Ownership: Nothing but the story
A/N: Sorry for the brief pause – I went on a short vacation out of the country. I promise I'll get back to posting more consistently again. Oh and I just have to say, your reviews have been amazing – they're so inspiring. I just love them. Thank you so much. Oh and ps, Rosalie is really conflicted. That's why she seems to vacillate so much, and often says and feels things that very much contradict earlier things she's said. She's just a head case right now. Bear with her…
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Rosalie marched into Dr. Hatcher's office promptly at 9:00am feeling utterly drained. She'd stayed up for hours the night before trying to process and categorize and then somehow actually assess and respond to Bella's words, and she hadn't had much luck.
She didn't even bother to sit down in the waiting room; rather, she leaned against the wall by the front door and glared at nothing in particular. She was antsy; twitchy. Sitting wasn't an option.
The cheerful, somewhat plump doctor greeted her a few minutes later, wearing her customary navy blazer and jeans, and sporting a freshly highlighted chin-length blonde bob. Rosalie couldn't help but notice that Hatcher looked an awful lot like He-Man with that new cut and color. She wondered how much she'd paid for what was essentially a Dutch-boy.
"Good Morning, Dr. Hatcher." Rosalie plastered on a partially enthused smile. She was in a rotten mood, for obvious reasons. She'd come dangerously close to greeting the newly-coiffed doctor as 'Prince Valiant,' and was disappointed when she remembered that she actually needed this woman for something and therefore had to hold her words in order to stay on the doctor's good side.
"Good Morning, Rosalie. You look exhausted." The woman meant no ill-will, but her comment pissed Rosalie off all the same. She had to again remind herself to keep her tongue held for the duration of their session.
"Yeah, I feel pretty exhausted." Rosalie sighed and straightened the black pencil skirt she'd doffed for a luncheon with her mother later that afternoon. She adjusted the cuff on her fitted black shirt. She played with the strand of large pearls that fell to her collarbone. Anything so as to not focus on the problems or the person in front of her.
"Care to elaborate?" Hatcher prodded.
"Yes, it's all Bella bullshit, though." Rosalie sounded quite defeated, and the woman picked up on it immediately.
"I'm sure it's not bullshit," Dr. Hatcher said in a surprisingly soothing voice, a look of sympathy on her round face.
"No, it is. I'm so, so fucked up in the head right now." Rosalie, reacting to the doctor's tone, had evened her voice out tremendously. She didn't want her own voice to convey weakness, as the doctor's soothing tone had implied. No one pitied her – she was above that.
"Rosalie, tell me what happened?" Hatcher continued to soothe, aggravating Rosalie to no end.
"Well the last time I saw you was two Fridays ago, right?" Rosalie spoke calmly, despite the raging torrent of emotions hidden behind her steely expression.
"Yes, can you fill me in or do I have to drag this out of you? Just tell me what the last two weeks have been like, okay?" This sympathetic tone of hers felt patronizing, even though Rosalie knew that wasn't its intention. Shut up Rosalie, shut up, do not bite her head off…
"Sure, because it's just super fun and not at all humiliating to talk about…" Sarcasm dripped from the beautiful blonde's full lips.
"Jamie." Dr. Hatcher's tone was even, but Rosalie knew that she growing frustrated with Rosalie's attempts to stall.
"Okay Hatcher, that's some dirty fucking pool you're playing. It's not even nine o'clock and you're already hustling me?" Rosalie's tone was more than sarcastic now; it was actually menacing.
"Actually it's nine-ten, Rosalie, and I've got to use what you've given me. So I'll say it again. Jamie." Dr. Hatcher tried to hold Rosalie's icy gaze as the blonde glared at her, but soon backed down, suddenly finding her notepad extraordinarily interesting. Rosalie felt a brief rush of power upon recognizing that the doctor was intimidated. She crossed her slender arms and said nothing.
"Why won't you talk?" Hatcher questioned meekly.
"Because it appears that my attempts to 'open up' and 'talk' over the past few months have been not only in vain, but have also actually rendered me weaker than I should have ever allowed myself to be. I was much better off without her; without you. This temporary, shared 'introspection' I've allowed myself to actually voice has cost me greatly. I don't want to care anymore. I was happier before her. And before you." Rosalie growled her response; hate in her eyes. But not hate for the doctor, or for Bella. Hate for herself. She hated what she'd become.
