Embry's POV

I want to kiss her.
I want to kiss her so badly.

They say men think about sex at least nineteen times a day, while I think about finally kissing Winnie double that. When she first gets in the car, I want to kiss her good morning. Then kiss her goodbye and hello at work. Kiss her to interrupt her when she says I'm too nice. Kiss her on the cheek when I finally make her laugh. Most especially I want to kiss her goodnight.

The last few days I've been struggling to keep calm whenever we're around each other. I was so busy trying to speak to Winnie again after freshman year, I hadn't noticed when I suddenly couldn't settle for only being friends. At least not for much longer.

"I think I'm gonna ask out Winnie." I think out loud to Quil and Jacob at the table. It was so out of pocket, even Jacob's dad Billy Black came into the room to look for himself. They're all so taken off guard they're unusually quiet, making me look at each of their faces to gauge in their reaction.

"This that Winifred girl, right?" Billy asks, maneuvering to the table between Quil and Jacob to be right across from me.

"She likes to be called Winnie." I confirm with a small grin. He nods at me, taking his time to mull over my situation.

"I wanted to ask how that was going, but I didn't want to pressure you, man." Quil admits, taking the last slices of pizza from our fifth box.

"From what I've seen, decent. She looks Embry in the face when she speaks to him." Jacob jokes, before amending. "I actually think it's safe to call the two of you friends."

I try to give Jacob an enthusiastic grin, but barely manage lifting the corners of my lips with a tight shrug. It's nice hearing, I guess. Yet at the same time it hurts thinking I'll be friend zoned at best.

I can't wait to tell Winnie she's my imprint.

While Quil questions Jacob about when he had seen Winnie and I together, I think some things over. Just months ago I was worrying over how to talk to her. Back then I thought she hated so much that I could only speak to her by making her take my coffee order.

Maybe I'm rushing.

"Now, how would you ask her out, son?" Billy asks.

"That's the thing, I don't know how to ask her." I explain.

"She wouldn't want anything causal, but she doesn't want corny or gooeshy either. She's not really the flowers and chocolate type." I can't just ask her randomly in my van while driving her home, and I know she'll definitely refuse if I show up with flowers.

"No big gestures," Billy understands giving me a sympathetic look.

"Definitely no big gestures." I sigh.

"And nothing too simple either." Billy adds.

"She'll probably think I'm trying to prank her or something." I groan, feeling my whole body sag. How am I tired when I haven't even asked her yet.

"So she doesn't like gifts, she doesn't like grand gestures, she doesn't like sweet talk, right?" Billy nods, his wise eyes crinkling in the corners. The trace of a smile on his face clashes with the contemplative look in his eyes, as if he's finding fun. Like a riddle.

"Yes sir."

"Make her something."

"Make her what?" Quil asks, stumped just as much as me.

"Anything." Billy gives me a fond grin that makes me feel like he knows something I don't. "Nothing too expensive now. Widdle her something, or make her a bracelet. I gave Jacob's mom a mix tape myself. Just something she knows you took time and a bit of effort. Something that make her think of you every time she looks at it."

My brown eyes land on Jacob, suddenly realizing why he built Bella Swan bikes for her.

"Thanks Billy," I clap a hand in his shoulder before getting up to get him a beer. He may have solved my problems.

"I brought you some pie." Winnie stops by the driver's window, handing me four pie tins.

"Some?" I raise a brow at the pile of pastry in my lap.

"Would you be mad if they were today's leftovers? I figured you would like them more than the dumpster would." She nervously admits, looking sheepish. Maybe she has me wrapped around her finger, but if bat her eyelashes and pouted, she could guilt trip anyone with that face of hers.

"How can a man be upset over free pie?" My stomach is already growling just looking at them. Winnie's face brightens a bit, a small relieved grin on her face. She dashes around to the passenger side before she gives me a chance to really catch her smiling.

"They're banana cream pie, lemon meringue, sweet potato and—"

"Chocolate, my favorite." I say around a mouthful.

"You're eating it already?" Winnie sounds like she wants to scold me, but she can't help crinkling her nose at me and letting out an adorable snort. She pulls out some napkins from the glove compartment, so familiar with my van she already knows where I keep must things.

