I wanna hold you when I'm not supposed to
When I'm lying close to someone else
You're stuck in my head and

I can't get you out of it
If I could do it all again
I know I'd go back to you

As it turns out, Bella is very good at keeping her word. There is absolutely no interaction between her and Rosalie for the next three weeks. She and Alice still text but the pixie refuses to share any details with Rosalie, very clearly upset. Claiming she's the reason Bella won't hangout with Alice in person. Even Edward is tight-lipped as he sends her sympathetic and knowing looks, Jasper much the same. She almost can't stand to be in the same room as the two of them.

And Rosalie is happy. Mostly. Her life is what it was, how it's always been, and it's comfortable. She's used to it, and it works. Bella is a chaotic unknown and dangerous… but maybe more dangerous to Rosalie than anyone else. She's not oblivious, denial is weakness and Rosalie isn't weak. She likes Bella, likes her stupid smile and charming laugh more than she should. But liking her doesn't change facts. Doesn't change the fact that she's a Shifter and Rosalie is a vampire. Doesn't change the fact that Bella might not even like her, or if she does, always will. Shifters have that annoying Imprint thing and there's just no way Rosalie is Bella's. Her genetics (that reject the vampire so violently that they make people explode into wolves) wouldn't allow it.

So say everything unrealistically works out in her favour and she falls in love. Bella turns out to be her mate. What's to stop Bella from Imprinting? And leaving Rosalie ruined. Cold and alone, dying in an empty street.

Again.

This is for the best. It is. Sure, it hurts. Sure, she spent seventy-three hours face down in bed. Sure, she can barely stand to look at Bella, to watch the wolf just… exist without her. Like Rosalie had never been born. "I wanted her out of my life and she is."

Rhoda clutches her chest at the other end of the table in the middle of math class. The first and only words she's ever heard Rosalie say. "That's your voice?" she rasps out. "How are you real?!"

The vampire curls her lip and says nothing else.

They get back to work but eventually, Rhoda's heart calms down and her curiosity grows. Forks can be… oblivious, but nobody's ever accused that of Rhoda. She's a clever girl, mostly because she's observant. Much can be learned if only you stop to watch and listen. And she does.

So she noticed all these months that Rosalie and Bella liked to play with each other, even if they called it something else. And she's noticed they no longer do it. She's noticed how sullen the two have become and while she's pretty sure neither girl is human, she's also noticed that they're genuinely good people. Ones that deserve better than their stubborn natures will allow.

"I'm sure she would come back into it if you just asked," she suggests quietly.

The vampire blinks down at the equation on her page, pen freezing on the paper. She can hear the human's heart-rate spike again. "Correct me if I'm wrong," she turns to catch a set of grey eyes, "but I didn't ask for your opinion."

Rhoda nods and is fully prepared to let it go. There's a chill crawling up her neck, a voice whispering at her to run away and never, ever stop. But then she remembers that Bella's smile hasn't reached her eyes in weeks, that Rosalie is far more volatile as of late.

(She impaled Jason's pen in his textbook on Monday when it rolled onto her desk, stunning the entire room into silence while ink dripped down her hand.)

"Some people electrify life," she whispers to her papers. Rosalie remains stoic, apparently more patient today than Monday. "And those of us that aren't used to electricity might think it's a bad thing. Who wouldn't, right? And maybe it'll hurt, it'll sting in the end...but before that? Dancing lights and beautiful chaos." Rhoda taps her pencil against the table and looks up at Rosalie. "The dark may be safe but that doesn't mean it's not killing you. Don't you want a little light before you go?"

Again, there's more evidence to support Rhoda's 'The Cullens Aren't Human' theory as Rosalie just sits and stares at her. Without blinking, without breathing, without motion. Just a beautiful, angry statue. The human chuckles anxiously. "Who are you?" Rosalie finally asks.

Genuinely.

"Rhoda!" she's quick to introduce herself. "Sorry, hi. I didn't mean to intrude, but I thought it must be… something if you said it out loud."

"And just how well do you know Bella?"

The human hums, resting her chin in her palm. Rosalie isn't stabbing things, so it's a good sign so far. "We've been neighbours all our lives, except for the three years she spent in Phoenix, and she lets me hide out at her house when my stepfather…" she falters and coughs, shaking her head. "When I'm bored. I don't know, we just kinda get each other."

