A/N: This story centers on Rosalie, and while I tried to keep her in character, it's an AU AH story, and she's experienced different things in different ways from Stephenie Meyer's Rosalie. Her relationships with other characters, for example, might be a little different at first than canon Rosalie's relationships. This story is eventually EmxR, AxJ, ExB, though.
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, I just own the plot.
"Rosalie."
I looked up from the history book I was reading. "Oh, hey Edward."
"Finally," I added silently. My brother had collapsed face down on my bed ten minutes ago, after coming home from basketball practice. I was washing the quilt today—otherwise I would never have let him get away with it—still, something must be bothering him if he would risk facing my fury over the quilt at all.
"Something wrong?" I asked, keeping my voice light. Edward is one of those people who would rather eat paste than let people know they're upset over anything. He says he doesn't want to bother anyone; I think he's being stupid and masochistic. Chivalry is dead.
He buried his head in the blanket in response. Shrugging, I turned back to history. It is unlike him to confide in people, though I think I would be that person if he decided to talk to anyone at all. Still the chances of that happening in the first place are small at best.
"Rosalie."
"What?" I asked a little annoyed now. I gave him a chance to respond before, didn't I?
"I think…" he hesitated then, taking in a deep breath. "I think I might have a crush."
Well this was new.
"You think you might have a crush?" I repeated, a little bemused. Edward had never liked anyone before. A few of the kids at school actually thought he was gay; I knew better. He was most definitely asexual. At least, he was before this 'crush'. I had never heard Edward sound so unsure before…maybe he really did like someone?
"Well, how do you feel when you're around her?" I asked him practically.
…
"Edward?"
…
"It is a her, right?"
"Yes!" he protested then, looking up with an annoyed expression.
"Because, there's nothing wrong if you—"
"Rosalie!"
"Well, I wasn't sure. You weren't answering me."
"Because I don't know if what I'm going to say will sound like I have a crush on her or not!" he burst out.
"Well, duh. That's why you're talking to me."
"No, you don't understand," he said desperately, his too-long bronze hair falling over his eyes as he shook his head. "When I saw her…I felt…I got a weird feeling in my stomach, like it was tied in knots. And when she tripped, and I caught her, my heartbeat sped up and my head felt like it was spinning. Then she thanked me and walked away and I blushed. I actually blushed, Rosalie!" he groaned and buried his head under my pillow.
This was too funny.
"Well, it definitely sounds like a crush, Edward," I said, biting the inside of my cheek. He'd never tell me anything again if I giggled now.
He groaned and pounded his head against the bed. If he ruined the mattress, I would kill him.
"What?" I asked, annoyed.
"When she left after I caught her, some blond guy came and wrapped his arm around her waist and said something in her ear," he mumbled.
My giggles immediately disappeared. "Oh, Edward," I said sympathetically. "I'm sorry."
He pulled his head out from under the pillow. "It's fine," he said, taking a deep breath. "I'm fine. Thanks for listening, Rose."
"Edward, stop it," I said, getting really annoyed now. "It's okay for you to be disappointed. You can't help who you like."
He just shook his head. "It's better for me to forget about her."
I couldn't argue with him there…it would only hurt more if he kept thinking about her. "Okay. But don't beat yourself up, please. You get so moody and the piano gets out of tune from all the playing."
Edward laughed a little then. "Like you don't do your fair share of that."
"Hey, Esme's my mother," I pointed out. "It'd be blasphemy if I didn't play."
"True," Edward laughed. "And I suppose the fact that Emmett likes to hear you play doesn't have anything to do with it."
I pictured ice, snowballs, falling into the frozen lake last year when I was ice skating—anything to keep my cheeks from flaming up. "Emmett's my best friend."
"Yeah," Edward laughed, "that's right. You two are most definitely best friends."
"Yes," I said, looking at him suspiciously. Edward always seemed to know more about things than he let on, but I wasn't sure what he was hinting at right now.
"Excuse me if we're not all tortured musicians," I grumbled. "Some of us actually have friends who like the piano."
"I have friends," Edward said in a too-innocent voice. "Look who I was playing basketball with just now."
"Mike Newton doesn't count, Edward."
Edward laughed again, and this time I could see his point. Mike Newton had been trying to ask me out for years; ever since he found out that Emmett and I were just friends he had been following me around, trying to get my number. I had to talk to him, (Edward would kill me if I caused any strain between his precious teammates) but that didn't mean I had to like him.
My phone rang then, and I glared at a still-laughing Edward before I looked at the caller ID to see Emmett's face smiling back up at me. He had taken that stupid picture on one of the last snow days of the school year, and with his curly hair half frosted over and a black eye (the idiot had decided to dive into a snow bank without realizing that it was covering half a fallen tree) he looked like frosty the demented snow man.
"Hey, Rosie," he said as soon as I opened the phone. "I just wanted to tell you that I can't come over today; my mom's helping some friend of her's unpack. They just moved into a house a couple streets down from me."
"Oh," I said, a little disappointed. "So, no Friday night movie? Edward rented Scary Movie 4."
"Yeah, I'm sorry," he said, "but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come and help? Alice said they have two kids, a daughter and a nephew or something."
"Oh," I said. I debated: spending the night with a sulky Edward hogging the piano, or helping a strange family move boxes?
"Sure," I said. "What time should I meet you?"
"I'll pick you up in five," he said. "Make Edward come too, I saw what happened with that girl today."
"Okay, I'll try," I said.
Hanging up the phone, I called out to Edward, who had gone to practice in the music room. "Edward! Emmett wants us to help some new family move boxes into their garage. Be ready in five minutes, or I'll keep pressing that E key that goes flat after you play it too many times."
"Rosalie!" Edward cried out to me, frustrated.
"Four minutes, thirty seconds, Edward." Harsh reality is the only way to get the 'Phantom of the Opera' to shut up.
Ten minutes later, Edward, Emmett and I were parking Emmett's enormous jeep in the driveway of an ordinary, two-story brownstone about three blocks away from mine. Emmett pulled open the front door—apparently his mom and sister, Alice, were already there and had told him to just walk in—and we were met with the sight of a pretty girl with long brown hair looking at us with a slightly uncertain smile on her face.
"Hi," she said, holding out a hand. "You must friends of Anne's. I'm Bella."
"Hi Bella, I said, shaking her hand. "I'm Rosalie, and these are Emmett, Anne's son, and Edward, my brother."
I stepped aside so Bella could see Edward clearly, who was hiding behind me for some reason, and heard a small gasp. Bella was staring at Edward, her cheeks a bright strawberry red, and Edward was looking down, scuffing the toe of his sneaker on the floor. I glanced at Emmett, only to find him looking from Bella to Edward with a slightly awed expression, and then he mouthed the words "that's her!" at me once he caught my eye.
Oh, I thought, everything falling into place all of a sudden. Bella was this mystery girl that Edward had fallen for in the park, and Edward was…why was Bella staring at him like that when she had a boyfriend?
Suddenly, I didn't like this Bella girl very much.
A/N: Review please! The more I know about what people think about this story, the better it will be.