AN

I'm going to keep up with these updates three times a week! I'm losing sleep with working full time, but I don't care, because I'm having too much fun!

Thank you all so much for keeping up with this one! I'd love some messages or reviews and to hear all about how you're finding it!

Daisy messaged me around one o'clock in the afternoon, letting me know she was finished with her painting and packed up, ready to head home. She told me not to rush out, and sent me her address, saying she would be there whenever I was ready to make my way out.

I thought it was funny, how worried I'd been that it was going to take such a long time to track her down and start a friendship. Now we were just about the only people either of us had spent any time with in the past few days.

I grabbed the ingredients to make two large portions of salmon and salad, not wanting to overwhelm her with anything she would have to struggle to remember when she'd made it clear she wasn't used to cooking.

I tried not to seem too eager, arriving at her house just past four. I knocked a couple of times, and heard her making her way quickly to the front door.

"Hey," she breathed with a wide smile as she opened it and stood back to let me in. She was in a pair of dark blue tights and a pink t-shirt. It was the first time I'd seen her in something fitted, and I tried not to let my eyes linger on her slender legs as I carried the grocery bags through the door and kicked my shoes off in the hall.

"Come on through, I'll give you a house tour. I've put Hugo outside, they told me when I adopted him he's a bit funny when it comes to guys, and he's a little bit overprotective of me. I'll let him in soon, if he's acting okay."

She took the bags out of my hands, ignoring my protest, and carried them down the hallway to set them on the white counter of her kitchen. I hesitated in the hallway and she grinned at me as she walked back to the front door, letting me follow.

"Lounge room," she walked into the space and threw her arms out. There was nothing but a single, simple bookcase, a three-seater couch and a small television hung on the wall. A couple of throw blankets were piled up on one side of the couch, and the heater high on the wall filled the area with warm air.

"Bathroom, you saw the kitchen, my bedroom. It's not as extensive as your house tour, I'm sorry if you're disappointed."

I threw her a knowing smirk as I walked into her room, just as she'd done with mine the day before, ready to scrutinize every small detail. Her warm vanilla-like scent was potent in the space, and I breathed in deeply, quietly so she wouldn't notice. Her bed was made neatly with a simple white and gold embroidered quilt-cover set, a half-finished cross stitch frame resting on her bedside table with the little lamp I'd watched her switch on a few nights earlier. There were no framed pictures or pieces of art, like I'd been expecting, except for a photo of a beagle looking happily up at the camera as the photo had been taken, beside her bed. I wondered where the photos of her family and friends were, as I expected to see with anyone who had made such a dramatic move.

Her guitar case rested against the door of her wardrobe, and a few different shaped, smaller instrument cases were stacked behind it. An electric piano sat against the opposite wall, its stand high enough for her to be able to play while standing. There were a pile of sketch books, canvases and piles of different paints and markers in the far corner of the room, on the floor instead of a desk.

"Bit less to see than in your room," she commented awkwardly from the door as she watched me make my rounds.

"I don't know, you're showing me up with all this music stuff." I complimented. She ducked her head modestly.

We made our way back to the kitchen, where I began unpacking the bags, telling her about my plans for dinner.

"I love salmon," she said excitedly as she looked over the ingredients, opening the fridge to pack away the perishables. She left what was safe on the counter and sighed as a small whine and a scrape came from the glass doors across the dining room. "I know, Hugo, give me a minute."

"Let him in," I told her easily. She crossed to the door and unlocked it, looking up to me before sliding it open.

"If he's weird, or uneasy, I'll put him back out. I've never locked him out before, but I don't want him to be a jerk to you."

"He'll be fine," I reassured her.

The thick-set black and white dog bounded into the dining room excitedly, ignoring Daisy for a moment as he moved directly to me, his ears pulled back before he could make an assessment.

I greeted him gently and bent to put my hand out. He immediately sat in front of me and reached out a paw, resting it on top of my hand, his shoulders and ears relaxing as he leaned his head forward, asking for a scratch on the neck.

"Huh," Daisy moved toward us, surprise on her face. "I guess he knows you're a dog person."

She had no idea how close to the truth she was with that. "They always know." I ruffled the dog's ears and stood again to fold up the grocery bags and stack them neatly on the counter. "What did you want to do before we cook?"

