Rain pattered against the roof of Jacob’s house, steady and soft, filling the air with that fresh, pine-heavy scent that only La Push ever had. Aria stretched out on his couch, legs crossed, one hand draped lazily over the armrest. The firelight slid across her dark skin, catching the gold shimmer in her eyes whenever she glanced toward it. Jacob came out of the kitchen with two mugs. “You don’t drink hot chocolate, do you?” Aria smirked. “I can. Doesn’t mean I need to.” He handed her one anyway. “Just try it. It’s basically sugar and nostalgia.” She sniffed it, then took a small sip. Her nose scrunched instantly. “It’s warm mud.” Jacob laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. “You’re impossible.” “Thank you,” she said with mock pride, setting the mug down. “It’s a talent.” He shook his head, still smiling. “You know, for someone part wolf, part vampire, you complain more like a human.” “That’s because humans invented sarcasm.” She kicked her feet up, watching him over the rim of her cup. The warmth of the room contrasted the faint chill that always followed her, but Jacob didn’t seem to mind. He never had. The night rolled on easy — music humming low from the radio, rain against the windows, the scent of wood smoke mixing with the salty air. Every so often, Aria’s wolf senses twitched at the wind, and she’d glance toward the door, muscles coiling for half a second — but then she’d relax again. Jacob noticed once. “You okay?” “Yeah,” she said, leaning back with a grin. “Just my instincts being dramatic.” He chuckled. “Guess that’s contagious.” For a moment, their eyes met — his deep brown, hers a glowing gold-red that reflected the firelight. Two creatures from opposite sides of the world, sitting in a small house, arguing over cocoa and pretending everything was normal. And somehow, it worked.