"Rosalie please," she'd hurt Dr. Hatcher's feelings; she could tell by the weakness in her voice and pain in her eyes.
"Please what?" Rosalie sneered. "How is it that your feelings are actually hurt? You're a fucking psychiatrist; I'd expect that your training would have given you more effective methods of coping with combative patients." Now the doctor looked entirely crest-fallen.
Rosalie remembered how hurtful her words could sometimes be, and the expression on the kind, plump woman's face softened her instantly. She felt badly; she had upset the doctor, and she knew better than to pick on someone weaker than she. Rosalie marveled at how easily compassion came to her these days. She almost felt like a real human being again. A completely real, powerless, weak human being. And again, she hated what Bella had done to her.
"Doctor Hatcher, I'm sorry." Rosalie's voice was softer now. "You don't deserve my wrath. I shouldn't take out my anger on you; I'm better than that. I should have more control than that. Forgive me, I realize that I'm acting like a petulant child…" Rosalie half-smiled in contrition – a half-smile was all that she could muster. The past week had been very difficult for her.
The doctor returned her apology with only a shy smile. Rosalie couldn't help but notice that Hatcher could actually be quite endearing at times.
"Okay…" Rosalie sighed. "I don't know where to start; do you want me to just do one long monolog, or should I take breaks so you can pepper in your infinite wisdom?"
"Very funny. One long monolog, start with two weeks ago after our last session." Hatcher's tone and expression were emotionally neutral; finally she'd recovered from Rosalie's attack, and her "therapist face" was in full effect now.
"God, two weeks ago feels like a hundred years ago, I can barely remember it…" Rosalie tossed her iPhone back and forth between her hands. "I don't know why I should talk about this. You can't help me."
"JAMIE. Rosalie, stop stalling." Hatcher was right. Rosalie didn't know why she was so reluctant to talk to the one woman who might actually be able to give her some kind of insight or advice. Suck it up, Rosalie, she commanded herself.
"Okay…" The model took one deep, but ineffective attempt at a cleansing breath while she collected her thoughts, then began:
"The first week was just the standard, me-falling-in-love-or-something-like-it type of bullshit." The sarcasm in Rosalie's voice had returned, but to the trained ear, pain in her tone would have also been detectable.
"That Friday we went to MOMA after Bella finished work because she'd never seen any part of 'The Nympheas' and I actually got her to agree after to let me take her to Paris so she could see the whole thing at the L'Orangerie, since she's never been to Europe and Paris is such a perfect introduction." Rosalie sounded as if she was reading a newspaper abstract; there was no emotion in her voice, which was eerie and strange considering what she was speaking about.
Dr. Hatcher stayed silent, but encouraged her to continue with sympathetic eyes (which Rosalie suddenly found far less annoying.)
"Ok so let me think, we found a secret nook in the museum and I went down on her, then we went home and had more sex. Saturday, same thing, went to the park and walked all around the Ramble counting condom wrappers, fooled around there, got in a water fight at Turtle Pond even though the water was freezing, came home, watched one of her Gators games on TV, went to a party at the bar next door, then had mind-blowing sex in her bedroom." Rosalie willed herself to remain emotionless as she spoke, trying in vain to prevent her brain from lingering on the significance and happiness she'd felt during those times with Bella.During every time and every day that she'd spent with the captivating brunette. Because of course as she spoke, that was all she could think about.
"Oh and on Sunday we took the boat out because I just had the Hinckley brought back to Battery Park, but with the temperatures recently it was like the frozen sail from hell, and I ended up having to sail the damn thing with an insanely gorgeous brunette sitting in my lap with a blanket around both of us. But we still had an amazing time, or at least I thought we did - we laughed and talked and did stupid, goofy stuff and you know, just all that ridiculous crap I imagine one does when they're totally smitten. Oh and then we had sex on the boat, and then more sex back home, and then I endured two hours of suffering through ANOTHER football game because she was of course, snuggled up into me under a blanket in front of the TV, and I am literally unable to resist her. I find myself doing anything to be with her. I'll watch hours upon hours of those stupid games if it means she'll be next to me. I've actually even secretly learned the rules so I can keep up with her, since she loves it so much. I have no self-control anymore. With ANYTHING when it comes to her." Rosalie uttered her last few words angrily. She did indeed hate who she'd become.
