Thanks for the reviews so far. I don't honestly expect this to get too many hits because Bella and Edward are not the main characters. But, for Emmett, Alice, Jasper lovers... then Enjoy. If you read, do not leave without reviewing. That is rude. At least let me know what you think about it.

Conversational Hearts

Sixty-eight stitches covered my back and head in various places. It didn't hurt as bad as it looked. My raven hair covered most of the stitches on my scalp after the bandages were taken off. It was rather uncomfortable to wear a shirt for a few days after the accident—and I couldn't stand the sound of the stitches scraping against my black cotton sheets at night. I slept on my sides, with a thin wool blanket beneath me to keep from hearing that wretched sound. Despite the inconveniences the accident caused, the parameter of effects it had on my life went far beyond the short hospital visit and stitches.

Rosaleen had over one-hundred stitches covering her from shoulders to the bend of her knees. The black stitches were a sickening contrast to her porcelain-pale skin, but she showed a brave face—because she was indeed alive. She had a considerable amount of blood loss resulting from the many glass shards that pelted her back during the accident; this required her to have a blood transfusion. She was kept for three days at Good Samaritan Hospital in East LA—only four miles from campus.

She smiled hazily at me as I entered her hospital room early the third morning after the accident, her bronzy-red hair falling angelically around her fair face.

"Did I wake you?" I asked quietly, looking at her through my dark lashes.

She shook her head in a 'no' and held her hands out for me to take them. I breathed deeply, forcing my heart to beat regularly in order to keep from hyperventilating, as I grasped her delicate hands. They were soft and warm; comforting and inviting—the exact opposite as this bleak hospital room. She was the only thing that made me feel at ease in this room with the sterile smells and bleached white walls.

I perched myself on the edge of her bed, grasping her hands, running my thumbs over her fingers slowly, locking the way it felt away in my brain forever. We sat in a comfortable silence, I don't even know how long—but I didn't care—she wanted me there and that was all that mattered.

After the long silence she was the first to speak.

"I spoke to my family on the phone last night—after the doctor finally removed all the glass from my back" she paused, her shimmering emerald eyes mesmerizing me once again.

I blinked my eyes quickly to regain focus on what she was saying. I smiled to encourage her to finish.

"And they—they want to meet you." She finished abruptly. Her posture tensed but she did not remove her hands from my own.



My heart assaulted the inside of my chest at her words. She looked up at me, her eyes slightly alarmed. I realized my eyes were wide in shock—not that I should really be shocked that her parents want to meet the guy that heroically saved their daughter's life.

"Are you okay with that?" she asked, her eyes cautious and wondering over my whole expression. There was something that she didn't want me to see, feel, or know; I could feel it.

I swallowed hard. I didn't honestly know what to say. How could I refuse this? On one hand it seemed that I was being welcomed, but she didn't seem to see it quite as such. I had saved her life, but I am no savior. I'm just a boy, not a hero.

"I guess so." I gulped, feeling more like an idiot. I attempted to recover.

"I suppose that they'd be grateful for what I did. It is perfectly logical that they would want to meet me after what happened."

I glanced to her face, expecting to find a quizzical expression, but her lips were curved upward into a small smile, a slight giggle passed between her lips, her sensationally green eyes piercing mine.

"What?" I questioned. I wondered how something I said could be so amusing.

"You're just different from anyone that I've ever met." Her voice was soft and reserved.

I scowled slightly at her comment.

"How am I different?" I questioned, my own mind predicting the possible answers that she could give. You talk funny; you have horrible social skills…the list could go on and on.

She tilted her head to the side, her flaming hair falling over her shoulders. My heart skipped a beat every time her hair fell differently around her angelic face. I found new beauty from every angle.

She interrupted my day-dreaming thoughts with the answer to my question.

"I don't know. You seem—very genuine and—fresh. Like you've never been tainted by the droning of everyday life or accident; time seems to stop with you." She paused again, breathing in deeply, pondering.

Her eyes wandered over my features, then down to our hands, still clasped together. All of a sudden an unfamiliar tension filled the space between us. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was completely alien to anything that I have ever felt.



