Pen name: daisy3853
Rating: T
Pairing: Emmett & Rosalie
Title: Thirty Days With Emmett
Summary: When Emmett spots her from across the room, she isn't his to watch or to covet. He's a patient man, though, and day by day he'll wait for his chance.
A/N: The following is a set of 30 drabbles. Each one is exactly 100 words and covers a different day in the life of Emmett.
June 18, 2010
Emmett sits alone, nursing the same beer he's had since he got here. His eyes narrow in distaste at the way it bubbles too warmly on the back of his tongue.
He tilts the bottle toward the bartender and nods. With a fresh beer at his lips, he turns, and that's when he sees her.
She's mile-long legs and curves in all the right places. She's smooth skin and long blonde hair he wants to tangle his hands in.
He chokes on his beer.
Her perfect lips curl in amusement, but her blue eyes burn when she walks away.
July 5, 2010
He watches her from across the room, even though she's not his to watch.
Most nights she's here with him, and those are the nights Emmett hates. Those are the nights Emmett watches his hand slink from her neck, down the elegant arch of her back, and over the curve of her hip. Like she belongs to him. He watches her smile just for him, kiss his neck, and leave with his hands on her skin.
Tonight's different, though. Tonight she's alone.
Still, Emmett doesn't approach.
His pride won't let him – not when tomorrow could be another of those nights.
July 10, 2010
It's one of those nights, and Emmett can't take his eyes off the couple in the corner.
She's here again with him. He's all over her – touching her, kissing her – and she lets him.
She smiles when his hand trails up her thigh. She bites her lip when he kisses her neck. She shivers when his fingers trace her spine.
Emmett drains his bourbon but never looks away. She's torturing him, her eyes never leaving his as she leans close to whisper in his ear. Emmett's eyes harden.
When her confident stare finally falters, he smirks, raising his empty glass.
July 16, 2010
Emmett notices everything.
He notices that she never orders for herself when she's here with him. She opens her mouth to try, but with his hand on her arm she's silenced. He orders her a cosmopolitan. To the world she might look like that kind of girl – the kind of girl who enjoys pink drinks and expensive gifts.
Emmett knows better.
He's never spoken to her, but he knows she prefers a beer when she's here to relax or two fingers of bourbon, neat, if she's had a bad day – just like him.
Never once has she ordered a cosmopolitan.
July 24, 2010
Tonight she's with him, and Emmett can't look away. It's the worst kind of torture.
Emmett watches the way she tenses when he rests his hand across the back of her neck. Her shoulders flinch when his thumb trails suggestively over the skin behind her ear; he just laughs.
The life fades out of her eyes when he raises his voice. All she does is nod, submissive. The fire Emmett usually sees in her – that spark of strength he admires – has burned out.
Emmett knows who to blame. His fingers tighten around his glass, itching for something – someone – to break.
August 21, 2010
Tonight's the first time Emmett has seen her in almost a month. She's alone, and he's halfway out of his chair before he can stop himself.
She doesn't look quite right. She looks tired, like she hasn't had a good night's sleep in way too long. Emmett wonders if it's work, or family, or him. He wonders if she's alone alone or just alone tonight.
He wonders if he's ever going to speak to her, or if they're doomed to bad timing.
She eyes him warily when he approaches to order a new drink.
He grins, and she turns away.
August 23, 2010
She's alone again.
She looks relaxed, but somehow she has this aura – this force that warns that if you approach, you'll regret it. If you touch, you'll get burned.
Emmett remembers that the most exotic animals are sometimes the most venomous. Nature's own warning: don't eat me. He stifles a chuckle, knowing that one taste of her would be worth it.
He wonders if he could do it – if he could spend just one night with his hands tangled in that hair, his fingers digging into those hips, his lips tasting that skin – and then walk away.
Not a chance.
August 27, 2010
Tonight when he sees her, he's ready.
He sits at a table in the far corner, and the shadows and bodies hide him from her line of sight. He notices her looking for something, someone. He lets himself believe it's him.