"Yeah, I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry." She clarifies with a knowing grin.

"Do you want some?" I ask, holding out the tin. Winnie worked a double today, she must be starving. She called me halfway through her usual shift to tell me she had to stay till closing to cover one for the girls. She's been here since six am.

"No, I'm okay. I'm sick of diner food." She answers while fastening her seatbelt.

"So, what do you eat?" I ask, putting the pie tins in between us before wiping my hands clean to put the car in drive.

"Whatever our cook Joel makes me." Winnie shrugs. I tap the breaks a little to hard by accident, sending us rocking in the van at the sudden stop.

"Embry!" She lands against the seat, her seat belt sending her back. I had one hand on the tins, the other on the clutch.

"Wait, wait, wait," I put the van back in park in the middle of the empty parking lot. "Winnie, are you saying you don't cook? Do you only eat when you're at work?"

"I cook," She nods with an unconvincing furrowed brow. "I cook salad." I can't help the bark of a laugh I let out.

"You only use the salad that comes in a bag, don't you?" I ask in between laughs.

"Have you seen my kitchen?" She gives me a sheepish look. "There's not even a stove. Just that wood burning oven! The only thing that can make is some really burnt popcorn. So, I usually just take the leftovers home."

My laughter finally dies down, the two of us exchanging a long look across the dash in the dim lighting. She messes with her hair, biting her lip at the corner as if she's embarrassed. Not humiliated or shy, but something near vulnerable. Winnie is independent and keeps to herself. Winnie is firstly known for accidently flashing the entire high school, then secondly for her self-sufficiency and maturity. Winnie doesn't bother anyone, so no one better bother her. But it's sort of unexcepted that she doesn't know to cook.

"Let me make you dinner sometime." I say softly, my arm resting on the back of the seats. Winnie looks like she doesn't believe me for a moment, her lips opening slightly but no words coming up for air. Her eyes running over my face as if her gaze is caressing it. Then her cheekbones dust over with a tinge pink. As fast as that blush came, it's gone. She doesn't think I notice how she pinches the back of her hand, her lips pressing into a firm line.

"You're being too nice again, Embry. You don't have to feel bad for me."

"I don't feel bad for you." I immediately wave off. Her near black eyes fill with emotion, then she blinks the light out of her eyes.

"You don't have to feed me." I almost outright retort how I'm not trying to feed her, but I'm trying to ask her out. Well I do want to feed her. I'd spoiler her if she'd let me.

"I promise Winnie, it's not just to be nice," My heart thuds painfully in my chest. "I just... I would really love to make you dinner. For fun, to impressive you, to eat something else besides runny eggs and french fries, to—"

"To impress me?" Winnie questions, the serious look on her face dropping. Now replaced with a soft look of surprise. There's still some worry etched on her face, but the look in her eyes is so sweet it makes her eyes turn a warm mix of brown and gold. She finally realizes I mean it.

"You really want to cook for me?" She says quietly. Winnie looks so small in the seat, like she's fifteen again, instead of her now serious and careful if not guarded demeanor. Without it, Winnie appears physically smaller, younger; vulnerable.

"I do." I smile at her, feeling the heavy weight lift off of my chest, now filled with a rush of excitement that causes my heart to race a bit too fast.

"What are you going to make?" Winnie asks.

"Whatever you want." I grin eagerly at her, starting the van back up and leaving the parking lot.

"Where are you going to cook this?"

"Let me in your kitchen, I think I handle your oven."

"Do you know how to cook?" I beam at her, my hand affectionally grasping her knee for a moment before landing back on the wheel. I didn't mean to, but my hand moved on its own as I turned. Now I want to hold her.

"I love to cook."

"Embry, no." Winnie stands in her door, giving me a pleading look through the armful of groceries. She isn't dressed for a date. Her brown hair is sitting in a messy bun at the top of her head, held together by a fluffy white scrunchie that reminds me of the ones she use to wear when we were kids. She's in something comfy, almost pajamas. A navy blue sweatshirt that's a few sizes to big for her, leggings and white crew socks.

