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Chapter 22: Date

Claire's POV.

I was wrong.

I wouldn't kiss Quil the next day, or be together with him the next day, in fact, I wouldn't even see him the next day.

After our kissing escapade in the sea, I didn't see Quil for two days. He claimed to be working and patrolling, but I saw through his lies. He wanted time away to think about things. He was freaking out about us moving onto the next stage of our relationship, I could tell. I knew him far too well not to realize the signs, like how he was jumpy and laughed just a little too hard at things. When he did come to see me he acted like the kiss hadn't happened. To him, we were still best friends Quil and Claire. Whenever I touched him or attempted to kiss him, he manoeuvred so I would catch his cheek, or grab my hands to stop them from going anywhere. He held my hand sometimes, though even then he swung our arms like school kids in the playground.

I didn't get too angry at first, I figured he needed time, he wanted to take it slow. However, as time went on, my irritation grew. A week after our kiss I went home to start school again. The work load of senior year and trying to keep my grades at a good standard was hard already, never mind taking time to drive down to La Push and hang out. Quil and I talked every night over the phone for hours while I did homework, though seeing each other was becoming a problem. When I was free, he had work or patrolling, and when he was free, I had ten essays to do. Our time together was limited and by November I had seen him only three times, one including my eighteen birthday when my family and friends gathered for a party.

It definitely wasn't enough.

In those three times we didn't kiss again. We cuddled on the sofa for a few hours before he had to go on the night patrol. I once get a peck goodbye (one fabulous, skin tingling kiss on the lips that had be smiling for days), and that was it. Holding hands seemed to be the line, where my line was becoming further every day until I was seriously thinking about handcuffing him to the bed.

Gabby wasn't helping me. One of my best friends and Collin seemed to be thriving. Gabby was always gushing and blushing over him, she had even started to call him 'Colly-wolly' in a disgusting voice that should be kept for children and animals only. Behati had stopped hanging out with her for a while because she became so love stricken it was hard to be around her. Although I joked around with Behati and made sick motions that made Gabby squeal, I was jealous. Jealous that she was so deeply in love and allowed to express herself while I was sat contemplating if Quil really wanted to be with me, or he had just said it to please me.

It also didn't help that Embry had finally imprinted, though I was beyond thrilled for him. He'd ran into a woman called Mollie in Seattle while on business for Fix 'n' Go and fell head-over-heels. She was a dancer, apparently, and had two young children, Delilah and Riley. They were in the just-imprinted-infatuation period of the relationship, so everywhere I looked there seemed to be couples in love.

After a night at Behati's going over some Calculus papers, I went home to finish off a History essay. I completed the essay around seven and the door went ten minutes later. Nora was sleeping over at a friends and my parents had gone out on a business dinner, so I ran down to answer it.

"Quil," I instantly beamed. "What are you doing here?"

"I got off patrol early, Brady took my shift," he came in and I slammed the door behind us. "So I came to see you, do you have work or anything?"

"Just finished."

He smiled. "Awesome, I'll make the popcorn?"

Nodding, I went to turn on the T.V. and chose something for us to watch. I sat on the sofa watching random channels when he came back. He set the popcorn on the coffee table and stretched himself along the front of the sofa, making enough room for me to slip into his side at the back. I threw my leg over his and trailed a pattern on his chest while he ate the popcorn and stared at the telly.

"Quil," I muttered. "I want to go on a date."

He coughed and snapped his head to look at me. I peered at him, propping myself on his chest to look him in the eyes.

"What?" he said.

"I want to go on a date," I repeated strongly. "Not a telly night at my place, a proper date. We've been 'dating' for a while now and we have yet to go out."

He grinned. "Why didn't you tell me? Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know, it doesn't have to be something spectacular, just the movies and dinner," I shrugged.

"Okay, we can do that."

I smiled at him. "Thanks," I kissed his cheek and laid back down, my head on his chest.

I kissed his cheek at the door that night and watched him run off into the forest. I closed the door and squealed.

I was going on a date with Quil!

When we spoke on the phone the next day, we decided to go on the date next weekend when I figured I wouldn't have a lot of homework and Quil was off patrol. I was glad, it was going to take me that long to think of what to wear. I tried to remind myself that it was Quil, he wouldn't care if I turned up in a bin bag. However, being dressed made me feel more confident about the date because, even though I really wanted it, I was shitting myself.

