Always for Accio, even though the characters are not ours.
Emmett watched Rosalie turn and quickly walk out of the shop, her pony tail bobbing left and right. He wanted to kick himself. Now isn't the best time for this conversation? God, he'd been dying to talk to her for weeks, and when the opportunity presented itself twice in one day he choked. Literally and figuratively.
The words, delivered in a moment of panic, had done their unintended damage. Rosalie's face had transformed; the open, hopeful expression slowly fading into that closed, protective mask she wore when strangers approached her. All the progress, all those attempts at trying to get her to open up to him, and Emmett destroyed it in less than five seconds.
And so went this disjointed dance of theirs. One step forward, two steps back. Emmett needed to fix this, and he needed to fix it now.
He'd called out after her, hoping desperately that he could repair the damage. It was a stupid little comment, thrown out in desperation as the bossy woman and her snot-nosed kid waited to pay for expensive sunscreen he doubted either of them would use. From the service area in back, someone shouted after Emmett, asking where the box of grapefruit scented Sex Wax had gone. It was followed by someone else chiming in with 'that's what she said.' The shop was hopping and everyone needed him, but for the first time in as long as he could remember, Emmett wanted none of it. Instead of success, he wanted to chase after the elusive woman who had just walked out that door, and he had to figure out a way to get her back.
As soon as the transaction was complete and the snotty woman clear of the register, Emmett vaulted over the counter, startling two teenage girls browsing the racks of bathing suits. They bowed their heads together, giggling and looking up at Emmett with doe eyes and heavily glossed lips. They were just girls, and on other days he would have played along, teasing them and innocently flirting back. But not today. This time it was his turn to bat his eyelashes and pray to god it worked.
"Back in a sec," he called out to the back of the store. An arm waved, acknowledging the boss man's orders. Emmett could hear them in the back, debating whether Sex Wax or Sticky Bumps gave the best grip on a board. Their discussion was raucous and light hearted, and a group of tourists loitered around listening to their banter. It made Emmett realize what a good crew he had; they were more than capable of holding down the fort for five minutes. Hell, they could hold it down all day; he just needed to trust that. He was beginning to realize that he needed to trust and let go of a lot of things.
Maybe Esme and Alice were right. Maybe he really didn't have all the answers.
Emmett's instincts, once razor sharp, were so far out of whack now that he was screwing up things left and right, and he needed to stop trying to control things. This whole move back home had been about loosening up and enjoying his life and his family. While he had home and family, he'd lost the life part, and it took a feisty blonde with the worst timing ever to make him realize just how damn big the hole had been.
In the summertime, Emmett kept the front door open, luring passersby in with the strains of lighthearted music and laughter. Today he gripped the metal frame, leaning out into the bright morning sun. She - he had to stop calling her she - Rosalie, hadn't made it very far. She stood at the far corner, her hands on her hips, head tilted up to stare at the bright blue sky. He could only see her in profile, which was not enough to reveal her expression and how she might be feeling, so he did the only thing he could do.
He took a leap of faith.
"Rosalie," he called out. Her name was foreign on his tongue, a new word with strange consonants and syllables, one that felt so incredibly good to say. It surprised him just how good.
She turned slowly, her hands still planted firmly on her hips. When they made eye contact, his lips curled upward into an involuntary, almost sheepish grin. After a moment's hesitation, she returned his smile, and it lit up her face, revealing straight white teeth and the tiniest indentation of a dimple on her right cheek. It was a good thing he had a strong hold on the door, or Emmett would have fallen flat on his face under the strength of the one expression he'd been trying to elicit out of her for almost a month.
"You know they have great burgers at the diner," he said, leaning out a bit further into the street. "And their beers aren't bad either."
Someone brushed by him through the door, the fin of a surfboard clipping his calf, but Emmett didn't pay attention to the sting or the scrape it would leave. He couldn't look away from Rosalie; the curious way her head tilted as she considered his statement, or how she caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth, as if amused and holding back a comment. It was probably good her face held his attention, because if he let himself take in the shirt, damp from humidity and perspiration as it hugged her body, he would have been lost even more than he already was. His reaction at the diner had been living proof of that.
It felt like he was caught in a rip tide, but instead of fighting it, he was letting go and allowing the strength of the flow to take him wherever the hell it was he was supposed to go. Surprisingly, the less he fought, the more the panic subsided. The nerves were still there, but instead of unsettling him, they made him euphoric.
Rosalie stared back at him, releasing the tip of her tongue to chew thoughtfully on her lower lip. Just when he thought she was going to shoot him down, her smile grew just a little bit bigger, and the expression on her face incredibly similar to the look he wasn't supposed to catch at their first meeting.
