"Lets make one thing clear," said Rosalie, because he looked an awful lot like he was about to suggest they be best buddies. "We are NOT going to be best buddies. Ever. At all."
He shot her a big, sloppy grin. "Nope. Nada friendship. We shall be hateful enemies forever."
Rosalie didn't agree with his sloppy grinning, or his mocking, not-serious tone. "I'm being quite serious," she said sternly. "If we become friends, every last bit of my 'you're-a-witch' status will go out the kitchen's bay window."
"And what a shiny window it is," observed Jacob, which was nice but unnecessary and strange.
"Anyway," Rosalie said, fixing him with a glare that usually had Emmett on his knees in two seconds begging forgiveness (among other things…heh), "Let's get down to business."
"To defeat, the HUNS," Jacob continued, looking perfectly happy as he sang some strange tune.
Rosalie, noting that her glare failed to bring him crashing to his wolfy knees, notched it up in intensity. "Stop making up songs." She crossed her arms for added effect, but had to admit she was fighting a grin.
"Making up?" Jacob looked scandalized. "That's only the best song from the best Disney movie ever! Mulan!"
Rosalie treated him to a glassy, plasticy look. "Shut up," she said boredly. "We have to do bigger, more important things."
"Me!" Jacob said, looking pleased with his perverted train of thought. Well, two could play at that game.
"Sweetheart, Emmett knocked you out of that competition long ago," she said with a sigh. "Hell, EDWARD knocked you out of that competition long ago. Which is saying something, unless you talk to Bella, who we all know if pretty much Oscar Meyer at this point."
"Bologna," confirmed Jacob ruefully. "And you've just given my manly ego a vicious blow. Be gentle where you wield your words."
"No." Rosalie was not only stubborn, she liked to be angry with her words. She was rather proud of how quickly she could make an ego a dried up prune, to be honest. In came in handy when dealing with Jacob and Bella. "Can we please just continue?"
"I believe we were at: "Jacob, you sexy beast, lets--"
Rosalie jerked a hand up and shot him a glare to end every other glare. "I only agree with one word in that sentence, and it's 'beast,'" she told him, "Implying you turn into a big, smelly wolf."
Jacob looked vastly amused. "Am I that disgusting?"
"No?!" This obviously was not what the gullible twit had been expecting. "Are…are you being NICE, Rosalie?"
"I was going to say, 'You're worse'," Rosalie shrugged. "But we all know you like to live in denial anyway."
Jacob did look a bit hurt now, so Rosalie put an end to the friendly bantering. "Okay, go."
Jacob took a deep breath. "All right." He dropped to one knee. (FINALLY!) "Rosalie…?"
"Yes?" She looked deep into his eyes, holding his way-too-hot hand. "Jake?"
"Will you…will you marry me?" Pulling a box out of his pocket, he presented her with a glittering ring.
There was a long, long pause. "Fail," Rosalie finally said. "Jeez, you killed that. Don't keep glancing around, look right into my eyes. You went down on the wrong knee, your hand was all sweaty, and you put way too much inflection on the word 'marry.' Make it softer."
Jacob ran a hand through his hair. "I'm never gonna get this."
"Probably not," agreed Rosalie cheerfully. "But not for lack of trying on my part! Again."
The next time, Jacob dropped down on his knee so hard it popped, he yelled, and it was ruined. The third time, he dropped the box. The fifth time, his voice cracked, and during the sixth, he had to pee. For the seventh, the ring rolled away. During the eight, he sneezed violently all over Rosalie. During the ninth, he completely forgot his words, and on it went. Finally, twenty-seven tries and two trips to the bathroom later, he had it down pat. He was good. He was textbook-ly flawless.
His knee was killing him.
"No time like the present," remarked Rosalie ruthlessly. "Go on, go on."
Jacob took a deep breath and picked himself up, heading for the living room where Nessie was curled with a book. Okay. He could do this.
"Hmm?" Dropping the book, she shot him a look that enchanted him instantly.
"I wanted to ask you something." He dropped to one knee (The pain!) and pulled the box out of his pocket, gazing deeply into her eyes, not shaking or sweating at all, holding her hand gently. "Rosalie, will you marry me?"
"What?" Nessie started at him. Jacob instantly panicked. What had he done? He'd said everything exactly right, hadn't he? Or…oh, damn.
He'd said Rosalie.