Jacob Black one-shot for Lipgloss247

You felt the bed shift beside you. It was dawn, cool and bluish orange. You watched the watercolors shine on the wall like swarming, translucent koi fish. You pulled the blanket up around you tighter.

Another shift, and a heavy arm wound itself around your bare waist. You felt the immediate heat, uncomfortable at first, but let it stay and warm you. On the arm’s wrist was a bracelet and it dug gently into your stomach. You looked under the blankets at it briefly.

The clock read 4:57. You sighed and rolled onto your back, gazing up at the ceiling blandly. It was hard to wake Jacob, and there was no reason to wake Jacob, but you wanted to wake Jacob because you were bored. He probably wouldn’t mind, anyway, but you felt guilty thinking about it. Neither one of you had gotten much sleep last night, and he felt that kind of exhaustion far more strongly than you did.

“Varunee,” he mumbled next to your ear, tightening his arm and crushing you against his chest. You glanced over to see his eyes open briefly, see you, smile, and fall right back to sleep. You smiled to yourself and thought about how you couldn’t breathe.  

Sex with Jacob was hard. You had a large scar on your right side from when he’d attacked you years ago in a moment of chaos and panic. It was pink and silky and foreign-feeling. Not only was sex difficult because he was way too strong and way too passionate and way too in love, but also because the scar made him cry sometimes. Really, it was hard to feel good while he hovered above you and sobbed mindlessly into your shoulder, saying something about forgiving him, when you really just wanted to kiss him or something normal.

Jacob wasn’t normal. You were pretty normal.

You arched your back away from the bed, trying to force some room between his arm and your trapped torso. He mumbled something unknown and adjusted, releasing your chest from what felt like a vice. You took a deep breath in and sighed it out. Beside you, Jacob made a rumbling noise deep in his chest and licked his lips slightly. You blinked at him for a moment, and then leaned over to pet his head rhythmically, trying to put yourself to sleep.

All of a sudden, the mattress shifted violently, and you snapped your eyes open. Jacob lingered next you and smiled. You glanced over at the clock. 7:53. “Oh,” you said, rubbing your eyes, feeling the areas next to your hips sink as he climbed over you to rub his lips against your neck.

“Good morning,” he breathed, and you felt his breath lick over your skin. He pulled away and fell back onto the mattress beside you, on his side, looking satisfied.

You cocked an eyebrow and poked his nose, watching as his face scrunched up. “Good morning,” you replied, reaching down to rub his chest gently. “You sleep okay?”

He hummed an affirmative response and, with one arm, gathered you against his torso. You leaned your head back to look up at him.

“What?” you asked, feeling his lungs expand and decompress systematically against your skin.

Jacob hummed again, as he often did, and bent his head to kiss down your nose to your lips. You closed your eyes and let him. “Hm. Jacob,” you muttered, reopening your eyes as he moved down to your neck. “I think we should get up.”

“What?” he asked against your collarbone, glancing up at you briefly with innocent eyes.

“No, really,” you said, rubbing his shoulders and trying to find a way to push him off you. He chuckled good-naturedly and shook his head, his shorter, spiked hair brushing feather-like over your bare chest.

“Come on, Varunee,” he grinned, but rolled off you anyway. You smiled and smacked him lightly on the arm, swinging your legs over the side of the bed to rise and find your shirt. You saw your clothes in a heap on the floor and picked up the thin, draped t-shirt and pulled it over your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jacob give you the ‘oh, no bra?’ look, which was an actual, specific look he gave.

You laughed, whipping your long, dark hair into an impressively messy ponytail that you didn’t care about enough to fix. “I’ll change when people come over,” you reassured him, winking and exiting the bedroom.

“You’ll change before people come over,” he called after you, the words laced with mirth. You rolled your eyes and moved to open the blinds on every perfectly square window in the place.

Jacob entered the living room, dragging dark jeans over his hips. “Who’s coming? When?”

“I don’t know,” you said, peering out the window at the still, mirror-like lake. “Someone always comes over…”

He shrugged and nodded, zipping his fly decisively. “Well,” he began, reaching up to run a hand through his sun-reddened black hair. “That’s true, I guess.” He fell back onto the low sofa and looked up at you from where he reclined on the tan leather. “Food?”

You blinked. “We don’t have any. But you can buy some!” you said cheerfully, watching as he groaned and slung an arm over his eyes.  There hadn’t been any food the night before, so the two of you had eaten out. Sometimes his short-term memory was awful.

“What kind of food?” he mumbled, still despairing.

You put your hand on your hip. “Edible food. Milk, eggs, cereal, stuff,” you told him, searching around for a pen and piece of paper to write it on. He rolled over onto his side and sighed a bit at the pillows. “Wake up, come on,” you said, tossing the slip at him, where it floated to land on his upper leg. “Get out and then there’ll be food. Jacob, come on.” You crawled onto the couch and straddled his hips.

He looked at you from under his arm expectantly, but you just patted his shoulder. “Go,” you said, reaching behind you to grab the list from his thigh and waving it in his face. “Please, baby.”

He suddenly sat up and smothered you in a hug. “Varunee,” he breathed into your hair while you quietly sat and waited for the moment to pass. He held you there for a minute before pulling back and tenderly winding one of your long curls around his finger. “Okay,” he grinned, taking the slip from you and swooping down to take your mouth in a devouring, rough kiss before bouncing off the couch and running into the bedroom for his shoes.

You shook your head, sighed, and smiled to yourself, leaning back on the couch and tucking your feet up while Jacob muttered to himself loudly about car keys.

In the doorway, he looked at you over his shoulder and saluted enthusiastically. “Be right back!” he called, exiting the house with a decisive thud of the door. You flung your head over the back of the sofa and closed your eyes. He always spent too long at the grocery store.

Thirty minutes later, the snow was falling in thick droves and you watched intently as the solid lake became a pile of white fluff. The tall, thin trees sat passively as their dark green needles grew heavy with snow. You sighed through your nose and watched the world turn white.

You weren’t too worried about Jacob getting home safely because the store was so close, but your brain still entertained you with thoughts of car crashes and black ice and gas tanks exploding. You sighed again and rolled your eyes.

Your cell phone buzzed sadly on the couch. You tossed a look back at it, but just settled against the window seat again. Your younger sister kept texting you about visiting for the holiday season—which, according to no one, started the next week—but visiting meant going very far away and you didn’t know which was better: going to see your family or staying with Jacob and his.  

Last year, you had gone away and Jacob was an absolute mess about it. You wondered if maybe you should just bring him along. Blinking out at the blinding world, you sighed for what felt like the billionth time and shrugged. You rose, got your phone, and told your sister you were coming and Jacob would come too.

Your family had never met him, or any of your past boyfriends, ever. You thought they probably preferred to think of you as a purely nonsexual being.

You sank back into the plush cushion of the window seat and tapped your fingers rhythmically against the glass for a good fifteen minutes.

“Hey!” Jacob said half an hour later, breathy and red-faced from the cold. His eyes glittered happily as he stomped his boots clean and set down all ten of the bags he had managed to carry in on one trip.

“You’re insane,” you said, padding over to take them to the kitchen. “How were the roads?”

“Shitty,” he said cheerfully, “but there was good visibility, so… you know.” He shook out his hair as well and pulled off his corduroy jacket with the white furry lining. Underneath, he was shirtless. He caught your skeptical look and laughed. “I wasn’t cold, really.”

“Uh huh, okay,” you replied, making your way into the kitchen to unload the groceries.

“Anything exciting happen?” he asked, bringing in the rest of the bags and sitting down heavily in one of the wooden chairs at the table.

You pulled out boxes upon boxes of pasta. “We’re going to see my family for the holidays,” you said carefully, wondering how he might take it. Jacob looked shocked briefly, but just accepted it quietly and nodded. “So, yeah,” you said, turning to him and leaning against the counter, thinking about maybe putting some pants on since you were getting cold. “Nothing too exciting.”

He hummed and smiled, folding his arms behind his head. Jacob was always the picture of effortless ease, always smiling, always relaxing, just consistently satisfied. It was a good thing, because you were not always relaxed and tended to be a nervous wreck, which he was not.

“Varunee?” he said quietly, and you turned to see him staring up at the ceiling. “How would you feel if I got another tattoo?”

You blinked. “Fine. Why?” You had tattoos, two of them, and he had the one on his shoulder. You weren’t expecting him to want another only because he never talked about it; but he liked yours, the kanji on your neck and the musical notes on your shoulder blade, probably because it gave him something specific to touch and look at.

Jacob looked at you intently. “I was thinking of getting your name.”

You stopped unloading and looked at him. “You’re crazy,” you said simply, leaning into the fridge to arrange the milk cartons.