"So is this advice for my benefit or hers?" Rosalie asks. Her poker face is phenomenal, and Rhoda's not sure what she wants to hear.

She shrugs. "Mine? I gotta believe someone like me has a shot at, well, more than this. And if you two can't, what hope do I have?"

"A shot at what?" This question is decidedly more hostile than the last.

"Oh, but I know a trap when I see one," Rhoda laughs nervously. "Budding friendship?"

Rosalie studies the human with mild interest. The buzzed undercut, thick, wild curls pulled back into a tie, her dark skin that Rosalie couldn't begin to guess at her ethnicity. She's one of exactly seven punks in all of Forks, including Bella, and Rosalie finally remembers her. The outcast Edward is always frowning at. Rosalie is convinced he's talking himself out of bringing her home like a little stray half the time. God knows Esme would be on board.

When my stepfather…

Golden eyes flick down to the scrapes and bruises that cover Rhoda's knuckles. The very circular scars on her arm. The bags under her eyes that take nothing away from righteous, indignant fire.

An agonizing stereotype.

Rosalie traces over her latest answer with her pen. "Your glasses have no lenses."

"Well damn, no wonder I can't see the chalkboard."

There's nothing more after that and Rosalie is too stubborn to put forth an actual question. If the human wanted to talk, she'd talk. Which meant she doesn't, because she isn't. So… good. There's no need to feel concern for the mortal, no need to feel - anything.

Her jaw sets and she has to suppress a growl.

"You're doing that wrong."

Rhoda blinks and looks up at the vampire curiously. "Huh?"

"Huh is a noise, not a question," she tells the girl firmly. "I said that you're doing that wrong, you're going to get the wrong answer."

"Oh," Rhoda stares down at her paper and scribbles a little more before turning it to face Rosalie, "nuh uh."

Rosalie stares at her and battles against the regret of ever showing up to this damn class in the first place. "You children are incapable of speech." She sighs and looks to the paper, pointing at… Rosalie's head tilts. "That's not supposed to work. That. You. Huh."

"Who's incapable of speech now?"

"Shut up. Do it again, for this one." Rosalie points to the next question and watches as Rhoda goes through her weird steps. And comes up with the correct answer, a more precise answer. Golden eyes search the table for a calculator. "Why are you in this class?"

"Why are you?"

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the conversation is over. Especially when Rosalie gets up in the middle of the lesson and leaves the classroom.

And yet, it's not at all shocking.

.

.

.

Rosalie isn't starved for affection. She's not. She just… craves Bella's attention, apparently. So what. That could mean anything. Maybe she just needs a new friend. Which is exactly why she's been more civil to Rhoda. To see if new friendship quenches this craving. An experiment, if you will, for scientific curiosity. Not because she has an issue with the way Jessica Stanley touches Bella. That would mean she's jealous and Rosalie doesn't do jealous.

But Jessica touches her a lot and maybe Rosalie wants to put her fist through the human's chest and show the girl her own heart.

The vampire groans and lets her hands drop to her sides, glaring up at the converter in Carlisle's car. The garage is one of her few safe havens and if she's under a car, Alice can't see her face when she tells the pixie she just doesn't care what Bella did that day.

Turns out, she really, really does care.

Life is cruel. This is a lesson she's learnt a thousand times over and it never gets old. The universe constantly comes up with new and exciting ways to deliver devastating blows. And yet, she wasn't prepared for this one, wasn't prepared for the temptation that is Bella Swan.

The warmth of her skin against Rosalie's. The playful air around her that wakes something up in Rosalie. The kindness in those dark eyes and-

Rosalie pinches the line closed too late, oil soaking her face and coveralls.

Resisting Bella is a lot like resisting the sunrise, and she can't believe she's the moron that actually thinks they can resist a damn sunrise.

An oil rag is being held out when she rolls out from under the car and Rosalie takes it grudgingly. Edward is never this generous unless he wants something in return, so she's rightfully wary.

He smiles and ducks his head. "Only conversation, dear sister."

"Pass."

