Not Without a Fight
Annaleise Marie
Round Two
AN: So I was really pleased with the response to last chapter. It's the most interest I think I've ever seen in a first chapter of one of my stories. So HUGE thanks to all of you! I hope I can continue to bring the lulz and keep you entertained! :D
So, this chapter will be told from both Emmett and Rosalie's POV. I intend to rotate them. I hope you enjoy it!
I own a snazzy Nana keychain that my friend bought me at TsubasaCon when she found out that I had never seen any merchandise for it, but I do not own Twilight. That belongs to Stephenie Meyer.
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RPOV
The ride home was relatively quiet, save the blaring of The Honorary Title, courtesy of Jasper, as I mulled over what he had told me. The new kid, Emmett, who had made no impression on me whatsoever past being a grinning goofball, had a thing for me.
Well, he certainly works fast. And aims high, apparently. Very few of the guys around here, even the ones who had known me since kindergarten, had worked up the nerve to say they liked me.
I can't imagine why. I'm always so nice, after all. I had to laugh at that. Even I knew what utter bullshit that was. Jasper looked over at me like I was crazy before hunching over to protect his lighter from the wind of the convertible and lighting a cigarette.
"What's so funny?" he asked as he sat back up, exhaling.
"My general sunny disposition," I answered blandly. "What the fuck did I tell you about smoking in my car?"
"Not to do it because the cherry could blow off, fly into the back seat, and burn a hole in your precious leather seats," he recited obediently.
"So why are you doing it?"
"Because I needed a cigarette. Duh," he said, staring at me as though this was the obvious answer. I rolled my eyes as I pulled into our driveway and pressed the button to bring the top up as Jasper hopped easily out of the car and started walking down the street towards Alice's house.
"Why didn't you just ride home with her?" I asked and he turned around, never breaking stride and instead continuing towards Alice's, backwards.
"And miss the chance to tell you about our darling new neighbour?" he asked, looking appalled. "Never." He shot me a crooked smile before turning around again and sauntering up Alice's front walk.
Our... new...
I hadn't had time to fully process this information before a loud rumbling sound made me turn around to see a huge white Jeep pulling into the driveway of the house next to ours.
No. Way. No fucking way was Emmett McCarty my new neighbour.
He climbed out of the Jeep, that shit-eating grin on his face as he leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
"Well, hello," he said, sounding amused. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Stalking me now?" I asked, crossing my arms over his chest, mirroring him. Except, you know, my pose was ten times better because on me, it creates amazing cleavage. I saw his eyes flicker down and then back up, his grin widening.
"I live here," he pointed out.
"So do I," I said.
"How very lucky," he said.
"You think so?"
"Well yeah. See, the way I figure it, you could probably ignore me forever at school if you wanted. But here, well... seeing some of the things you'll probably see, I don't think you'll be able to resist," he said, shrugging.
"Some of the things I'll see? What, do you garden shirtless or something?"
"On the rare occasion that I garden. Why, do you want to see me shirtless?" he asked, and I swear if his grin widened any further, I think his face would break.
"That's not what I said," I spat.
"I fluster you," he said, chuckling. "When you're not in your element, behind your desk, lording it over me that you know so much more about this town and school, I fluster you."
Now, this was just about the epitome of ridiculousness. I am Rosalie Hale, and I do not get flustered. I'm cool as a fucking cucumber. In the freezer. And you can take that to the fucking bank.
I didn't realize that I hadn't actually said anything in response until he chuckled again and leaned forward, as though that would close the distance even though we were in separate driveways.
"I apologize," he said softly. "I didn't mean to fluster you."
"No need to worry," I said, hitching my signature you-are-not-good-enough-to-lick-the-dirt-from-my-shoes smile into place. "You didn't." And with that I turned on my heel and stalked up the driveway, allowing my heels to click purposefully on the asphalt.
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EPOV
Oh yeah. She wants me. She just doesn't know it yet. I smirked as I let myself into the house, dropping my keys in the bowl on the table beside the door. Nanuq, my freaking bear of a German Shepard, came running to the door, barking like she had never seen me before. Dumb ass dog.
"Nan, shut up," I shouted, reaching down to scratch her behind the ears before glancing again at the key bowl. Mom's keys were gone. I sighed, walking to the kitchen and checking the dry erase board on the fridge, Nanuq trailing along beside me.
Emmett—
Working night shift tonight. Order pizza or something. The card' is in the silverware drawer.
—Mom
My mom likes to hide the credit cards if she leaves one. Apparently if someone happens to be peering through the glass back door and sees a credit card on the table, they will break in for it. Not that I can imagine why someone would scale the privacy fence to peer through the back door on the chance that there is a credit card on the table. And not that they could easily spot it if they did. The table was currently littered with mail and fliers advertising community activities such as book clubs, Forks High School's PTA, parent's booster club... My mom was well-known for joining clubs for the short time we stayed in a town. I guess it was part of her search for a place to put down roots.