Blood rushed up to her cheeks and they flushed a lovely shade of pink. Most people would look away from someone at this point, but I couldn't help but stare at how it enhanced her beauty. Her eyes darted from my eyes to our hands multiple times before I cracked a smile, and suddenly the intensity of the tension faded, but some remained. I released her hands and stroked her left arm affectionately, glancing at the small amount of freckles on her fair skin.

She took a breath and looked at me with eyes that seemed to open up to a thousand different questions—but she remained silent, content to just gaze into my own hazel eyes.

Usually, this much eye contact would have to be forced upon me by teachers, my parents, and other authoritative figures who thought it rude that I did not look them in the eye. But here with Rosaleen, it seemed utterly effortless—it would have almost been painful to look away.

"There's something about your eyes that make me—make me want to tell you every secret I've ever kept" she blushed that lovely shade of pink again, and I continued to stare at her in adoration. I smiled lightly and tried to keep my excitement under wraps, glad that my Italian completion kept my embarrassment and paranoia from betraying me on my face.

"That sounds so—." She paused again, thinking of an appropriate word; all the while my heart felt like it was going to beat itself into pieces inside my chest. I fought with all of my ability to not let it show. "Girly, silly, melodramatic… take your pick." she scoffed; she was talking to me, but it seemed more like she was outwardly scolding herself.

I could feel my brow furrow in confusion. I was suddenly jealous of her ability to be so honest, and it almost angered me to think she could think that it was a bad idea to be so honest with me.

"What?" I retorted quickly, wishing I had sounded a tad more gentle. Her eyes opened wide in defense, I could see the tears, that weren't yet forming, begin to build up. It was then that I saw her raw beauty—that's the only way I can think of to describe her. Eyes as green as the Irish landscape reflected deep thoughts from a deep, old soul that was gentle and compassionate; her lips were full, red, and lovely. Her bronze hair framed her porcelain completion perfectly, making her look completely fragile.

I shook myself from pondering her exquisiteness, "Don't be afraid of being honest. I promise any word spoken to me, will be safe." I felt confident as I spoke; not knowing where the sudden boost of self-esteem came from. I was glad to have it regardless.

Her vulnerable eyes beamed with a light that I've never seen before. I suddenly realized that tears were silently making their way down her soft cheeks, which were reddened by 

the blush when she realized she was crying. Instinctively, my hands wrapped gently around her head and pulled her to my chest. Her arms wrapped around me

Suddenly, it occurred to me, that she was new at this as I was. The idea completely obliterated every assumption I had previously made about Rosaleen. I took her for one of those socialites—you know the type of girl who is sophisticated and is the center of attention.

"Gerard" she murmured into my shirt. My heart was thumping furiously inside my chest and I strained to gain control.

"Yes?" I asked cautiously, looking down into her eyes of deep green honesty.

"I want to thank you—again. I know you said that I didn't owe you, but I really have to disagree. I will feel in your dept if I don't do something for you." She stuttered the words out, obviously nervous.

"Is there something that you need, or want? Something that I may be able to provide?" she asked, leaning away from me now, looking at her hands.

My heart lept up into my throat; talk about opportune moments. I'd let so many chances go by, without even giving them a second thought. I was not about to let this one pass me by. I bit my lip, eyeing her warily; I wanted to proceed with care.

After a moment of silence, she looked up at me expectantly. I half-smiled at her, she winced in return, fearing my answer.

I composed myself, and gazed into her eyes carefully.

"I would take nothing more or less than just being able to see you on a regular basis." I stated boldly.

Her expression lightened at my words. I breathed relief.

"So you just want to hang out?"

I nodded.

"Nothing else? That's it?"

I nodded again.

"Wow. Most people would have asked for money or something… else" she seemed awed.

"Well you did say that I was different from anyone you'd ever met" I retorted.



"Touché." She giggled, her lips curling up into a bright, lovely smile.

She held her hands out for me to take once more. My heart fluttered like an eagle raising hurricane force winds. Her smile was more than I could handle, it was a sweet, fierce pain that riddled me in nerves and nostalgia. A smile in my heart that couldn't be wiped away, and that's what I really liked about Rosaleen.