five:imprinted

a year and a half later

(post-Breaking Dawn)

There was one box of pasta left, and it was angel hair. Sue Clearwater's famous egg noodle stew was going to have to work with spaghetti noodles. Leah tossed the box into her shopping cart, scrawling over the word "noodles" on her shopping list. The next thing on the list was Ho-Hos. Leah grabbed up her shopping basket, the plastic bags containing her produce crinkling lightly as she moved.

Leah's cell phone buzzed. "Dammit," she mumbled. She dropped her basket and fumbled in her purse until she came across the phone. "What?" she demanded.

"Ah, you're still my friendly sister, I can see."

"What do you want, Seth?" Leah was so not in the mood. Seth's banter was just annoying her.

"Sue wants to know when you're going to come visit," Seth reported. "I think she misses you. It sucks having her breathe down my neck all the time, anyway. So come soon."

"God, I don't know," sighed Leah. "At this point, I'm just trying to go one day at a time. But tell Sue I love her, okay?"

"That's a little offensive. Don't you love me?"

Leah rolled her eyes. "Fine. Love you too, Seth. I'll try and come as soon as I can, 'kay? Tell Sue I'm making her stew. Bye." Leah stuck her phone back in her purse, scooped up her shopping basket, and ambled through the rest of the store.

And then, turning into the snack cake aisle, missing her mom and even her little brother, was when Leah first saw him. The fact that he was taking the last box of Ho-Hos was so beyond her at that point. He had ink-black hair, streaked through with electric blue, lime green, and scarlet. He had angel bite piercings below his lip, and another ring through the same lip. Two more piercings adorned his nose and eyebrow. He was wearing crimson skinny jeans, a beat-up black t-shirt with silver lettering on it that said Death Cab for Cutie, and a leather jacket. Checkerboard Vans covered his feet.

He was definitely the weirdest-looking person Leah had ever seen, the kind of person who Leah looked at with disgust when she rode the public bus. Yet there was a strange pull to him. That was when Leah realized with absolute horror that she had just imprinted on this kid. "Shit!" she mumbled to herself. He hadn't heard her, thank God. But oh crap, oh crap, what was she going to do? She thought of calling Jacob—her best friend, her right hand man—but she knew to do that she'd have to step away from this awful, amazing guy, and she just couldn't.

Desperately, she tried to think of something to say, just to hear his voice. "Hey, trying to make off with the last of the Ho-Hos?" was what she came up with. He whirled around, and Leah got a better look at his face. His eyes were a weird shade of light green, the same color as celery. Leah had never seen anything like it.

"Huh?" he asked, confused, the Ho-Ho box suspended in midair.

"The Ho-Hos," Leah repeated, the humor wearing off at the second repetition. "Are you just going to take them and not think about the rest of Forks' Ho-Ho emergencies?"

The guy laughed. Leah hated that she liked that sound. She gave him a second, closer scrutiny, and decided he was eighteen or nineteen, twenty tops, just around the same age as she was. "Sorry. Didn't realize I would be revoking a poor lady's Ho-Ho privileges." He chucked Leah the box, which she caught in a sinuous motion. "Guess I'll have to settle for Twinkies." He mock-sighed, tossing the Twinkies into his cart.

"That's very chivalrous." Leah dropped the Ho-Hos into her basket. "Thanks."

"I'm Keenan Brock," blurted the guy with a grin. Leah looked him up and down and decided the name suited him perfectly.

"Leah Clearwater," she introduced herself, shoving her bangs out of her eyes to look at Keenan. She tried her absolute hardest to look away, to stare at the floor, to be fascinated with the noodles, but she couldn't. She was, unfortunately, stuck in his eyes. He was smiling at her, but she couldn't place her face in the same position. And just as quickly as their moment was shared, it was dashed as another girl rounded the corner.

She was all black hair and red lips, very beautiful. Her raven hair (obviously from a bottle, Leah noted with satisfaction; Leah's Native American hair color was all natural) waved almost to her waist. She was wearing a sheer, ripped white t-shirt over a black and purple striped long-sleeved t-shirt. Her black skirt was criminally short, and worn over neon pink leggings. A studded belt hung around her slim hips, and she had on an enormous ruby red cocktail ring. From the possessive way she nearly dug her ebony fingernails into Keenan's skin, it was apparent that this girl was his girlfriend. Leah tried not to let that get to her.

"Hey, Tori," Keenan said. Tori smiled and took the opportunity to plant a sloppy, open-mouthed on Keenan. Leah turned away disgustedly. Imprint or no imprint, this was too much.

While Keenan and Tori made out (that lip ring of his had to hurt her. What Leah surprised herself by thinking was that she wanted to find out what it felt like under her lips), Leah took the opportunity to make her escape. But somehow Leah knew that she would find him again. The power of the imprint, she supposed. And she'd never been more disgusted with herself.

hello! i'm back from my tres relaxing vacay! there was a 4-hr car ride back and forth, and now i'm up to chapter 8! gasp! check out "Meteor," which is awesome, and some of my new Mortal Instruments fics if you like those books. (if you don't or haven't read them, you're crazy. go read them. i heart Simon.) review!