Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Twilight Series

5

Confusion

I had been laying in my bed for what felt like too long, opening my eyes ever couple of seconds to look at the old, blue book on my bedside table. It felt so wrong to open it and read it, even though I already had opened it and read it a little bit. I was looking for imprinting, but it felt so wrong. Why did it feel so wrong? Why did everyone, especially Leah of all people, have some an apprehension of letting me know what it meant?

I sat up quickly, leaving me no time to hesitate. I grabbed the book, leaning against my bed frame. I opened the book, flipping through the pages, scanning a mile a minute to just find that one special word -

Imprinting

There it was, written at the top of a page that was about three quarters through the book. I folded down the top of the page immediately and then I closed the book and sat it back down on my bedside table.

I went through my morning routine - shower, get dressed, breakfast. After breakfast, I had twelve minutes extra of time. I would have to start biking in twelve minutes to make it to work a couple minutes early.

What would I possibly do for those twelve minutes?

I couldn't resist.

I sat down on my bed, opening up the book again to the page that I had flipped down. I took a deep breath and let myself read along the worn out page, reading slow enough to absorb, but fast enough to make the best of my twelve minutes.

Shapeshifter imprints...bound to her...everything else becomes secondary...deep need to please and protect...soulmate...involuntary...

"Claire!"

The sound of Leah's voice was quickly followed by the sound of pages slapping back together. The book suddenly felt heavy in my hands as all the words and information swirled around in my mind.

"What?" I yelled back, suddenly completely aware of just how far away from my room she was, AKA how fast I would need to stash the book.

She sounded as if she was in the kitchen. "You better leave now for work if you want to make it on time!" Her footsteps started to come down the hallway, and for once, she didn't barge straight through the door. She stood outside the door, saying into the wood frame, "And Quil called for you."

Quil called, just like he said he would last night. Last night. I thought when you drank and smoked and participated in all the fun activities, it was supposed to cloud your mind and make for a forgetful morning. I wish that had been the case, but it wasn't. I remembered every single word, including the embarrassing question regarding Quil and my underwear. I wish I had forgotten and maybe then I wouldn't feel sick to my stomach at all I had said. And I felt bad for Quil. I never wanted to put him in a position where he felt pressured or uncomfortable, but...but I couldn't say I fully regretted last night. I'm not glad I asked those questions, but I wouldn't have taken any of them back, because the honest truth was that I genuinely wanted to know the answers. But, sober now, I was prepared to wait until Quil was ready to give me those answers.

I put the old, blue book in my book bag, tossing it over my shoulder and walking out into the kitchen. I watched Leah in the kitchen, cooking up breakfast for just one person instead of the usual two. "Where's Seth?"

"Sleeping," she said, seeming in a happy-ish mood.

"You're not gonna cook him breakfast?"

"If he wants to start paying rent on time -" Leah looked up at me, a simple and calm look on her face. She wasn't too bothered. It was her brother, after all, which meant she had years and years to get used to Seth's shenanigans. "Then he can have a gourmet breakfast."

I chuckled. "Gourmet?"

She looked up at me, lips slightly pursed, eyebrows raised, awaiting my explanation as to why I had laughed at the fact she had called her breakfast gourmet, to which I stuttered and then Leah got to smile to herself. "That's what I thought."

I shook my head, walking out the door, grabbing my bike and riding off to work. I got there with just enough time to open and turn on the lights. I did the rest of the setting up as I let the people from the old folks home in.

They were always there for opening - a sort of story time situation, but story time for themselves only. They all picked a book and sat somewhere behind a big shelf or tucked away in the corner, and they read to themselves. Some of them read aloud - giving away their location. Some were as silent as the night, not even allowing the sound of the pages turning to be heard.

That was why I liked the bookstore so much. It was so calming. It left a lot of time for an open mind. I had to fill it with something, but I wouldn't let myself reach into my book bag and grab it. I couldn't. I almost didn't want to, after the little bits that I had already read.

I picked up a book from the Fiction section and read until my shift was over.

There was nothing in the world that I had thought about more, I was convinced. Last night - I just couldn't get it out of my brain. Every second of every moment of last night. What happened. What I could've done differently. What might have happened...