“No, really,” he replied, sitting up straight and resting his elbow on the table. “I would get it in script on my inner arm…”

You turned and he was tracing your name into his inner right arm, silently mouthing each letter. 

“Jacob,” you sighed, “don’t get my name. You could regret it.”

“Why would I regret it?”

“Because what if, one day, you want someone else?”

He looked up at you sharply, his eyes liquid. “I can’t want someone else,” he told you for the billionth time since you’d been together. “I can’t. You can change your mind, but I never will.”

You didn’t trust imprinting. It seemed too perfect, too absolute, and you were waiting for a catch. “Hey, so imprinting only lasts, like, two years. See ya!” You figured since he had been so immediately crazy about you maybe there was some truth to it, but you didn’t get attached to the idea.

“Yeah, okay,” you said, turning your back and picking up a new bag. Behind you, Jacob sighed and stood from the chair slowly.

He mumbled something very quietly under his breath that you honestly couldn’t hear or attempt to decipher, and wrapped huge arms around your waist. You stopped putting cans away and leaned back into his chest, head tilted back to look up at him. Jacob looked down at you and kissed your forehead.

“Trust me,” he muttered against your skin.

You made some small affirmative noise and closed your eyes. His hand, pleasantly hot on your skin, glided repetitively over your semi-bare hip. You felt a finger pull at the elastic of your underwear and you wriggled in his arms, scrunching your face up at him reproachfully.

Jacob laughed and kissed your forehead again. “I love you.”

“Yeah,” you said, spinning so you were facing him. “Me too.”

 The next three minutes were spent passionately kissing against the counter. You kept trying to find something to grab onto, but he wasn’t wearing a top, so you reached down and grabbed his belt loops. He growled deeply against your mouth. It continued.

There was a barely audible knock on the window in the kitchen. You extracted yourself from Jacob’s ravenous kisses and looked to see Emily peering at you intently from outside in the snow. There was a long, surreal moment where you were trying to figure out what was happening between Jacob’s teeth in your neck and Emily at your kitchen window, but eventually you ducked out of Jacob’s embrace and rushed to the door.

By the time you got there, Emily was standing on the porch. She smiled widely at your disheveled, not-really-clothed appearance. “Hello, Varunee,” she said in her most knowing voice.

“Hush,” you muttered, trying not to smile as you ushered her into the warmth of the house.

Jacob was pouting childishly on the sofa. He saw Emily but made no attempt to look any less neglected. “So it was you,” he said, eyes glittering good-naturedly. But he crossed his arms and looked imposing anyway.

“Yeah, me,” she said, pulling off her jacket and handing you a white box. You snatched her coat from her before she could put it away herself, as she always insisted she do. Emily clucked her tongue and winked at you before taking a seat on the arm of the couch.

“What brings you here on this fine day?” you asked from the bedroom, where you were trying to put on a bra as quickly as you possibly could. Jacob leaned back as far as he could over the couch to try and see into the bedroom, but Emily slapped him over the head lightly.

“I thought maybe we could go into town. Sitting around all day is no fun,” she replied, playfully ruffling Jacob’s hair.

“Hey, I’m fun,” he mumbled, batting her hand away half-heartedly. You came back into the living room, fully bra-ed but still pant-less, white box in hand.

“What’s this?” you asked, flipping up the cover of the cardboard box. You beamed at her. “You’re the best.”

“What?” Jacob asked, very interested. Emily pushed him and he flopped backward lengthwise on the sofa, blinking in confusion.

“Cupcakes,” she said. “You’ll eat all of them. Don’t touch them.”

You writhed around in glee and set the box down before throwing your arms around her in a huge hug. “I love cupcakes. I love you,” you said, patting her back. “Let’s go out,” you decided once you’d pulled apart. “There’s this café—ˮ

“The Purple Giraffe!” She high-fived you and laughed. “It’s supposed to be super good.”

“I know. I heard.” You made a happy little noise and scurried off back into the bedroom to actually get dressed.

Jacob was sitting back up on the couch and he sighed when Emily came down to take a seat next to him. “You’re always stealing her away,” he joked, shaking his head seriously.

She cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “She needs to get out, Jake,” she told him. “She sits around in the house all day while you’re off with the pack. She gets bored and restless.”

Jacob relaxed his shoulders considerably—it appeared as though he sank forward into himself—and rolled his neck. “Yeah, I know,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. But when she’s out and I’m not there…” He made a face and looked sideways at Emily, who nodded. “It’s nerve-wracking,” he continued, feeling tension build just thinking about it. He rubbed a hand down his face and tried to relax his shoulders again. “But it’s not fair, keeping her here. I’m just possessive.”

Emily shrugged. “It’s not the worst thing in the world. She’s just a social creature. She likes being out.” She fingered her long ponytail and wound it around her hand. “I mean, it’s not as though she’s locked up in here. She does get out, but not as much as she’d like—ˮ

“Did she ask you to talk with me about this?” he cut in suddenly, voice tight with a fierce worry Emily could see roiling under his skin.

“No, Jake. She didn’t. Don’t worry.” Emily sighed and patted his arm reassuringly. “She just talks about feeling… sort of… suppressed, maybe.” Her heart immediately tightened when his entire being clouded with grief. “She’s not upset,” Emily told him fervently, trying to recover. “Really, Jake, she could never be upset at you. She just wants you to be happy.”

He had buried his face in his hands. Emily closed her eyes and heard you enter the room.

You stopped, paused, and knelt down by Emily’s knees. “What happened?” you whispered.

She gave you a sad look. “I think I upset him.” And she retold the conversation very quietly into your ear. You nodded and stood to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Go wait in the car. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

She patted your cheek and left the house, shutting the door very softly behind her. You surveyed the situation with mounting anxiety. “Hey, Jacob,” you said, sitting next to him and placing a hand on his leg. “What’s wrong?” You already knew what was wrong. It was the same thing every time.

He uncovered his face and looked at you with an unbearable mix of devastation and love. It was fanatical. “Am I too much?” he asked, voice low and breathy, as though maybe he was going to cry. “Am I too possessive?”

You blinked and shook your head very rapidly. “No, Jacob, I don’t think you’re too possessive. I mean, you can be kind of… intense…” You glanced up at him and he looked distressed all over again. “But it’s not bad! I love you a lot; I don’t want you to change at all.”

Jacob looked down at his hands and seemed to think about something very deeply for a long time. “Varunee,” he said finally, reaching over and bringing you into his arms where he buried his face in your hair. “Go have fun,” he murmured, “don’t worry about me.”

You cocked an eyebrow and struggled to glance up at him. “No, see you’re going to mope around and be all self-deprecating if I leave you alone right now.”

“You should go,” he repeated, breath hot in your now-loose hair. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

“Promise you’ll be okay?”

“Promise.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Varunee,” he sighed, pulling back to stare deeply into your eyes. Jacob had the most amazing eyes. They were an unnamed rich brown, layered in with gold and orange and yellow. They looked like little pools of luminescent liquid color, like shimmering pond water, speckled with almost-there vibrant autumn leaves. They moved and flowed with emotion, like a constant stream. You really loved his eyes.

“Varunee?”

You blinked and jolted back into reality. Jacob was staring down at you with confusion and worry. You rubbed your eyes with the heels of your palms. “Sorry, I got lost…”

He breathed out deeply and shut his eyes. “Please go,” he intoned. “It’ll kill me if you stay back because I’m being difficult.”

Jacob wasn’t really ever difficult. He had these all-consuming moments of complete and utter misery when he thought he displeased you in any way. But they were far and few between, and you were hard to displease, anyway. His version of ‘displeased’ was so abstract and unreal to you, you just assured him in no way could he ever actually upset you, and not to worry about it because you loved him, kisses and hugs. Of course, he worried anyway.

“Okay,” you muttered, kissing his nose and giving him a quick, tight hug before standing from the couch and waving to him as you left the house, jacket in hand.

Jacob waited until the door was shut before flopping back on the sofa and covering his face with his hands.

Jacob loved you so much he couldn’t stand it. It was like having a cement block sitting on his chest all day, crushing him slowly. He had so many things to say but didn’t know how to say them. He had so many feelings but couldn’t possibly put them into words. It made him sick how much he loved you.

He had heard from others—Sam, Quil, Paul, etcetera—that imprinting felt like something overly-complicated that had to do with gravity. Something about being held to the earth by that person or the whole world revolves around their existence. Jacob didn’t really know, though, if that was exactly right, because his imprinting felt nothing like that.

The first time Jacob had seen you, it was on a chilly day two-and-a-half years ago. You were sitting on the hood of your car, playing guitar and singing broken bits of songs interspersed with humming and stretches of silence. He remembered your fur-hooded vest and your laced-up boots, and your long dark hair in loose curls. He remembered the sounds—birds, music—and the smells—snow, asphalt—and every tiny detail to everything.

