quil or Embry. But she didn't treat him like a boyfriend. He decided he would ask her out. Tomorrow. The PNE, Pacific National Exhibition, was open in Vancouver right now. A fair would be a good first date.

The rest of the car ride was mostly filled with the sound of the radio and occasionally a light conversation. They reached Seattle by ten-thirty. They could have been there sooner but Paul chose to drive slowly for Rachel's sake. Paul was shocked that Rachel hadn't slept at all during the five hour drive. There was no way that she couldn't be exhausted by now. According to Paul's calculations, she hadn't slept in over twenty four hours.

Rachel and Paul spent six hours taping posters and handing out fliers. It was such tiring work that Paul was almost regretting the whole trip. The only thing that kept him going was Rachel and wanting to make her happy. They swung by a diner and got a quick meal. He was relieved to see Rachel eat the fruit bowl from earlier and a small dinner. Although she ate slowly and took small bites, Paul was pleased that she managed to finish her dinner.

By five in the afternoon, they were on the road once again. "Do you want me to drive now?" Rachel asked. "You must be really tired." In truth, Paul was feeling a little tired but he didn't want to make Rachel drive if she didn't have to. "Nah, I'm good. But you should get some sleep in the car," he suggested.

She was hesitant about sleeping in the car. She shuffled around to get comfy and tried several positions. Paul figured she was stalling and didn't want to sleep in the car. She probably felt vulnerable taking a nap and letting her guard down in a car. There would be nothing she could do in an emergency if she was asleep. She wouldn't be able to see it coming if she were asleep. Paul had never been much of a perceptive guy, but he felt like he was starting to understand Rachel Black. It was likely the imprint magic showing him what he needed to see. "I promise nothing is going to go wrong," he assured her. He left his assurance to be vague so she could interpret however she wanted. There was a mutual understanding between them. Although they never directly spoke about it, Rachel seemed to be aware that Paul knew about her anxiety with cars.

He wondered why she even had a car if she didn't like to drive. He wondered how she managed to drive to and from school. It was then that Paul realized how much Jake being gone was affecting her. She had already lost her mother and now her brother was potentially gone. There was nothing she could do to bring her mother back… but there was something she could do to bring Jake back. That must be why she seems so adamant about finding him when he didn't want to be found. Paul wondered if sleeping and eating deprivation was just a product of her anxiety.

Eventually Rachel drifted off to sleep. She looked quite peaceful in her sleep, decided Paul. He was glad that she was able to finally get some sleep. He wondered if her being able to sleep had anything to do with his presence. He liked to think that he was making it easier for her to sleep. Maybe it was the imprint working its magic again. He took the opportunity while she was asleep to watch her. He spent two thirds of the time watching her and the remaining third actually watching the road.

Paul was finally at the border between Canada and America. He joined the shortest line and got the passports ready. There was nothing to do so he flipped through her passport. Her passport said Rachel Sadie Black. So that's what her middle name was. He decided he like it very much. It suited her. He wanted to try out her full name in conjunction with his last name. Rachel Sadie Lahote. Paul wanted to say it out loud so see how it felt on his tongue but he didn't want to frighten Rachel if she were to hear. He then wondered if Rachel would even want to take his last name. Maybe she'd want to hyphenate. Would she want Lahote-Black or Black-Lahote? He'd probably be disappointed if she refused to take his family name or to hyphenate, but he'd understand.

Her picture was taken three years ago. She looked the same now as she did in her photo. Same pretty eyes and soft smile. The only difference was that she had short hair three years ago. It stopped just above her shoulders. Paul concluded that she must look good in all hairstyles.

Paul flipped through the back pages to find her passport stamps. She'd only crosses the Canadian-American boarder a handful of times. The same was for Paul. Neither of them had been far from Washington before. Maybe one day they'd travel together and see the world. They'd go somewhere beautiful and interesting. He wondered if she would like to see Greece or England. He certainly wouldn't mind going to those places.