I dug the credit card out of the silverware drawer and found the phone book under the sink. That was my mom, the queen of logical organization. Dear God, this town... There was no place that delivered. Jesus Christ, where had we moved?
Well, I had a few options. I could Google that shit. Although Google tends to tell you the exact same thing as a phone book. Still, it's amusing, especially when you apply rule thirty-four to the phrase "places to eat out". I chuckled a little to myself at that.
Another option was to do a loop around Forks looking for a place. I was pretty sure I could achieve that in ten minutes or less.
Or, I could go out onto the back porch to smoke, and put off doing anything altogether.
Folks, I think we have a winning decision.
I had just opened the sliding glass door, taking note that there were no intruders pressing their noses against the glass, looking to see if there was a credit card on our kitchen table, Nanuq running out at lightning speed, excited as fuck that we had a back yard this time, when I heard it.
Shouting. The sound of a damsel in distress.
Or, more accurately, the sound of a damsel that was likely to soon castrate someone with her perfectly-manicured nails.
Same thing, really.
So, being the chivalrous and incredibly nosy bastard that I was, I circled around the porch and let myself out of the gate of the privacy fence, leaning against it to watch the events unfold for a minute as I lit my cigarette.
Rosalie was out in her backyard, thankfully void of a fence, her hands on her hips and her face flushed red as she yelled at a guy with his back turned to me. The exhilarated, red-faced look was not a bad look on her, I decided.
"Royce, you need to leave, now," she commanded. I nearly snorted at that one, but the lungful of smoke that I had just inhaled reminded me that that probably wasn't a good idea. But really, Royce? What kind of gay-ass name was Royce? It was one of those names, like Porsche, that should never appear, unless they were stamped somewhere on a car. I mean, I wouldn't name my kid Jeep.
Or well, on second thought, I love my fucking Jeep. I think it might be a nice gesture to use it as a symbol of my love for my kid if, god forbid, I ever had one. Maybe a nickname, though. Not a real name.
Royce?
I was too busy internally laughing at this to hear his reply, but suddenly Rosalie was spinning on her heel, walking back towards the house, looking angrier than I had yet seen her.
And I'll be damned if that wasn't the fucking hottest thing I had seen to date.
Royce went after her, grabbing her by the wrist, stopping her. She jerked her arm, glaring at him, but he held on, not releasing her.
"Let me go," she demanded.
Now, call me old-fashioned, but you do not, under any circumstances, touch a girl once she had made it clear that she doesn't want you fucking touching her. That shit just doesn't fly.
Before I knew that I had even made a decision to do it, I was moving towards them and pulling Royce back by his shirt collar. He stumbled, clearly surprised, before turning to glare at me. Ah, such angry people in this town. Of course, if I thought I'd be stuck here longer than a year, at most, I'd be pretty damned angry too.
"I believe," I said politely, "that she said to let her go." Clearly the polite tone didn't match my face, because all of the colour drained from Royce's face. Jesus Christ. Royce. I don't think that one will ever stop being amusing. "And when a lady tells you to let her go, don't you think that's what you should do?" He didn't answer. I smacked him on the back of the head. "The correct answer is, 'Yes sir, that's exactly what I should do'."
That's right. Emmett Fucking McCarty, chivalrous bastard to the rescue.
He appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek. It took all of my restraint to resist the temptation to hit the bottom of his chin. Because really. How amusing would that be?
"This is between me and Rosalie," he finally spat. "Why don't you just go away?"
"Rosalie, do you want to talk to Royce or do you want him to leave?" I asked.
"I already told him to leave," she said. I turned back to him and shrugged.
"Guess that settles it, man. Get going," I said. He shook his head.
"We have things we have to talk about," he said, glaring at Rosalie.
"Well, if you're not leaving, I guess we'll just be going," I said, shrugging again. Rosalie looked confused for a moment but that confusion quickly turned to anger as I hoisted her over my shoulder and started towards my house. It was not lost on me that in that position, if I turned my head, I could see the slope of her perfect ass starting before it disappeared under the hem of her skirt. Jesus Christ, wasn't she wearing underwear?
"Put me down, you fucking caveman, I can walk," she demanded, hitting my back with her balled-up fists.
"Well certainly," I said, setting her back down on her feet. She glanced toward her house and then at me, and then back at her house, as though debating whether she could get there before I caught her again or something. "Look, I'm not going to stop you from going back there, I just don't think it's a good idea. You're welcome to hang out at my place until he leaves," I said. She still looked as if she were debating it, so I added, "I'm not going to take advantage of you or anything."
Fuck no, I like my women willing. I was just about to enjoy a hearty internal laugh at the implications of this when something like fear flickered over her face for just a moment before it was once more covered with her usual haughty thank-your-lucky-fucking-stars-you're-allowed-to-be-around-me expression. I shrugged and started heading to the gate of the backyard, smiling when I heard her following me.
