AN – To all my old friends reading this, and any new readers too- hi! It's good to be back.

I just wanted to explain a few things about this story, and writing it.

I didn't originally set out to write this as a proper story that I planned on posting. Basically I was having a horrible personal time, and I just wanted to write something to take my mind off real life but wasn't up for creating something new. So I started writing little scenes related to Where the Wild Roses Grow, the last thing I'd written, since I already knew those characters so well I didn't have to think about it.

I really didn't think this story needed to be written. It's a prequel to Where the Wild Roses Grow, timewise, but I wrote that as a stand alone story and I think it stands well as one. In fact, if you haven't read it, I think people should read Where the Wild Roses Grow before they read this.

So yeah, I started writing this just for me, just to flesh out some of the scenes and ideas that I'd been working with when I wrote Where the Wild Roses Grow. Forty thousand words later I realised I actually had a story, and that maybe some of the people who had loved Rosalie in WTWRG and written me so many lovely reviews and PMs might like to read it too. So I've started trying to string it together into a coherent narrative and fill in the gaps for you. The chapters might be a bit choppy and the timeline isn't as firm as I usually like, but for all that I really hope you read it and like it anyway!

It does need some warnings I guess, because there's no happy ending in this one. Hothouse Flowers is going to tell Rosalie's story from the time she first gets involved with Royce until the time after her assault when she decides to move to Forks. I wanted to look at how her romance with Royce progressed, and how she found herself caught up in this abusive relationship and how her thoughts around that changed over time. I wanted to look at how vain, self-centred Rosalie might have behaved before she became the traumatised girl in WTWRG. So fair warning, that this story does contain some abuse.

And there's no Emmett. Oh lord, I miss Emmett.

Chapter One- Cheerleader Tryouts

The Camaro is satisfyingly loud as I pull into the parking lot at school, taking my time reversing into a space and listening to the roar of the engine with a grin. In a sea of modern cars the 1969 classic muscle car stands out a mile.

Beside me my brother Jasper rolls his eyes at me. "You are such an attention seeker," he mutters, grabbing his books.

I poke my tongue out him. "Oh, whatever…I've got cheerleader tryouts after school this afternoon, so I can't give you a ride home."

"That's fine, I'll catch Ben or I'll walk or something," Jasper says hastily as two of my friends descend upon us. He gives them a brief wave and then strides off through the parking lot.

"Rosalie!" Kacey and Vera call my name as I jump out, slamming the door with a heavy clunk.

"God, when are you going to trade this car in?" Kacey looks at the Camaro with an expression that's almost disgusted. "Seriously Rosalie, it's practically an antique."

"It's a classic," I correct her. I sling my gym bag over my shoulder and take up my bookbag. "And it was my mom's…Are you guys ready for tryouts this afternoon?"

"I'm so nervous," Vera winces. "I was sick this morning…I know I'm never going to make the squad."

"Don't be an idiot," I say with impatient affection. "You'll get in for sure. You were the best on the JV squad last year."

Apart from me, the little voice in my head pipes up. I might play the game of uncertainty and pretend in public to a modesty I don't really feel, but at heart I'm realistic. Vera and I were the best on the JV cheerleading squad last year, and given the squad remaining after last year's seniors graduated I'm pretty confident that we'll make varsity this year. Although that does hinge on today's tryouts, so I briefly cross my fingers that nothing goes terribly wrong.

"Don't turn around, but someone's looking at you…" Vera murmurs with a sly grin. "Since when is there anything between you and Royce King? Because he's looking at you like he's only just got eyes."

I laugh and toss my head as though I couldn't care less. "He's been flirting with me all summer, whenever I saw him. And then he pretty much hit on me at Peyton's party," I tell her, failing to hide the note of smugness in my tone. "It was late, you were somewhere off with Jim – you whore! – and I was in the hot tub with him and a few of the other footballers."

"Oh well, you in a bikini…" Kacey's voice holds a bite of jealousy, but I don't react. Kacey and I have been friends since seventh grade, but she's always been kind of competitive with me at the same time. She'd been at Peyton's party but hadn't joined me in the hot tub with the boys…can I help it if they like me better?

Vera snorts. "I'm surprised that you got out of the hot tub with your virtue intact then. Royce and his pals?"

The three of us turn and begin walking into school. I pull my shoulders back and swing my hips a little, sneakily conscious of the eyes that follow me. Eyes that include those of Royce King, senior football captain and the best looking guy in school. He smiles lazily and waves at me, and I give him a sideways grin and flip my hair over my shoulder.

"He's such a player," I say to Vera. "He hits on all the girls…it doesn't mean anything. I'm not interested in being another one of his little groupies."

"He is good looking though," Vera says thoughtfully. "And you know how much money his family has- it would be wicked to go out in that car."

