A/N: Saturday nights can be boring for me. Tremendously out-of-character, Bella/Jacob, second person point of view, perspective of Bella, rated M, sex included, Eclipse AU. I don't own Twilight, and if I did I'd shoot myself in the foot. Enjoy.

It's Friday night.

Actually, it's almost Saturday morning. You've got four minutes.

You're upset.

You're upset because you wasted your time all night playing chess with your boyfriend, Edward Cullen. You'd think vampires would know how to have more fun than that. Watching a movie—even an old one in black and white—would have been more interesting. Listening to music—even music that didn't have lyrics—would have been more interesting, too. Simply making out with Edward—face it: you always do—would have been nice as well. But no. You played chess.

You even had plans for the night. You wanted to talk to Edward. Get him to understand something. You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up, though; Edward wouldn't have ever agreed to it.

You want to get into Edward Cullen's pants. You've been thinking about it since the moment you met him, anyway.

You want to see what the actual hell he's got going on, and you want to not be bored for a change.

You don't want to "pronounce your love" to Edward. You want to ride him like a stallion.

But he didn't let you tonight, and he's not going to let you any time soon. It pisses you off.

So of course you're upset. Why would anyone say no to a hot piece of ass like THIS? you think.

You lay in bed alone, contemplating why you even deal with Edward Cullen. He's such a prick. And besides the fact that he won't give it up already, he's boring. His jokes are bad, he's obsessed with his looks, and he never lets you out of his sight. Remember when he got his sister to kidnap you? Yeah, that wasn't cute.

Edward was fine before he left you for dead last September, but now you realize that's he's just a creep. In fact, no, he was not fine before he left you. He has always been a creep, and he always will be.

In the dead silence, you mentally ask yourself, Why am I finally seeing the light now?

Yes, Edward is pretty. Edward is pretty, and rich, and he'll always take care of you. But he bores you to tears, nevertheless. If anything, he's a bitch. Maybe he won't have sex with you because he's afraid to show you what he's really hiding: a vagina.

A vagina is not what you need right now. (Rosalie's bitching makes you want to bitchslap every female on the planet.) You need manliness. Testosterone. Someone to keep you safe and inspired on this lonely, lonely night. And obviously, Edward can't get the job done. Off to Jacob Black you go.

You climb out of bed, stretch out your limbs, and look at yourself in your full-length mirror. Edward doesn't know a good thing when it's right in front of him, you think.

You brush your hair, throw on a pair of jeans (even though they won't be on for long), and quietly slip out of the house. Well, almost quietly. You nearly twisted your ankle accidentally stepping on a shoe by the door.

You go out to your truck, and you swear that you will be completely done with Edward if he managed to tamper with your truck's engine again. The fucker was always so jealous.

You stop, though, for a semi-heartfelt moment. Maybe you should leave a note for Edward. A goodbye note, maybe. Goodbye, my love. C u next Tuesday. Have fun fucking yourself.

…Maybe not. He doesn't have to know, and you don't have to leave him. Edward could manage. You don't want that deep of a relationship with Jacob, anyway. At least, not now. You just have to fulfill some needs and get over Edward a little bit. You'll be back to Edward tomorrow, you hope. The best way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else, after all.

You start up your truck (which happens to not be tampered with) and begin driving to La Push. The roads are eerie and quiet, but you like it. It's easier to think.

Eventually, you arrive at Jacob's house. The front door is locked, so you slip around to Jacob's window. You know just where it is. It's open, of course, so you slide in. You try not to make too much sound.

You see Jacob—your Jacob. The Jacob that helped you get over your harsh breakup with Edward. The Jacob that loved to build things, loved to smile, and loved to be with you. This was the Jacob that you treated so poorly. But not anymore.

You shake him, and he's instantly awake. Jacob is disoriented, asking what you're doing here in his bedroom. You sit down on the bed, and kiss him. You kiss him hard, your tongue working its way into your mouth, doing wonders. He's surprised, of course, but he kisses you back. He pulls you onto the bed with him, and suddenly, you're both reclining on the bed, making out.

He hesitates a little bit, but then you tell him to shut up. You've got this. You're what his heart desires. There's no need to discuss any of this. You're delicious, he's delicious. A match made in heaven.

You strip off your clothes, and then remove his boxers, which is all that he's wearing. He lets you take control, and you're glad that he does. He's not like Edward. Edward has never let you take off your clothes or do any of this in his presence. His loss.

Jake loves this, though. You know he does. As you two properly fulfill your needs, you feel powerful. In control. And you are.

"Jake," you moan. "God, Jake."

Jake touches you in the right places. Makes you feel good. He aims to please, of course. This is your Jacob, alright. He knows you better than you know yourself.

You find yourself thinking, Who's Edward again? You don't need him anymore. Werewolves do it better. Jake is rocking your fucking world. …Er, vice-versa. You swear, you couldn't have been a virgin in a previous life.

Jake moans your name. He moans it nice and soft in his husky voice that you love so very dearly. He moans it over and over again until suddenly, it sounds less like Jacob and more like… someone else.

The voice turns into the voice of a very annoying person in your life.



"Bella, love."


"Bella, love, you're sweating."

You open your eyes, and there you see Edward Cullen at the side of your bed. He's holding your hand, and wiping your forehead. You're steaming hot and sweating hard. And you had been dreaming.

You groan.

"What's wrong, love?" he asks you in his idiotic voice. "Do you have a fever? You're sweating."

"It's nothing," you tell him. Oh, it's nothing at all.

He smiles at you. "Okay, then. So what would you like to do today?"

You can be honest, or you can lie and say that you want to do chaste, virginal things. Instead, you shrug. "I don't know," you tell him.

Edward is now grinning from ear to ear.

"What now?" you ask.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Time for you to lose your virginity? "Time for breakfast?"

"No, silly. It's chess time!"