Disclaimer: All of the characters, concepts, and anything affiliated with the Twilight saga belong to (their rightful owner) Stephanie Meyer. The rest of the work belongs to me and should not be copied in any way, including translations, without my explicit consent.
Major thanks to Flyaway Dove for Beta-ing this.
Set: Sometime after BD.
The Rules of a Relationship
In life, there are rules. Everywhere you go you see them and are therefore made to follow them by the people in charge. Going to an amusement park? Keep your hands and feet inside the cart at all times. Spending an afternoon in the library? Be quiet. No talking, yelling, running, and definitely no coloring, ripping, or editing the books. School? No cheating, stealing, hitting, or talking back. Always do your homework, share your toys, and clean up your mess. There are rules in your family. No yelling, hitting, kicking, or name-calling, (no matter how much your sisters deserve it). But it doesn't stop there. No, then there's no arguing with your parents, do what they say, respect each other's property, (That rule was never followed. My GI Joe will never be the same after the Malibu Barbie water skiing incident of '95),
The rules just keep on coming. There are social rules, rules in games, government laws, things that we have to abide by. These are usually very clear, concise, and are public knowledge.
Others, like the guy code, (basic rules for all males and the dating scene), are a more "hidden" and are on a need-to-know basis.
Then, there are "girl rules." Yes, you heard me, "girl rules." Even by mentioning them right now, I'm breaking a rule. I'm a guy who knows entirely too much about girl rules so I already have a target on my back. But that's not the point, (yes I actually have a point). So, where guys have this code, a very simple code, (one rule being treat your friend's car like a porcelain doll, and another being the ever popular saying bros before hos), a code that has courtesy sub-codes like, put a sock or tie on a doorknob as a signal to all other guys saying, "Dude, I'm busy right now, yeah that kind of busy, come back later when my girlfriend isn't here. Thanks." What I'm trying to say is, guys are easier to understand. When we get into a fight, we literally get into a fight, as in physical force.
When girls fight, it's different, (mostly it's harder to see who's winning and why they're fighting in the first place). So, it would be safe to say that girls have their own rules, a much more complex set of rules to coincide with their more devious and cunning fights. How did I learn this? Well, through Leah Clearwater, of course. Why do I need to know this? Well, I'm currently fighting with Leah Clearwater.
Okay, let's backtrack a bit because I need to explain. After a certain baby shower, (cough Emily Uley! cough), a certain Beta, (cough Leah Clearwater! cough), was determined to get a little tipsy. Scratch that, she was out to get piss ass drunk. A great feat for a werewolf to take on, but if anyone enjoyed a challenge, it was Leah. She gets so determined and her eyes light up at the thought of a challenge. She just looks so alive and, I don't know, happy. It's a nice look…
Anyways, so she ran to the nearest, (and only), liquor store in town and bought them out of nearly all of their hard liquor, (How she got the money, I have no idea. I think she said something about selling a dress that Pixie sent her from Milan, but I can't be sure). She went home where she then brought out all of the alcohol the Clearwater home had. Guessing that not only was she a little bit of an emotional wreck, but that it's not fun to drink alone, I sat down on the living room floor next to her and drank. Shot, after shot, after bottle, after bottle, I kept up with her.
Four games of Twister, ten rounds of never have I ever, three (failed) games of go fish, and five limes later, Leah and I were drunk. Not pissed, not buzzed, no, we were completely and utterly shitfaced.
We have no idea how much we drank or how much of it got on the floor, (it's hard to pour straight when the room won't stop spinning). All we know is that we were drunk and we were having fun.
Leah Clearwater was drunk was a happy drunk. She was so happy that when I leaned in towards her, (her lips looked so good and she smelled so… delicious), she didn't hit me, or shrink away, or glare, or anything else that Sober Leah would have done. Drunk Happy Leah leaned in towards me, closing the distance between us.
Jacob Ephraim Black and Leah Marie Clearwater kissed. Not a peck, not a smooch, no, a kiss. A real kiss. With tongue.
Life was good.