"I'd hit it," Kacey says cheerfully, adding teasingly, "But of course, Rosalie's saving herself…"

She and Vera laugh as I roll my eyes. For god's sake, I'm only sixteen…my virginity really shouldn't be a laughing stock among my friends. Just because they all treated having sex like some kind of competition doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me because I didn't.

"I'm not saving myself," I say, irritated. "I'm just not interested in sleeping with any grubby boy from school who gets a hard on just from looking at me. Why bother if I'm not really into them?"

"Because it's fun?" Kacey suggests.

"Well, you would know!"

Laughing, the three of us push our way through the entrance of the school building. At the last minute I pause and look back over the parking lot, where the dark eyes of Royce King are still following me, and I can't help smiling. He's a player and I'm not interested…but he's the best looking guy in school, rich, smart and popular to boot, so I can't help my smug sense of satisfaction. He wants me.

Vera finds me in front of the mirror in the third floor girls' bathroom after last period. I wrap another hair elastic around my ponytail to hold it in more securely, and eye myself critically in the mirror. Cheerleader tryouts are going to be a madhouse and I want to stand out. I'm wearing basic black, shorts and a crop top, but my body is on point and my long blonde hair in its high, flippy ponytail looks good. I bounce lightly on my toes, watching to see how effectively my new sports bra is going to contain my boobs. Not bad. "Not too much bouncing boobs going on?"

"No, you're good. You look great," Vera says anxiously. "Push over for a minute and let me have some room." She brushes her hair vigorously. It's dyed dark brown with pink streaks in it this week and it's sleek and shiny and looks good against her olive skin.

I put my foot up on the sink and stretch, ignoring the little knot of freshman girls that have come into the bathroom and are watching us surreptitiously out of the corners of their eyes.

"I'm so nervous I'm going to puke," Vera says abruptly, dropping her hairbrush in the sink and bolting for a stall. I nearly gag myself at the sounds coming from her, and the freshman girls all scurry out giggling.

"God, I'm sorry," Vera reappears, scooping water into her mouth and spitting into the sink. "I'm so nervous!"

"You need to calm down," I say. "That was gross…you're really going to be fine, you know." I stretch my leg up beside my head and grimace at myself in the mirror, checking to make sure I don't have anything in my teeth.

Vera stands beside me, looking fretfully between our reflections. "I wish I had your natural advantages!"

I roll my eyes. "Boobs and ass….so I'd make a good stripper, big deal! You were great on the squad last year and I bet you'll kill it in try outs today." Even I have to admit I look like every cheerleader stereotype out there, but no one was getting a free pass onto our squad. It was all about talent and Vera had plenty of it. "Come on Hamilton, let's go."

The gym is crowded with girls in workout clothes, some warming up, others lounging on the bleachers or gathered in small groups. The noise is deafening. Across the room I see Kacey with a bunch of girls from last year's JV squad and I head across to her, ignoring the footballers sprawled across the top rows of the bleacher even as I know they're watching me.

"Can you believe this crowd?" Kacey mutters. "Like half of them have a hope."

I shrug. "You know they have to give everyone a chance." I don't know why I'm bothering to be magnanimous- Kacey is right about the unlikeliness of the majority of these girls even being able to complete the warm up, let alone stand up to the rigours of cheerleading on this squad.

"Okay everybody, listen up!" It's Peyton, standing up on the table and shouting through a megaphone. "Shut up! It's time to get this started…me or one of the other girls on the squad are going to come round and give you a number, and then you need get out on the floor for a warm up!"

"Don't let me down, girls," Peyton says, when she finally reaches our group with her clipboard and marker. "You JV bitches know all the routines and I want some good tryouts from you…I don't want to be stuck with training up a whole bunch of newbies." With her thick marker she draws numbers on Kacey and Vera's upper arms.

"Oh please," I say with a laugh. "You already know exactly who you want on your squad! Tryouts be damned, you've had it planned since last year. You told me so in the hot tub at your party!"

"Keep it to yourself, smartass," Peyton grins. Her marker tickles the skin on my bicep as she scrawls a number on me, and then before I can stop her she bends forward and scribbles something across my belly. "Just wanted to make sure everyone can see your number," she smirks as she walks away.

The minute Peyton moves from their line of sight I hear the laughter and catcalls from the football players in the bleachers and I look down to see the giant number 69 Peyton has scrawled across my belly. "Oh, that's mature," I mutter in disgust, swiping my hand ineffectually across it.

Kacey giggles, and Vera pats me absently on the arm. "Don't worry about it. Come on, let's go and find a good spot."

Kacey makes sure our place is well within the football players' line of sight and the three of us do a few stretches while we wait. Out of the corner of my eye I notice that Royce King is watching us…well, watching me. I can't stop the grin that curves my mouth, and I bend over and put my hands flat on the floor so no one will see my face.