Oh fuck. I forgot about Nanuq. She came bounding towards us like the fucking vicious animal that I'm sure she thinks she is, bypassing me before I could stop her, and leaping up on Rosalie.
"Dammit, get it off of me!" she shouted, moving backwards to try to get away from Nanuq. I sighed, moving to twist my fingers into her collar and pull her back. Rosalie continued to throw her wary glances as I led her to the back door. I laughed and she glared at me. "What?"
"I was just thinking that you're not as vicious as you look. You and Nan have something in common," I said, releasing the dog as Rosalie went inside before following her and shutting the door before she could follow us in.
"Here's a tip, when you're trying to get a girl into bed, don't compare them to dogs," she said, following me into the living room and taking off her jacket before sitting in one of the armchairs as I collapsed onto the couch.
"Nah, that was before," I said, sighing. "I'm not into the whole cloak-and-daggers sneaking around shit that comes with girls who have boyfriends. I'm not really the whole quick, hide in the closet, getting my clothes thrown down to me after I've had to escape out the window type of guy."
"Royce is not my boyfriend," she said tightly, glaring at the coffee table.
"Then what was all of that about?" I asked, nodding at the wall that faced her house.
"Royce's father is my dad's boss. My mom and dad want me to date him, because they say that will better ensure my dad's job, what with the economy and all," she said. "He's dumb as a bag of rocks, though. No originality whatsoever. He sent me roses the day after he met me and, I don't know, expected me to fall at his feet or something."
"You don't like roses?" I asked.
"I like roses. I don't like guys who think that sending them will make a girl fall in love with them. It's nice of them to do, but Royce's came with certain expectations," she said, trailing off and shrugging.
"What, like that you would date him?" I wasn't really getting this.
"No. It was a bit more than that," she said. "I'd rather not talk about that. But let's just say, he's nowhere near my good books anymore, and never will be."
"I see," I said, resting my feet on the coffee table. "So, is there anywhere to eat around here?" I asked.
"You're really not going to ask what happened?" she asked, sounding surprised. I shook my head.
"You said you didn't want to talk about it. I'm not going to force you to," I said. "You can tell me after you fall in love with me." I grinned at her and she rolled her eyes.
"I can guarantee you that I have no intention of that."
"Even if I send roses?"
"Especially if you send roses."
"Pity," I said. "So, is there somewhere to eat around here or not?"
"There's Carver Cafe. And a pizza place. A McDonalds. That's about all that's in Forks, honestly," she said. I raised my eyebrow. None of that sounded incredibly appetizing.
"And if you go out of Forks?"
"There are a lot of places in Port Angeles. But most of the closer towns are pretty much like this," she said, shrugging. "Why don't you just eat something here?"
"We just moved in. Groceries are completely nonexistent at this point," I said. "So, Port Angeles, how do I get there?"
"You're seriously going to go all the way there for food?"
"Maybe, if you would just tell me where it is."
"It's pretty much a straight shot up 101, and then you turn right onto first street—"
"Right, get your coat," I said, grabbing my keys off of the table.
"What?"
"Yeah, I'm not remembering those directions. Besides, I prefer to have a co-pilot," I said, shooting her a grin.
"I'm not going to Port Angeles with you. It's like an hour and a half away," she said, looking at me like I was out of my mind.
"So you'd rather stick around here? Your boyfriend is still chilling out there. Oh look, he's got a posse now!" I said, peering through the window. She glared at me.
"Fine," she said, grabbing her coat off of the couch and coming to meet me at the door. "But I'm not doing this for you," she clarified as I held the door open to let her go out first.
"That's okay," I said cheerfully. "I'm not doing it for you, either." She glared at me and I just smiled back. Because I'm Emmett Fucking McCarty, and I kill bitches with bittersweet kindness.
"I don't see a posse," she grumbled when we got outside.
"Oh no, there's definitely a posse. Of big, scary guys. With metal pipes," I said, opening her door and gesturing for her to get inside. "They're just hiding."
"You are so full of shit," she said as she climbed inside.
"Yeah, I'm okay with that," I said, shutting her door and walking around to the other side. I waved to Royce before getting in. He looked mad enough to spit. Because I'm Emmett Fucking McCarty, and I am well on my way to stealing away the girl he's trying to get back.
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AN: Carver Cafe – apparently that's where the diner scenes in Twilight, the movie, were shot, and it's actually in another part of Washington. But it's the closest thing I could find to an acceptable answer through Google, so just go with it. XD
Also, I know that I already used the whole hoisting-her-over-his-shoulder thing in TRNT, but really, how could I resist? :3
I really enjoy writing from Emmett's POV. I think it's because, of all of the characters, his personality is closest to mine. Or at least, my interpretation of it. Yes, I have the personality of a man. Pfft.
So, feedback is greatly appreciated! /bribes with promises of a strip tease... well, not really, because no one wants to see that... /bribes with promises of me keeping my clothes on.