Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight books. I'm only borrowing the characters and will return them mostly unharmed… except for Quil. He might need some therapy by the time I'm finished with him!

"Who is she?"

Claire bounced down the street, gazing happily at everything around her. The air was crisp, the sun was setting in vivid pinks and oranges, prom was in five days, and Quil had agreed to be her date! Quil, even with his superhuman strength and perfect coordination as a wolf, could not dance well. He had begged her to take another guy friend and save him the torture of dancing in public, but Claire had pouted and gazed at him with large, pitiful eyes. He had heaved a large sigh and agreed to go. She smiled at the memory: she had not realized the power she held over Quil until recently. He would do a lot to make her happy, and she swore not to abuse her hold over him. She wondered if he knew that he held just as much sway over her.

She had tentatively asked him three days ago (the day after their first kiss!) and had not seen him since. She knew that he patrolled the rez during the day, but that did not explain his absence in the evenings for the past couple of days. She thought back to the last time she had seen him: Friday three days previously. Though he did not kiss her again, he held her to his side and lightly ran his hand down her arm for the rest of the night. She did not mind for the time being. She didn't really want to intrude in his personal space, so she decided that he should set the pace for their relationship (as long as a few kisses were included).

She assumed that he kept his distance because he was still adjusting to their changed relationship, but she had woken up this morning worried. They had barely talked besides a few text messages throughout the day and a short good-night call before bed, and she decided stop by his house tonight on her way back from art class. She knew he wouldn't mind: she was always popping in at random times during the day. Besides, she had a new painting to show him. She had been working on it for weeks and finally felt satisfied at her work: a wolf standing on the edge of the cliffs at twilight, looking into the gleaming ocean. It was no coincidence that the wolf had the same light brown eyes as a certain werewolf she knew.

As she walked, she smiled at the light drizzle that started to fall. She pulled up her hood and held her art portfolio close to her body, knowing that the rain would soon fall harder. After a few minutes of walking, she was standing at Quil's front door. She raised her hand to knock but stopped and pressed her ear to the door: did she hear… a woman's voice? Holding her breath and keeping quiet, she felt her chest clench at the giggling coming from within. Who was that? Placing her art portfolio on the floor in front of the door, she sneaked around the house until she reached the living room's window. She crouched below the window to remain hidden and slowly peeked into the window. She stopped breathing.

Quil stood in middle of the living room, holding a shorter brunette woman in his arms. They twirled slowly to the soft music playing, moving their feet in sync. Quil's hands rested lightly on the young woman's hips and her arms were draped over his shoulders. Claire's eyes jealously scanned the woman's curvaceous figure and beautiful tan face. She felt blood rushing to her ears as angry tears filled her eyes. So this is where Quil had been for the past few days: dancing intimately with a woman who was not her. Holding her to him, cradling her in his arms, swaying gently…

Claire watched the couple dancing for a few moments before Quil's laugh interrupted her glaring. She watched his eyes crinkle and his smile widen as he chuckled to the woman in front of him. Feeling another rush of anger, she flung herself away from the window. She had seen enough.

Trying to stifle the urge to enter the house and vehemently demand an explanation, Claire straightened and strode away from Quil's home. As she walked, images flashed across her mind's eye: Quil holding her close, laughing with her, ruffling her hair. Him talking about "signals" and moving closer, brushing her lips with his―

The clouds erupted and poured forth their torrents of water. Claire ran.

Claire sprawled on her bed, looking dejectedly up at her ceiling. It was past midnight and she still could not sleep. She swallowed thickly as she thought of what she had seen at Quil's house earlier. Whatever she had felt in that moment could not compare to her emotions now. She felt betrayed, idiotic, naïve, used, disappointed, saddened…

And mad. The quote "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" came to mind. "Fury" was putting it lightly. Claire's anger had reached supernova proportions and she wondered if her hair could burst into flame from pure emotion. She wanted to scream at Quil, claw at his chest until she ripped out his heart and stomped on it, grinding it into the floor with her heel. She wanted to hurt him as he had hurt her.

Still, the rational part occasionally whispered at the back of Claire's mind. In reality, Claire and Quil were not dating. Yes, they had kissed, but he had made no promises. It was perfectly natural for Quil to pursue a beautiful woman his age. Claire pushed these rationalizations away: they had made a promise to each other, spoken or not. Quil had betrayed her and she felt her chest clench at the thought.

She had returned to her house earlier, out of breath and soaked to the skin. She immediately dragged herself upstairs for a shower. Quil had called at 10 o'clock to say good night as he always did, but she did not pick up her phone. She also ignored his increasingly worried texts. He could busy himself with that brunette hussy for all she cared. She bit her lip to stop the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. If Quil wanted to dance with that woman, it was not her business. So what if he had protested against dancing with Claire at her prom but happily danced with the mystery woman? She shut her eyes and inhaled.

