Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.
This is a companion piece to my other story called Distance, that may become an actual story depending on Feedback.
The song that Leah is listening to is Jet- Are you going to be my girl?
Leah's Point of View.
"I said are you gunna be my girl! CYEAH!" I'm rocking out to Jet's song in my car when, in the distance I see a blonde on the side of the road.
I blink my eyes once, then twice.
Surely this woman is a figment of my imagination; I've been driving too long on this dirt road, either that or I just really need to get laid.
I pass the mirage and look in my rear-view mirror only to see the blonde stamp her feet and I think, yell obscenities at my car.
Holy shit it's not a mirage, I shout at myself and then I stop the car.
The blonde stops her tirade on the poor pavement and regards my vehicle.
I start to reverse.
When I reach her, I can feel my eyes bulge from their sockets. Holy shit, it's her, what the hell is she doing in a place like this? play it cool Leah.
Yeah, I have conversations with myself, what of it?
I scratch my forehead and try to give out a genuine smile to the blonde woman whom, I am acutely aware is wearing a thin purple singlet and tight denim jeans. If this isn't a scene from a porno, than I don't know what is.
"Hey blondie, need a lift?" I ask.
Her smouldering blue eyes that I am so familiar with pierce right through me, they always did and probably always will, I blame the heat for their intensity. She probably doesn't even recognise me.
The woman cranes an eyebrow in response as if trying to discern whether or not I'm a dirty creeper.
Well, yes I am, but she doesn't have to know that yet.
I unlock the doors and then open the door for her and stop myself from telling her to get in the damn car.
She internally weighs her options and then, after a minute of deliberation, she gets in elegantly.
She fastens the seatbelt and I am instantly jealous of the strap holding her upper body to the seat.
"Where you headed?" I ask her.
"Forks," she says, her voice reeks of sophistication and I can't help but cringe. Years of poor socio economic upbringing has impregnated me with preconceptions regarding the rich and powerful.
"What happened? Your Mercedes break down?" I ask her, I had noticed a Mercedes a few miles back, damn she must be fit, that was ages ago and I'm in a car.
She shifts on the plastic seat of my car which causes me to become suddenly conscious of the holes which plague it.
"Just drive," she demands as if I'm a chauffeur.
I scoff in indignation, perhaps I should have kept driving.
I turn the volume of my radio up and relish in the song stuck on repeat.
"I'm Leah by the way," I introduce over the guitar riffs and grunt voices.
"Rosalie," she replies indifferently.
I want to reply with, Yeah I know, but I decide against it.
I regard her in my peripherals and notice that she's staring at my form intently, whether she's appraising me for own my denim shorts and black tank top or she's trying to gauge whether or not I'm about to attack her at any moment, I'm unable to tell.
"Calm down Rose, it's not like I'm going to eat you," I try to placate. Haha, my lesbian side is so funny sometimes.
She scoffs and reclines back in the seat keeping a steady eye on me, I think I hear her mutter, "As if you had a chance," and how so badly I would like to take that challenge.
"Don't call me Rose, only people I know may call me that," she snaps instead.
Well, how fucking rude.
I stop the car immediately and she cranes her head towards me in semi-shock. I say semi, because going full shock would be breaking free from the uptight default that she has.
"Well then, allow me to get to know you better Rose, after all, Forks is about four hours away by foot and I don't think that you'd very much enjoy walking the rest of it," I state, yeah I'm a bit of a bitch if you haven't gathered.
I look at her and notice how nicely her purple singlet goes against her skin, I swallow the lump in my throat.
"So, when you've decided to stop being a bitch perhaps then we can keep going, what says you?" I say with the upmost confidence which I know I don't have.
I think I see her head move a fraction in agreement, "Good. And, if you're trying to figure it out, I'm not crazy, I just don't like people looking down at me." I start the car again and continue driving.
The chorus resumes.
"You're not crazy, yet you have stopped your car several times for a stranger whom you thought was an illusion," Rose assesses randomly.
Holy Crap, how did she know?
I frown at her and I can pretty much feel the sardonic smile on her face.
"A bad judge of character perhaps, but no, I don't believe you to be crazy," she states, I'm not sure if she was saying these things in order for me to keep driving or if she sincerely meant them.
"Who are you going to see down in Forks?" I ask, changing the subject.
"That's none of…" she begins to snap, however I just give her a stern look.
"My family," she states obediently.
This power thing is kinda fun, but I don't want to milk it too much.
