Be Mine … Please …
Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight
A/N: It's the 1950's and Leah is waiting for Sam to come crawling back to her, but Embry has other ideas.
He watched from a corner booth, as Leah sat on the stool, sipping on a milk shake, waiting for Sam to arrive. He didn't know why she wasted her time. Sam was never coming back to her, would never even give her a second look now. Why would she pine away for someone who obviously didn't want her? He should talk—he had it bad, really bad for Leah. She was all he could think about these days, and it was hell trying to hide it from her and the rest of the pack.
If only he would man up and tell her how he felt, but he was scared that the she-wolf would laugh in his face. He was a mess. His stomach lurched, and his tongue died in his mouth each time he got close to her.
Leah's head bobbed up as the bell over the shop entrance tinkled, heralding the arrival of another customer. Embry could hear her heart skip a beat every damn time that happened, but it was always some student from La Push High, never Sam.
Day after day, he would sit in the back of the malt shop after school, his heart aching to tell her that she needn't be lonely anymore; that he loved her with every fiber of his being. And every day, he trudged home again that secret still locked in his heart. Some day … some day ….
The bell rang and in walked Paul. He looked around, spotted Leah, and her secret admirer seated in back as usual, and chortled.
"Pfhtt!" he huffed as he swaggered to the booth where the boy sat lazily stirring a glass of Pepsi with a straw. "You are so pathetic, man. Just go up to the girl, spill your guts, and get it over with."
"What are you talking about?" The guys would kid him about it, but a crimson flush spread across his cheeks.
"Don't give me that," Paul taunted. "Your secret crush wasn't a secret for long. Everyone knows." He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. "Well, maybe not clueless over there. She's been blinded by the Sam mojo. Look … you want me to haul your butt over to her table?"
"Go bark up another tree, will ya? I'll handle it myself."
"When?"
"Soon. Now just run along, why don'tcha?"
"What a pansy. I was just trying to help you. This is the thanks I get," he mumbled under his breath. "Bye, loser."
One evening, Embry sat staring out at the waves at First Beach, feeling pretty low. The clatter of pebbles being disturbed by a pair of feet made his ears prick up. The wolf boy was attuned to the sound of her footfalls. Hell, he was attuned to her heartbeat, the scent of her skin, and each breath she took. She'd lived in his heart for so long.
Leah walked straight toward him, and sat down. She sighed. He knew it wasn't meant for him, and that only plunged the knife in deeper. "You too, huh?" She muttered.
"Yeah."
"Anybody I know?"
Without looking at her, he replied, "You could say that."
"Life sucks, doesn't it? I thought Sam was the one. It's been weeks, and he hasn't come anywhere near me. Maybe I should give up on him."
He turned to her, and gazing into her eyes, said. "Maybe you should."
Sighing once more, she pulled her knees up to her chin. "Yeah, maybe I should. If only it was that easy."
They sat together silently, as he tossed stones one by one into the sea. Leah shifted her weight, and with a hand on his shoulder, began pushing herself up to a standing position. Only, the rocks beneath her gave way, and she stumbled against him, accidentally knocking him to the ground and landing on top of him.
She laughed as she untangled herself. "Sorry … damn rocks!" She pulled him back to a sitting position, and placed her hand on his cheek. He pressed her hand there for a moment, and wondered if she noticed the look of longing on his face.
The levity in her eyes was replaced by a serious expression. "Thanks for listening; you've always been there for me. You're such a good friend."
She left him sitting on the pebble strewn beach, his fingers touching his face, reveling in the remaining heat left from her palm.
It was Valentines Day, and he braved it by sending Leah one red rose and a box of chocolates. He left it on her doorstep with a note that read:
To Leah,
In my eyes, the most beautiful girl in the world
Love you always,
Your good friend
He hoped she could read between the lines, and realize who sent it. Were the last three words enough of a hint?