I had wanted to go on a date with Quil since I was ten. The fact that my fantasy was becoming true both frightened and thrilled me. What if it went bad? What if he didn't like dating me? What if I made a fool of myself?

I rang my Aunt Emily to ask if I could stay for the weekend and got her approval. So two weeks later, I was packing my bag, ready to go down to La Push and to my first date with Quil.

Was it normal to be so nervous?

I drove down late night, I had to get all my work done before I went down, and didn't get to my Aunt and Uncle's until eleven. I quickly said hello to them and went to get some sleep so I could be fresh for my date with Quil. After primping myself to the max (including scrubbing myself with body wash, shaving, plucking my eyebrows and brushing my teeth), I put on my new skinny jeans, my over-sized white and black striped jumper and black suede boots. I added volume to my hair and redid my make-up three times before I got a text from Quil saying he was outside.

My heart started to thump as I rushed out the door, calling goodbye over my shoulder. I was starting to sweat from the eagerness and anxiousness. I climbed into Quil's truck and he smiled at me.

"You look beautiful," he told me, kissing my hand. I blushed and thanked him as he drove to the movie theatre. Like I said, we were going to see a movie and then go to dinner at the local restaurant. Such a simple date and yet I had never felt more excited.

Quil paid for everything, like he always did when we went out together, in the theatre. Watching the movie we had bags of sweets and a tub of popcorn the size of my head on my lap. Of course, it was all gone by the end, wolves were constantly hungry, something Quil had informed me months ago when I asked why he ate so much. Our banquets of food for a barbeque or dinner with friends had suddenly made much more sense when he told me that.

As we walked out the movie, hand-in-hand, Quil came to a halt. Confused, I peered behind his frame to see a man with long black hair in a ponytail beaming at Quil. He looked to be around thirty and was with a woman with long black hair in a braid.

"Quil, man," the man smiled. "It's been a while since I've seen you."

"Mitch," Quil breathed. "Wow, where have you been?"

"Went away for a job, I've just got back from Seattle, Marisa wants to raise the family here," he nodded to the woman beside him. I looked at her stomach and saw a small bump forming there. My eyes snapped to Quil, he knew this guy? I realized in that moment I hadn't actually comprehended just how old Quil was. I knew his birthday of course—August 18th 1990—but I had never really thought about it properly. Looking at this guy in front of me, who looked to be about thirty, shocked me a little. Quil still looked to be in his early twenties, though, if he wanted to, he could pass for mid-twenties.

"Oh, wow, congratulations," Quil muttered while I frowned at him.

"And who's this?" Mitch nodded his head to me, smirking at Quil.

"This is Claire…" Quil gulped at Mitch's accusing stare. "My...friend."

I sucked in a hurt breath.

"Sure she is," Mitch smirked and his wife whacked him in the arm.

My grip on Quil's hand slackened and my arm fell limply to my side. Friend? We were on a date and I was his friend?

I felt sick, claustrophobic even. He did see me as a friend. He had been saying he wanted to be with me just to appease me.

A lump formed in my throat as I shook my head and walked briskly away. I couldn't be around here anymore.

"Claire! Claire, wait!"

I only increased my pace at Quil's yells. Friend? I was devastated, unbelievably so.

I ran to the parking lot only to remember Quil had drove us here and I had no car to escape in. I leaned against Quil's truck and let my tears fall, unable to stop them. I turned away when I heard Quil running over to me, I didn't want to see him.

"Claire," he murmured and I sobbed. "Claire, please don't cry."

I cried harder.

"Claire," he went to grab my hand but I ripped it away. "Claire, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I panicked! He was a friend from school and he was looking at me as if I was some sort of cradle robber—"

"What, so you're embarrassed to be seen with me?" I whispered. I wanted to shout at him, but couldn't find the voice.

"No, no, of course not," he walked over and stood in front of me. I stared at his feet. It was weird seeing him in shoes. "Claire, it's just...I'm quite a lot older than you and people are going to be talking about me, not you. I mean, I imprinted on you when you were two—"

"Quil, how old are you?"