It had felt as though someone had reached into his chest and pulled. He felt his heart race and his body burst with such an intense need, it physically pained him. He wanted to fall to the ground and coil into himself, he was so overcome with everything. He wanted to cry, he was so elated, and he wanted to just die, because there was such an endless rush of love—he hadn’t even known what love was before that—that he didn’t know what to do with himself, and he didn’t know how to handle it, and he was so suddenly happy it wouldn’t have mattered.

His whole world was you. Sure, maybe he could explain it as some sort of gravitational pull keeping him tethered there, but it wasn’t like that. It was different. It wasn’t as though he was going to float off into space if you left him. He would die, he would be nothing. If he ever did something to upset you even in the slightest, he wanted to destroy himself. He wanted rip himself apart every time you were sad, every time you weren’t the happiest you could possibly be. His self-image was so contingent on his ability to please you, that if you were ever displeased in any way he hated himself with such a burning passion he would rush off into the woods, phase, and writhe around on the ground in loathing of himself and misery, because he knew he couldn’t hurt himself because that would upset you even more.

And when you were happy it was indescribable. He didn’t know how to explain it. Sam said when Emily was happy it was like flying, like being free and light. When you were happy, Jacob felt heavy, so heavy he wanted to sink into the ground and cry, he loved you so much. He wanted to just not exist because it was you, all you, and he wanted to exist forever, because then he could see your face and know he was worth it and other, more complicated feelings. He really had no idea how to explain it.

The others thought he was weird. Quil joked at first that maybe he was actually ill and hadn’t really imprinted. It became clear, though, that whatever imprinting happened, it was as permanent and real as the usual, and so maybe Jacob was just strange.

He was. He knew that.

“Ah, god,” he hissed, and rolled over on the couch, hands still over his eyes. He tried to calm his heart. He recognized you were not upset with him, everything was fine, everything was fine, everything was fine, everything was fine. He knew you felt obligated to stay around while he was out because it was a disaster when he returned and you weren’t home. He knew you felt, maybe, suppressed or smothered by his overwhelming affection. He just didn’t want to think about it.

Jacob felt the thick heat of tears and rushed outside and phased.

You tapped your fork against your plate absently. Emily was examining her teacup with amazing interest. “It’s an incredible painting job,” she remarked offhandedly, turning the colorful cup around in her hands.

You hummed affirmatively and poked at the stray pastry crumbs with your utensil. Emily laughed. “Jake does that. Hums. You two just feed off each other, don’t you?”

You smiled and pushed the plate away from you. “I’m having feelings, Em.”

She set her cup down and leaned her elbows on the glass-covered mosaic table. “Nothing new,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes playfully at you. “What is it?”

You looked down and picked at the hem of your shirt. “Jacob wants to get another tattoo.”

“Okay.”

“Of my name.” You leaned back in the armchair and looked at her. Emily tilted her head and nodded slowly. “I mean, that’s not strange or anything,” you said, “but it’s so…” You scrunched your face up. “Permanent.”

Emily looked into her teacup for a moment. Then she sighed lightly and reached up to absently touch her scars. “Imprinting is serious business.”

“I know.”

She looked at you searchingly. “Has he talked with you about it?”

“Yeah. Well, he’s tried.” You stared at her until she dropped her hand. “He really tries, but it’s so complicated and it’s really something I don’t get. I love Jacob, but I can’t imagine… loving anything like that.”

Emily nodded. “I get that.”

“And I feel as though I can’t keep up with him or give him what he wants. He’s so far ahead of me emotionally. I didn’t know how I felt about him when I first met him, but he already knew. He’s had time to arrange himself because he already knew. I only figured out I loved him, what? Two years ago? I was six months late!”

“In no way are you expected to understand the psychology of it,” Emily reassured you. “It’s not even clear to them. It’s very deep-rooted and complicated.”

“But that’s ridiculous! People cheat on the ones they love all the time. It happens every day. No relationship is perfect, not ever.” You leaned toward her across the table. “We’ve never argued. We’ve never been angry at each other. Emily! That’s weird!”

“No it’s not!” she whispered fiercely, eyes glittering and alive with excitement. “It’s not weird. He’s wired to be exactly what you need and want, and you’re exactly what he needs and wants. It’s set up that way. It’s predetermined. Of course the two of you are perfectly happy. It’s meant to be that way!”

You moaned and slumped onto the table. Emily smiled and patted your head. “Have you been fretting about this all along?” she asked in her most motherly tone. You nodded weakly into your folded arms. She clucked her tongue. “Varunee, Jacob’s really special. I know you know that. I know you’d never do anything to hurt him. And I can also assure you that he will never do anything to hurt you. Ever. You have the control in this relationship.”

“That’s gross,” you mumbled.

She laughed and patted your head again. “He really loves you.”

“I know.”

“Are you actually upset about the tattoo?”

“No. I’m projecting.”

“Ah.”

You sat back up and pouted at her. “Emily, life’s so difficult.”

She laughed, picking up her teacup to take a sip. “How’s the sex?”

You blinked at her, reddening. “Crazy,” you mumbled, trying to embody the whole of your sex life into a single, large hand gesture. “Before I met Jacob, I’d had, you know, some sex. Really non-interesting stuff. Really awkward, basic types of things.” You looked at her and took in a deep breath. “And then I met Jacob and it all went everywhere…”

She didn’t say anything, but prodded you to continue with a very absorbed kind of look. You tucked your hair behind your ear bashfully. “Listen,” you began, trying to sort through words in your head. “It’s not that I don’t understand Jacob. But we’ve been together for over two years, we’ve been living together for over a year, and I still worry about, you know, love. If we’re even thinking about the same thing.”

“You’re not,” she said levelly, deadpan, as though breaking obvious, depressing news to someone. “But it ends up the same. Varunee, at least for a moment, find it in yourself to trust me on this; he loves you, he loves you more than it is possible to imagine. And it’s not like normal love. It’s not easy to understand or explain. But no way, ever, would he cheat on you or hurt you. He’d die.”

You made a face. “Sounds awful.”

She blinked, paused. “It… it is, I guess.” Emily looked down at the mosaic table and wound her fingers tightly together until her knuckles were white. Her curved, molten brown eyes looked up at you from under thick lashes. “It is pretty awful…”

The two of you sat in silence for a minute, absorbing the information. Finally, you sighed from the bottom of your lungs. “It’s really hard being with him,” you mumbled, pretending to rub your forehead in order to block your watering eyes. “He’s way too good for me. All the girls like him. All of them.” At Emily’s disbelieving look, you lurched toward her over the table, eyes glassy and serious. “All of them.”

Emily swallowed and reached out to brush your cheek with her fingers. You felt the tears spill over and turn your face uncomfortably moist. “Sorry,” you whispered brokenly, dabbing at your eyes with a sleeve. “But I feel like I can never actually be—ˮ You gestured futilely with your hands. “You know, just be. I feel watched and coddled, and it’s not a bad thing, but…” You sniffled quietly, and made a soft choking sound behind your hand. “I can’t explain it,” you whispered, staring intently at the table, avoiding Emily’s face at all costs, knowing you’d completely break if you saw her worried eyes.

Emily sighed slowly and nodded at length. “Varunee,” she said, voice a quiet lilt.

You shook your head quickly to silence her. “I’m not even upset that he attracts more attractive women. It’s not that. It’s just so…” You sobbed suddenly and tried to muffle it in your sleeve. “So scary.”

You felt the immediate tension and looked up tentatively to see Emily staring down at you with saucer eyes. “Varunee,” she said, voice now shaky and whispery. “Do you feel… unsafe?”

There was an unbearably long silence. You blinked at her repeatedly and tried to shove back the heat in your cheeks and eyes. Your skin felt hot and clammy. You wanted to take an ice bath. You’d never been so clear with someone about your relationship, because until now it’d all been so good. Not that it wasn’t good or anything.

You sat up straighter and adjusted your shirt unnecessarily. “He’s so… strong,” you pushed out, clenching your fists in demonstration.

Emily didn’t move or say anything. She looked dead as a statue.

You gave her a pleading look. “He could kill me,” you whispered, covering your mouth with your hands immediately after. You felt your shoulders shake uncontrollably. “He could just crush me.” You squeezed your eyes shut and waited for the tremors to pass. They did, slowly. You rolled your shoulders and took many deep breaths.

Emily, who had brought you to the hospital the day Jacob attacked you, broke her frozen stance and gave you the most piercing look she’d ever given you or anyone ever. “Has he?”

You swallowed. “No. But he’s not short on frustration…”

She sighed and looked into her teacup. “Are you actually worried? Is he respectful of space? Is he aware of his strength with you? Varunee,” she said worriedly, “tell me.”