"Claire?"

"What might have happened," I mumbled to myself absent-mindedly, looking down at one of Leah's pyjama shirts.

"Claire? Are you all right?"

My eyes shifted up to Leah, a foot or two down the couch, picking a pair of pants out of the hamper and folding them, eyes trained on me. She looked concerned, though I understood, as I would be concerned too, if I was watching my niece mumble to myself.

I shook my head, trying to put on a face that would be convincing enough for Leah. "I'm fine, I just -" I mean, what do I say to her? How do I explain that I got drunk and became a little too close to a very awkward conversation with Quil. How do I explain that to Leah? She was so easy to talk to, but I almost didn't want to, because I knew she would say everything I didn't want to hear. "I just..."

But maybe I needed to hear it.

"You just what?" Leah didn't like conversation that were long that could be shorter. "Spit it out."

I put her shirt in the folded pile, sighing and looking up at her with what I assumed to look like desperation. But I was desperate. I just wanted answers that no one seemed to want to give me. I needed to understand. "What is imprinting?"

Leah didn't have much of a reaction, but she stood quickly, walking to the kitchen. "I've already told you that -"

"Please, Leah." I followed behind her closely. "Please." Why was it such a secret? Why couldn't I know. "Why can't I know? Why does no one want to tell me?"

"It's not my place." She turned around, resting a hand on the counter, the other one finding my shoulder. She was holding back so much - I could see it on her face. She knew, yet she wasn't giving it up. "You're still too young and so many things still need to happen -"

"What needs to happen?"

Frustration took over her face as her hands came up to her temples, curled tightly, digging into her head. "Claire, you still need to show us that -" She shut her mouth tightly, groaning quietly to herself. She took a quick breath, hands falling away from her face, eyelids lifting to reveal her hard, brown eyes. "We need to see something in you before you can become aware of that part of the werewolves."

I figured it was a werewolf-specific topic, but I was glad that Leah could confirm at least that.

Both of her hands came to my shoulders. Her brows furrowed. "I've seen it in you, Claire. All of us are seeing it come to light. Quil -" She glanced over my shoulder, eyes coming back to me quickly. She stepped away from me, and said, with a weird emotion, "Quil is here for you."

I could almost hear the snap of my neck as I turned, catching Quil just as he closed the door to Embry's truck, walking around the front of the rusty vehicle. The darkness faded onto him beautifully. It was a Quil-thing, not a werewolf-thing, to always somehow be light. He looked handsome, shirtless and jean cut-off clad, walking with a soft purpose.

I hadn't called him back. It's not that I didn't want to, but I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to look him in the eyes and explain myself.

I wasn't sure of what I was going to do, but my feet took over, moving quickly down the hall to my room. "Tell him I'm not here, Leah," I said quietly. I knew Leah would be able to hear. If I was any louder, Quil would be able to hear too.

My feet smacked against the hardwood, my heart beating in my ears as I shut the door to my room behind me. I leaned my forehead against the door, sighing loudly, shutting my eyes and allowing my heartbeat to slow.

"Claire."

I screamed, spinning around and finding the light, reliving a moment I had already lived. Quil was standing in front of me, an unreadable expression on his face. It seemed to be mostly concern, which was a look I knew very well from him. But there was more. I couldn't look at him long enough to figure it out.

I looked down at my toes, tapping them against the hardwood. "The window. Again."

"Claire, we should talk about -"

"How was -" I interrupted, knowing exactly what he was about to say. I looked up at him, a smile finding its way to my lips. I pushed myself off the door, walking around him to close the window. The hairs on my arm were sticking up. I told myself it was the biting air, but it might've just been the presence of Quil in my room. "How was everything today?"

He looked surprised at the sudden turn around, but his eyebrows rose, taking a seat on the bed. "Yeah, it was fine. Embry's been a little distracted with Danielle and planning the wedding, but he's still doing okay."

The thought of Embry trying to focus while thinking about flower arrangements and cake tastings made me laugh. That was too easy to do around Quil. I watched as my laughter made Quil smile. "That seems too much like Embry."