"Rosalie?" Hatcher's words brought her back to the present; she didn't realize that she'd drifted off, consumed with the conflict between love for girl and hatred for what she'd allowed Bella to do to her.
Rosalie felt like now she really actually had lost her mind.
"Sorry, I just… I hate how much I care about her. I hate how much I need her." Dr. Hatcher raised an eyebrow. "Oh sorry, right, so after the game we had sex. Because we always have sex. Or had sex, I suppose. I can't go a single day without touching her. I crave her, Hatcher. Despite everything, I still absolutely fucking crave her. I hate it."
"Rosalie, just tell me what happened. You haven't spoken like this in months. I don't like it. What happened after that?"
"Well…" Rosalie returned to delivering her words in a cold monotone, trying to convey as little emotion as possible. She spoke as if she was describing someone else's life and feelings. "The rest of the week consisted almost entirely of Bella coming home from work, us sneaking out for dinner, and talking and laughing and sleeping together and just generally making me feel like maybe I actually wasn't destined to be alone and empty after all. I actually allowed myself to feel like perhaps I was worthy of falling in love. I foolishly thought that maybe good things could actually happen to me."
She ran her fingers through long blonde hair in a gesture of frustration as she continued. "So let me think, um on Tuesday night she bet me $100 that I couldn't get a police officer to give me his hat, and I won, of course, and then we fought because I refused to accept her money and then we had like, mind-blowing make-up sex, oh and on Thursday we went to see a movie at the theatre right next door to the apartment, and it ended up being really sad and Bella cried, and you know how I get when I see Bella cry – I mean, I completely lose all sense of reason and all I want to do is comfort her. It's like my heart AND my brain literally melt. If she ever knew how much of a weakness I have for her when she cries... I mean I just can't control myself."
Rosalie crossed and uncrossed her long, toned legs as she inhaled deeply. Hatcher tapped her pencil on her notepad and waited for her to speak. "Okay, I'm getting off-track, so yes we saw a sad movie and she cried and I made her giggle slightly by carrying her out of the movie theatre and all the way home, and then she came over and started crying again because the movie really did upset her so, and I made love to her – it was like tender, "my stomach is literally on the floor because I feel so much for you," ridiculously emotional sex. No not even sex, like 'love-making.' Who would have ever imagined I could be capable of such a thing? So yeah, I 'made love' to her for like at least three hours I think."
Rosalie bit her lip as she prepared herself for next part of her story. Her head was beginning to ache - from stress, she assumed.
"And then on Friday I came home and she and her sister and Alice and Jasper and Em and Em's friend from college were already outside, and she basically ignored me and then her boyfriend came over and they kissed and said 'I love you' in front of me. So yup, that was week one. Did I mention the boyfriend? Did I?" The emotion had returned; Rosalie snarled as she spoke, sarcasm dripping off of her every word.
"Oh but don't worry Hatcher, I'm REALLY in touch with my feelings so I can tell you honestly that everything she did that night REALLY FUCKING HURT. I think it actually cracked my heart a tiny bit, if that's even possible. She said she LOVED him. In front of me. I'm not enough for her, Hatcher. She doesn't even know the dark parts of me; she only knows the best, most impressive side of me, and that side of me, the best side of me, isn't enough for her. I tried so hard to be good; to be a person that she'd find worthy. I've never cared like this. But she doesn't think I'm worth it. Can you imagine if she really knew me? The real me? If she thinks me right now isn't good enough, I can't even imagine what she'd think of who I actually am. She'd run away as fast as she could. Getting involved with her was a terrible idea."
Rosalie buried her perfect face into her perfect hands, and knew in that moment that neither was really perfect at all. "I'm so fucked up in the head right now…"
"I can imagine. But Rosalie, this boyfriend must not be a very big factor in her life, because if I'm not mistaken, you two have spent almost all of your free time together for quite some time now, isn't that correct?" Hatcher's response surprised Rosalie, and it also worried her. She knew how easily she would let herself believe that Bella did care for her. She wanted to find a reason; any reason; to justify the beautiful girl's behavior. And she knew how dangerous this was. She couldn't let her needs and emotions cloud her judgment; she needed to look at the girl's actions objectively.