“But he’s not,” you intoned, trying to convey everything you were feeling in one expression. “He’s wonderful. And maybe he’s sometimes too rough, but he’s aware. He’s never angry with me. He’s just…” You rolled your eyes to find those muscles hurt terribly. “Perfect. He’s perfect.” You sighed and made eye-contact with her. “He’s so loving, and—ˮ You shook your head to clear it. “I think maybe I’m trying to inject some conflict into my relationship because I feel like there is none.”

“There is none,” Emily reminded you. “None at all.”

“But that’s weird.”

The two of you stared at each other.

“I should go home and see him,” you said after a while of nothing. “He’s probably a mess right now.”

Emily laughed quietly. “Probably.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Em. I love him.”

She gave you a look. “He adores you,” she almost hissed. “Don’t ruin him.”

“I won’t,” you replied, shrinking away from her burning eyes. “I’m just… not on the same level as you are with your own people.”

She suddenly fell back—you hadn’t even noticed she had been leaning forward—and blinked rapidly. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, turning brilliant red. “I can be aggressively protective…”

“I know,” you mumbled, kicking her playfully under the table. “We all know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop it.” You smiled widely and rose from your armchair. “Let’s go. We’ve spent enough time in this tiny place.”

Twenty minutes later saw you pulling up to the house, tires crunching over hardening snow. The small place had an eerie serenity to it. You stared at it blankly for a minute through your windshield before realizing the strangest part was that Jacob hadn’t come rushing out to greet you.

He always did that.

You gave a suspicious look at the house and got out of the car. The lights were on in the windows. The door was closed and nothing seemed particularly out of place. You looked downward and saw impressions in the snow, messy and nonhuman. You stared at them for a very long time and then felt your heart sink.

You followed the frenzied tracks until they met the woods, where everything became indecipherable and just faded into the dim grayness of the trees. You stood there for a while, eyes narrowed at the tangled mess of snow-covered nature before you, and then you happened to glace to your right. Tracks led from the woods, across the yard and around the back of the house.

You reluctantly followed those and found yourself standing by the frozen lake. It was a perfect mirror, unmarred by scratches or stuck, partially-frozen logs or anything. Perfectly white, perfectly reflective.

A giant, red-brown wolf padded around on the ice, stopping every so often to stare into the water some feet below. It walked in circles and wound around itself, as though following a fish or trying to catch up to its own image. You sat back on your heels and watched Jacob be completely unaware of you.

It wasn’t often. 99.9% of the time, whenever you were near, he was stuck to you like glue. He was only interested in you and nothing else. So it was nice to see him noticing something else while you were there.

It didn’t last long. A slight breeze came by and immediately his head shot up, ears pointed toward the sky, body taut and still. He stood like that for an instant and then loped toward you quickly, eyes bright and piercing even from yards and yards away. Before you noticed it, he was in front of you, beside you, surrounding you in thick, impenetrable fur, which was very warm and smelled like pine.

You forced the shock that was always felt when you saw him like this out of your mind and turned around to dig your hands into his coat. He was hot and pulsing beneath his fur as you supposed wild animals were, and you could hear him breathing all around you and feel him watching you. Your skin was nearly the color of his coat, you noticed, and then spent a considerable amount of time aimlessly running your hands across his side.

Jacob made a rumbling noise in his chest which caused him to vibrate, and he slumped down onto the snow in a pleased heap, eyes heavily-lidded and pointed at you. You stared at him for a while and reached over to lightly stroke his head, which he also loved, and he vibrated again. You smiled and tried not to laugh.

“I’m cold,” you told him. “Let’s go inside.”

Instead, Jacob rolled slightly, and made the clear indication that he wanted you to cuddle with him right there in the snow, because he wasn’t allowed in the house in his wolf form and because it was so much easier for him to face you if he wasn’t expected to be able to speak. You pouted slightly and leaned into his huge form, letting all your weight fall on his rib-cage. He closed his eyes and huffed as dogs do. “Let’s go inside,” you said again, resting your cheek against his fur. “Come on.”

He looked at you briefly and then nudged you gently with his snout so as to get up without toppling you over into the wetness. You stumbled back and watched as he arranged himself and disappeared behind the side of the house. Seconds later he returned, human again. Before you could stop him, he swept you up into his arms and carried you to the front of the house.

“You’re back,” he said with an audible smile, mouth pressed to your ear. You flicked him lightly on the nose and kicked half-heartedly, but he just laughed.

“Don’t drop me,” you said reproachfully, but kissed his nose. He laughed again and swung you around quickly and suddenly. You squeaked in panic and clung to his front like a baby koala, legs wrapped around his waist. “Mean!” you exclaimed, flicking him again.

Jacob carried you through the door and dropped you onto the couch where he fell on top of you and devoured you. You giggled and attempted to shove him off, but he absolutely did not budge, and you buried a hand in his hair and rubbed his back as he made a point to kiss every possible inch of your neck.

“Slow down,” you whispered to him, feeling teeth on your skin. Jacob shifted and nuzzled your jaw line. There were a few minutes dedicated to licking your cheek and positively consuming your mouth, but eventually he pulled away to eat your neck again and you could breathe. “Jacob,” you murmured, “I’m too hot.” He was a million degrees and you were wearing your winter coat.

Without saying anything, he reached down and pulled your boots off, and then slid his hands up your back and lingered there teasingly before somehow getting you out of your jacket. You just let him do this, completely mystified.

“Welcome back,” he said, grinning against the dampened skin of your throat.

You nudged him in the stomach with your knee lightly, and, in light of the fact that it could have been taken sexually, Jacob jolted and ground into you eagerly. You rolled your eyes and squirmed out of his grasp and out from under him completely with much effort. He let you go and watched lazily as you fanned yourself with a hand and made an exasperated facial expression at him.

Jacob laughed and smiled and it was the cutest, greatest, sweetest thing ever and you melted a little bit and climbed onto his back.

“Thanks,” you said breathlessly, rubbing circles into his back while he groaned and became jelly. “Anything exciting happen?”

He opened his eyes and looked up at you out of his peripheral vision. “Not really.”

“Liar.” You smiled a little bit and dug the heels of your palms up his spine. He moaned again and his eyes glazed over.

“You got me,” he sighed out, letting his eyes flutter shut and not really caring as you slid your hands up his back and made circles over his shoulder blades.

“What happened?”

Jacob was silent for a moment. “I had some trouble.”

You frowned. ‘Some trouble’ meant something awful happened and he was being all secret and embarrassed about it, but in actuality he wanted to tell you and you knew this.

“Really?” you asked and paused to do other massage things that made him completely lose track of reality. “Baby,” you said softly, and you could feel him burst with pleasure under his skin. “Tell me. Please?”

Jacob didn’t even attempt to cover. “I went into the woods,” he said quietly, words muffled by the arm cushioning his head.

You dug your thumbs into his lower back and he literally vibrated as his wolf form did. “That it?” you inquired with well-masked worry.

“No,” he whispered, voice drifting and tired. “I knocked down some trees. I was really upset…” He trailed off and sighed, breathing rhythmic and sleepy.

You leaned over his back to lie completely on top of him. “That sounds bad,” you mumbled, hugging around his chest tightly. You felt him nod minutely and your hands found his hair near your head. You kneaded your hands through it and licked your lips absently. “Anything else, baby?”

Jacob was completely consumed. He could feel your chest pressed to his back and your heat against his and all he wanted was to roll you over and show you how much he loved you, over and over, wildly, on the couch, until you were gasping his name as you did and he could feel your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him, loving him, and he could feel the same love he felt for you seeping from your body into his. That was all he wanted.

But he also wanted to stay here and drift about as you lay atop him and said kind things and called him sweet names and just be generally perfect.

“I’ll tell you later, I promise,” he muttered, pushing all of his honesty into those words. You nodded against his upper back and stroked the soft, delicate skin around his ears absently. Jacob melted again. He thought he’d never come out of the cushions.

You reluctantly sat up and got off of him, coming around to kneel near his head and brush your fingers through his shaggy dark hair. He peeked at you out of one half-lidded, molten eye, swirling with every positive emotion it was possible to feel. You pursed your lips and kissed his temple.

“Get up,” you said quietly into his ear. “I want to eat a cupcake.”

Jacob felt a smile stretch across his face at the news. “Sounds wonderful,” he groaned, lifting himself onto his elbows and slowly standing from the couch. He stretched his arms over his head luxuriously and leaned down to kiss you on the lips. It was lazy and slow and hot and perfect. You felt lightheaded and had to lean against the various furniture items on your way to the kitchen.

“Here we go,” you said, pulling the white box out of the refrigerator. Upon opening it, you gazed lovingly on the six large cupcakes, all different colors, all probably the greatest cupcake you’d ever taste.

