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I'll Teach You How To Love (Me)

Summary:
One of the werewolves imprints on a mysterious woman. He travels to the ends of the earth to find her, and then discovers he has an impossible task. He doesn't just have to convince her to love him. He has to convince her love exists at all.


Notes:
Right- this is a multi-chapter fic. I own nothing. It's in second person, so you can really pick a werewolf besides Jake, Quil, Sam, and Jared. In my mind, it's Embry, and that may be established later. Each chapter has a song which inspired it. I will provide links to the songs. You need to listen to them to get the right mood. I own nothing. REVIEW.


15. First Date

Rating 0/5   Word Count 529   Review this Chapter

She takes your arm casually. You shiver a little at the touch of her bare skin. Cautiously, you glance up at her—it’s a mistake.

She is breathtakingly, incredibly, unbelievably beautiful. The word seems desperately inaccurate. There has to be some greater adjective, because all the superlatives in the world can’t make simply beautiful describe the way she looks right now.

Her skin is practically glowing. The copper hair, twisted over her face into a beautiful bun, makes the pale color stand out even more. Her eyelashes flutter against the curve of her high cheekbones.

The dress she wore was short (a sarcastic part of your brain thinks ‘why wouldn’t it be? Isn’t that kind of a prerequisite for her profession?’) and a deep shade of turquoise that hugs her body.

She isn’t wearing any make-up. You like it better this way. You imprinted on her, after all, not some idealized version out of a magazine. It’s simpler. Natural. And she’s every bit as beautiful.

“You’re starin’ again, kid.”

“Sorry. You look… I… You look… very nice, by the way.” You attempt to make it sound off-handed and fail epically.

She laughs at you. The direction of her merriment makes it barely tolerable, though your ears ring a little in the wake of the sound. It makes it hard to understand her words. “You too.”

You hear your heart flop around in your chest like a dying fish.

She practically pushes you into the car and slams the door. You nervously buckle your seatbelt. She shows all the signs of being something of a crazy driver.

You don’t regret it- she has you in Port Angeles within half an hour. You are relieved when you step, wobbling from the inertia, out of the car. You half expected Chief Swan to pull you over.

That would put the cherry on top of the ice-cream sundae of bad dates.

Not that anything that involves her could be bad where you’re concerned. Overwhelming, certainly. The thought seems especially appropriate as she takes your hand and leads you into the restaurant. You feel like the skin she’s touching is alternately plunged in ice and electrified by a thousand volts of electricity.

In a good way.

Of course. Everything is good when she’s there.

The restaurant is a tiny little Italian place. She greets the waitress by name—“Hey, Amber,” and sits down at a table. It’s a crowded room, and you’re unsure whether you want to attack or bless your fellow inhabitants for diluting the power of her presence.

She orders a Sprite and cheese tortellini. She’s a vegetarian, she explains, and you smile at the unexpected fact.

You stare distractedly at the menu and ask for the lasagne- the one with sausage and meat in it. Werewolves don’t do vegetarianism. For once, though, you can’t concentrate on the food. You’re too busy trying to avoid the pull of her eyes.

You eat together, chatting occasionally with surprising ease. You will never get over how she just accepts things.

“So, any of the other wolves imprinted?”