Rosalie knew that humans possess a remarkable ability to allow their desires to dictate their perceptions. We see only what we want to see, she mused, and she knew that if Dr. Hatcher fed Rosalie's belief that Bella was worth holding onto, Rosalie would embrace it. She'd eat it right up. She hated that she was willing to compromise her dignity, her self-respect, her value, her emotions- her anything in order to not give Bella up. No one had ever made her so weak. She felt like a fool; a helpless, love sick idiot. And a far cry from the controlled, careful person that she'd worked so hard to be.
"Yup," Rosalie conceded. "I've been a total, whipped loser; I've hung out with her basically every night in October. Despite my better judgment, I saw her every chance I could. I knew it was stupid and dangerous, and I wasn't managing my demand or anything, but I didn't care. I just don't care when it comes to her. That's why I have to get away from her. And no, I had no idea he was still around."
"Did you ever ask her?"
"No, because I foolishly didn't want her to know that I cared. I already felt so weak from my ridiculous need for her, that I tried to at least hold on to the few shreds of dignity I still had left. If I'd said anything, she'd know I was jealous. And I DO NOT get jealous. I just assumed that she wasn't with anyone else, because I couldn't imagine how she could be and still act the way she did with me. I thought she felt the same way as I did, and so I never asked. I figured he was gone. Big mistake. I could have saved myself a lot of heartbreak if I'd just said something…" Rosalie was too conflicted and upset to be embarrassed by how much she was revealing to the doctor in this session.
"So she invited him over last Friday?"
"No, I don't think she did, actually I'm sure she didn't – when he arrived, he said something about wanting to surprise her. He brought fucking pink carnations. How tacky is that? PINK CARNATIONS. They probably cost him $2 at the bodega. That's like, not even trying…"
"Rosalie, just because something is inexpensive doesn't mean it doesn't have value." Dr. Hatcher tried to admonish her, but Rosalie simply chuckled and gave her unusually colored eyes a good rolling.
"Oh for Christssakes, Hatcher, I know that. You're missing my point – that's like the most generic, boring, tacky, flower on the planet. He didn't put any effort into it, just came over there like a slime ball and said some stupid shit like "I love how my Bella stands up for her friends" and blah blah. I mean, fucking carnations!" Rosalie felt slightly less vulnerable as she indirectly declared her superiority over the boy. She was better; she had far better taste; she had more money; she was smarter; she came from a better family; she was more beautiful; and she cared more about Bella. Why am I not enough?
"Why are we talking about flowers?" Hatcher chided her.
"Ugh," Rosalie rolled those gorgeous green eyes yet again. She was beginning to hate this conversation. "Because I'm avoiding the real issue, God Hatcher, you're the worst…"
"What's the issue?" The psychiatrist was nothing if not persistent.
"Well besides the boyfriend? Hatcher, the issue is that I can't let myself feel for her anymore. I'm not enough for her; I get it. The first time I actually let myself care about someone, I get rejected – I get it. Life is unfair. I know. This type of thing happens all the time to people. And I'm sure this is some kind of karmic retribution for becoming so closed off and protecting myself from letting something exactly like this happen for all of these years. So whatever, I get it, I'm not bitter." Rosalie wasn't lying; she wasn't bitter. She was sure she deserved all of this somehow.
"But I know I can't do this with her anymore. And I've resolved myself not to." Rosalie played with her hair, combing it back with her fingers and flipping the part from left to right and back again.
"What does 'resolving yourself' look like?" The doctor's eyes were watery blue. She'd never noticed that before. Focus, Rosalie, Focus…
"Now, half the time when I'm with her I'm like totally my old self again. You know, seducing her, playing mind games - all that stuff. Nothing major, just some push and pull. And not caring. Or rather trying not to care, I should say. Because half the time I just want to be my old-self again." The doctor opened her mouth to respond, but Rosalie knew what she was going to ask and cut her off.
"Which is obviously because half the time I'm so terrified that my feelings are on the line that I want to regress back to the time in which I controlled everything."
"Exactly." Hatcher seemed awfully pleased with herself, but Rosalie refrained from commenting. She knew she had a tendency to over-react when she felt vulnerable.
