Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Sorry it took ages but I'm back at school so updates will most likely be a bit slow. But here's a wee one to hopefully keep you happy. :)

Chapter 8: Imprinting

I was leaning against my locker again, eyes planted on the northern end of the hallways where Seth would walk in any minute.

I patted the banana yellow skirt I was wearing today with a gorgeous pair of teal heels and a white, lace tank top. I straightened the leather tie that held up the perfectly matching teal teardrop stone pendant that fell just so above my décolletage.

And I brushed back the hair I'd spent an embarrassing amount of time perfecting.

I was ready.

He was going to fall over when he saw this.

I heard footsteps echo out.

But it was just the janitor.

I tapped my fingers impatiently against the locker. I didn't normally put in this much effort for school but things were different now, they were more interesting.

It wasn't like he was going to declare any sort of emotion for me any time soon and I sure as hell didn't want to change our relationship just yet, but it didn't hurt to test the water.

Besides, flirty was fun as hell, and Seth was not a bad partner, in facet-ah, speak of the devil.

And the devil was looking fine.

He strode in: white undershirt whose bottom barely brushed the top of his jeans that were hung, oh so low. I caught a glimpse of gorgeous russet as he hastened his pace upon seeing me.

His glasses were, as always, perched on his nose.

I felt my knees liquefying.

"Hey you." He leaned against the locker and shot me a casual glance.

But I saw his pupils widen; he wasn't so subtle. He seemed to be fixated on the pendant.

This was going to be fun.

"Hello, eyes up here. I'm more than a clothes rack." His gaze shot up to my face and he cleared his throat lightly.

"Please, like you've got anything interesting to sell." But I saw his eyes dart down for a second and I smirked to myself.

Boy was hooked.

Still, we did have pretences to keep up.

"Anyway, you finish that essay for lit?" I asked, swinging my binder in front of my chest.

"Yeah, spent like two hours on that piece of crap." He leaned in to the messenger bag swinging at his side and brandished the paper at me.

Lame, his was thicker than mine.

"You're is bigger than mine."

He looked at me like Christmas had come early, and winked, real cute and sultry.

"You bet it is." I felt the heat rise in my face and I did my best to look disgusted.

"That's gross, Seth. And juvenile." But the words came out slightly hazy, and I could tell he didn't buy it.

"Whatever." He placed a searing hand on my waist and pushed me forward and I almost stumbled in surprise.

Contact. Sweet, sweet, contact.

"Let's got to class, yeah?" He said, and to my utter delight let his hand slide firmly to the small of my back, giving me a little push.

But I couldn't resist.

"If the front's off limits, you can bet your ass the back is." I muttered under my breath.

His hand disappeared almost instantly and I was just about to turn around and tell him I was joking when I felt a swat.

He smacked me with his essay.

On. The. Ass.

"You were saying?" He asked, walking past me, smug grin on his face and as much as I wanted to be furious, all I could think about was that his biceps were bigger than both of mine put together.

Yum.


Class passed by fairly quickly, but neither of us were distracted during that. We had ambitions, and those had always come first. We were getting out of here if it killed us.

And then suddenly it was lunch and Seth was gone again and I was sitting by myself, trying to wrap my fingers around the threadbare excuse he had spun just a few moments ago.

I left something at home.

What?

My-uh-my essay.

But I'd caught him in that before it could take.

We just turned that in.

Right, but what I actually meant was my math problem set.

And we hadn't had math yet so I let it go.

And him.

And now I was sitting, all cute and fluffed with no one to parade it for.

Depressing.

I shoved my chair back, tossing my leftovers into the garbage next to me and then walked out of the cafeteria.

Library time.

I wanted to see if I could see this imprinting business anywhere.

The Quileute section in the library was small and dusty much like the majority of Quileute people and posessions. But the lacking resources made my search easier.

In fact, had there been only the one book I had in front of me, then we'd still be fine.

Because there it was.

Right underneath the practices and history of spirit warriors, and their various, more than likely mythical, interactions with the Cold Ones.

Imprinting.