"Do you not think you should talk to someone about this?" he asks, perched atop the hood. "Who better than someone who already knows?"

She scoffs and begins collecting her tools, refusing to acknowledge his point. "Literally anyone else in the world. I hate you."

"I love you," he replies seamlessly. Not for the first time, she wonders if he would be so smug if he couldn't read minds, and his snort is all the answer she needs. Edward sighs and picks nonexistent lint off his knee, smoothing out his pants. "Are we still playing the denial game or have we matured enough for a conversation?"

"Does your arrogance truly know no bounds?" she fires back.

"Does yours?"

Rosalie tosses the rag at his face, her fury growing when he simply leans to the side to dodge it. "When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it."

He frowns and leans forward. "But by then it could be too late."

The garage is painfully silent and she's tempted to run a few engines, just for the noise. Rosalie blinks and stares down at the socket wrench in her hands, feels its weight. "I'm not playing your game, Edward."

"Why must you fight me on everything?" he groans dramatically. "Is it because I wouldn't have you? Or because Emmett is my mate?"

His next words are caught in his throat, pinned to Esme's rover by his shoulder, hard enough to crack her window. "Consider option number three," Rosalie growls with black eyes ablaze. "You are a spoiled, intolerable brat who cannot even conceive not getting his way."

"Or is it your aversion to mirrors?" he whispers defiantly. Rosalie yanks him forward but he holds up a finger quickly. "Uh-uh! Think of Esme!"

…

Rosalie drops him like she's been scalded. He waits a few tense moments until he's certain she won't hit him, before he straightens out his clothes. Rosalie glares at him. "You're a child."

"And you're a barbarian," he mutters darkly.

Utilizing all of her patience, Rosalie turns away from him and goes back to Carlisle's car. It's sleek and shiny, she can see her reflection in it, and she wants to put her fist through it. God. She hates when Edward is right. "I would laugh if it didn't ache so badly," she tells him.

"It is breathtakingly brutal," he agrees in a sort of awed way. "I'm sorry if I've made it worse. I really do want to help."

Though Edward is an arrogant ass, he does usually have the best intentions. And she knows he only clashes with her. That if she had the patience of the rest of the family, they wouldn't fight half as much as they do. Of course, the rest of the family isn't half as private as Rosalie, so the whole point is moot.

She sighs, already exhausted by a conversation that hasn't even happened yet. "I have… affection for the mutt."

Edward whistles. "A little hard with the judgement."

"You're one to talk."

He considers this and relents, only a little. "True, however, I judge people based on the opinions they think no one else can hear. Their most very true selves. The people I judge deserve it."

"And you're saying she doesn't."

"I'm saying I don't know if she does, so I won't and neither should you." Edward watches Rosalie make herself look busy by putting away her tools. "Rosalie, you know my reservations about being a vampire, and I know yours. I'm not sure either of us will ever be comfortable like this. But I am thankful every time I look at Emmett, and they balance each other out. For the most part."

She scoffs again, crossing her arms and rounding on her brother. "So you're saying if I have a girlfriend I'll be happy?"

"I'm saying… you were noticeably less miserable with Bella in your life." He smiles, more patient and less arrogant. "Let's talk about that."

God, why does he always want to talk? Who died and made him coven leader? "Why are you such a brat?"

"Ah," the smile grows, "but that's not what you really want to ask, is it?" The toolbox warps in her hand. "Such pride! It's kept you from the answer for seven decades, but now it's relevant, hm?"

"Enough, Edward, I'm done-"

"You were meant for me so why didn't I pick you?"

Whatever patience Rosalie had is gone. Her eyes harden and Edward falters. "Let's instead talk about the sick mindset of here, I saved this girl only for you to claim. I was never 'for you', Edward."

"I-yes," he agrees quickly, bronze hair bouncing with his head. "I hadn't meant, no. Okay. It was a different time and Carlisle was just trying - no, yes, I agree, no excuse. He didn't intend - can I just say one thing?!" he debates with her thoughts. "I'm making a point. You thought that I turned up my nose because there was something wrong with you. That you were fundamentally unlovable. After everything you'd been through, that kind of thinking was understandable, but you never let me correct it. That was never the reason. Rosalie, you were never for me. Even back then, I knew it. I am… sad, and you are angry. Those don't pair well. We both need a smile to love."

