Claire's POV
"I thought your eyes were...black?"
"They're actually...um, hello? Look at my eyes?" Ipswich rolled his eyes, which were a vivid shade of purple.
"Purple? Wow."
"I think they're...I won't tell you till you tell me your name," Annie said. "Claire, why won't you tell me? It's been like two days. The world is conspiring against me never to find out."
"Good." He said. "Oh, and Claire...he lowered his voice. Please, don't even think of me as...that. I am, uh, Izzy?"
"Izzy. Okay. Like before."
"Yes. Annie?"
"Okay, okay. Jeez."
Later, Annie bugged me constantly, when we were away from Izzy.
"Come on, Claire. Why not?"
"He doesn't want me to."
"It's not like I'm going to hate him or anything. And why you and not me?"
"Because Mr. G thinks you use class time unwisely."
"God, Claire, you sound like a freaking report card."
"Fine. Ipswich." I don't know why I told her, Izzy was going to be pissed at me. But it was true, what Annie said. And since she wasn't the biggest of talkers (that was an understatement) it's not like she would tell him...at least not yet. But then again, she seemed to come out of her shy shell when he was around. They were like brother and sister, the kind I never had with Matt and always wanted. There was nothing else, nothing...romantic. I know Annie; I'd know if there was. She was so easy with him, like I've never seen her with a boy. Anyways...
"Ipswich."
"Yeah..."
"Well, that explains the Izzy."
"Um, Annie? Shouldn't you be...laughing?"
"Claire, God. I told him I wouldn't. You're making way too big a deal out of this."
--
Quil's POV
"Please?" Claire begged me. "Annie couldn't come. Please please please?" She wanted me to go with her and her family to visit the "relatives" she hated.
I sighed. I just couldn't resist her big puppy eyes, and she knew it. "Stop it. You're torturing me."
"Why not?"
"You've told me how bad they are."
"Yes, but you will be saving me from the horribleness."
"Claire, Claire."
"Jesus Christ, Quil. Don't talk to me like I'm five." Her tone changed when she reprimanded me for doing what she hated most.
"Sorry, sorry!"
"I think you're picking up Jake's bad habit of saying things twice. Anyways, please?"
"I do see inside his head every day, what do you expect? And fine. They can't be that bad. They can't be that bad," I added purposefully.
She grinned. "Thanks," and hugged me with her long arms. I resisted the urge to kiss her, again. We almost acted like it had never happened. But I couldn't, because like I said before, I just wanted more.
She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. "Thanks, Quil," she said again, and smiled.
I shook my head. "Are you sure your mom won't mind?" I asked her. I had been warily avoiding Megan lately. I still couldn't forgive her for what she said to me, about me.
Claire shook her head like me. "Yeah. I'm sure."
"Okay. See you...when?"
"Just come over at like...five?"
" 'Kay. Bye."
Claire gave me a look, I didn't know what she was thinking. I turned and went out to patrol before I went.
--
They honestly weren't all that bad. I liked them, in a way. Of course, I despised anything Claire hated, but myself? I wasn't allergic to pink like she was, and I think I have a higher patience, and tolerance, so they didn't bug me so much. I felt sorry for the kids though.
"James! Stop that this instant! You might get wet!" It was stupid to worry about that. Even in the sprawling suburb that was as different—Claire was right—as you could get from La Push, it still rained. More than it didn't.
Claire rolled her eyes. I sighed. She scooted closer and whispered at a volume which I was sure to hear and they not at all, her breath tickling my ear, "Don't you see how horrible they are?"
I grinned and turned my head towards her. Nodded. Couldn't think of what to say, momentarily dazed by her closeness. She smelled like the goodness of vampires, like chocolate, I wondered.
James sighed, sounding older than his years. "Mom! I'm not..." He trailed off, realized it's hopeless. "Dad!"
"Do as your mother tells you, James." The father John said robotically. I have to admit they're creepy. Claire wasn't exaggerating...that much.
"Hey, mom, can I go out and play? Just out back?" Julia asked her mother. Jane sighed, but said, "Yes. In a few minutes. But be careful. Keep the door open."
I frowned at this obvious show of favor to the older child. Claire looked at me, I rolled my eyes.
"Jane, why can't James go out to play? I'll take him if you want," I said. Claire looked at me again, surprised.
Jane frowned. "No...he can't go out. It's too..."
"Is it because he's younger?"
"Of course not," Jane said, but she was not very convincing. "Why would I do something like that?"
"Because she's older," I said.
"And what is age?" Jane asked me, intense and quite to the point. "And how old are you, anyways?" I didn't say anything for a minute. Age had always been a sore spot for me, what with the whole non-aging thing and, of course, Claire.
"Um...what is age?" I frowned. "Like, how old you are?" I ignored the other question.
Jane rolled her eyes. "Kids these days," she murmured. I grinned. I was probably almost as old as her, if not the same age.
