Chapter Text
They remain in silence along the way to the restaurant. Jacob chooses an Indian place, because he knows Leah loves Indian food. He absolutely does not love it, but he is willing to please her as much as he can—after all, Leah saved him from the store’s girl.
Muse wasn’t playing, not yet. They were listening to the radio, Leah’s head slightly moved at the rhythm of the song; Jacob was tapping his index finger against the wheel. Despite the music, silence laid between them. Jacob wondered if Leah was thinking about the same as him: the way they were touching each other minutes ago. He could still feel the warmth of her skin on his.
He could not read her mind, thank God, because she was definitely thinking about that. Leah could fake indifference with much more naturalness than him, so it was easy for her to let things be. He needed her to pretend to be his girlfriend? So she would, and would not show any discomfort. If it was an act, she would be the best on screen.
But now… now she was reminiscing the bare minutes they spent close to each other. She enjoyed the feeling of his arm around her waist, his lips against her cheek, his voice whispering next to her ear. Leah was not stupid—no, she knew Jacob was a good-looking guy. Actually, she could admit to herself that he was her type. However, she was a bit afraid of the sensations awakened by his touch. Since Sam, Leah hadn’t had any affair, not even a fleeting romance. Facing her feelings was something she had been unaware of since then, and she was uncertain about how she really felt about Jacob.
Well, she could tell his skin on hers was much more than pleasant. She liked the sound of his voice, she felt this weird urge to laugh when he did so, and she very much admired his independence and his ability to take care of people. Leah wouldn’t say this out loud, but, deep down, she wished for someone who could embrace her inner child and cherish her. She used to feel safe with Sam, he was all responsible and secure about himself, but sometimes he would forget about her needs.
Her best friend—Jacob—, however, would always take a close but discreet look at her, just to check if she needed something. Whenever he cooked a slightly different dish, he would pass by her house and leave a portion (if she were not at home, he would grab the extra key under the hollow slat and leave it above the dinner table). Sometimes, he inspects if her house needs some repairs, and he always does it for free. During holidays, he always invites her over, and he never leaves her alone on her dad’s passing day.
By the corner of her eye, Leah takes an unobtrusive look at him. He seems to be relaxed, but she knows him more than that. She can tell, by the circumspect line of his lips, that he is hiding something. She doesn’t know what, not yet, but she does have a nice shot: she is pretty sure he is not immune to her. Leah notes the way he lowers his voice sometimes, how his eyes linger upon hers, how he observes every move of hers.
Yeah, a nice shot. A very nice shot.
“We’re here”, he says as soon as he parks the car. “Let’s have dinner, girlfriend .”
She couldn’t help but laugh at the way he says the word, a blend of irony and estrangement.
“You should open the door for me, since I have a casted arm.”
He gives her a disdainful look, but gets out of the car and turns around quickly to open the door.
“Thank you, babe .” It’s her time to be ironic, and she is much better than him at this game.
As he did at the store earlier, Jacob places his hand at her back and guides her. Leah realizes she likes it more than she should.
Jacob takes the lead and asks for a table for two. After he gently pulls out the chair for her, Leah smiles sheepishly. As soon as the waitress hands them the menu, Leah focuses her eyes on the options below so she can avoid Jacob’s look.
“What are you gonna order?” He asks, since he has no idea of what he is going to get.
“Probably the tandoori chicken. You?”
“Same”, he shrugs, uncertain.
“No! You should go for something that you actually think you’ll like.”
“I trust your choices when it comes to food.”
Naturally, Leah rolls her eyes. Yes, it flatters her to know that, but she also would like him to really read the menu.
“Jake, there are good options. Look, this one is made with lamb meat.”
“No, thank you.” His nose frowns in a disgusted way. “Lamb is… No. Just no .”
“Have you ever tried lamb meat?”
“No. And I don’t want to.”
“Why?”
She knows him well enough to realize there is a why. Jacob is not the kind of guy to reject food without eating it first. When he doesn’t answer, she provokes, “Don’t tell me you think they’re cute.”
But he also doesn’t answer to that , so Leah laughs while he tries to look at anything but her eyes.
“I’ll just order two tandoori chicken, ok?” He raises his hand to the waitress.
“No! You have to try the lamb, it tastes cute too.”
“You’re…” He stops himself when the waitress comes and says, “Please, two tandoori chicken, a Cherry Coke and a lemonade.”
“Anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
“Your meal will be ready in twenty minutes.”
Jacob waves at her, his eyes still far away from Leah’s. When they’re alone again, she places her arms on the table and leans her body towards him. Her proximity is enough to compel Jacob to face her, so he does. She is not laughing, but a smile still reminisces across her lips. A sweet smile, he notices.
“I can't believe that the guy who taught me how to hunt and eat raw meat won’t taste lamb.”
“You won’t forget it, are you?”
“Not in this lifetime, babe.”
He likes it, how the affectionate vocative sounds in her voice. He wants to hear it again, like a song played on repeat.
“At least we are not immortal anymore.”
“Oh, lucky you”. Her smile grows wider. “Can you imagine spending your everlasting life being reminded of your insecurities by me ?”
Yes, I can , he wonders.
“Thank God I’ll die someday”, he says instead.
Something crosses her eyes, and Jacob knows that she is wondering something too. Probably not the same as him, but something . Maybe she is thinking about how miserable her life would be, since she has never hated anything more than being a wolf, than being stuck in time. She loves the ephemeral, afterall.
“In fifty years we’ll be worm food”, she says with a dark tone, but the smile is still there. “I hope they taste the tandoori chicken in my flesh.”
“God, Leah, you’re disgusting. How do you expect me to eat after that?”