Jacob leaned against the counter and watched as you surveyed the pastries. Quietly, he reached over and plucked a cupcake from the box, making level eye-contact with you as he shoved half of it into his mouth easily.

You gasped and, setting the box down carefully, leaped at him. He ducked away and laughed around his mouthful as you jumped up and tried to grab the rest of the cake from his hand. He was at least a foot-and-a-half taller than your 5’2’’ and held it just out of your reach over your head. You narrowed your eyes at him and jumped again, but he pulled his hand away and grinned mischievously.

“Jacob,” you whined childishly, staring up at the half a chocolate cupcake with blue frosting. He swallowed his first bite and went to take another, but you launched yourself at him and he was forced to back up rapidly and avoid your flailing arms.

“Varunee,” he replied with a huge smile. You pouted and tried to reach for it again. He promptly dipped his finger in the icing and rubbed it on your cheek. You squealed and stuck your tongue out at him.

Jacob handed you the rest of the cupcake civilly and leaned down to lick the frosting off your skin. You rolled your eyes weakly and happily ate the chocolate pastry while Jacob spent way too much time cleaning you off.

After the two of you had satisfied your individual cravings, you put the cupcake box back in the fridge and gave Jacob a meaningful look. “Mean,” you said, scrunching your nose at him and shaking your head.

He laughed. “You taste good,” he said, totally, entirely honestly, which secretly pleased you. You reddened and he mumbled something adoring, sweeping you up in a hug that lifted your whole body clean off the linoleum. He held you princess-style and nuzzled his nose against yours. You giggled and licked at his lips, which tasted like sugar.

Jacob’s eyes moved through his pleasure like a river and you watched the flecks of bright color sweep around like sequins. He blinked and you watched them return to simple pools of multi-layered water, metallic brown and not so brown at all.

“What color are your eyes?” you asked dreamily.

Jacob blinked again, swelling with happiness and confusion. “Brown?”

“Naw,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing your cheek to his. “They’re something else.” You kissed his ear. “Let’s go to bed.”

He could not have agreed more.

 An hour-and-a-half later, you sat up on your elbows and glanced at the clock. 12:20. You wondered briefly about the intelligence of spending your Sunday like this: in bed, out of bed, in bed, repeatedly. Jacob reached over and pulled the sheets up to cover your bare chest. You looked over your shoulder at him and he smiled at you contently.

You never knew what to do with yourself during sex. You thought you were awkward and slow-moving and totally unsexy. Of course, Jacob could not disagree more, and he spent a genuinely vast amount of time during love-making trying to convince you to not cover your face or your breasts and to look at him and not squeeze your eyes shut. You liked sex, you did, but you felt so inadequate and unskilled.

Jacob, on the other hand, had this beautiful, toned body that rippled with muscle every time he moved; he was a sex god: he had amazing rhythm, an amazing sense of what was right and what was not, an amazing ability to turn you on even if you weren’t feeling sexy in the slightest, and an amazing everything in bed. He looked great naked. He looked better naked than he did wearing clothes. His sexiness was the bane of your self-esteem.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured in your ear, slinging an arm over your hip and pressing his body flush against your back.

You blushed and buried your face in the pillow. Behind you, Jacob chuckled and scooted up into a seated position. You rolled over onto your stomach and watched him as he arranged himself against the headboard and then beckoned you to sit on his lap. You blushed again and moved to pick your shirt up from the floor, but he gave your naked body such a glowing look you thought it might hurt his feelings.

“Hey,” you said, curling up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. “You tired?” you asked. “At all?” He shook his head and you sighed in exhaustion, resting your cheek on his shoulder. “You never are…”

“I could never tire of this,” he said, drawing lazy circles on your upper thigh with a few fingers.

“That wasn’t my question,” you pouted. Jacob smiled and kissed you a few times, very hot and very wet. You scrunched your face when he pulled back. “You must feel tired. You must wear out.”

“Nope.”

You made a face. “I know,” you breathed, staring across his chest at the far wall, where slats of midday light hit the white paint. You felt one of his hands dig into your hair and the other began rubbing your back.

“What did you and Emily talk about?” he asked at length, looking at where your legs were laying on top of his.

You looked up at him. “What happened in the woods?” you asked.

Jacob sighed almost silently and looked down into your eyes. “It’s really complicated,” he said finally, resting his cheek on your hair. You narrowed your eyes and reached over to run your fingers along his collarbone.

“Baby,” you said softly, and you felt him shift beneath you. “Please tell me. Nothing good ever happens in the woods.” You stopped. “Except sometimes…”

He smiled wanly and you felt it. “I was worried that you felt smothered,” he whispered, “or suppressed, or… something.” There was a click in his throat and he groaned brokenly. “I was worried you were upset…”

Worried you were upset. That was the gist of every one of Jacob’s problems, you knew. You frowned and reached up to cup his cheek. “Jacob, baby, I’m not upset. I don’t feel smothered or suppressed or anything. It’s different than that,” you said, smiling up at him.

He almost smiled, but couldn’t. “Different.”

Your smile vanished. Shit. “Listen,” you said quickly, turning in his embrace to face him. “Jacob, sometimes, I… Sometimes I feel unsure…”

“Of what?” His question was immediate and sharp.

You blinked at him. “Of your love,” you said. You saw his eyes become still, darkened liquid. His entire aura clouded over. “Jacob, I love you. You know that. I love you immensely. But sometimes… I don’t think we’re on the same page at all. I know you love me,” you said, holding his face between your hands. “But I still feel that sometimes your love is too… aggressive or—ˮ

His body went taut, the muscles in his jaw working. You tensed as well. You weren’t afraid of him hurting you per say, but even the idea of him phasing while you were there scared you out of your mind.

Reflexively, you slapped an arm over your scarred side. Immediately, the anger (or whatever it was) in Jacob’s eyes melted away, leaving a thick trail of shame and despair written all over his face. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered brokenly, reaching forward to take your hand from the silky pink wound and put his own on it. You remained very still as he pulled you into his chest and held your body very tightly but gently.

“It’s okay,” you said after a few moments, relaxing in his hold and letting him rock you ever so slightly. You could almost feel the damp heat of his eyes where his face was buried in your neck. He nodded minutely against your skin and sighed shakily. You felt the wetness of tears somewhere on your collarbone.

Jacob squeezed you again and let go, removing himself from underneath you and wandering slowly out of the room. You sat back against the headboard and gathered the sheets up around your naked body. He would go out and sit on the couch until he calmed down, and then he’d come back. You sighed sadly; it happened more often than it should.

Five minutes later, Jacob returned. He silently climbed back onto the bed and sat beside you, leaning his head back against the wall. You watched him slowly begin to relax all of his muscles, starting with his jaw and shoulders, moving in a somewhat-visible wave down his body. He, too, was completely naked, and you snapped your head away eventually, reddening.

Your fingers twisted the sheets in your lap. The curly tendrils of your hair tickled your back and arms and chest. You were chilly and wanted to put a shirt on, but didn’t want to go through the effort of it, and you didn’t want to make him self-conscious. You turned to look at him, head resting against the headboard. “Hey,” you said softly, setting a hand on his elbow.

He opened one eye slowly and looked down at you. His eye was so dark you couldn’t make out the iris and pupil separately. It glittered a bit as he opened the other, you and realized his eyes were still watery. You swallowed and he leaned toward you.

“Hey,” he said, voice clearer than you had expected. He smiled lightly and his eyes creased. You laughed and covered your mouth with a hand. “What?” he asked, slinging an arm along the headboard, over your shoulders.

You rested your head on his upper arm. “Nothing, you just have crow’s feet.”

“What?” He instinctively touched his eyes.

“Just kidding,” you whispered, rubbing his forearm absently. He released a heavy breath and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him.

“Not nice,” he muttered, kissing your ear. You shivered and giggled. He smiled against the skin and his tongue flicked out to lick at it. You jumped and wriggled, pressing yourself tighter against his body. Jacob sighed—it seemed to be the theme of the day, sighing—and pulled you into his lap so you were in the same position as before.

“I love you,” he said, his voice a low rumble against your jaw. You felt him nuzzle the skin and kiss lightly.

“I love you, too,” you hummed, stroking his cheek as he did wonderful things to your neck. You closed your eyes slowly and took some deep breaths. “We have so many problems,” you breathed out, voice barely audible. Jacob hummed affirmatively into the hollow of your throat. You wrapped your arms around his neck and felt his teeth graze your skin, a little too sharp.

“Varunee,” he growled deeply, rolling you underneath his body as he lay down on the bed. You felt heat envelop you immediately.

Round two.

Forty minutes later, you swung your legs out of the bed and rushed to get your clothing. “Nope, stop!” you said to him as he began crawling toward you on the mattress. You pulled your shirt over your head quickly, keeping an eye on him, followed by your underwear. “I’m done. I’m tired,” you complained, setting your hands on your hips as he rolled onto his back.