Of course, the first thing that comes to mind when she hears smile is Bella's. A flash of white teeth, dark eyes crinkling. Charming and genuinely happy and Rosalie feels that flutter. Like a bird is loose in her chest, like the ground beneath her feet is actually clouds she could fall through at any moment.

Realization crashes over her like a cold wave on a hot day.

The science behind Vampire Mates is… iffy at best. Quite similar to the human soulmate concept, if you ask Emmett, Carlisle, or Alice. More like traditional wolves, if you ask the others. Nobody can agree if the mate is predetermined or not, but they all know firsthand that a vampire may only love once, and for the rest of their life (whether they choose the person or not).

Rosalie isn't sure when it happened. If she chose it or if Fate did. The only thing she does know, grudgingly, is that she will always and only ever love Bella Swan.

Edward is there, hovering outside her bubble. Close, but never daring to touch. He has an anxious frown on his face. "You have a choice to make here, Rosalie, and I don't usually trust people enough to make it themselves. I love our family but they're blinded by sentiment and their pure hearts. I know you, Rosalie. I know whatever you choose, the decision won't be made lightly."

Later on, she'll regret those thirty seconds it took to make her choice, but in the moment she's breathless and uncertain.

But Edward steps aside, letting her pass through the door. "So be it," she hears him mutter after her.

.

.

.

It's not like she planned on intruding, but Bella wasn't home when she knocked, and if she left she might never come back. Her only option was to wait. However, she was not waiting on the girl's step like some teen drama, so she… entered. She's fairly certain Bella would have invited her in anyway. And it's not like she looked around. Rosalie found a chair and dragged it to the corner of Bella's bedroom, and sat down.

She can't help it if Bella is very bad at being a wolf and doesn't notice Rosalie when she comes shuffling in. A chaotic mess of energy, her shirt is yanked off and messy curls obstruct her face. Rosalie's fingers dig into the arms of the chair and she thanks the stars that Bella wears tank tops underneath her shirts. Of course, now all her tattoos and defined arms are on display and - the bloody shirt lands in her hamper, black eyes glued to it.

Blood.

It's then that Bella notices her, towel held to her nose, one blue converse kicked off her foot. In the grace department, Rosalie is by no means near Alice's level (frankly, she's certain there's no other soul out there who is), but her confidence gives her a modicum of grace. Her assuredness comes off as elegance.

Bella is a very literal disaster. She's the bull-in-china-shop and Rosalie cannot believe how charming she finds it.

So she simply tames the smile she can feel creeping up and inclines her head in greeting. Bella's posture relaxes as she huffs. "Breaking and entering? Really?"

"What can I say, I'm an old romantic." Rosalie waits for… courage, maybe. Something. Bella just watches. "I didn't break anything so technically it's just 'entering', and I wish to speak with you."

The wolf chuckles but it's dry and she kicks off her other shoe. Rosalie takes it as a good sign, that Bella's comfortable enough around her to go about her business. "I thought you didn't want me in your life?"

"I have a habit of lashing out at people who don't deserve it."

Bella scoffs and dabs at her face with the towel. "And I'm supposed to forgive you?"

"No," Rosalie answers truthfully. Dark eyes glance at her. "The others do anyway. I was hoping you might."

Rosalie has never envied Edward's gift until now. Watching Bella study her, wiping at her face. "Give me a reason to."

But the conversation is forgotten when golden eyes spot the dark bruising around Bella's nose. Her broken nose. Rosalie is out of the chair in a flash, cool stone fingers ghosting over the throbbing heat of Bella's face. "You're hurt."

The words are low and dangerous, almost impossible to force out.

"Not for long," Bella marvels, past the thundering beat of her heart.

She's never been this close. To a wolf, to this wolf, to another person. Not like this. Willingly, because she wants to. Intimately. Bella is surprisingly receptive despite her initial gruffness. Eyes wide, tracing over Rosalie's features with surprise but also something softer. One hand holds the towel while the other hovers over Rosalie's wrist close enough to feel the heat. Like she was going to stop the vampire from touching her but decided against it.