"I knew you wouldn't have anything." I say with a grin, struggling to move past her.

"We said dinner, not buying both the food and cooking it too." I can tell by the sound of her voice she's genuinely worried I did too much. She's really not use to someone doing things for her. I lean forward, till we're just about nose to nose. She immediately quiets down, flushing with how close we are. I was expecting her to stagger back, but I like this reaction more.

"Winnie," I say her name deeply, giving her a charming smirk, "Please let me in." She immediately gives, stepping aside with her cheeks a rosy color. After a beat, she follows me in to the tight kitchen, watching me unpack the paper brown bags.

"Want to help me with something?" She immediately stands at attention, her face perking up as she nods.

"Go sit down." Her face goes flat, not liking my answer. I can't help the chuckle that rumbles through me. I pass her a wine bottle, hoping uncorking it will keep busy, but not too busy. "Here."

"You drink?" She tilts her head at me. We are both eighteen, almost nineteen.

"Nope." I falter, scratching the back of my head. "But the dish I'm making pairs really well with wine."

"You don't drink?" Winne repeats.

"Not a drop." She narrows her eyes at me,

"You use to when we were in high school." I almost drop the skillet from her shelf. Crap, I did. She's right.

"Well, then I found our lord and savior, Jesus Christ." The look on her face cracks me up, my laughter over spilling to cause her to grin. She pushes at my arm playfully, looking for a cork screw.

"It's cooking wine." I explain to her. "But you can have some. I only need a cup of it."

"Oh shit, you really do know how to cook." I let out another laugh, barely managing a nod through my fits. I rarely heard Winnie curse. It's so unlike her, yet so very much like her. It suites her, but it's still very much surprising.

"I cook for my mom most days." I explain, beginning to dice up a white onion.

"You're—"

"Don't call me nice." I warn her, giving her a knowing look.

"I was going to say you're a good son." She says contently, happy I'm too busy so she can start cutting up the baguette. I might even let her shred some cheese, but after that she's sitting the hell down and resting for the rest of the evening.

I can't believe it. Winnie fell asleep.

While I was cooking we both fell into a tranquil quiet. I thought we were spending time together, enjoying each other's company without needing to fill it with constant chatter. Turns out I was making up most of it in my head. When I turned back around to tell her dinner was ready she fell asleep.

Winnie is curled up on her couch, practically a ball with how she's hugging her knees to her chest. I can see where she was originally sitting and how she slid down after she must have knocked out. Her long brown hair hangs over the side of the couch, her bun undone, the only thing left is her white scrunchie on the floor directly below her head.

"You're still a lightweight," I chuckle to myself, walking over and taking the near empty glass of wine. Smiling to myself, I remember the last time I've seen her drunk, remembering our first and only kiss at fifteen. Then my smile completely falls when I remember what happened to Winnie from that moment forward.

Trying not to think about it, I busy myself with doing the dishes. Thinking she'd wake up in a bit. By the time everything is drying, Winnie is still fast asleep.

Sighing with defeat, I give in and pull a nearby blanket over her. She might not wake up for the rest of the night. I lower down on the vision next to her, trying to enjoy what time with Winnie I can before I have to patrol.

I probably shouldn't bother her, but my hands can't stay at my sides, reaching out to rub little circles into her knee. A low hum sounds from her, and it's so soothing to hear it makes me feel like I should take a nap.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen." I mumble to myself.

Winnie's POV

I don't remember when my eyes shut, but when it dawns on me I fell asleep, I jolt up.

"Shit." I grumble, harshly rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I hate taking naps. I have too much to do for me to take naps. Scrambling off the couch, I rush through the cabin, a bad feeling settling in my gut because it looks like Embry isn't the bathroom, but left.

"You left." I mumble into the phone, happy he picked up. My heart pounds dully against my ribs. So nervous he's not happy with me, that it feels like it's slowing down from the nerves.

"I didn't leave," Embry chuckles, my heart lifting at the light sound. I'm happy he isn't mad, even though he has every right to be. "I had to go to work. If I didn't have pa-a shift I would have stayed and waited till you woke up."

"You could have woken me up!" I insist, shaking my head. I can't believe I fell asleep. You can hear the disappointment in my voice.