Jacob looked at you from upside down on the bed. “Come back, please. I’ll stop,” he said in his most sensuous voice, but his eyes glittered with need and you didn’t trust him at all.

“Nope,” you said, sticking your tongue out at him before flitting out of the room. The living room was cold and you hugged yourself as you drifted into the kitchen for a cupcake. You opened the box and took out the yellow-frosted one, and then there was a knock at the door.

You pursed your lips and looked down at your bare legs and your bra-less chest where you could feasibly see your nipples through your shirt. “Crap,” you mumbled, and wrapped an arm across your chest so nothing was visible. You shuffled into the living room and to the front door where you held your cupcake carefully in your crossed arm and used the other to open it.

It was Sam. His eyes widened instantaneously and he slapped a hand over them, turning away. “Hello, Varunee,” he said levelly, and you smiled at him.

“Hello, Sam,” you said, trying to keep the laugh out of your voice, but he definitely heard it because you could sense him bristling in embarrassment. “Jacob!” you called over your shoulder. “It’s Sam!” You turned to him. “Would you like to come in, Sam?”

“No, thank you for your offer,” he replied solemnly, sounding like a death-sentence. You shook your head and used your free hand to grab his arm and lead him out of the cold and into the warmth of your house. He followed you obediently and stood with his eyes blocked in your living room while you sat down on the couch and covered your crossed legs with a pillow.

Eventually, Jacob wandered out of the bedroom, wearing only his dark jeans. He saw you sitting on the couch, pretty much naked—as he saw it, pretty much naked—and Sam standing only ten feet or so away, looking very disgruntled with a hand over his eyes.

There was an immediate, pressing sense of protectiveness in the air. You rolled your eyes and took a bite of your cupcake. Sam dropped his hand and opened his eyes in Jacob’s direction. “Hello, Jacob,” he said tightly, and you imagined he was probably looking apologetic or something equally un-Sam-like.

In a flash, Jacob was standing between Sam and the couch, blocking his view of you. “Hello to you, too, Sam,” he replied, as casually as he could while also sounding considerably murderous. The two of them stared at each other for a minute before they simultaneously relaxed, Sam still diverting his eyes from your direction, even though he wouldn’t be able to see you.

“We have to talk, Jacob,” he said in his usual serious tone.

Jacob nodded and tilted his head. “Why?” Sam gave him a look. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” Jacob asked him, gesturing to you with a wide sweep of his arm. Sam looked at you reflexively and then snapped his eyes away when Jacob growled.

“Stop it,” you muttered, halfway into your cupcake. Jacob turned and mouthed a ‘sorry,’ but then he smiled wolfishly and winked at you. You rolled your eyes again.

“Outside,” Sam said shortly, nodding toward the door.

“Outside,” you said, and pointed in the same direction.

“Varunee!” Jacob whined. You shook your head and scrunched your face up at him when he gave you the most childishly upset look you’d ever seen on him.

Sam turned and opened the front door, beckoning the other man to follow. Jacob groaned and slumped after him.

You waited around for seven minutes, sitting on the couch, eating your cupcake as slowly as possible. But you got bored and stood, making your way into the bedroom where you moved to stand in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling mirror off-center from the end of the bed.

The bedroom was about the same size as the kitchen and a perfect rectangle. The room was built as a den or another lounge-type area, because there was no closet and no door. No attempt was made ever to block entrance to the bedroom. Originally, when you moved into the house, you thought about getting a door, but you realized the two of you entered and exited that room so often, and usually so quickly, it wasn’t worth it to place an obstacle there.

The bedroom was very different than the rooms in the rest of the house. It had bright white walls and a very dark hardwood floor—every other room had lighter hardwood floors. Because it was a one-story house, the bedroom was in the front, right off the living room and not very private; aside from the door-less doorway, there were tall floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the bed. You had thought it would make it difficult for you to get undressed with all the reflective surfaces, but you had gotten used to it, albeit gradually and with much time.

There were a lot of antique furniture pieces, unlike the more modern pieces everywhere else. The bed, dresser, desk and vanity-like thing were all the same matching dark wood, worn and very smooth. The bed itself took up at least a quarter of the room and, it seemed to you, was probably twice the size of a queen.

You sat down on the end of it with a sigh and looked around at the walls, three of which were covered in paintings and carvings and charcoal drawings and sheet music. There were woven tapestries at the end of the bed, next to the mirror. The vast majority of things in the room had some old tribal connection which you did not understand at all, nor did you try to understand, so all the wood carvings of nature and wolves and ancestral creatures, and all the paintings and tapestries depicting animal spirits and the like, were entirely lost on you.

The room looked like a Native American museum. You were sure the Smithsonian would be thrilled to have access to the place. 

There were stacks of loose sheet music and notebooks filled with lyrics on the desk and beside the desk—those were yours. Well, everything in the house was technically ‘yours.’ Jacob laid claim to nothing (except you, explicitly) and made it very, very clear to you upon your first steps into the house that nothing was ‘his’ alone, because if it was ‘his’ it was also ‘yours,’ and that if something was ‘yours’ it wasn’t necessarily ‘his’ unless stated otherwise. You just told him that everything was both of yours so, stop, Jacob, you’re being intense again. He seemed to like that plan very much.

You flopped back on the bed and held up one of your hands to look at it. You had darker skin than Jacob, being of Sri Lankan descent, but he was quickly catching up to you color-wise as each summer his skin darkened considerably. You were secretly competitive about it and wanted terribly for him to not tan any more so you could remain the darkest. But during summer Jacob practically lived outside, so it was in vain.

Your cell phone rang. You shot up and stared around wildly before remembering it was still on the couch, probably buried in it. You dashed into the living room and dug it out from between the cushions.

It was your sister. “Hey,” you said breathlessly into the receiver as you sank down on the sofa.

She immediately launched into a long, drawn-out explanation of why she called, which had something to do with hearing that Jacob was coming to the family’s place for the holidays, and how she and your mom were ecstatic because you’d never done that before and they didn’t even know what he looked like, and that they needed to know that to make food-wise and what he liked so they could get him, like, a billion presents and they were so excited blah blah blah. Also, your mom wanted to know when you were getting married.

You groaned and slid down into the cushions. “I don’t know,” you told her in your most hopeless tone. “He hasn’t even proposed.”

“The two of you are practically married as it is.”

“Yeah, I know,” you muttered.

“Bother him about it.”

“What? No!” You sat up straight on the couch and glared at the phone. “I’m not going to do that. He has to make the decision for himself…”

“Okay, so I’ll call him and tell him to propose to you. Mom wants to go dress-shopping when you get here.”

“Nooooo,” you called into the cell, stomping around the living room now. “I’m not going dress-shoppi—it’s too complicated! Don’t do anything!” Knowing your sister, she probably had his phone number.

She mumbled something about being boring on the other end. You frowned. “Wait. So how long have you two been together?” she asked.

“We’ve been living together for a year—ˮ You clicked your tongue thoughtfully. “A year and three months, about… A long time.”

“Yeah, you two should get married soon. You know, Varunee, people usually start living together after they get married. You guys are going all out of order.” She huffed much like your mother would in the same situation. “Let me talk to him.”

“No.” You looked up at the door when there was a huge crash and a grating sound outside. “Hold on,” you told her quickly, and set the phone down on the couch and rushed out the door and onto the porch.

Two enormous wolves were circling each other warily on the front lawn. The shiny black one’s back was raised, its haunches bristling and its mouth hanging open as though aiming for a bite. The larger red-brown one’s teeth were bared like many white knives, its ears pointed forward and eyes bright and wide.

You paused and watched them watch each other. Finally, you figured either you did something now or they would have this stand-off forever. “Hey!” you called sharply, and both of them snapped to look at you. There was a moment of complete tension where you thought you may die, but the black one lowered its tail and closed its mouth, slowly sinking to the ground where it sat quietly and calmly. The red-brown one’s ears fell back against its head and retracted its teeth with an unmistakable look of shame in its narrowing eyes.

You sighed shakily and closed your eyes in frustration. “Stop fighting,” you hissed at them, knowing you probably looked on the verge of attacking them yourself. “If you’re going to be obnoxious, go off somewhere else. Don’t do it here.” Neither of them moved. “Oh my god,” you whispered angrily, mainly to yourself, as you turned and made your way back into the house. You closed the door and took a moment to calm your terrified shivering.

You sat down on the couch and picked the phone back up. “Sorry ‘bout that,” you said levelly, staring suspiciously at the door.

You could almost hear your sister shrug. “It’s okay. What happened?”

“Just some animals making noise,” you said a little too sharply, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Are you flying up?”

