What Bella would call this chapter: I’m naming my child something ridiculous
Fucks I give: So go away and let me be
Guess what? More patrol running! For what has to be the gajillionth time, Jake, Seth, and Leah decide to run a patrol. Why? we already know that Sam is not going to attack. Is there an actual reason for these endless patrols? Common sense says no. (+1 Stupidity)
“Let’s make the deep run, I told Leah. Seth, take the perimeter. Gotcha. Seth broke into an easy jog. Off on another vampire errand, Leah grumbled. You got a problem with that? Of course not. I just love to coddle those darling leeches. Good. Let’s see how fast we can run. Okay, I’m definitely up for that!”
Jake wants to take his pack out to make sure it’s safe for the Cullens to go hunting. What? I thought the Cullens were badass vampires who could take care of themselves. But, apparently, they’re really just a bunch of crybabies who need some shirtless teenage werewolves to hold their hands and say there’s nothing in the closet.
Seth splits off from Jake and Leah, as we discover the purpose of this endless patrol. It’s so that Jacob and Leah can have a nice little heart-to-heart, that even borders on flirting.
“We’re getting pretty far out here, she commented. Yeah. If Sam was hunting strays, we should have crossed his trail by now. Makes more sense right now for him to bunker down in La Push, Leah thought. He knows we’re giving the bloodsuckers three extra sets of eyes and legs. He’s not going to be able to surprise them. This was just a precaution, really. Wouldn’t want our precious parasites taking unnecessary chances. Nope, I agreed, ignoring the sarcasm. You’ve changed so much, Jacob. Talk about one-eighties. You’re not exactly the same Leah I’ve always known and loved, either.”
Oh, Leah. Leah, Leah, Leah. If you really want Jacob to fall for you, you’re going to have to do much better than that. Start making unreasonable demands, while at the same time complaining about your terrible perfect life. Smell like freesia and start making lasagna. Be weak and uninteresting. Read Wuthering Heights a lot. Have a romantic relationship with a controlling father figure who doesn’t care about the Italian tourism industry.