"How was work today?"

"It was fine. Boring."

"Oh."

I nodded, a shaky hand sliding into the back pocket of my jeans. I rocked on my feet for a second or two and then I looked at Quil and started to apologize, both of us finding ourselves talking over each other. "I'm sorry I didn't call -"

"I called you this morning, but you -"

Both of us fell silent.

I felt so far from him, so I quickly sat down next to him, his warm, soft skin pressing up against my side. I turned my face, looking him in the eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't call you back. I'm sorry about last night- about everything. I never want to make you feel uncomfortable or -"

"Hey, it's okay." Quil adjusted his body to be facing mine, taking my small hands into his big ones. His comforting voice was an instant perk-up. Suddenly, I didn't feel so nervous and awful about everything. "Last night was a very rough night for you, Claire. I'm sorry if you felt like I was being controlling of you. I never want to do that to you, Claire-Bear." He looked nervous all of the sudden. "Leah told me you've been asking her about imprinting."

I was quickly filled with hope. Quil would tell me. "Quil, what am I missing here? What is imprinting?"

"I wish I could tell you." He looked like he wished he could. He looked like he wanted to. He looked like he was going to. Instead, he lost his pained expression, squeezing my hands. "I can't do that. You have to be the one to bring this on, Claire. And I have to -" He cut himself off, letting out a massive sigh. He then smiled his adorable smile, chuckling a little bit to himself. "I -" I saw one of his hands move in my peripheral, probably to reach up and cup my cheek, but it didn't. He held back - something he had never done.

The air felt so different. It was no longer relaxed. It was tense and tight. The longer we looked at each other, the closer we seemed to drift and the more tight the surrounding area got.

There was no holding back for me, as I pulled my hands out of his, putting them on the sides of his face, encouraging him closer. "Quil."

He stood suddenly and quickly, back facing me as he breathed heavily. His hands fell to his hips and his curly head hung down. My back curved as my shoulders slumped, disappointed at the sudden disconnection.

The air became more suffocating as the silence grew.

And then Quil turned around. Even in the dim light of my bedroom, I could see the thoughts running through his mind as he stared at me. He looked so conflicted. Why? Quil had never looked at me that way before. I didn't like it - not even a little bit.

He sighed a heavy sigh, kneeling down in front of me, placing his hands atop my knees. "Get some sleep, Claire." He leaned forward, his lips gravitating towards my cheek.

I turned my head just slightly, but not too much. His lips connected to my cheek, just millimetres away from my lips. I sucked in a breath and Quil froze in the spot where he was. The silence and tightness grew over the single second neither of us moved. I couldn't form a thought, other than every moment of last night that made me want to be close to him. Every moment over the past couple of months where I needed to touch him and I needed him to touch me. All the times I had fleeting thoughts of Quil's hands on places he would never let himself touch. All of the intense moments where his lips looked so soft and so inviting.

I shifted my face just barely, my lips brushing against his. There was a quick, unbearable moment where I felt him moving away before I pushed hard against him, my lips then firm against his, fit together in what seemed to be perfection for a couple of seconds before he pulled back.

"Oh, Claire..." Quil leaned away slowly, looking me in the eyes. Now he seemed sad. His hands on my leg slowly slid off and he prepared himself to stand back up.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, keeping him exactly where he was. "Quil, I -" I couldn't think of what I wanted to say. I didn't want to risk messing up this moment. I had this feeling from him that he would never kiss me again if I messed up this moment. I needed to say the right thing. What was the right thing to say? "I -"

Quil reached up and detached my arms from him, shaking his head at me, like he used to do when I was child, which felt like the way he was treating me now, at the age of eighteen. His saddened look transferred over to me as he said, "I need to leave." He didn't wait for a response as he walked out of my room, using the door that time. He shut it behind him and I followed the sound of his footsteps until I couldn't bear it anymore.

I stuffed my face into my pillow, pulling the sides around my head to block of the noise of Quil starting Embry's truck.

I felt my face grow red and my eyes start to swell. The exhaustion fell over me harshly, and I forced myself to try and fall asleep rather than cry.