Paul was apologetic when he had to wake Rachel up at the customs booth. For a moment she was confused and dazed about her surroundings. She regained her composure quickly, though. The customs officer waved them through very quickly. After passing through the border they stopped at the first motel. All the letters in the sign had working light bulbs. That was a good sign. The door had we welcome sign on it, and it was fairly clean looking. Another good sign. Paul was glad that Rachel didn't seem too disgusted.

They got a room with two single beds. He secretly hoped that they only offered double beds so they'd have to share, but he knew that was a longshot. Rachel pulled out her credit card and slid it forward on the table. He couldn't let her pay for the motel, especially when it was kind of his fault that they were here. If he had told her the truth about Jake then they wouldn't be here. "I've got it, Rach," Paul said, taking out his card. The woman at the counter looked between the two of them, uncertain whose card to charge.

"Paul, really. I should pay. I've dragged you all the way here. It's the least I can do." Rachel turned to the woman quickly. "Here." She slid her card forward some more. Rachel took Paul's card and slipped Paul's card into the pocket of his jeans. Rachel's hand so close to him, putting his card in his pocket caught him off guard. If only she would move her hand a little more to the right. Maybe if Paul could just shift his body a little more, then her hand would brush against him. Paul stood frozen in his position while her hand hastily retreated.

The woman gave Paul and apologetic look and took Rachel's card. They collected their room key and headed around back to find their disgusting room. It wasn't as dirty as Paul expected, but it wasn't clean either.

He offered her the shower first, which she accepted. She came out shortly after in a change of clothes. She was wearing a baggy shirt and a pair of shorts with her hair tired up in a bun on her head. He didn't realize that he was staring at her until she broke his trance. "Are you going to go now?" she asked him. Right. Shower. That's what he was planning to do before he got so distracted by her.

He stripped off his clothes and set them aside. Paul noticed the shower dial was left turned all the way to the left for hot water. Paul normally liked to take cool showers, but he was curious to see how warm Rachel liked her showers. The water flowed out of the shower head at a scalding hot temperature. Paul wondered how it was possible for her not to burn herself with water this warm. Paul was excited by this discovery. If Rachel liked to be warm, then she wouldn't mind being enveloped in his arms. She would enjoy Paul's comforting heat just as much as he would enjoy her body against his.

Paul came out of the washroom in just his boxers, ready for bed. He was keenly aware of Rachel's eyes on his as he walked over to his bed. She looked away embarrassedly when he caught her eyes with his own. Paul turned off the light by his bed as Rachel did the same to hers.

"Night, Paul."

"Goodnight, Rachel," Paul returned. He wanted to add a wish of sweet dreams but he decided against it. He was hoping that they might be able to talk before bed. He was hoping for a heart to heart conversation. He wanted her to open up to him and to tell him what was wrong. He wanted to ask her a question. "Rachel, can I ask you something?" Paul could tell that Rachel was still awake by the inhale and exhale of her breathing.

He waited for her answer. She didn't say anything. "Rachel?" he tried again. Still no response. She was pretending to be asleep, only she didn't know that Paul was aware that she was awake. So she was ignoring him. She didn't want to talk to him. Paul was disappointed and heartbroken. She didn't like him. She didn't want him. He wasn't good enough for her. He gave up and gave in to the sleep that was threatening to take him over.

Paul soon woke up to the faint chatter in the room. He was barely awake when he realized it was Rachel's voice. Was she talking on the phone? And to who was she talking to, because she certainly didn't want to talk to him, as she made it perfectly clear earlier. Paul shifted over to his side so he could face her. She was still lying down under the covers. Her breathing and heart rate was much slower than before. He concluded that she was asleep and must have been sleep talking. He was going to go bacd to sleep when his curiosity got the better of him.

He quietly hopped out of his bed, fully awake now. He knelt down beside her bed so that he was almost level with her body. He noticed how she was curled up under the blankets. Her arms were pulled closely to her body with her hands tucked under her head. She reminded Paul of a tiny sleeping rabbit. He pulled the covers up past her shoulders to keep her warm. He waited for her to say more. Minutes passed before she mumbled his name once.