When she pulled away, I was expecting one of three reactions: 1) a cruel laugh mocking my kissing abilities, (the only other person I kissed was Bella who, like me, had limited experience), 2) smack me for kissing her, (Drunk Happy Leah could disappear at any moment and be replaced by Sober Leah—who would probably not appreciate her Alpha's tongue down her throat—due to our fast metabolisms which could dissolve the alcohol very quickly), or 3) pass out from the amount of alcohol in her system.
What I did not expect was for Drunk Happy Leah to break our kiss, lock eyes with me and suggest, "Let's go to my room," before licking her lips and staring at me with her lust-filled eyes.
Being a male, an Alpha male to boot, who am I to deny kisses (and more) to my oh-so-sexy female Beta?
So I followed her to her room, to her bed, where we picked up where we left off in the living room. As it turns out, when you put two hot, horny, happy drunk people in a room together, they won't just talk, laugh and play Scrabble. When you put two hot, horny, happy drunk people in a small room together, they make out. Heavily. Soon, second base is crossed, and they're approaching third. Clothes are strewn across the room, lamps are broken, and then, when you think that they would just pass out, they do the unthinkable. These two drunk-birds head all the way home. Twice. And then they pass out only to wake up the next day wondering why in the hell their heads feel like fifty chatty squirrels are occupying them, holding a convention, and why they are lying butt naked next to one another.
Yeah, fun morning that was.
I was shoved out of bed, (where I was quite comfortable having Leah's warm body laying on top of mine), and yelled at. Loudly. While the sun was shining in the room. As I was naked. And tired.
After being told five times to go to hell, twenty three times to fuck off, nine times to shut the hell up, and nineteen times to stop staring, I was dressed and out the door.
We avoided each other for twelve days, before Leah phased the same time I did. Here, she told me to phase and meet her by the river so that we could talk. Expecting the worst, I tried to plan some escape routes and defense moves that would not only save my life, but would save important parts of me. Very important parts of me.
I'll admit, when she walked up to me, yanked me by my hair, and made out with me, I was a little stunned. When we had a repeat performance of that night, again, I admit, I was a little shocked, but mostly—is happy the right word? Well, I was something that resembles the feeling of "happy."
Right after our little "talk," Leah (unfortunately) got dressed and then told me the rules. Not just any rules, Leah rules, a branch of the previously mentioned girl rules. But see, if I have rules, then it means that we're continuing this thing, whatever it is. So I'll follow these strange Leah-rules, which are different from the usual girl rules, although there is overlap.
Cheating, for example, sleeping with her cousin, is breaking a rule. It's breaking a Leah rule, (for obvious reasons-Sam and Emily), and a girl rule for relationships, (cheating is bad and only A lying, disgusting, unworthy, bastard of a guy would cheat). Although it's not like what Leah and I have is a relationship.
The rules for our non-relationship-relationship are as follows:
Rule #1: Watch where you look. In other words, keep your eyes up here jackass. I know I'm amazingly beautiful and you may unconsciously be more likely to look at me now that we're doing whatever we're doing, but the guys will start to notice. Focus your attention on something else like cars or the two idiots and my brothers instead.
Rule #2: Don't try to sneak away for… private moments when we're with the guys. The guys will catch on, no matter how careful you think you're being.
Rule #3: Whenever we have to sit down for a pack meeting or when we're hanging out, don't sit next to me. We need to avoid any unconscious touching of one another.
Rule #4: Stay professional, especially when we're on patrol. No inside jokes or thinking about any of our rendezvous. Be as friendly with me as you would with any of the guys.
Rule #5: Keep up appearances. Since we were quasi-friends before, keep up that level of friendliness to avoid suspicion. Continue talking about the same topics, and don't make any weekend plans for us. We didn't make plans for the weekend before and everyone will start to get ideas if we start now.
Rule #6: Do not talk about your love life. If someone asks about it, it's okay to admit you're seeing someone. Do not elaborate. You're more likely to open your fat trap and let something slip.
I have followed all of these rules. I've even been able to follow some of the more harder-to-follow (crazy) girl rules. Like no going over to your ex-girlfriend's house to hang out with her quasi-brother. Going over there sends a bad message because it's her house, (her brother lives there too, but that's not the point), and because you broke up with her, she obviously still wants you. And since I'm going over to her house, I still "want her."
