Steamin' at the Seams

I shut my eyes tight, curling on my side and clutching my dog close. It's a stuffed animal. I've had him ever since I was just a baby. His name is Patrick.

My friends are werewolves. Shape-shifters. Part of me wants to deny it, but it's a very small part. The rest of me is glad to be in the know. Glad to understand.

I wonder why Jacob didn't want me to know. Jacob.

A tiny hole rips open in my chest, sending a lump to my throat and tears to my eyes. Apparently I care about him more than I originally thought.

Someone knocks on my door, the door to outside, and I sit up, blinking in confusion. The only people who know about that door are my family and my friends down at La Push. I don't know who it could be.

Will is spending the night at Clearwaters' – horny bastard – and Mom and Dad are in Seattle on business, gone for three days.

Whoever is outside knocks again, more insistent this time. I take a deep breath, blowing it noisily through my lips like a horse. I leave Patrick on the bed and walk to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open.

My eyes narrow when I see Jacob standing in the doorway, looking nervous.

"What do you want?"

A flash of pain streaks through his face, so fast I can't be sure whether or not I imagined it. "I have to talk to you."

"Talk," I say, my voice hard.

"Can I come in?" He asks in a pleading voice.

I sigh. "I guess." I step aside, allowing him to enter the room.

I walk over and sit on the end of the bed, watching Jacob. The hole in my chest widens as I remember his words form earlier. He didn't want me to know.

Jacob sits on the couch, facing me. "So, you know the secret." I nod. "Do you believe it's true?" I nod again. "Why do you believe us?"

At this I shrug. "I don't really know. I just feel, deep down, that you guys are telling the truth. Plus, it's the only explanation that fits the weird stuff going on around here. So, why didn't you want me to know?"

There's that flash of pain again. "I'm going to tell you one of the old legends first. Do you believe in soul mates?" I nod. "Good, because that's what this one's about.

"We, the wolves, have a destiny, a fate with one person. When we first see that person, we're automatically connected to them. It's like love at first sight, only stronger. It's called imprinting.

"Sam thinks we imprint on the person who has the best chance of passing on the gene. Billy thinks it's to make stronger wolves."

"What do you think?" I interrupt.

He shrugs. "I don't know, I don't really have an opinion on it.

"Now, when we imprint, the object of the imprinting becomes the most important thing in our lives. Everything centers around her."

"Who's imprinted?" I ask.

"Sam on Emily; Jared on Kim; Quil on Claire, Emily's niece; Leah on Will," Jacob says.

"You're kidding. On Will?" I ask, leaning forward in disbelief.

"Yes, Leah and Will," Jacob says, annoyed. "May I continue?" I nod silently.

"Thank you. Like I said, when we imprint, everything else becomes insignificant. She – or he – is all that matters anymore."

"Sounds like infatuation," I interrupt. He glares at me. "Sorry."

"It's not infatuation. It's permanent. The imprintee usually stays for life. It's like we were made just for her. She'll never have any reason to want anyone else," Jacob says.

"So, Will and Leah are going to get married?"

"Eventually."

"Cool," I say. We're silent for a few minutes while I ponder this new information. "Hey, Jacob?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you imprint on her? Bella?" I ask.

The mere thought of some girl being the center of Jacob's universe drives a flaming hot cannonball through the hole in my chest, punching through my organs and leaving the bleeding edges on fire.

He shakes his head quickly. "No. That was infatuation." The flames are immediately put out.

"OK. Just wondered."

"How are you taking all of this information so calmly?" Jacob asks. There's a slightly awed tone in his voice.

I shrug. "I dunno. I guess it's just nice to have an explanation. To know what you were hiding. I'm still mad at you, though. Just saying."

"How mad?" Jacob asks. His voice is low and heavy. He stands up, walking to the bed. He towers over me, looking down into my face.

"Extremely angry. So mad I want a rabid squirrel to eat your face off," I say as he sits down next to me.

He smirks. "Can I try something?" He asks, wrapping his strong arms around my waist and pinning me in place.

"What?" I ask warily, leaning back as far as I can.

He doesn't answer. Not verbally, anyway. He leans forward and presses his lips lightly to mine.