Author's note- And now, I give to you...Belated Birthdays

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Twilight series. No Copyright infringement is intended.

"Chance, where's my purple shirt!" I yelled into the hall.

"Claire, chill for half a second please. I put it on your dresser yesterday."

I hated when my sister borrowed things. And of course the one day that I actually planned out what I wanted to wear to school I couldn't find the shirt.

"It's not ther--" My yell was abruptly cut off. My sister shoved my bedroom door open and stormed over to the dresser, lifting the purple piece of clothing from beneath a mountain of T-shirts.

"Thanks," I muttered as she slammed the door shut. She was so charming sometimes… not.

I stared into the vanity mirror, disappointed as always. I struggled into the royal purple shirt of sweater material. It clung to my lack of a chest and hugged tightly to my skinny stomach, embracing the hips and curves I wish I had.

My dark skinny jeans looked nice at least. They had been one of the clothes I'd gotten for my birthday from my parents.

Fifteen, what a waste of a birthday. I didn't get my license, I wasn't turning into a teen, I didn't grow boobs, and I didn't gain any more hours for curfew.

Quil hadn't even been at the dinner last night. My mom had comforted me, telling me that Uncle Sam had called to let us know that he was really caught up in work.

I didn't even know what Quil did. He was always so cryptic, responding coyly that he was a patrolman whenever I asked.

I frowned into the mirror and pushed the long, brown hair over my right shoulder. I was in an awful mood. Mostly because I hadn't been able to spend my birthday with Quil like usual.

Every birthday in the past had been the same, breakfast in bed, four of my favorite movies, trying to teach Quil how to dance, and dinner at my favorite pizza parlor in Port Angeles. But yesterday I had school, and Quil had been working. All around, my day had sucked.

"You look pretty today, Claire." Chance stuck her head through the doorframe, munching on a granola bar.

"Thanks." I turned, smiling. I felt bad about being so impolite earlier. "Sorry for yelling at you," I apologized. She nodded, leaning against the wall.

"It's okay. You've been moody lately, I'm starting to get used to it," she smirked, her mouth still full of food. She spun on her heel and I immediately felt a slight twinge of jealousy as her hips swung naturally.

The doorbell's generic ding filled the house.

"Mom left for work a few minutes ago and I have to brush my teeth! Will you get it Claire?" My sister's voice rang from behind her shut bedroom door. I sighed and trudged towards the front door.

Immediately my heart swelled with joy and I felt warm all over. Quil stood on the porch, his eyes cast adorably towards the ground and his arms full of flowers.

"Happy birthday, Claire," he whispered. I threw my arms around him, pressing my cheek to the chest that always seemed to be too hot. He was stiff at first, obviously surprised. But then I felt him twine his long arms around me in return. He pulled me tighter, lifting me up so that he could kiss the top of my head.

"So, you're not mad at me?" He asked after my feet came back into contact with the ground. My heart was beating so loudly that I wasn't sure any of my words would be heard above it.

"No, Quil. It's not your fault."

He smiled sweetly and offered me the bouquet in his arms.

"I felt awful about it," he confirmed, following me into the house as I turned to put the flowers in water.

"Let's just say you owe me one," I murmured, rearranging the plants into the vase.

"Deal". He beamed.

"Morning, Quil," Chance yawned as she crept into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of milk. Her jet black hair was twined in a tight braid down to the middle of her back. "Well I'm off. See you at school, Claire."

My sister always left earlier than I did, she had soccer practice nearly every morning before school. She'd always been the athletic one. Despite her masculine sports abilities, her 5' 10" slender frame had a natural sway in its movement and shape. She always looked so good, so effortlessly. And most of the time I was pathetically jealous.

I, on the other hand, got more of my dad. His mocha brown hair and syrup colored eyes. I still had the body shape of an eleven year old boy, thin legs, flat chest and all. After the front door slammed I turned around to see Quil staring intently at me. I'd caught him doing it a lot lately. When I wasn't looking he'd stare at me…in a way that made it seem like he'd forgotten about the rest of the world.

"Quil?" He immediately shook his shaggy hair and blinked a few times.

"Yes, Claire?"

"Just making sure you were still alive," he chuckled at my response. I hunched over to haul my backpack over my shoulder when it was swept away.

"Didn't your mom tell you, Claire?" Quil's smirk was undeniably mischievous and I couldn't help but feel like kissing it away.

"Tell me what?" Why did my voice always have to shake?

"You aren't going to school today."

"Oh? And where would I be going then?" My heart nearly jumped away from me as Quil's smile widened a bit further.

"You did not get a satisfactory birthday yesterday, and so I'm giving you one today."

I felt my mouth gaping and hurried to shut it. My mom would never let me do this!

"And you asked Mom?"

Why did I even have to ask? If he had been the one to suggest it, my mother would never object. Mom liked Quil better than me most of the time! Mostly because he offered to do the dishes, unlike me, and would clean up my room, unlike me.

"She didn't seem to mind that much." His devious grin was driving a mad blush into my already dark cheeks.

He grabbed my wrist and jogged me out into the yard, practically tossing me into the passenger seat.

"Ready for the best belated birthday ever?"

"Ready." I nodded and clicked in the seat belt.

No one's ever been able to measure how much love a heart can hold. Is there ever really a point when the heart is too full? Is that when the love begins spilling over into your liver and lungs?

Isn't that what love's about anyways? Sharing?

Why is it solely the heart's responsibility to house such an overwhelming emotion?

Perhaps no one's ever tested to see if their liver can even feel love. I bet it does. Because love isn't specific, it warms you from the inside out like sunshine, but it never picks which pieces to warm.

Quil made me feel warm all over.

Too bad we were only best friends; he used to say that I was the cousin that he never had.

I hated being cousins.

Author's note- Thanks for the read :). Leave a review if you feel so inclined.