That night during patrol, Leah was ecstatic, and Embry was beside himself with joy, until they phased back, and he walked her home. "Guess what?" she bubbled. "Sam sent me something for Valentine's Day. Then he called me and said we needed to talk. He's meeting me at the malt shop tomorrow."
His head was hanging the rest of the way home.
Paul was right on the money. This was getting him nowhere. Why couldn't he tell her that he was the one who sent the candy? Instead he buttoned his lip like an idiot.
The next day, masochist that he was, the boy waited inside the shop, until Sam showed up. It was not what he or Leah expected, however. He listened intently while Sam explained, "Leah, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I'm with someone else now. I needed to tell you, but I've been such a coward, avoiding this for quite some time. I hope you can forgive me, and move on with your life."
Sam leaned over and kissed her cheek. "She's outside waiting for me. Goodbye, Lee Lee."
"Sam!" she called after him, but he didn't bother to turn around.
The tears streamed from her eyes, while he walked away. But she jumped from her seat when she saw him from the shop window with his arm around her cousin, Emily's waist. As they disappeared from sight, Leah bolted from the stool and ran from the place, with her good friend following her trail. She led him to the beach where they met and talked that time, and she sank to her knees.
Embry ran, dropping down in front of her, and wrapped his strong arms around her shaking shoulders. "Leah … Leah …" he murmured, stroking her hair. All the while she sobbed into his neck, and he held onto her tightly until the remainder of her tears were played out.
Several weeks slid by, and then one night, Leah was at his doorstep. "Can we talk?"
"Sure, c'mon in."
His mother was in the kitchen washing up the dinner dishes. He took Leah outside on the back porch so they could have some privacy. She came straight to the point. "Paul told me that it was you who sent me the Valentine's gift."
She waited to see if Embry would comment, but he couldn't eek out a single syllable past the blockage in his throat.
Her smoky eyes rested on his, making his knees weaken. "Why didn't you say something? You let me make a fool of myself thinking it was from Sam. Why would he sign it: your good friend, anyway? I feel so stupid."
The missing voice returned, and he stammered, "You're not stupid, you're beautiful, Leah."
Canting her head, she continued, "Paul tells me that you've been watching me for ages too. That seems a bit obsessive for a good friend. So, tell me the truth; I've gotta know. Are you in love with me?"
He looked down at the grey wooden slats of the porch, and swallowed hard. She took his hand in hers, and his pulse quickened.
"Are you ever gonna answer me? God, you can be so frustrating sometimes.
"You know, you once said that maybe I should be done with Sam, well maybe I am. Maybe I need a new man in my life."
Leah leaned toward him, and pressed her lips to his. She drew back without warning, to see his reaction. His eyes were flames of fire, and he needed no urging now. His emotions burst free and his instincts took over. Months of longing at once were satisfied. The she-wolf was crushed in his embrace, and her mouth greedily devoured by two hot lips.
When they came up for air, she smiled at him, and blurted, "Whew! Still waters run deep. I always knew you were the strong, silent type, but never dreaming that I might actually be yours someday."
He peered into her glorious eyes and with pure love etched on his face, croaked, "I love you, Leah. Are you saying that you'll be mine then … please?"
Running her hand through his disheveled hair, she spurted, "Embry … I'm yours. But I have a question—what in the freakin' hell took you so long? I—"
Embry covered her lips again with his own, and when he broke it off, whispered, "You talk too much, you know that?"
Leah tossed her head saucily, and retorted, "Well, that's what your tongue is for, lover boy."
"Wanna make a bet?" he countered.
In the following year together, she never complained about his seldom used words. His tongue had other duties that Leah appreciated, and quiet, shy Embry was not a bit shy to use that talent.
On the next Valentine's Day, Leah received one red rose and a box of chocolates like the previous year, but this time, the note read:
To Leah,
The beautiful girl who will forever be mine,
Love always,
Your good friend, and lover,
Embry (the tongue), Call … me, tonight … please. We've got plans!
The End
The most precious possession that ever comes to a man in this world is a woman's heart.
~~Holland