Previously French Class. A series of one-shots beween chapters 3 and 4 of Protect Her. Based off actual instances in my life, Quil's POV.
Review. I disclaim. None of this is mine.
3. Love in This Club
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I tried to smile politely at the girl who’d just greeted me. Her hair was put up, a dark curtain neatly ordered above her face. She was quite pretty, in the way I would have once panted over. Of course, now I had much more important kinds of beautiful on my mind, even if I couldn’t see them, or rather her.
And she was five years old. I couldn’t see the womanly shapeliness the person beside me possessed. She was maybe nineteen, and obviously… interested. She must have sneaked in- she didn’t look old enough for this place.
She grinned at me, exposing perfectly even teeth. “I’m Claire.”
The earth started to spin and shake… or maybe that was just my muscles. I felt the rage, so familiar… no. No phasing in public places, Quil. None. Changing of species is generally frowned upon in polite society. “I’m… Quil,” I stuttered after a moment.
“Do you want to…”
I looked around the crowded floor. Why I’d let Embry talk me into going to a club, I wasn’t sure. Generally a joint for dancing, something I wasn’t interested, drinking, which had no effect on werewolves, and picking up chicks. Something I was obviously unavailable for… or not so obviously, apparently. The girl with the perfect name leaned forward, her blue shirt rustling with the movement. “I’m sorry, Claire… I’m… I’m seeing someone.”
She flipped her head around, looking. Don’t worry. No chance of finding her. “Where’s she?”
“Not here…” it stung to admit. She was so far from here.
“Well, one dance can’t hurt her, can it?”
“Dancing isn’t like sex. It’s not cheating. Besides, I promise not to tell.” I tried not to wince at her crude comment, and on top of that the joke… it wasn’t funny.
“All right… Claire,” I whispered. It was so nice to say the name.
She offered me a hand, wrapping mine around her waist. I smiled at her. Once, this would have been wonderful, a daydream coming true for me. Now, it was a different story. More like a nightmare… almost perfect but not quite, this smiling confident stranger mocking me with what she wasn’t, though she lied in name.
The music trilled slow and soft.
You’re a thousand miles away
but girl tonight you look so pretty.
I hummed the lyrics quietly, and she smiled. I knew she knew they weren’t for her… or at least I hoped so.
Don’t you worry about the distance.
I’m right there if you get lonely…
I’ll always be there for you.
You be good and don’t you miss me…
I gasped in a breath. I couldn’t bear it if she missed me like I missed her. No, she was only a baby. I couldn’t have hurt her…
It’s what you do to me…
As the song ended and we broke apart, she looked me right in the eyes.
“What’s her name? The lucky girl?”
“Ironic.” She walked away, still smiling.
“I love you, Claire,” I whispered to her retreating figure.
And I always will.