Suddenly, Claire heard shuffling and a loud thump! at the foot of her open window. Sitting up, she stared in shock at the body sprawled inelegantly on her floor.

Quil slowly raised his eyes to look at a perfectly safe Claire, cursing his paranoia and over-protectiveness that forced him to check up on her when she had not answered his customary call. He was surprised at the hostility she found in her gaze.

"Get out." Quil dumbly stared at Claire. Had she just told him to―?

"Get. Out. Now." she ground out again. She barely kept her temper in check, forcing herself to not throw hysterical accusations at him.

"W-what? Claire, is something wrong? I found your art portfolio on my porch earlier and―"

"Nothing is wrong," she hissed, "besides the fact that you are still in my bedroom. Didn't you hear me?" Quil almost rushed back out the window at her deadpan command. He was confused at the anger and disgust in her glare. What on earth was going on?!

"I can see something is bothering you. Did something happen? I'm sorry I didn't answer the door earlier… I must not have heard you knock or something."

"Forget about it. I'm sure you had your hands full." Claire almost spat at the shy blush that spread over Quil's face when she mentioned his hands being full. How dare he come over after spending the evening canoodling with some woman?

"Yeah, I was.. busy today."

"I'm sure you were," Claire snarled. "Now go away." She laid back down and rolled over until her back was facing Quil, effectively dismissing him from her sight and hiding her tears from him. The room remained silent for a few seconds until Claire felt her bed dip as Quil sat down next to her. Oh, God, wouldn't he leave her in peace?

"Claire?" He rested his warm palm on her bare shoulder. "Claire, look at me. What is wrong?" She struggled against his strength as he tried to press her shoulder back until she faced him. He eventually succeeded in overpowering her, flipping her over and staring in shock at the tears sliding down her round cheeks. Claire started to cry in earnest as she caught sight of him.

"Who is she, Quil?" she cried.

He continued to stare at her with wide eyes. "Who is who?!" he asked, baffled.

"That.. that woman," she said vaguely. "At your house today. The brunette." Again he flushed red with embarrassment.

"Carla? She's… just a friend." Claire sat up and looked at him impatiently.

"Stop lying, Quil. I saw you two today."

"You did?" He twiddled his thumbs bashfully.

"Do you have any idea what an assh-"

"What? Claire, I was going to surprise you!"

"Oh, don't worry," she shot back. "I was definitely surprised." Bewildered, he looked at her as if she was speaking to him in French.

"Then… why do you look like you want to maim me? I thought you would appreciate the surprise." She sucked in a mouthful of air in indignation. Was he seriously asking her this question?!

"You… must be joking. How happy would you be if you found me canoodling with some guy?"

"Canoodling?! Claire, did you think we were…" he stopped and stared at her dumbly. He suddenly burst out with, "Claire! What exactly do you think we were doing?" Claire flushed and looked away, biting her lip again to suppress more tears. He moved closer to her until his hands were placed at her sides, effectively trapping her in the bed. With one look at Claire's pained face, he knew exactly what she had been thinking.

"Claire…" he reached for her hand and felt his heart clench as she flinched away from his touch. He suddenly reached for his wallet, pulling out a small card and holding it up to her. Too curious for her own good, she took the card from his grasp (making sure not to touch his skin in the process) and read the business card: CARLA LOPEZ, DANCE TEACHER.

She looked up at Quil, confused. Dance teacher?

"I.. I wanted to surprise you on prom. I know how much you want to dance and figured I had better get over my clumsiness…" He swallowed nervously and avoided her eyes. Claire looked up at Quil in horror.

"You mean you and her aren't…?"

"No." She felt all anger drain from her body as a pervading sense of shame overtook her.

"I-I'm sorry, Quil. I don't know what else to say." She shut her eyes to hide from the man perched above her body.

"Claire." She turned her head to the side at his whisper. "Claire, it's okay. I'm not angry at you. I can't imagine what you've been feeling these past few hours." A final tear leaked out at his kindness: here she had been accusing him of cheating and he was still concerned about how she was feeling!

"I… I wouldn't do that to you, Claire. I thought you knew that."

"I don't know what I was thinking! I just saw you two together… and we hadn't really made any promises or anything so… I just assumed―"

"You shouldn't have jumped to such a crazy conclusion. I'm sorry if I was unclear about my intentions for us, Claire. I… think we have something special here. As long as we have something going, I won't be looking for anyone else." He paused. "And neither will you. You are stuck with me for now." He wagged his finger at her seriously and she giggled softly.

"Alright," she agreed with a smile. Quil returned her smile and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Sliding his lips across her skin, he pressed his lips to her eyelids and then kissed away her tears. He pulled away from her for a moment, gazing softly at her eyes. She sighed and slid her eyes closed as he brought their lips together, lightly grazing her lips with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and didn't release him for quite some time.

AN: There you have it, folks! Please review and let me know what you thought!