She's stoic in her disappointment.
When she sits the bar, he stands. His beyond-tall frame is imposing, and his walk is a slow, tangibly confident swagger; people naturally clear his path.
He takes a seat next to her at the bar, and he watches the tension seep into her posture.
They drink, silently, inches away but miles apart.
September 4, 2010
This time when he slides onto the stool next to her, her shoulders don't tense. She doesn't acknowledge him – not with a turn of her head or a single spoken word – but she doesn't turn away, either.
He counts it as a small victory.
He notices that tonight she's drinking Blue Moon on tap instead of Newcastle. He wonders which is really her favorite, if she has one.
He orders a Newcastle, and he's rewarded by her perfect lips turning up into a half-smile.
It's gone as soon as she lets it slip, but he caught it.
Another victory.
September 10, 2010
Tonight he hears her voice for the first time.
It doesn't sound like bells or angels singing or any of that bullshit. It sounds like sex and a smooth sip of bourbon – and coming home.
"I'll have a double of Maker's, neat."
"Bad day?" Emmett asks.
"The worst. How'd you know?"
He raises his glass; it's almost empty now, but a half-hour ago it was three fingers of amber-colored stress relief in a glass.
"Looks like we've had the same kind of day," she says.
They sip in silence, and the bourbon burns in just the right way.
September 13, 2010
Tonight she tells him her name.
He chuckles, and she narrows her eyes, ready to fight.
"Something funny?"
"No, no. Just thinking."
"Thinking, huh?"She arches a derisive eyebrow; her tone suggests thinking isn't common for Emmett.
"I was thinking you must hear all the worst lines with a name like that."
She's surprised. He's right, of course. She recovers quickly. "I'm sure I've heard whatever you've got, but go ahead and give it your best shot."
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Rose."
He smiles as he walks away, certain he sees fire in those ice-blue eyes.
September 18, 2010
Tonight he catches Rose watching him.
She's with a friend – some petite brunette – but her eyes keep finding Emmett. He watches the way she nods, responding to her friend at appropriate intervals. He laughs when said friend waves a hand in front of Rose's face to regain her attention.
Rose hears him. She narrows her eyes and then turns back to the brunette, determined not to spare him another glance.
Sometimes he almost thinks he feels her eyes on him, but he doesn't catch her again.
He misses the way her eyes follow him when he walks out the door.
September 20, 2010
She's waiting for him, alone, with a bottle of beer for each of them. She methodically peels the label off hers and is too distracted to notice his approach.
Emmett grins like the devil, sneaking up behind her until he can speak directly into her ear, his voice low and rough.
"Good evening, Rose."
He's not expecting her reaction. First an elbow to the gut, then he's flat on his back. He sees the absolute terror in her eyes.
"Rose, I'm…"
His apology trails behind her as she stalks out of the bar.
"I'm sorry," she whispers to no one.
October 11, 2010
After three weeks, she still hasn't come back to their bar.
He's there each night, alone. Waiting.
He drinks alone. He saves her seat at the bar for no one. He turns away anyone who approaches without a second thought.
His guilt eats him alive, and he hopes for another chance. He doesn't understand what happened, but he understands that she's hurt. That someone hurt her. Someone Emmett would hurt if he could.
He needs her to know he would never hurt her. He was raised to treat women in a certain manner.
He wants the chance to show her.
October 14, 2010
It's been twenty-four days, and he's tired of waiting.
Waiting for her to be alone. For her to let him speak. For her to speak to him. Waiting to break through these walls she's built around herself.
He's no quitter – just the idea of walking away leaves a bitter aftertaste. He washes it down with one last sip.
"Emmett?"
He doesn't answer, worried it's just the bourbon talking.
"My name is Rosalie Lillian Hale, and you're going to have to be patient with me."