Mischievous.
"I am actually in a chicken wing type of mood. I like spicy," she over-enunciated the final word, reminding him of an old Saturday Night Live skit with Phil Hartman hamming and shouting 'Sassy!' at the camera. Emmett couldn't help but wonder (and to be honest, hope) she meant more than just hot sauce. "Think you can handle it, Emmett?"
"I won't know until I try, will I?" He tried to play it cool, repressing the urge to fist pump when she said his name. He was acting like a fucking idiot, a freshman feebly flirting with the Prom Queen, but he really didn't care.
Rosalie slowly nodded as she started to walk backwards down the street, her smile, if possible, growing even brighter. God, she's beautiful, Emmett thought. I am so out of my league.
"Yeah well, I've only done breakfast there, so maybe it's time to diversify and try dinner."
"Diversification is good," he answered lamely. "You never know what you'll find that you might like."
"Unexpected discoveries are the best ones, don't you think?" she answered coyly.
Emmett opened his mouth to respond, but he found himself at a loss for words. How could this woman, a relative stranger, render him speechless with just a few well placed comments? As if sensing his quandary, she laughed. It was throaty, deeper than he expected, and Emmett immediately knew he'd want to make her do it again. Very soon.
Rosalie tipped her head to the side, nodding once more before actually winking at him. Then she turned quickly and broke into a slow jog. Emmett held on to the door frame, watching in fascination as people turned to watch her pass.
Turns out he wasn't the only one who was mesmerized by her.
There had been no firm commitment of time or date, just the subtle promise of a future meeting. Emmett hoped that her inference had been as clear as he'd interpreted, that she meant dinner today - tonight. He wanted the hours to fly, for it to be five so he could lock the door and rush home to take a quick shower. He wanted to be standing in the middle of the diner, with her waiting for him in the far booth, chin propped on her hand, crossword puzzle spread out in front of her.
The rest of the day progressed at a snail's pace, the patrons that moved through the store all needy or demanding in a way that frayed on Emmett's last nerve. The guys who worked for him picked up on it, steering clear of their boss and his strangely volatile mood. By a quarter 'til five, traffic had all but dropped off, and Emmett decided to take all the advice he'd gotten from his cousins and his friends to heart.
"Yo, Benny!" he called. A dark head popped up from behind the counter, Ben's eyes wide as he waited for whatever his abnormally moody boss was going to dish out. "I'm heading out early, you good to shut things down and lock up?"
"Yeah, it's cool," Ben answered nonchalantly. If he found Emmett's request out of the ordinary – which it was – Ben didn't say anything. In the year that he'd worked for Emmett, Ben had never been left to close up on his own, but he was level headed enough to know not to make a big deal out of it. "I'll just finish up with the shipment that came in from Quiksilver, and then I'll make sure everything is ship shape before I close up."
Emmett tossed him the keys, and was out the door before Ben could say another word. At home he showered and made a half-hearted attempt to shave. He was too jittery, and when he almost took a chunk out of his chin, he tossed the razor to the side and rinsed his face off, hoping the cool water would calm him down. He'd already made a big enough ass of himself today – a wad of Kleenex stuck to a bloody divot in his chin would probably only lend to his impression as the bumbling village idiot.
While the shaving might have been thrown to the wayside, Emmett made a bit more effort with his clothes, pulling on a decent pair of khaki shorts and a light weight plaid shirt, the tail out and loose. They were holdovers from his time in Boston, the preppy armor of a business man at a baseball game attempting to look relaxed. Only this time, it wasn't armor, it was effort, something that he felt he owed this woman. He just couldn't put his finger on why.
The parking lot was only half full as he pulled into the diner just after five. While it did steady business on Saturday nights, the dinner wasn't wall-to-wall people like breakfast could be which, if things went well, meant he could sit and talk to Rosalie until Jess finally decided to kick them out. The minute Emmett cleared the front door, he looked to the right. Just as he'd hoped, Rosalie sat in the far corner, a pint glass and a basket of fries on the table in front of her as she stared out the window.
How long has she been here? He wondered as he slowly walked across the room. She'd showered, and her hair fell in soft waves against a single bare shoulder. That one bare shoulder, coupled with a megawatt smile she let loose the minute she saw him was all it took for the tree to fall in the woods. No one else might have been around to hear it, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.
Because when Emmett fell, he fell hard, and the crash was mighty.
Hehe – the collective sigh of relief can be heard from here. Conversation? No panic? No temper? Oh just you wait…there are emotions that can replace those easily.
Lightstardusting (aka LSD) rocks our orange terry cloth beach towels. She's a keeper. See you tomorrow!