“We’ll probably drive.” You guys didn’t really have the funds for the plane-ride up to Canada and back. Jacob made the vast majority of the household income, and he was a garage mechanic with a specialization in sports cars and motorcycles, or something like that. You weren’t too sure what exactly he did because it was so complicated and way too physical for you. Whatever it was, it didn’t make enough money to leave extra for plane rides.

“We’ll pay,” she said quietly, shyly, perhaps thinking you would explode at the offer.

“No, that’s alright,” you sighed, smiling. “He won’t mind driving. I won’t mind it. It’s fine.” There were weird thudding sounds out on the porch and you pictured Jacob pacing restlessly. “Listen, tell mom it doesn’t matter what you make for food, and that you guys don’t need to get him anything—ˮ

Your sister hissed at you. “No! You guys aren’t coming all the way up here without getting treated—ˮ

You hissed back. “It doesn’t matter!”

“It does!”  You heard your mother yell something on the other end of the line. “Mom says it matters,” your sister said with an audible smile.

You slapped a hand over your eyes. “Okay, fine, whatever. Just don’t spend a ton of money on us. Jacob won’t notice small details anyways.”

She giggled. “Okay, fine, whatever. What do you want?”

You were watching the front door. “Uh, surprise me,” you replied. “It’s no fun if I know ahead of time…”

“Clothes, jewelry, shoes, bags, tickets somewhere—ˮ

“Anything is fine!” you assured her. You knew Jacob would get you way too many gifts so, really, it didn’t matter. The thumping outside paused and then continued. You sighed. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Tell mom I say hi.”

“Alright. Bye bye!”

“See ya.” You snapped the phone shut and had a moment of trepidation before getting up to open the front door.

Jacob was pacing back and forth, his fists clenched, mumbling something hateful under his breath. When you opened the door he stopped and looked over at you. “Varunee,” he said quietly, eyebrows furrowed, body still tensed and taut with strained muscle.

You imagined he thought you were angry with him. You worried your lip and beckoned him in for a hug. Hugs always made Jacob feel better. He let out a breath of relief and swept you up in a tight embrace, pulling you into the house and shutting the door behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in your ear, sounding so ashamed of himself you felt kind of mean for being so upset earlier.

“It’s okay,” you said, letting him put you back on the floor.

Jacob rubbed a hand roughly through his hair and growled a little bit. “I know I shouldn’t fight around here…”

You made a face and sat down on the couch. “Well, yeah…”

He sat down heavily beside you. He gazed at you searchingly for a very long time and then down at his hands. He sighed and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. “It’s been a bad day, huh?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Not necessarily,” you said quietly. He looked down at you and looked extremely skeptical. “Well, maybe you’ve had a couple emotional crises… I know I have. But how bad is that, really? Doesn’t that just mean we’re working things out? Isn’t that healthy? What if we pretended things were good all the time instead?”

His eyes were bright and mirror-like. “Aren’t things good…?”

You swallowed and placed a hand on his leg. “Jacob, you know what I mean.”

He closed his eyes tightly and bit his lip. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean.” He buried his face in his hands. You let him sit quietly for a few minutes before you rose and set your hands on his shoulders. He looked up at you.

“I’m hungry,” you said, kissing him on the mouth. “So I’m getting lunch.” And you walked off into the kitchen.

Jacob sat frozen on the couch while he listened to you bustle around and pull things out of the fridge and cabinets. His eyes fluttered closed. Emotions swirled inside him in a giant tornado, painfully real and just as destructive. He licked his lips absently and twisted his hands in his lap before rising from the couch.

You were pouring dry pasta into a pot of water when he entered the kitchen. “I’ll be right back,” he said, “I’m going to do an errand.” He smiled at you, his eyes creasing as they did. You smiled back and nodded.

He left the house and you boiled your lunch. You looked up at the microwave clock. 1:35. “Okay,” you sighed, pulling out a jar of tomato sauce.

Over the next four hours, you ate a lot of pasta and watched some really stupid-but-interesting TV shows about remaking your home to look like a tropical island hotel. You attempted to clean but gave up, and tried working on some songs you had begun to write earlier in the week. You wrote songs very slowly and music very quickly.

Outside, the sky was darkening to a rich purple, and the clouds were deep gray and heavy. It had begun to snow again in light drifts, but you knew it would pick up eventually and turn into an overnight blizzard. You moved your car into the garage where it wouldn’t get hit by the ice, and stood outside the house, staring up at the oncoming flakes.

“So pretty,” you whispered, feeling them stick to your eyelashes. You blinked rapidly and rubbed a hand across your eyes.

A large silver-gray spotted wolf padded into view, coming from the back of the house. You watched as it moved calmly and casually toward you, where it stopped and looked at you for a little while with unmoving yellow eyes. Then it huffed a greeting and lay down in the snow.

“Hey, Embry,” you said, wondering why people were phasing so much today. He was seated about six feet away. You moved toward him and patted his head, which he clearly enjoyed. You wondered if Jacob had sent him to watch you, but that seemed too paranoid even for him and they were part of the same pack so it wasn’t necessarily uncalled for.

You spent some time having a one-sided conversation with Embry, who did a very good job at staying interested even though he couldn’t respond to anything. After about ten minutes, Jacob’s car pulled up the road and into the driveway, its headlights blinding against the darkening sky.

He stepped out of his car and noticed Embry, who stayed seated and didn’t make any attempts move at all. They had a deeply involved telepathic conversation for a good while and then Jacob rolled his eyes tiredly and said, “I know, Sam told me.” Embry rolled his eyes as well and nodded, standing and shaking his fur free of snow. They said goodbye in their own way and Embry rubbed his face against your chest, as a cat might when asking for a scratch.

You gave him a look and he seemed to smile back while Jacob yelled some sort of semi-derogatory threat about never touching you again. Jacob huffed and crossed his arms, turning his face to you where his expression softened.

“Hey,” he said, picking you up and carrying you inside without much warning.  

You struggled out of his arms and flopped down on the couch. “You should move your car,” you told him.

He shrugged and grinned. “Any more pasta?”

“Tons,” you said, gesturing to the kitchen with a hand. “Knock yourself out.”

He moved into the kitchen and prepared to devour a lot of food. You followed him and leaned against the doorframe. He looked at you as he scooped all of the pasta from the colander into a large bowl. “Have any fun without me?” he asked, chuckling.

“I learned about vibrant bedspreads,” you said, “and I hung out with Embry.”

Jacob made a face and you laughed. “Stop it, he’s fine,” you told him, but he was laughing too.

“Yeah, yeah…” Jacob poured tomato sauce onto the pasta and put it in the microwave.

“What did you do?”

He looked at you and a pleased smile worked its way onto his face. “Here,” he said, with intense eagerness, “look.” He held out his right arm and you gripped his wrist, bringing his inner arm closer to your face.

Your name was tattooed there in beautiful script, black and white, with abstract markings and loops. You gasped and narrowed your eyes up at him. He looked somewhere between sheepish and proud. “Do you like it?” he asked, and you could tell the rest of his week was dependent on your answer.

“Does it matter if I like it, Jacob?”

“Do you like it?”

You sighed and tried very hard not to feel flattered. It was to no avail. “Yes, I like it,” you mumbled, tucking some of your hair behind an ear. He beamed and leaned down to kiss you.

“I hoped you would,” he said happily, eyes bright and alive. “I worried about it.”

“I’m sure you did…”

“Varunee,” Jacob said, and he released all his energy in one huge sigh. You looked up at him. His eyes were liquid, almost amber, and his smile was unbearably pleased.

You wrapped your arms around his torso and squeezed as hard as you could, resting your cheek on his chest. Jacob’s body was rock-hard and sort of like hugging a warm marble statue. He hugged you back a little too hard—the usual—and you felt your lungs slowly compress; you took in as deep a breath as you could and absorbed his very essence.

Usually, Jacob smelled like pine and a surprisingly comforting mint-and-cinnamon combination. Right now he just smelled like whatever happiness might smell like. It radiated off him in tangible waves, causing light tingles to run up and down your spine.

“Okay,” you whispered, patting his arm to signal that you were done not being able to breathe. Jacob released you immediately, but didn’t take his hands from your body, and you stood there looking up at him in a sort of Jacob-cage. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he smiled. He reached over and brushed your hair away from your face where it curled to block your eye.

You blinked at him and then down at the tattoo. You closed your eyes tiredly. “You’re perfect, baby, you know that right?” You leaned into him again and glanced over at the microwave clock. 6:12.

Jacob’s body roiled with painful elation. He wanted to feel you, touch you, have you, taste you. He felt the heat of want slide up his back where it settled in the back of his mind. He could feel himself melting, becoming nothing, slipping away into the air; the light pressure of your body pressed to his kept himself from crumbling into a heap of untamable bliss.

