Bella knows when she's been had.
"Jacob Black. This is ridiculously unfair."
The boy she is complaining to uncoils himself lazily on the sofa beside her and opens one sleepy eye.
"Bells, promises are promises. I pick up your sorry ass from the side of the road when you've broken down; you give me one bona fide actual date."
Bella harrumphs and puts a cushion over her head so the words are muffled. "It's not a date, and even if it was it would be the date from hell." She's beginning to suspect that Jacob has placed some inbuilt flaw in the engine of her red truck just so he could be her knight in shining armour on that god-awful-freezing Forks morning three weeks ago. He wouldn't do that though, surely – even if he does try to be a little more than friends sometimes. Even if that does put her into a spin so she blushes and doesn't know what to say, or where to look. Because, well, he's just Jake, after all.
"Aw...don't be like that." Jacob grins smugly. "It's only dancing."
"Exactly. You know what I'm talking about then. Why this? You could have the movies, or an evening fixing up my truck in the garage...hey, I'd even go cliff diving again rather than go through this torture."
Jacob shoots her a dark look of amusement, and then settles back with his arms folded behind his head. "Nope. This is...just... fine."
No amount of exasperated huffing and puffing is going to change his mind, Bella can tell. Once he gets stubborn, Jacob is pretty immovable. It's times like this she sees the wolf in him, standing before an enemy, focused yet taking a stand that won't be budged.
"You know I didn't even go to my Prom, Jake. Two left feet, remember? You'll be scraping me off the floor. I'll just be an embarrassment to you. Why don't you take someone else?" Bella is wheedling now, but this is a situation that calls for desperate measures.
"Scraping you off the floor..." Jacob ponders. That means Bella, clinging to him dizzily, his arms around her waist, relying on him to halt the effects of gravity. And this is supposed to be a counter-argument? "That sounds good to me. Besides, Quil and Embry will be there. And Embry's been buggin' my ass about his fancy footwork and marvellous twinkle toes. Keeps muttering something about us Quileute boys having natural rhythm. I think he's just making a fool of himself over the cute dance teacher though."
Bella pauses for thought. Well, if the others are going...she has to admit, there could be some potential for fun – if they let her just sit at the side and watch.
"Well, I really don't think I have anything to wear."
Jacob looks her up and down, from the tips of her bare unpainted toenails to the soft brown hair hanging loose. He scrutinises her boy-cut jeans and brown fleece vest, then smiles wickedly.
"'kay. You can go naked. I can deal."
Bella's mouth pops open, then she hits him with a cushion. Hard. On the nose. As usual, Jake barely flinches. Why does she bother? It's really frustrated knowing that her limited attempts at getting back at him are about as effectual as swatting off a fly. But she'll be darned if she'll stop retaliating. God knows what would happen then.
"Don't worry," Jacob takes her hand and pulls her up off the sofa. "Your normal, comfy, Bella clothes are just fine for dancing." He spins her around, catching her by the waist as she inevitably tilts off-balance.
"And one day, Bells, when you finally give in to my charm and marry me I'll make the tribe give you a special new native name."
"What would that be Jacob?" Bella has to ask, despite herself, ready for the smart-alecky answer.
"Dances with Wolves, baby."