"What's your last name?" I ask making conversation, as if I didn't already know.
"Cullen," she replies.
"Rosalie Cullen, eldest daughter of the infamous Carlisle Cullen," I state, she becomes silent.
I can feel the queer look that she's giving me at the moment and I think that I see her hand edge close to the door handle, I want to smirk but I don't. As if this trip isn't bad enough, I don't want her to jump out of my car at 100mph because she thinks I'm a deranged lunatic. And blood is so so messy to clean up, don't look at me like that, we all know what it's like.
"You know, we attended the same kindergarten back in the day," I try to assure her.
"Your eyes seemed familiar," I think she murmurs.
"As did your attitude, I see you never grew out of your pompous holier than thou character," I cringe at my own words, I don't mean for them to be so spiteful.
"Don't assume that you know me," she really snaps this time.
I am really disliking her attitude, "Then tell me Princess, what makes you so different to everyone else that you deserve to be placed on a peddle stool?" I retort back.
"That's…"
"None of my business yeah yeah, your justifications are getting old," I articulate.
I spare a glance at her and notice the frown, she doesn't want to speak, but you know what? At the present, it's not her choice.
"Why have you always been so damn stubborn?" I sigh out.
"You don't know me," she says yet again.
You know what? Fuck this.
"Oh don't I? The very first day you came to kindergarten you refused to come inside because you didn't want to leave your parents, you're visiting them now, so I can safely assume that you love them, the first time we ever spoke you defended me from that asshole Mike because he was giving me a hard time due to my colour, when I tried to thank you, you dismissed me, you hate attention but you assume this strong front not because it's what is 'expected' of you, but because you expect if from yourself." I don't care how my words affect her, she needs to know that her choices have repercussions, that what she does matters, that she is remembered, that after all these years she is remembered by me.
"And you still prefer the colour purple over all others, I remember you used to hoard all the purple crayons in your tunic so that no one else could use them, you hate bread crust and you take what people say to heart way more than what you lead them to believe."
And you have the loveliest face when you're frowning, I want to add.
"And right now? You're fucking surprised because you know that I know that, I'm right by all accounts, you're scared that someone has noticed you since way back then but you're intrigued because it's me, someone who you probably don't remember, someone who you barely bat an eye to and moreover, it's someone who's from the reservation who's saying all these things, but tell me Rose, do I know you?"
I can see her chest rising and falling rapidly, great Leah, give the girl a fucking heart attack and for what? Your own validation?
I know that she wants to call me out on my words, to call me a stalker or something similar as a justification to how I could possibly know all those things about her, but she doesn't, she just sits there contemplating my words. Her torso rising and falling, rising and falling.
Dammit, mustn't stare, mustn't stare.
I shake my head to rid myself of my jumbled thoughts, truth be told, she was the first one that I cared about enough to notice all those stupid insignificant things.
"Stop the car," I hear suddenly, I quirk an eyebrow at her.
What did she…
"Stop the fucking car Leah Clearwater," she demands and I stop the car immediately, Clearwater so she does remember me.
The dust hasn't even settled around my car before I blurt out my next words, "I'm not going to apologise for what I said Rose."
She's looking at me intensely again and I want to recoil, but I don't because I have the power or so I thought.
"Ask me out," she demands.
Well, that was unexpected. Wait, did she just…
"Excuse me?" I ask, she can't be serious.
"Ask me out on a date, right now," she requests again, her words are harsh, but her eyes, damn her eyes are beseeching.
I crane an eyebrow at her, this is a joke right? I look at her again and can feel the seriousness penetrating the atmosphere, I decide to bite the bullet.
"Will you go out with me?" I ask her tentatively.
And then, she smiles at me, she actually smiles at me with her lips turned upwards and her eyes shining. She's relieved, and at that moment it looks as if the entire weight of the world is off her shoulders and, as cliché as it sounds, the entire car feels brighter.
She's smiling, and in that the instant I know that it is one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen and ever will see.
"Yes, and if after this date you still want me, then I will permit you to call me Rose." She replies and then she sits back into her seat calmly, facing forward for the first time since this trip. As if we had never spoken at all.
I nod my head dumbly, what the fuck just happened? I ask to myself.
"Please take me home Leah," she requests in a whisper.
I blink a few times to make sure that I'm not the one that's crazy, but when I'm sure that the woman in my passenger seat is not an illusion I start the car again.
For who am I to deny Rosalie Lillian Cullen?
Thank you for reading.