"Nah, you work really hard. You could use the break." I wish he had. "Plus, Winnie you look really cute when you sleep."

My entire body heats up, burning me from the inside out with a buzz of emotions. I'm so red in the face I'm glad Embry isn't here to see it. My heart nearly explodes from my chest, hammering too quick for my body to keep up with.

"Th-thank you..." Is all I can manage out and I can hear him try to muffle his own chuckle.

"I'm on my break right now, do you want me to stop by?" I hate how I'm instantly excited by his offer.

"How long is your break?" He already had me fall asleep on him, he shouldn't have to make the trip back.

"Long enough. Don't worry about it. I'm already near by." Near by? Where does he work? Isn't Same Uley's house further up in the hills of the reservation?

"I mean, if—" The if was all he had to hear.

"I'll be there in less than ten." I can hear the smirk in his voice. After he hangs up I take a minute to catch my breath, pressing my palm against my heart to steady it. Then I rush to the bathroom to brush the morning breath out of mouth and fix my bed head. Just as I start looking for my scrunchie there's a knock on my door.

"I'm so sorry," I immediately apologize when I open the door. Embry leans against the doorway, shirtless in only a pair of cargo shorts. His hair looks windswept, and his chest rises and falls as if he was running. Did he run here? And from where?

"Nothing to be sorry for." He shakes his head.

"Aren't you cold?" I ask, closing the door behind him. It's at least fifty degrees out. Maybe forty.

"I run hot." He shrugs, not looking me squarely in the eye when he answers. I couldn't help it, I didn't even know I had reached out to brush my fingers against his bare shoulders till I felt sheer heat press against my hand followed by smooth skin and taunt muscle. I can feel the weight of his eyes on me, following my movement till I finally drop my hand.

"I think you have a fever." I mumble, suddenly unable to look him in the face like we're fifteen again.

"I don't," He promises softly. My eyes stare at me, suddenly too scared to see what expression he has on his face. I'm caught off by surprise by the feel of his hand landing down on my forehead, pressing his body heat into me. My head flies up to see him with his other hand on his own forehead. "Seems normal to me."

"Embry," I start but he continues, trying not to smile and keep his face serious. I try not to yelp when he leans down to softly rest his forehead against mine, getting so close I could count each induvial eye lash.

"Do I feel like I have a fever?" He hums, his brown eyes boring into mine. I open my mouth to say something, but it closes right back up. When I can't give a straight answer, he just smirks. "You do." He says, talking about how I'm blushing. Just as my hand jerks up to touch my warm cheeks, he goes off towards the kitchen.

I'm not even sure when Embry and I started speaking like we're friends, let alone when he started flirting.

"Did you try it yet?" He acts like everything is perfectly normal, while I fight to get a grip on myself. I just manage a shake of my head, still too shy to speak. He tells me it tastes better hot as he heats a closed pan in the stove oven for a few moments.

"Come look." He waves me over, trying not to smirk at how I'm still flushed. "Ever had beef bourguignon before?"

"No," I shake my head, amazed by how well done it came out. I assumed he was making pasta. But this is definitely complicated and French. I can't believe he managed to make this in my little antique stove. "Embry, you're a really good cook."

"You haven't even tried it yet." He beams, looking content with himself. He stabs a piece off with a fork, and holds it up my lips till I hesitantly open.

"How is it?" He purposefully asks when I have my mouth too full to answer, trying to hold back a grin.

"Delicious." I manage after swallowing fast.

"I'm glad you like it." He smiles down at me, offering me another bite. "Alright, I should go."

"Already?" I say around a forkful, taken off guard.

"Yeah, I have to go back to work."

"Oh," I hear the disappointment in my own voice and hate it. He beams at me, the look around his eyes soft.

"We should do this again sometime."

"Yeah," I agree, the way his voice sounds making my heart race a little too fast just when I calmed it down. Embry's hands lands on the top of my head, smoothing down my hair before gingerly pecking the top of my head. He gives me one last goodbye, his cheeks almost as pink as mine.

When he leaves, I finally break out of my stunned state.

Did I just go on a date with Embry Call?