"Did you want a drink?" she opened the fridge once again, gathering a few bottles and setting them on the counter. She reached up to pull two thin glasses out of a cupboard and held up the bottle of gin. "I've been more inclined to drinking alcohol since I've been living alone, not to mention how cheap it is over here."

"Sure," I leaned against the counter as I watched her make our drinks, slicing up lime and tossing it into the bottom of the glass. She put a minimal amount of alcohol in each of our glasses, packing away the bottles before she handed my glass to me, avoiding my fingers with her own.

"Cheers,"

I took a small sip and she did the same, her eyes flicking around the kitchen as she wondered what to do next.

"Let's go to the lounge room, it's warmer in there."

I followed her back to the living room, Hugo hot on our heels. He sat on one end of the lounge, and Daisy scolded him gently for taking my seat. I insisted he was okay, and walked to the little book shelf to study what she'd put on display.

She had a tiny collection of small ceramic camels. There were two photos here, one of her in small yellow dress with her arm around a skinny, tanned, dark-haired girl that shared a few of her features – the wide eyes, though much darker than Daisy's, the pointed chin, the rounded chest and modest hips. I felt her move to stand beside me and she studied the photo. "That's my cousin, Raina. She's more like my sister than anything else."

The second photo was of a baby, dressed in only a spotted shower cap. "Your sister's kid?"

"Yep," she looked indifferently at the photo. "That's Noah. They gave it to me the day I was leaving."

"No photos of your sister, or your parents?"

"Nah, I don't really have any pictures of them worth putting up."

"You're not close with them."

"Not necessarily. I'm not like them."

I turned to her in interest. "How so?"

She sucked in a long breath, her mouth open to speak, though she didn't do so immediately. "They weren't really parents to me for a long time. My sister's a younger version of my mother. She's following pretty closely in her footsteps, and I worry about her, but she's stubborn and she would never do anything to change."

"Did you live at home before you moved here?"

She shook her head. "I tried to keep as much distance as I could without seeming like a terrible person. I love them and all, but I get frustrated and anxious around them, honestly. It was easier to be on my own with my dog. She's with my grandma now, taking care of her. Two old ladies in a little unit."

"The beagle in your bedroom?"

"Yep, Juniper." Her lips twisted sadly. "I miss her so, so much. Hugo's been a big help with that, but I'd trade him for her in a second. She was my girl. She was the only person I'd ever see for days at a time, aside from the people I worked with."

"You're a bit of a loner, aren't you, Daisy?" I didn't say it in a harsh way, more an observation.

"I don't want to be. I'm really lonely a lot of the time. I just don't like feeling like I'm letting everyone down, and I felt like that a lot at home. My dad moved in with my step-mother and gave her daughter the nickname he'd given me when I was growing up. That hurt like a bitch, even though we weren't close during the majority of my childhood. My mum's really petty toward him, even though she was the one who ruined their marriage."

"How old were you when they separated?"

"Seven," she frowned resentfully. "My little sister was born with pale skin, blonde curls and blue eyes. No one's ever said anything, but it's obvious she's not my father's daughter. I don't know who she came from. My mum would never say anything. I think their relationship was crumbling way before she came along, and when my sister was old enough to start to get her own personality my mum finally made the decision to pack all our things up and leave the house without my dad knowing. He got home from work to find his family missing. She picked me up from school with a car full of our things and drove me to my uncle's house. She, my sister and I shared a double bed for two years before she finally found somewhere other than his guest room for us to live."

I sighed at her story, trying not to let it affect me in a way that would freak her out. "Did you ever see your father after that?"

"On weekends," her voice had lost all emotion, and when I looked at her face, it was void of expression. "My dad turned to alcohol pretty heavily. It was a nightmare staying with him. And…other stuff was going on, and I tried to live with Peggie again, but they wouldn't let me."

"And you got out as soon as you were old enough to." I finished for her.

"Yep," she didn't look at me. "I had my uncle help pull apart my furniture and move it into a little house just out of town the day I turned eighteen. I didn't tell my mum I was leaving. She was pretty pissed when she found out. It made everything more strained, but it was easier than living with her."

She seemed to be disassociating as she spoke. She suddenly brightened up, turning to me with raised eyebrows and looking at me apologetically. "Sorry for venting. I don't really unload like that on people."