It was his turn to blink down at you. “What?” he whispered. “No. You’re the one whos—ˮ

“Shhh,” you murmured, pressing two fingers lightly to his lips. You sighed and stepped back from him, retracting your hand. A loving smile wound its way across your face. “Let’s just, you know, chill. I’ve had enough of crying and stuff. Also, I’m sore.”

Jacob swallowed back the want and sighed. “Yeah. Good idea.”

The only thing on TV that was watchable was an infomercial about blenders, and even that stretched the meaning of watchable. You and Jacob attempted to find something, anything at all, but eventually the only things left were the on-demand channels.

“Ew,” you said, looking at the garish blue menu. Jacob plucked the remote from your hands and switched the television off. You slid down in his lap and curled yourself up against his arm. Jacob began tracing abstract patterns against the uncovered skin of your lower back. You shuddered at the tickle.

The living room filled with a cloud-like silence. You felt your eyes flutter shut as everything faded to a living-room-colored blur. Underneath you, Jacob shifted slightly at first, and then lifted you from his lap and carried you into the bedroom. You bounced down against the mattress and watched him in slight confusion as he began rummaging through one of the vanity drawers.

“Baby, what?”

He looked over his shoulder at you. “Hold on a sec…” He shuffled some more items around and then slammed the drawer shut, rushing out of the room. You sat up on the bed and collected one of the many pillows against your chest. In the mirror across from you, you could see your bare legs sticking out from beneath the cushion like two russet sticks. Quickly, you tucked them under you.

In the living room, Jacob was moving things around. You sighed and leaned back into the carved headboard. A hanging tapestry depicting a fiercely staring wolf peered down at you from next to the door; you narrowed your eyes at it. “Looks like Embry,” you noted quietly. Then the thought that Embry had watched the two of you have sex drifted through your mind and you groaned and killed the thought swiftly and completely.

Jacob was making less noise now, having moved into the kitchen or the guest bedroom. You tried to catch a glimpse of him by leaning over the side of the bed and looking into the living room, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“This day has been so weird,” you muttered, studying the pillow in your hands. It was a snowscape, complete with an eagle-like bird flying off with a fish in its talons. “Great, and we have a pillow that has things killing other things on it.”

Jacob reentered the room slowly, surveying you all the while. You gave him a look. “What?”

He sighed shallowly and looked around the bedroom. At length, he walked over and closed the curtains on each of the two huge windows. You watched him warily. “What?” you asked again, reaching out to lightly brush his arm.

Jacob sighed again and moved back to the other side of the bed. He ran a hand through his hair as he did. “Varunee,” he said, voice tight and expectant. “I love you.”

“I know,” you said, looking him up and down. “I love you, too.”

He seemed to think for a moment, and then he slowly dropped to one knee. Approximately 90% of your working brain died. Your eyes widened painfully and it was suddenly very hard to breathe, and not necessarily in a good way.

“Whoa, hold on—ˮ

“Varunee,” he said, tone husky, “please.” You clamped a hand over your mouth and tried to regulate your breathing. Jacob lowered his shoulders. “Varunee,” he said again, drawing the word out, but not too much, and at some point you realized he was talking in the same voice he used for sex.

“Y-yeah?” You clutched the pillow to your chest convulsively.

His eyes glittered like many tiny gold and brown gems. You had to wait in excruciating silence as he withdrew a small box from his jeans pocket. You figured he’d planned such a drawn-out scene—he was a devious romantic, after all.

“Varunee,” he said again, expression relaxing into a genuine, heartbreaking smile. “Will you marry me?”

The remaining 10% shattered. You squeezed your eyes shut and then reopened them. Jacob remained perfectly still as you leaned forward and gently lifted the small black box from his hand.

The ring was beautiful. And you’d seen rings—you weren’t just feeling that because it was your ring. It had a white-gold band, inlaid with tiny, complicated leaf-and-vine images made of diamond, all centered around a nearly-upsetting collection of three larger diamonds, two of which flanked one huge one. You held it closer to your face to examine the intricate detailing that wound around the whole band.

You glanced up at him. Jacob was staring back at you with an unreadable expression. You set the pillow aside and looked back at the ring. “Jacob,” you murmured, “that’s crazy.”

His eyes sparkled. “Not really.”

“Oh my god,” you said, trying your hardest to suppress the sob rising in your throat.

“Well?” Jacob was frozen in his kneeling position. You unraveled yourself from the pretzel in order to sit in front of him. He looked up at you, and you had to look away or you would have broken down.

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing your nose. “Yes.” You lifted the ring from its ivory velvet and slid it onto your left ring finger. As these kinds of things usually go, it fit perfectly.

“Really?” he asked, almost silently. You wouldn’t have caught it if you hadn’t been so sensitive at that moment.

Your dark brown eyes met his. “Yes, Jacob,” you said, laughing at him in disbelief. “Of course. Why would you—ˮ

Jacob wrapped himself around you entirely. “I love you,” he mumbled into your neck and hair, covering you in kisses. “Thank you.”

“Stop it,” you said, wiping the few tears off of your cheeks. You giggled like a little girl into his chest, followed by weeping. Jacob pulled you into his arms even more, if that were possible, and took your mouth in an overwhelming kiss.

You felt absolutely crushed by his love. It was something you could reach out and touch. You dug your fingers into his hair, dragging him down, down, closer to you on the bed, until you imagined you had become one. His body pulsed against you hotly, like a wild, moving animal. You let him consume you.

Jacob’s insides were swarming. His head was abuzz and his body felt molten and intangible. He wanted to cry, to sob, so badly, to thank whatever imprinting gods existed for their care. All his needs flashed before his eyes like a dizzying slideshow, hazy and brilliant. He felt something wonderful pool in his stomach.

Jacob pulled back only briefly to watch you drag your shirt over your head. Underneath his hands, your skin was hot and busy; he ran his fingers across your naked body and ducked down to kiss the pale pink scar on your rib cage. By the time you dug your fingers into his hair and pulled him back up to kiss your mouth, he was already gone.

“No, we’re busy,” Jacob was saying into the phone, hovering over you a few hours later. Emily had called around ten in the evening to check in. He rocked against you again and you slapped his arm lightly to get him to pay attention.

“No, really, we’re busy,” he said, rolling his hips against you; you made a face at him and snatched the phone away.

“Hey, Em,” you said, wrapping your free arm around Jacob’s neck as he moved to plant even more hickeys on your throat. Emily sounded concerned. You laughed. “No, really, I’m okay. We worked things out…” You suppressed a startlingly loud moan as Jacob started doing whatever secret things Jacob did to make you feel good.

On the other end, Emily sighed. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

You could hear her roll her eyes. “Alright—ˮ She abruptly cut off as you moaned again and pulled on Jacob’s hair to get him to stop for a moment. “Wait,” she muttered.

“No, don’t!” you hissed at her, giving Jacob a meaningful look. He made eye-contact with you as he slipped one of your fingers into his mouth. “It’s been a weird day, okay?” you told her, following his ministrations with your eyes.

Emily laughed softly at first, but it turned into a burst of joyous sound. “Did he propose?”

You stopped and peered at the phone suspiciously. “What? Is it like all of them have the same proposal-like habits? You just knew because an engagement is always followed by sex? You know, Em, we have a lot of sex…”

Jacob chuckled around your fingers and thrust against you. You shushed him and bit down on your tongue. Emily was still laughing. “No, I can just tell.”

“You’re weird.”

Jacob reached up and removed the phone from your hand. “Emily,” he said, voice still rough with sex. You shivered minutely. “We’ll talk to you later, okay?”

She hummed on the other end of the line. “Alright. Just don’t damage her.”

Jacob blinked and lifted the sheet to look down where your pelvises met each other’s. You quickly snatched the blanket back, reddening. He turned his attention back to the phone and his mouth back to your chest. “No, she’s fine.”

Emily laughed and you squeaked in indignation. “Fine, I trust you. Talk to you later, then. Tell Varunee bye for me.” She hung up.

Jacob set the phone back on the end table. “She says bye,” he said, licking around your navel.

You sighed. “Great. Now everyone’s going to know.” Your eyes shut reflexively when he flicked his tongue along your inner thigh. “Stop…”

“Stop what?” he asked, looking up at you from between your legs. You narrowed your eyes at him and he sighed, crawling back up your body to kiss your mouth. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you said, rubbing your nose against his. “I mean, it’s not bad or anything…”

Jacob bit your bottom lip lightly. “Right. So on our wedding night, then?”

You felt your face heat up. “Jacob,” you said seriously, looking up into his eyes. “That night may not be any time soon.”

He kissed you again. “Great. I have time to practice.” You made upset noises at him and he laughed, burying his face in your neck. “I love you, Varunee.”

You smiled and ran your fingers through his short, dark hair. “I love you, too.”