I glanced around and saw Megan looking at me strangely. I looked quickly away, focused back on Jane.
"Are you sure you don't want me to take James outside?" I asked her.
She hesitated. Looked me over. "Let Claire go with you," She finally said.
I smiled. "Great."
Claire jumped up and grabbed James' hand. "Come on, James. Let's go play outside." He followed her right away, grinning widely.
We walked outside, and once there James went and jumped on the swing purchased directly from a catalog. Freshly painted wood and red chains and perfectly clean, never used.
"You sure we should let him play on it?" Claire joked. I laughed, glanced over at her.
She sighed. "Oh, Quil,"
"What?"
She stared at me. "Thanks for coming," she said.
I rolled my eyes. "I don't mind." Understatement. I'd do anything for her. I'd just pretended to deliberate when she asked me.
She stepped closer, then glanced over at James on the swing. He was completely unaware of us, focused on swinging higher and higher.
"Quil--" She broke off, looking down at the ground. I closed my eyes, opened them, trying to clear my head of the haze she made in it. I opened my eyes and they stared into hers.
I took a deep breath. Trying to resist the urge to...
I brushed the edge of her cheek with my fingers. She shuddered. I wondered why, it's not like I'm cold.
"Are you okay, Claire?" I asked her softly.
"What? Yeah. Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Oh. I don't know."
She looked at me quizzically. "Are you okay?"
I smiled. "Of course."
"You don't want to be here," she said accusingly.
"No! No, I do. Really." She looked at me, not believing.
"I..." I hesitated. "I don't not want to be anywhere where you are," I said. I could feel my cheeks getting hot, hotter than usual.
I wasn't the only one. Claire blushed, color flooded her face.
"Quil, I--"
"Shh." I put my finger to her lips. She didn't move. Her eyes flickered around, her forehead creased.
"What are you thinking?" I asked her.
She frowned. "Nothing," she said quickly.
I glared at her. "Claire."
"Don't do that to me, Quil. Fine," she glared back at me. "I was just thinking of something my mom said."
I sighed. "I know, you don't like her." She said.
"I don't not like her!" I protested.
"Okay, you're mad at her."
"I...do you know what she said? I just...okay, I'm mad at her. What did she say? That you're thinking about?"
She blushed. I have to admit I was a little wary at what she was going to say.
"It doesn't matter," she said, looking down, still blushing.
"Come on, Claire," I urged her. she glanced over to James, still safely on the swings. "Look, maybe we should go inside--"
"Claire."
She looked at me. "What?"
"Stop changing the subject."
"Quil. It doesn't matter." She was so forceful about it, I just had to know. I widened my eyes, stared into hers. "Please?" I asked softly.
Claire groaned. "You are so not fair. Fine." She didn't say anything. I raised my eyebrows. She leaned her head against my chest, groaned again. "Oh, God, Quil. This is so embarrassing."
"It's okay."
"No it's not! She said that you're a...male...and you..." She stopped. "and you love me very much and--I stopped her there." She hurried through the words.
I laughed, loud. Claire looked up at me, warily, but like I was crazy. "Um, Quil...?"
"Oh, Claire. As much as I hate to admit this, she is totally right."
Claire raised her eyebrows. I leaned in and kissed her, unable to resist what my body was telling me to do any longer. She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around my back and pulling me closer. I let her, pulling her closer myself. Her lips were so cold, moving with mine. Her lips parted; cool breath washed over my lips. I took a deep breath, almost dizzy. She reached up; her fingers danced across my face and hair, tracing cool patterns.
I heard her heart accelerate and slow down erratically, as I knew mine was doing. Her body pressed up against mine, and every cell in my body was aware of every bit of hers.
Outside the cloud surrounding me I heard the shreep of a shade being closed quickly, saw a shadow disappearing in my peripheral vision. I jumped away from Claire; she dropped her hands immediately.
"What is it?" She demanded.
My eyes searched the window. "I--I thought someone was--"
She looked over to where I was looking. "There was someone there?" She asked.
"I thought I saw--never mind." I looked at her. She went and sat on part of the magazine play structure. I wondered at James' ability to swing for so long. She motioned for me to sit next to her. I did.
"If that was my mom..." She buried her face in her hands. I pulled her close to me, she leaned against my side.
"It's okay," I told her. She made a noncommittal noise. "Sure."
"Oh, right," I said. "Of course, because I'm a male and I love you, I can't touch you."
"Do you?"
"What? Love you?"
She nodded slowly, turning slightly away from me. How could she ever doubt?
"You still don't believe me? Even after all I said?"
"I..."
"Claire. Does Sam love Emily?" I said it bluntly. The level of adoration, love, between them was almost stifiling. Claire could see that. She would understand that.
She flushed a deep red. She looked speechless.
I mean, I had always compared us to Sam and Emily, Jared and Kim. I didn't see what was wrong now.