So, I followed the rules. From the normal, to the abnormal.
I have learned so many girl rules that you would think that I would be prepared. You would think that I would be able to get the simple things, the simple rules. But of course I wouldn't. I'm too busy wondering if buying a pie from Mary Thash, (a woman whose husband Leah has had many problems with), is breaking a rule, to see that I have broken the most important rule in our non-relationship-relationship.
Tentatively, I go inside Leah's house and call, "Hey, so I got this pie from Mary-"
"Something's going on," Leah interrupts, "I don't know what it is, I just feel uncomfortable. I feel like everyone knows something that we don't," she finishes with a pout as she falls onto the couch.
Putting the pie in the fridge, I walk over and sit next to Leah and ask, "What do you mean?"
Sighing, she shakes her head. "I don't know. I just feel like I'm out of the loop with something. Like yesterday, when I went out to get Seth a couple new shirts since the kid doesn't know how to do laundry and ruined the last three shirts he owns, I ran into someone."
Please, please don't tell me you ran into any whose last name is Thash.
"Oh really? Who?" I ask as inconspicuously as I can.
Leah doesn't seem to notice how my voice raises about two octaves since she answers with a smirk, "Abigail Call and her boyfriend Jeffery Middleton."
"Embry's mom is dating?" I yell.
She nods. "Yup. But that's not the weird part," she looks at me dead in the eye and continues, "she asks me how my 'boyfriend' was doing and said that it's 'so cute' that I'm out buying him shirts."
She leans back into the couch and stares at me, inspecting my reaction. "Wow, that is weird."
Leah nods her head and continues, "It is. I mean, first of all, it's not like we're going out or anything." I nod my head and pretend to agree with her, (we have been doing this for about four months, I think we're in a real relationship now), as she continues, "And second, it's not like either one of us told anyone what's going on."
I stop nodding. We weren't supposed to tell anyone? That wasn't a rule.
Noticing how I stopped nodding, Leah looks at me and asks, "You didn't tell anyone did you?"
I have two options; I can either lie or tell the truth. If I lie, eventually she'll find out I was lying and kill me. If I tell the truth, she'll get pissed and kill me. But, if I lie, I'll escape her wrath, if only for a little while where I can high-tail it to Canada.
Deciding to go with the slightly more evasive answer, I look at her wide-eyed and ask, "We weren't supposed to tell anyone?"
Leah looks at me shocked, before yelling, "NO!"
Shaking my head I yell back, "Well, you didn't tell me that!"
"I thought it was implied!"
"Yeah, but it wasn't a rule," I point out.
"What do you mean 'it wasn't a rule'?" She glares at me before taking a deep breath and saying, "If we're doing something in secret, we want to keep it a secret, which means keeping your mouth shut!" She throws her arms up in the air while shouting, "Who in the hell did you tell?"
I rush out, "I may have, slightly, mentioned something, nothing specific, to-"
"Who?" Leah interrupts sending me a demanding glance.
"Well, Embry, and Quil might know something," I trail off.
"Jesus! Jake! You told Dumb and Dumber! Now everyone will know! Quil will tell Claire who will tell Emily who will tell Sam and Kim, and Kim will tell Jared, who will tell Paul, who'll tell Rachel, who'll tell Billy, who'll tell my mom!" she yells while pacing. She stops as if realizing something before turning to look at me and yells, "Damn it Jake you told our parents! What are we going to do now? Huh? I mean now everyone knows, and things will get weird and complicated, and-"
"Are you having regrets?" I interrupt.
I take a hold of her hands and pull her close. "I asked, are you having any regrets?"
I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear and stare at her. Leah stares back at me and shakes her head. "No, it's just—"
Smilingly, I interrupt her, not wanting to hear anything else. "Good. Me neither," I smile at her before leaning in to kiss her.
Now everyone knows about us. We're together and we like it. Us. Jake and Leah. Leah and Jake.
Yeah, breaking the rules pays off.