Peyton isn't messing about with her tryouts. She leads the warm up and then cuts about half the wannabes immediately, much to their distress. I think she's right though- if they can't follow a warm up then how on earth do they expect to pick up all the routines we need to know?

She's just as brutal in the second section of tryouts, when she breaks those of us left into smaller groups and leaves us to one of the cheerleaders, who teaches us one of the simpler routines they do at games. Two thirds of the remaining girls don't make it through that cut.

I do. I know the routine from JV, and along with cheer camp I've kept up my cardio and strength workouts during the summer and I'm feeling strong and flexible and sure of myself. Years of dance and gymnastics have given me a solid foundation of skills and I love this chance to put them all together and push myself. It sometimes seems funny to me that everyone else has spent my whole life focussed on the way I look, and yet I am so enamoured with the things my body can do. I love cheering for that reason- looking the way I do is a bonus, but it's my skills that are going to get me on to the squad.

After the group routine, Peyton has those of us still in the competition go and sit in the stands while we wait for a chance to do an individual routine. I'm only a tiny bit surprised when Royce climbs down the bleachers and drops into the seat beside me.

"You looked good out there."

"Thanks." I roll my shoulders, keeping my muscles loose. "I hope I'll make it this year."

"You will." Royce smiles at me, and I automatically smile back.

He is so good looking! I've thought he was gorgeous since I first saw him when I was a freshman, but his reputation for being a player has put me off a bit. But now that he's paying attention to me…I have a momentary fantasy of what it could be like if I make the cheer squad and he's going to be quarterback this year and we can ride to the away games on the bus together and go to the parties and everyone will be so jealous…

"Hey, Peyton's calling you," Royce nudges my shoulder. "Good luck."

"Oh, thanks!" I jump to my feet and with a swish of my ponytail go bounding down the steps towards Peyton and the other cheerleaders, sitting together behind a folding table with their clipboards.

"Okay Hale, show us your stuff," she says, gesturing with her pen to the vast and empty gym floor.

I'm not nervous. I've been cheering since I was twelve and I know I'm good at it. Vera and I worked on these individual routines during summer vacation, choreographing to show each of us to our best advantage, and I like what we've done. I finish with some tumbling and there's a small spattering of applause, not all of it from my friends, so I know I've done okay.

"Okay Hamilton, your turn!" Peyton shouts, and Vera jumps up and hurries down towards the front to take my place on the floor. I high five her as we pass, and then take my seat again beside Royce, only a little hesitantly.

Royce is watching me with his dark eyes, smiling slightly. He wears expensive cologne and I can still smell a hint of the scent, even now at the end of the day. I've always been obsessed with the way guys smell, and I try not to be too obvious as I inhale.

"I think you were really good out there," he tells me. "You were JV last year, right?"

I nod. Royce doesn't hide the fact that he's looking, and suddenly my sports bra and short shorts feel awfully skimpy. I'm embarrassingly aware of the number 69 scribbled all over and I fold my arms across my belly, although I can't do anything about the numbers on my arms.

I think Royce realises what I'm doing, because he chuckles a bit before he says, "Well, I think you'll get on the squad this year. Your tryout was awesome, and Peyton seems to like you. She did in the hot tub at her party, anyway."

Now my cheeks are burning, and I'm sure I'm blushing. Peyton had been completely off her face at her end of summer party (I hadn't been too much better, to be honest) and she was the kind of girl who liked to put on a show for the guys. A little bit of flirting and teasing girl on girl action and she had most of the guys she wanted panting for her, and at her last party I'd been the one in the hot tub with her.

"She's just playing games," I say, trying to sound nonchalant. "You would know how she is." I'm a year younger than they are and was only on the periphery of their crowd as a JV cheerleader last year, but I know that Peyton and Royce have been friends for years. I'm pretty sure they've fooled around together a bit too, but there's nothing serious there.

Royce grins. "Yeah, I know Peyton. Hey, do you want a ride home after this?" His hand brushes across my thigh.

Damn it. I should have let Jasper take the car. "Oh no, that's okay. I've got the car today."

"Oh right, you drive that rust bucket," Royce teases. "That thing's a beast…you can hear you coming from the other side of the school."

"Hey!" I say with mock indignation. "Don't slam my Camaro- she's a classic! Maybe she needs a little work, but she's still the best car in the lot."

I give him a playful shove and he laughs and grabs my hands, enfolding them in his. His hands seem so big in comparison to mine! He keeps my fingers wrapped in his for just a moment too long before he releases me, holding his hands up with a grin. "Okay, I won't go slamming your car! But I'll take you out for a ride in mine one day and then you'll see what a really sweet ride is."

"You'll never convince me," I pout. "Muscle cars all the way." But I'm looking up at him from under lowered lashes and his dark eyes are bright with amusement and fastened on my face. This is all going just the way I want it to…and I can't wait to see where it's going to go after this.