"You're welcome to talk to me about anything you want."

"Nah, I don't want you to think I'm miserable and disappear on me."

"Why would I do that?"

She frowned at me, though her forced smile stayed on her lips. "Because that's what guys do. You'll go and find someone without a personality to spend all your time with and taunt me over it."

"Daisy…"

"I'm kidding!" she lightly tapped my hand in jest, and my stomach clenched at our first skin-on-skin contact. It took her a moment, but she lowered her fingers back to the outside of my hand, pressing them against my skin. "Jeez, Seth! You're boiling! Sorry, I didn't realize I had it so hot in here." she turned and moved to the controller on the wall below the split-system air conditioning unit, pressing the power button, even as I insisted I was comfortable.

She turned on the television without saying anything else to me, selecting a play list of gentle folk music and dropped onto the couch. "Hugo, off," she pointed to the floor and Hugo immediately rolled onto his feet and dropped to the floor, reclining across the carpet. "Seth, sit," she grinned at her joke. I almost couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Thanks for being my friend," she said out of no where as I settled into the couch.

"You don't have to thank me for that, Daisy," I assured her. I was determined to crack this bubbly exterior to the lost girl underneath. I had the impression she didn't delve into her history like this with many people, from the embarrassment still showing behind her smile.

"No, but it really does mean a lot to me. I know this is going to sound really weird, and you'll probably get scared of me and not come back, but I kind of missed you last night. I feel like you're the closest thing to a best friend I've had in a long time. I find it a bit too easy to spend time with you."

"I know what you mean," I wished I could just tell her about the imprint, let her know she wasn't strange to think of me that way, but it was way too soon and she was definitely flip out and send me on my way.

She asked a lot of questions about my friends, trying to remember all of their names from the photos in my room. I answered her honestly, leaving out what I had to to protect her from our secrets. I fell into the depths of green in her eyes, loving the way her hair fell onto her face as she leaned toward me, her legs bent in front of her as she rested her chin on her knees, listening to me intently. Her feet were bare, and after a while with the heating turned off, she extended them out to tuck them under my thigh to keep warm. She didn't acknowledge the fact that she'd done it, but I was hyper aware of the contact through the fabric of my jeans, and I wished we could stay in this position forever. Whether or not I was harboring romantic feelings for her, which was very confusing to sort through in my own head, I decided without a doubt that she was the most attractive girl I'd ever seen, and I felt lucky to have imprinted on her and not anyone else. Though, I might have been biased again.

"You all spend a lot of time together," she smiled as I recounted a couple of funny stories from my time with my brothers over the years.

"Yeah, you'd like them," I grinned at her warmly. "They'd like you too, actually. You'll have to come to the next bonfire we have and meet everyone."

"I need all the friends I can get," she told me happily. "I wouldn't want to impose, though."

"You wouldn't be," I reassured her. "We're probably due for a catch-up sooner or later, anyway. I know we usually do a whole thing on the beach for Thanksgiving if the weather's dry enough." Or, as close to a Thanksgiving dinner as a large group of Native Americans got.

"I've never had a Thanksgiving before." She took a long sip of her drink, emptying her glass. She eyed it closely as she sat it down. "Don't let me drink too many of those, I only started drinking last year, and I'm a lightweight. And an embarrassing drunk." She leaned back against the arm rest, her feet pressing into the underside of my thigh a little further. "So what consists of these Thanksgiving beach get-togethers?"

"Tons of food," I started, receiving a knowing laugh. "Stories. We have these legends for our tribe, and the elders are all too keen to share when anyone new shows up."

"Am I going to have to wait to hear about the legends?" she asked curiously.

I nodded, and she gave me a disappointed frown. "I don't tell them the way Billy does. He's way better at story-telling than me. They're interesting though, so it's worth the wait."

"I bet I'd find it all very fascinating," she mused. "It's nice that you guys are big on your culture."

"Have to be, growing up on the rez." Especially when all those legends turned out to be way closer to the truth than we'd all thought growing up. I wondered how she'd take them, whether she'd scoff at them as though they were ridiculous fairy tales, or whether she'd accept them as history that had been twisted and exaggerated over time. I expected her to be more understanding of them than most people who had heard them for the first time. She was very open about everything else we'd spoken about in the few short days we'd known each other.