She offers her hand, and he takes it.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
October 22, 2010
Tonight she's waiting for him, just like that night when it all went to hell. She orders a beer for each of them, then on second thought a double as well – just in case he's having a bad day.
He clears his throat as he approaches so she's not startled.
She looks up, and it almost seems like she's nervous. Almost.
He gives her his best dimpled grin; she doesn't swoon like most women would, but he swears her cheeks blush just a little bit.
That and the soft smile on her lips make tonight the best night so far.
October 29, 2010
"So, big guy, what do you do?"
"I work… I run with my dog… I read. Sometimes I sit in this dump just so I can talk to you."
"Ha ha," she deadpans. "So charming."
"You meant where do I work."
"Obviously."
"Hate to break it to you, but nothing's obvious with you." His grin is all warmth and reassurance, because he knows her instinct is to take that the wrong way. "I'm a pediatrician."
"You like kids?"
"I love kids. That's my dirty little secret. What's yours?"
"I…" She hesitates when he meets her eye. "I love your smile."
November 1, 2010
Tonight Emmett's behind the bar, and Rose is all smiles. Turns out no one can say no to Mr. McCarty – not even the bartender.
"Come on, Rosie. What'll it be?"
"Anything but a cosmo."
Emmett's smile falters; he knows who she's thinking of.
He leans in, reaching across the bar so slowly, so carefully, until he's touching her. His finger trails down her cheek, under her chin, and then he's pulling her a little closer.
Her eyes want to close but they don't. It's too intense. Too scary. Too wonderful.
"I won't hurt you like he did."
"I know," she whispers.
November 5, 2010
Rose can't take her eyes off the class ring Emmett's spinning. The dim lights overhead catch on the metal as it turns, casting tiny reflections on the gleaming wood of the bar.
He looks like a child, entirely content with his quiet game. The smallest smile curls his lips, and she wants to kiss them. His fingers are strong, but careful and precise. She wants those fingers on her. She watches the way the muscles in his forearms flex and relax, and she wants to drag her fingers over them.
She's blushing when he looks up, and he grins, knowing.
November 9, 2010
She's peeling the label off her beer again, instead of talking. They've been nearly silent for the last half-hour.
He leans in to speak into her ear, low and rough. "You know, some people say that's a sign of sexual frustration."
"You know, some people would tell you that's none of your business," she replies, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. Her ears are traitors and he notices their blush.
"What if I want to make it my business?" His grin is cocky and teasing.
"What if I'm not open for business?"
"Some day, sweetheart. I promise you that."
November 13, 2010
They're sitting so close that no one can hear their whispered words over the low hum of the bar.
"You look nice tonight," he murmurs.
"You say that every night."
"Maybe it's true every night."
"Maybe you need a new line." Her smile turns serious. "So, when are you going to man up and ask me to dinner?"
"Would you like to go to dinner?" He's all arrogant confidence and that cheeky grin.
"No, but thanks for finally asking."
She kisses his left dimple, and he's still at a loss for words as he watches her walk out the door.
November 19, 2010
"Entertain me," she says, a challenge.
He doesn't think long before he asks, "Why is six scared of seven?"
"I have no idea."
"Because seven ate nine."
She's silent, and he's about to take it back when a slow smile creeps across her face. It starts at the corner of her mouth, lifting it just the slightest bit. Then he sees it in her eyes, in the way the edges crinkle. When she snorts, all bets are off. She claps her hand over her mouth to stifle it, and his guffaw echos throughout the bar.
He loves hearing her laugh.
November 27, 2010
"What'd he do to you?"
"It doesn't matter, Emmett."
"It matters to me."
"He just… he broke me. I can't go through that again."
"Rosie…" He sighs. "You gotta know I'm not him."
"What do you want?"
"I want to see that fire in your eyes when you think I'm wrong. I want you to call me on my bullshit. I want to fight with you in the good ways and make up with you in the best ways. I want you."
"I think I want you, too."
He kisses her wrist.
"When you're ready. I'll wait until you're ready."
