It had rained all day, typical for Forks. Gray skies pressed low, trees swaying outside your window as you sat sketching in your journal, paint on your fingers, headphones in with nothing playing, just white noise to quiet your thoughts.

Bella was downstairs with Charlie, probably watching something serious. But you weren’t thinking about them. You were thinking about him.

A soft tap at the window.

You didn’t flinch. Two taps, a pause, you knew that rhythm. Your heart leapt.

You slid the window open, the cold rush of air carrying the scent of pine, and him. Jacob pulled himself through effortlessly, rain-damp hair shorter now, eyes warm and locked on you.

You closed the window quietly. He radiated heat, like always, and when you kissed him, quick, soft, his hand instinctively found the small of your back.

“Charlie still up?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Bella’s keeping him busy.”

He smirked. “Perfect.”

Jacob flopped onto your bed and tugged you down beside him, his fingers lacing with yours, eyes tracing your face like he never wanted to forget it.