Paul was ecstatic! She was dreaming about him! He hoped she was having a good dream. He suddenly wanted to know what she was dreaming about. In a very soft voice, he decided to prompt her. "What is Paul doing?" He didn't get a response. "Do you like Paul?"

"Paul," she mumbled in response.

"What do you think of Paul?" he asked her. He felt weird talking about himself in third person.

"Hot," she said. Paul's heart was racing. She thought he was hot. "Too hot," she muttered. Paul was confused. He wasn't sure there was such a thing as being too hot. He'd never heard of being too hot as an issue before. She started thrashing around under the blankets. He misunderstood. She was too hot.

Once she settled down again he decided to press for more. "What were you saying about Paul?"

"He's very nice," she said. She was finally speaking in full sentences. At first Paul thought she was awake, but her pulse and respiration rate told him that she was still asleep.

"Do you like Paul?"

There was no response for a long time. He repeated the question. "I wish…" The rest of her sentence was far too slurred for even his sensitive ears to tease apart.

It was like a cliff hanger. He had to know what she had said. Paul asked her, "You wish for what, Rach?" He only wanted to know what she wanted so he could give it to her.

"Mom…" she murmured. "Jake…Paul…" Paul was glad that his name was in the list. "Dylan…" Paul wanted to know just who the hell this Dylan character was to her.

"Who's Dylan?"

"My friend." Paul wondered if they were just friends. He voiced his question. "No," she answered. No? She said they were friends, but then she said that they weren't just friends. Paul didn't have a clue what that meant.

Paul decided to try a different question. "How do you feel about Paul?

Rachel replied, "I don't know."

"Are you attracted to him?"

Paul couldn't make out the beginning of her sentence, but he didn't need it to figure out what she meant. "… brother's friend. It's not right. He's a child." It sounded like Rachel did like him! He was very happy now. He had a chance. He just needed to win her over. He needed to convince her of his worthiness.

"You should give Paul a chance. He really cares about you and he'll make you so happy. Okay?" Rachel mumbled an unintelligible response. Paul knew he should stop there and not push his luck but he had another question he wanted answered. He was sure he wasn't going to get an answer out of her while she was awake.

"Why aren't you sleeping or eating much?"

"Jake's missing," was her answer. Paul was getting frustrated. It was so difficult to have a conversation with a sleep talker. They never really listened or understood what you were asking them and you had a fifty-fifty chance that they'd even respond. Then Paul realized that Jake being missing could actually be her answer. "So you're too anxious?"

"Yes," she confirmed. Paul wanted to murder Jake for causing his imprint so much pain and worry. She'd literally worried herself sick over her idiot brother. Then he realized murdering Jake would probably only make things worse for Rachel.

"What can Paul do to make it better?"

"Paul makes it better," she mumbled. He couldn't believe his ears. Maybe she did feel the imprint after all. She probably didn't understand any of what she was feeling though. He wanted to tell her about the supernatural world so she could understand everything and maybe that would speed up their relationship.

"How does Paul make it better?" He was trying to get some details so he could boost his ego a bit. He knew it was a longshot to get an answer, but he figured he didn't have much to lose. He assumed wrongly, though. He heard her heart rate pick up and knew she was surfacing out of a sleep state. He flew back to his side of the room and under the covers. Moments later, Paul heard the rustle of blankets and imagined that she was probably sitting up on her elbows, peering over at his "sleeping" form. He heard her settle back down into the bed, and he drifted back asleep with newfound confidence. Tomorrow he would ask her out.

Author's note

Hope you're enjoying the story so far, it's going to get a lot more interesting in the coming chapters, so STAY TUNED. Also, don't forget to REVIEW! Review and let me know what you want to see more of or less of! I got one review last time, which really appreciate, but I need more feedback! Favourite it, alert it click on the story again… anything that tells me whether you like it or not.