Neither girl says anything. They just orbit each other closely, waiting for the other's next move, and Rosalie refuses. This is a moment she's never experienced before, not even when she was human.

(Royce was never tender.)

Something new after seventy years of repetition.

And she wants more.

But she doesn't know how, she's never been in this position before, she doesn't know if Bella's been in this position before. She doesn't know Bella.

It's a startling realization. Ever since the wolf walked into her life, or she walked into Bella's, things have been too chaotic to stop and take account of it all. She spent so long trying to run from how she felt, there wasn't time for anything else. Like analyzing her actual feelings. Like getting to know Bella.

How can she have feelings for someone she doesn't know? How can she be here, trying… something new, when she doesn't know Bella? How can they ever have anything if they don't know each other?

She wants Bella. That much she knows. In any capacity she can get.

But there's a right way to do it and a wrong way.

And she suspects Bella is worth doing things the right way.

So she swallows down the venom that pools in her mouth, lets out a shaky breath, and steps back.

Breaks the spell.

Bella blinks a few times, jump-starting into motion, and clears her throat. She reaches up to adjust glasses that aren't there (Rosalie spots an old pair on the dresser that haven't been touched in a long time. Probably since Bella first Shifted), and instead runs a hand through her hair. "Wiped out on my bike, smashed my nose on the pavement," she says with an embarrassed chuckle.

Rosalie recognizes a lie when she hears one though, and she's… well, not an idiot. "You wear a helmet."

Tacky; neon green with dinosaur spikes down the middle. But very practical and safe.

"Skipped it this time." Bella shrugs.

And she wants to stop. Wants to let it go, to give Bella her lie and talk, maybe. Start the process. But, god, she can't because- "There's no broken skin, the pavement would have chewed up your face."

"I don't know what to tell you," Bella says with a smile that's equally charming and disarming. She waves the towel around a little. "Plenty of blood, guess it healed already. The break will take longer."

Rosalie appreciates a good lie - she has to, living her life, her family's life. It's one giant lie, and so when other people do it, she has to entertain the thought that they might have a valid reason. Bella doesn't seem the type to lie just for the hell of it, so Rosalie relents and walks back to her corner of the room.

A habit they've all picked up over the years, giving humans as much space as possible. As beautiful as they are, they still make mortals uneasy.

The distance is instinct by this point, and maybe a little heartbreaking if she was more poetic than she is.

"Why are you friends with Alice?" she asks quietly and leans against the windowsill, turning back to face Bella.

The Shifter that should hate her, hate them all, once upon a time might have. A wolf that could be snapping and snarling at Rosalie right now and she wouldn't be surprised, but is instead watching her intently.

Bella also steps back, half sitting and half leaning against her dresser. "She's funny and sweet and genuine."

"She's a vampire."

"I actually did notice that, yeah."

Golden eyes roll to the ceiling. "You're a Shifter."

"And you're super good at pointing things out."

Rosalie works her jaw a few times and rephrases. "Is it not forbidden or something, by dumb dog law?"

"This is a conversation and not a verbal duel, right? I'm pretty tired for duelling." Bella grins and shakes her head, staring down at her shoes on the floor between them. "It's a big no-no, yeah."

"So why do it?"

She shrugs again. "Last I checked, this was my life."

"Do you not get in trouble?"

And Edward's words come rushing back. We both need a smile to love.

Bella's is wild, almost feral, a visual dare painted across her face, with eyes that blaze in defiance and mischief. Rosalie has never seen a soul before, and she doubts she'll ever see one again, certainly not one that burns like Isabella Swan. "I walk in the shadow of trouble, Miss Hale. They can't give me anything I won't give back tenfold."

Pale fingers brush against Rosalie's shirt, the fluttering stealing her breath away.

"Good," Rosalie says softly in the night. A wind blows in from the window behind her, carrying a few loose curls of her hair, and Bella melts a little into her dresser. Something clicks. "You don't smell like the other wolves."

"You smell like sunshine and moonlight tonight," Bella blurts out. There might even be a blush under the bruising. Her eyes dance back down to the shoes between them."Yeah, I don't know. Sam noticed, he doesn't like it. But I've only got the one Quileute relative a few generations back. I was never meant to be a wolf."

"Do you regret it?"