She laughs again . Jacob knew she would when he said that. He wants to hear her laugh till the day he dies. He can’t help but imagine how it would be to have a real date with her, if she would talk about death with any random guy, if she would mock them for not wanting to eat lamb.
“Again, I must say, you actually taught me how to eat raw meat.”
“It’s… different. Life or death thing or something like that.”
“Oh, you just rhymed! A terrible rhyme, but still.”
He is the one to laugh now. In the past, Jacob used to have similar conversations with Bella. She wasn’t the kind of girl that would flinch at the mention of the grotesque, neither death. At the memory of that, Jacob realizes he has a type—girls with something dark inside them.
“How many songs does this album has?” He asks as soon as they get into the car and Leah grabs her new CD.
“Eleven. You have the right to skip 3,3% of them.”
“Oh, you’re so kind for giving me the 0,3%”, he scoffs. “Okay, bring it on.”
Jacob hates the first song since the first note, but he prefers not to use his privileges now. He can’t understand why Leah likes Muse so much, all of their songs sound like nails are scratching the blackboard.
If the choice was his, he would like to hear Dire Straits with her. And, obviously, she would mock him for liking old people's music. But at least the melody would be softer, like a road trip around the world.
“Skip”, he says without hesitating as soon as the second one starts to play.
“But it’s Resistance! The song that names the album!”
He takes a deep breath. Although he doesn’t want to give in, he knows her argument is good, so he says nothing more than a defeated “okay” .
In fact, Resistance is not that bad. Jacob concentrates on the bass’ rhythm, strong and heavy. The sound leads him to a place of positive restlessness where he visualizes himself as a bass player—since he was a kid, if he ever had the chance to learn how to play a musical instrument, he always imagined himself as a bassist or a drummer.
Love is our resistance
They'll keep us apart, and they won't stop breaking us down
Hold me
Our lips must always be sealed
He definitely doesn’t like the vocalist's voice, but the chorus catches him. Comprehending love as a kind of resistance is as natural as breathing to him, that’s all he has done since… ever. With his father, with his sisters, with Bella, with his pack. He is always resisting something, fighting something for nothing but love—no matter what kind of love.
The night has reached its end
We can't pretend
We must run, we must run
It's time to run
Take us away from here
Protect us from further harm
Resistance
When the song comes to the end, he is feeling nostalgic, already reminiscing the day he had with Leah. The corner of his eye catches her tilting her head at the rhythm of the next song, and he already likes the song just because it makes her happy. Then, she unfolds the CD cover and searches for the lyrics of the songs.
“Name?” He points to the CD player, trying to look unaffected.
“Oh, it’s Undisclosed desires .”
A suitable name, he considers. Right now, he has tons of undisclosed desires.
I want to reconcile the violence in your heart
I want to recognise your beauty's not just a mask
I want to exorcise the demons from your past
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart
“Nice one”, he admits, even though it almost hurts.
“I never thought I’d live to see you say something like these”, her voice sounds teasy and, when he looks at her, she has the most mocking smile.
“Don’t get used to this. And please, please skip, this one is terrible.”
“But I’m sure United States of Eurasia is among the most political ones!”
“Skip ”, he repeats emphatically.
She does. Then, they listen to most of the songs, and he kinda likes I belong to you too, the eighth song. However, he hates the sequence of the last three ones, but has to listen to two of them since he burned all his chances when it came to the first of the three Exogenesis (he already asked her to skip Unnatural Selection too, and half of MK Ultra ).
“Your taste in music is a shame”, she complains when he parks in front of her house. The distance between Port Angeles and La Push was enough for them to listen to the entire album.
“Mine? You like them just because they sound a little rebellious.”
“A little?”
“Yeah, they try to be rebellious, but it’s not truly inside them.”
“What do you know about starting a revolution or something like that?”
“Have you already forgotten that I challenged Sam? I’m way more rebellious than you”, he smiles in a cocky way. “Thank to me , you have gained a new life, a more tolerable place to be.”
“Oh, you can’t just shut up and be humble about it, can you?” She rolls her eyes. He finds it lovely.
“It’s not in me, babe.”
“Stop calling me that!” She pushes his arm, but it doesn’t hurt. “We are not faking it anymore.”
“But it was fun. We had a nice time.”
The words are faster than his mind. When Jacob realizes what he has just said, a terrible sense of embarrassment hits him. Suddenly, he is way more conscious about his hands—one holding the wheel, the other resting on the gear lever. He tries not to look intimidated by her indecipherable gaze, but he is pretty sure his face looks flushed.
Then, he sees how close they are, since the Rabbit is stupidly small. Leah’s body is slightly turned to his direction, which decreases the distance even more. Her casted arm is resting on her legs, and he wants to reach for it and write his name on the white surface.
“Really? Do you really think that?”
“Yeah, I do”, he repeats and lets a minimum smile escape. “We should do it again sometime.”
Again, Leah doesn’t react immediately. But, after a few seconds, she smiles too. In a way he has never seen before, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with her good hand, a sweet gesture.
“Like a real thing?” She asks boldly, her eyes are full of expectation.
“If you want to.”
She blinks once, twice. Then, she gets closer, both rapidly and slowly, in a heartbeat that takes a lifetime. Her lips place a gentle kiss on his cheek, and he closes his eyes in a juvenile attempt to make the moment last forever. If he got to choose, their lips would be intertwined by now, but he also wants to go slow, make things right with her—takes her to a real date, buy her dinner instead of splitting the bill, gives her a nice gift so she would remember the night as her best date (maybe the Joan Jett vinyl).
“I’d love to.”
His heart feels like a firework spectacle. He doesn’t have to pretend anymore.