The sky darkened outside, and she stood to close the curtains to hide us from the rest of the street. I was disappointed at the loss of contact, but I stood and led her into the kitchen to start on dinner.

She hung on my every word as I talked her through what I would do to make dinner. She insisted on doing everything, looking up at me to make sure she was doing it right. Her hands were clumsy with the knife, and I took it out of her hand gently, purposefully brushing my palm against her fingers as she did so. I caught her wrapping her other hand around her fingers out of the corner of my eye, as if studying the warmth of her own hand in comparison to mine, but she didn't say anything.

She told me I was a show-off as I skillfully chopped the vegetables for the salad, going a little too far with my speed, though keeping it believable that I was just a regular human with skilled muscle memory.

It was a quick meal to prepare and serve, and we carried our plates back to the couch in the living room, our glasses refilled. Daisy owned a tiny dining room table, looking as though it had been plucked from a doll house, and we'd both conceded I wouldn't be able to comfortably fit at it to eat.

"This is so good," she moaned deliciously as she filled her mouth.

I smiled proudly as I dug the fork through my own plate. "You should be proud of yourself, you did most of the work."

She shook her head. "I wouldn't have been able to do this on my own, it's all you, Seth."

When our plates were cleared, she set them on the ground. Hugo licked up the remainder of whatever minuscule flakes of food were on them, and Daisy didn't seem to mind that he did so. She was a very accepting dog mom.

She leaned closer and closer to me as she neared the end of her second drink, quite a bit stronger than the first she'd made us. She was laughing a little too enthusiastically at my weak jokes, and her thighs ended up leaning against one of mine as she rested her head in her hand, her elbow bend against the back of the couch.

"Why are you always so warm?" she asked as our conversation fell away.

My head was leaned back, looking up toward the ceiling, and I turned it to her, my expression completely content as I answered. "It's a Quileute thing. We're all like that. Generations and generations of living in a place like this will do that for you, I guess."

She shook her head. "Nah, it's that special something you have, I reckon."

"What is that 'special something'?" I asked, a little nervously.

She shrugged casually. "I don't know. Magic," she frowned at me. "You're not going to laugh at me for believing in magic?"

"No," I told her honestly. "I like that you do." It would definitely make things easier in the future.

She yawned widely, though she tried to smother it, and I smiled sadly at her. "Bed time?"

"I'm okay," she insisted. "I'm having fun."

"I am too, but I know we both have to work tomorrow, and I don't want to be the reason you're too tired to focus."

She pouted and sighed, looking down at our discarded plates and empty glasses on the floor. "I'm not ready to be by myself again."

"I'll see you soon," I promised. I stood from the couch and picked up our dishes. It would be all too easy to give in and stay with her for days on end, but I knew that would mess things up and I didn't feel like pushing this further than we were both ready to at this stage.

She followed me into the kitchen, telling me she would wash the dishes in the morning as I made to pick up the scrubbing brush on her sink. I ignored her and did them anyway, setting them in the drying rack and shutting off the tap.

"Nice to meet you, Hugo," I bent to pet the ever-present dog on the head, who closed his eyes contentedly.

"He loves you," she told me quietly. "Traitor."

"He loves you more," I insisted. I didn't make to leave the kitchen, leaning against the counter top as I turned to face her. "Thanks for having me over for dinner."

"Thanks for giving me my first cooking lesson,"

The smile on my face was permanent, and my cheeks were starting to strain in protest. "I've got plenty more planned, whenever you're ready."

"We'll have to make it a routine."

We were silent for a few long moments, then both of us released matching sighs as we made to move in unison to the hallway.

"I hope you have a good day back at work tomorrow, Seth." She told me as she walked me to the front door. The thought of going back to another five days at work, not being able to spend the majority of my days with her, seemed like torture in that moment. I was addicted to her. I wanted to lock us in this little house forever and find out everything there was to know about her.

She reached up to give me a small hug as she opened the door, and I responded, wrapping my arms around her as though I would break her, resisting the urge to pull her into me. Her slight shoulders through the sweater she'd put on felt incredible, and her head rested on my chest, just for a second.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow?" she nodded in agreement as I stepped through the door, telling me to drive safely and thanking me again for the night.

I couldn't resist the grin that stretched its way across my face as soon as my back was to her, walking to my car with an extra spring in my step.