"Do you regret being a vampire?"

Rosalie falters, crosses her arms over her chest and forces herself not to glare at the wall. "Usually."

"I've got bigger regrets," Bella shrugs again, "being a wolf isn't the worst." Her pocket vibrates and lights up, making both girls jump, and Bella fishes it out. She laughs but it's short and sharp. "Speak of the devil. Sorry, just one second." She taps the screen and holds it to her ear. "Fuck off, Paul!"

The phone is tossed onto the bed after she hangs up and Rosalie's not really sure what to do with all of… that.

"So," Bella says after an uncomfortable second, rubbing her hands together, "what did you want to speak to me about?"

Rosalie blinks. "My apology."

"You never actually apologized."

The room is quiet and Rosalie wonders where Chief Swan is. Bella's smile starts to grow and Rosalie frowns. "It was implied."

"Come on, what would your mother say? That's very nearly rude," Bella laughs. She swoops forward to approach the vampire, leaning against her bedside table. Rosalie watches her closely, little alarms going off inside. Alarms she would strangle if she could, alarms that make her feel like a foolish child with a crush. "I'll even make it easier. I promise to forgive you."

The gall. The audacity. The smugness. The cheeky smile on her face that makes Rosalie's lips twitch.

How infuriating.

"Over my cold, dead body."

She doesn't get the reaction she expects. Bella lights up and that dare is back, and Rosalie is thankful she doesn't actually need to breathe. "Deal!" Bella declares and in one motion tackles the vampire to the floor of her bedroom.

Weight and warmth settle over her like a blanket, Bella's wild scent invading all of Rosalie's senses and making her delirious. Dark hair tickles the sides of her face and she's swimming in delirium, desire, and instinct. She's not sure if she's about to kiss the wolf or bite her. But Bella's eyes appear, the yellow flecks glowing in the night.

"I'm over your cold, dead body. Where's my apology?"

"I'm sorry," Rosalie breathes, cold hands splayed over Bella's strong back.

They stare at each other, watching again. Bella's gaze lingering on each feature of the vampire's face, heart pounding like a hammer in her chest. This isn't even on the list of things Rosalie expected to happen tonight, never mind the bottom. It's going… better than well, actually, and she expects the other shoe to drop any moment.

But Bella keeps watching her in the moonlight that spills through the open window. Hands on either side of Rosalie's head, content in her eyes, and a smile on her face. "I forgive you."

There are things Rosalie wants to say. Things she wants to do. Many things, actually, and her head is swirling, she's getting dizzy trying to decide which to choose first.

But there's no time.

Because Life is cruel.

And yet she is still surprised.

The bedroom door swings open and there's a heartbeat, old but strong, that Rosalie simply cannot believe she didn't hear until now. How it made its way all through the house, up the creaky stairs, and into the room without her knowing… what is Bella doing to her?

Charlie shuffles through the mail in his hands. "Renee sent a birthday card, the second one, apparently. But I dunno, bud, I don't remember seeing the first, I suspect foul play. Did ya get it alr-oooooh. Shit. Shoot, I mean! Ah." The mail is held up in front of his ever blushing face. "I didn't see nothin'! Sorry, kiddo."

Bella stares up at her father with a wicked grin. "Heyo, pops. This is Hale. Hale, this is Papa Swan, Destroyer of Fish Fry."

"Shush!" Charlie hops forward and waves the mail at his kid. "I'm Chief Swan," he says with a pointed look. And then actually looks at the girl beneath his daughter. "Uh, or Charlie. Bells! You got a Cullen under ya!"

"No!" Bella gasps in faux surprise.

It's now that Rosalie finally scrounges up her dignity. She shoves Bella off off her, only partially enjoying the shocked yelp the wolf lets out. She jolts to her feet and straightens her clothes, watching Charlie and trying not to scowl. "I was just leaving. Chief."

"Sounds about right," Bella mutters from the floor as she watches the vampire leave. Charlie's eyebrows twitch up and Bella shrugs. "I don't even know, man. I have no answers."

And that sounds about right so Charlie just nods.

.

.

.

Apparently it's cannon that there's a Swan/Quileute mix a few generations back and entirely plausible that Bella could have ended up a shifter. Wild.