December 2, 2010
"What do you call that color? Salmon?"
"I think they call it light pink."
"Really, Emmett?"
"Hey, it takes a secure man to wear pink."
"Uh huh."
"I'm a secure man."
"Okay."
"Secure in my masculinity."
"Sure."
"I'm very masculine."
"So very."
"You're… mocking me, aren't you?"
"Definitely."
He frowns at his tie, pulling it slowly between his first and middle fingers. She watches, enraptured.
"The kids like them," he mumbles.
"Excuse me?"
"The kids. Funny ties get them talking."
"Huh."
"This one has sharks on it. Kids like sharks."
"They do?"
"Why else would I wear a pink tie?"
December 4, 2010
"He used to buy me roses," she says, out of nowhere. "He would say, 'roses for my loveliest Rose,' like he was so clever or something. Like he was the first guy who ever thought of it."
"You don't seem like a rose kind of girl."
"I fucking hate roses."
He laughs until he can't breathe. "You would."
"They're unoriginal."
"They have thorns."
"So do I," she whispers.
He leans in until he's so close she can't breathe.
"I like you thorny." His voice is rough; she feels the words on her neck and over her skin, the sweetest shiver.
December 7, 2010
She hasn't played quarters since before she was legal to drink, but she hasn't laughed this hard in even longer.
"Emmett! You're cheating."
He laughs, and it's deep and clear and it echoes somewhere inside her.
"How can I possibly cheat? You bounce the quarters. They go in or they don't."
"I don't know how you're doing it, but you're cheating."
She tries again, and he watches her – the way her brow crinkles in concentration and the hint of her tongue that sticks out, teasing him.
She finally scores, and he swears her smile is the brightest he's ever seen.
December 9, 2010
She's still breathless and flushed when she asks, "Are you ever going to ask me out?"
His arms around her loosen, like he's about to pull away. He smiles – the one that makes her wonder how a man could ever be such a child at heart – then he spins her twice and pulls her close again.
"You told me to be patient."
"I'm tired of being patient."
"I'll ask you when it's right."
"How will I know when it's right?" she whispers, her head against his chest.
"You won't have to ask."
A slow one comes on, and they sway.
December 13, 2010
There's a storm raging outside, and thunder and lighting crash as Emmett walks in the door.
He's dripping water in the entry way, and Rosalie fights a grin as she watches him. He runs his hands through his hair, laughing as he shakes off the rain. His cheeks are a ruddy red from the cold; she thinks he's beautiful.
He smiles as he walks toward her, but this is much more than a smile. His whole face, his whole body – everything in Emmett smiles. He exudes a carefree confidence with every step he takes toward her.
Now she's smiling, too.
December 17, 2010
Tonight he's nervous. Emmett's never nervous.
When she walks in, the air leaves the room. He's suffocating. She's wearing this tight black dress, and all he can think is Goddamn.
But then her eyes find his from across the room, and he can breathe again. She's smiling as she walks toward him – that smile he used to only see when she let it slip.
"I brought you flowers," he says.
"They're not roses." She's still smiling.
"I thought you'd appreciate something a little… different."
"Different sounds good."
"How does dinner sound?"
"Dinner sounds… perfect, actually."
And now they're both smiling.
December 18, 2010
He gave her the loveliest orchids and then asked her to dinner. She said, "Perfect."
Now they're sitting in this empty restaurant, and the staff is not so subtly stacking chairs on top of tables and turning out lights. He laughs, deep and carefree, and she pulls him out the door and to his car.
It's just after midnight. The sky is so bright and so clear, and she can see every star.
He leans in to kiss her – finally kiss her. His lips are soft and strong, and he tastes like the chocolate bread pudding they shared for dessert.
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. :)
A million and one hugs to Acciobourbon, Hmonster4, and TheHeartofLife for hosting this little appreciation party. The big guy could always use a little more love. :)
Also, thank you so much to americnxidiot for beta'ing this for me. She's fantastic and makes me :').