"Claire, what--"
"Quil, I...I mean...we're not like...Sam...I mean..." I frowned. What had I said now? What was wrong with saying that?
"We're not what?"
"Sam and Emily!"
"No, we're not. But we're like them."
"No, we're--we're not like them."
"Yes we are, Claire." I didn't understand why she was taking this so strongly. I was really missing something here.
"Quil--"
"What am I missing, Claire?" I sighed.
"Um."
"Just say it," I said.
"We're not Sam and Emily, Quil! Or Jared and Kim! It's not like that! You know that, you know it's not like that. We're different!"
"Yeah, we're different. But we're going to end up the same." I was just stating the fact, the fact I knew was true and was going to happen.
Claire stood up, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "And you just take that for granted?" She hissed. "Why do you assume we're going to end up like that? Just because you imprinted with me doesn't mean I imprinted with you. For all you know I could end up with someone like Jack." She whirled around, stomped into the house.
"Wait, Claire--" I called, but she didn't turn around. I stayed on the step, the pain from her words eating me out from the inside. They burned, like fire, but my temperature no defense. More like ice. I rested my forehead against the cool wood, trying to ease the pain with no avail. She could make me so happy, but hurt me so much. I tried to stop the tears from coming, choking back and burning my eyes. I didn't even try to distract myself from the pain, or even go after her and make her understand that wasn't what I meant.
The thing she implied with her words hurt more than anything. The idea that she didn't love me, couldn't love me...I didn't know how I'd survive with that.
I heard a crash, a shout. A door slammed a few seconds later, footsteps, heels against concrete. It wasn't Claire, that much I could tell. She didn't wear heels, thought they made her look too tall. Like I could care less.
A few muffled steps, muffled shouts. A "Quil! What's wrong with you!" and the heels on concrete again, this time slower, but uneven.
A few minutes later a new set of steps echoed on cement. I wished I would just stop being able to hear everything with complete clarity. Even though it could be useful sometimes, now it just made my head hurt.
Someone shook my shoulder. "Quil!" Megan. I let my breath out, the disappointment overshadowing the relief. I looked up.
I could see the shock in her eyes reflected back to me. "Quil?" She said, softer this time.
"We're going. Claire..." The name sent a wave of pain down my spine, like the heat at a transformation. I stood up slowly.
"Yeah," I said. Megan gave me a weird look, but walked through the house to the car. I followed her blindly. Claire was already there, and she looked away from me quickly when I came in. I couldn't see her eyes; she looked out the opposite window. Matt got into the passenger seat, obliviously on his iPod. It was silent for the rest of the ride.
When we got to Claire's house, I jumped out. I said to Megan, "Thanks for letting me come. But I have to go."
"Why? Why don't you stay and..." She didn't finish her sentence. I saw her look between me and Claire, standing a few feet away with her back turned towards me. I looked quickly away.
"Sam--there's something...a..." I didn't want to say it in front of her, I don't know why.
But she nodded and said, "Oh. Well...bye then."
"Bye." I took a step closer to Claire. "Bye, Claire," I said.
"Bye," she mumbled.
I turned, fled into the cool forest, exploded painfully into a wolf.
--
What now? I heard from Jared's head as soon as he phased and joined me. I was running as fast as I could, but I couldn't escape anything and his 'voice' didn't fade.
I put up walls, but not quickly enough.
"Oh." Jared thought. He rolled his eyes at my walls.
"What's wrong with my walls?" I asked defensively.
"They're brick."
"Yep. Ten deep." I thought. Jared snickered, in his mind.
"What? You should have some," I thought, disgusted, as images of things I never wanted to see in my life assulted me. Each time I was a wolf at the same time as him.
He laughed. "But really, what's wrong?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Well, I think you'd be surprised." Jared thought stiffly.
"Claire is..." I let down my walls. I felt surprisingly vulnerable without them.
Jared groaned. "God, Quil. You really know how to piss her off, don't you?"
"What are you talking about?" I asked him, confused.
"You're really confused."
"What did I do?!" Why wouldn't he hurry up and tell me!
"Okay. Do you remember what you said, Quil?" I racked my brain. I told her I love her. I told her...I said, 'Does Sam love Emily?'
I said that's how it would be. Even if right now we're different.
"Right. Do you see a problem with that, Quil?" Jared's 'voice' was patronizing. I didn't say anything, didn't think anything.
"Well, give it some thought," Jared thought, then phased.
I couldn't believe that's what made her so mad. I knew what I said, but I didn't understand why knowing that I had imprinted with her was so horrible.
I had taken it for granted, yeah. But I hadn't taken her for granted. I had always loved her more than anything, not just because I was supposed to. I would have loved her even if I hadn't imprinted, if I had gotten the chance.
The only thing imprinting does is show you who. It doesn't make you love them. That's all me, all her. I wasn't forced to love her so much it hurts.