"Sorry?"

"How old are you?" I repeated, my voice didn't crack that time.

"I'm…" he paused and sighed. "I'm 31."

My neck stretched to look up at him. He had always looked so young. I felt as though I should have been grossed out...but I found it incredibly hot.

What was wrong with me? I was so weird.

"Oh," I mumbled.

"Is that too weird?" he muttered.

"No...that's rather hot, actually," I blurted without thinking. I then flushed bright red at my words and chewed on my bottom lip.

Had I really just said that?

"That's not the point, though," I continued throatily. "You shouldn't have said you were ready when you're clearly not. You shouldn't care what people think, Quil."

"I know that, I'm sorry, I was stupid. I just freaked for a second," he sighed. "I kept thinking about how I had imprinted on you when you were two, hell, I've seen you grow up. And now we're dating...it's a lot to handle."

"Then maybe you should think about if you want this or not," I replied, looking into his eyes again.

"I want to be with you, Claire, I really do. There's just a stupid voice in the back of my head—"

"Its fine," I lied. "Can you take me back?"

"Claire—"

"I want to go back, Quil."

He nodded and backed away from me. Sniffling, I climbed into the car and slammed the door shut. Quil silently got into the driver's seat and started the engine. I stared determinedly out the window, refusing to look at him because I knew I would break down if I did. When we pulled up outside the Uley house he leaned over to kiss my cheek, I didn't stop him, I didn't have the heart to. I pushed open the door and ran into the house through the drizzle, only pausing to wipe my boots on the welcome mat before I hid in my bedroom.

"Claire, honey," Aunt Emily knocked on the door and walked in, a wide smile on her face, sure to expect me sighing dreamily and gushing about my date with Quil. Instead she found me curled into a ball crying. I knew I was being dramatic, but I was just so upset. I had built up the dream date over the past two weeks, kissing under the stars and holding hands under the table at the restaurant, for the date to end up like this, our first date, was a big disappointment.

"Oh, Claire," she breathed, coming over to hug me. I hugged her back, taking in her comforting apple and jasmine scent. "What happened?"

I recited the night, rather hysterically, and soaked my Aunt's shoulder. When I was done she ran her fingers through my hair soothingly.

"Claire, he's just a typical man," she calmly stated. "They freak out sometimes and overthink things. Sam does that, too. You just need to give him some time."

"I-I'm j-just upset," I blubbered.

"I know, honey, and that's okay. You're allowed to be upset. But remember Quil is going through a lot, too. Like he said, he's seen you grow up, it must be hard for him to forget about that. You may be Claire, but there's always going to be a little bit of Claire-bear."

I sniffed and wiped my eyes, my hand got a black smudge on it. My make-up was ruined. I tied my hair up with a band from the night stand and nodded. "Yeah, I know," I croaked.

"You guys will be together one day, Claire," she patted my hand. "You just have to be patient...very patient."

She kissed my cheek and left me to my thoughts. She was right and so was Quil. While I had grown up with him, he had watched me grow, hell, he played a part of raising me. For him to be dating me, yet still have the memories of me learning to talk and going to pre-school, must be hard for him. The phrase 'step into their shoes' came to mind. Wiping off the destroyed make-up from my face, I thought about the inner battle he must have going on in his head. And if I knew Quil as well as I thought I did, he would be turning insane thinking about everything. I had to respect his emotions like he did mine.

I climbed into bed and fell asleep, exhausted from the crying.

The next day I dressed and quickly ate a bowl of cereal before making my way to Quil's. I didn't bother knocking (who did in La Push?) and saw Quil eating a sandwich on the sofa. He sensed me with his wolf instincts and turned, his eyes filled with shock. I walked over to him and leaned my head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I overreacted. I should have thought about how hard this is for you, not only for me."

He swallowed the bite of the sandwich and frowned. "I should be the one apologizing."

"What about we both accept each other's apology?" I smiled. "And we'll carry on 'dating'," I emphasized my air quotes. "And I won't get irritated that we're going to slow but you also won't introduce me as you friend anymore."

He winced and I giggled. "Okay deal," he said.

He leaned down to kiss my cheek and, for once, I didn't complain for more.

Thoughts?

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-Laylax