"But so what?" The blonde slumped back into the couch and rubbed her forehead. It was rare for her to display this much emotion through her body language, but she was utterly exasperated. "I mean, just because I know that I'm feeling and behaving this way because I'm a head case, it doesn't stop me from still doing it. And shutting down helps - it helps, it really does." Rosalie felt her chest constrict as suddenly her overactive mind conjured up the image of Bella laughing gleefully as the waves of the Atlantic splashed over the deck of the boat. And then the image of the gorgeous brunette beneath her, rich brown eyes fighting to stay open and remain staring deeply up into her own as Rosalie's graceful fingers brought her over the edge. And finally, the image of the smaller girl weeping at the foot of her bed before crawling into Rosalie's arms not one week before.
"Until I see her." Rosalie hung her head. She had never shied away from eye contact with the psychiatrist until this moment. "Shutting down only helps until I see her. Because as soon as I see her, Hatcher, a part of me just crumbles. Half of me is okay and can stay on track and controlled, but the other half isn't. And when I see her, that's when the other half of me comes out. The half that can't help but care about her. Love her, I mean. God, I feel so weak when I say that. I can't believe I love her. I never thought I'd love anyone." Rosalie paused, feeling somewhat amazed by what she'd said. Because she truly was, in that moment, sure that she loved her. Sometimes she wasn't sure; but right now, she was. And she'd really never thought that would have ever happened to her.
Secretly, she hoped that she was wrong.
"Hatcher, I can't see her anymore because I can't keep the charade up. I can't keep waffling between these two sides. I feel like fucking Sybil. I know I'm going to lose it soon. And right now, right this second, I mean, I just want to like, fall apart and beg her to dump him. I just want to be with her, Hatcher - I hate myself for feeling this way but oh my God I just want to be with her so badly. When I'm not all in my own head trying to regain control and fuck with her, you know, treat her like I've always treated people – when I'm not extremely focused on keeping that control, I find that I'm actually willing to compromise literally ANYTHING just to have her in my life. That's what's so sick. Half the time I'm like, planning her demise, and the other half of the time I'm just coming up with all these reasons to justify why I shouldn't get rid of her. She's breaking me. And I can't keep control long enough to prevent it."
"What are the reasons that you just mentioned that could justify why you shouldn't get rid of her?"
"Hatcher, please don't encourage me. I need help pulling back. I feel like a drug addict." The sadness in Rosalie's eyes was hard to miss.
"Rosalie, I need to know. What if you're wrong? What if she does care about you? You aren't a fool. You wouldn't have gotten into this without good reasons. Tell me." Rosalie appreciated Hatcher in these moments, when the woman really did seem to care about her. It felt nice. Having someone care felt nice.
Rosalie sighed. "Please, don't make me. I want to believe those reasons more than anything. But I can't keep feeling this weak. I need her to go away; I need to not love her, and I need her to not love me. I'm not meant for this."
"Rosalie…" Dr. Hatcher spoke her name gently, and smiled encouragingly at her with kind eyes.
"It's just that I know she's never been with a girl before, and now she's like, actually pretty serious with one. I've dealt with 'straight' girls plenty of times before and it's fucking messy. I never stick around to watch them iron out their shit, but I have friends who have, and it's always at least as complicated as my situation with Bella is, if not more. And her sister is very much opposed to me spending any time with her because she's secretly very jealous, but regardless, I wonder if Bella just hasn't technically dumped Edward because as long as he's around it keeps Leah off her back. It does make some sense. Because I mean, I literally have spent like 30 days straight with the girl. There has been absolutely no communication with anyone in front of me, but even if she talks to him during the day, isn't it odd to not spend a single evening with your boyfriend for such a long time period? And I know that she didn't plan on him coming over that Friday night, I just do."
"I think you might be right, Rosalie."
"I know Bella; she's awfully insecure. I just wonder if this was an "out of sight, out of mind" kind of thing. Because she's afraid of what her sister will think, and he hasn't really been around to interfere with her life…" Rosalie sighed again and looked down, examining her manicure – her preferred nervous habit. "Of course, I only wonder that half the time. The other half – well then I don't wonder anything at all, I just feel betrayed and hurt. I feel totally betrayed and hurt. And I want to fuck with her, get my power back – you know, all that stuff. I mean, Hatcher, if she really wanted to be with me, why not just do it?"
"Being with you means coming out of the closet, though, correct?" Hatcher wasn't giving up on Bella; that Rosalie could now see clearly.
"No, I mean, it wouldn't have to if she didn't want to, I could still help her keep it a secret until she's ready. And it's not like I'm some bull dyke with a flat top and a penchant for fringe jackets. I'm Rosalie fucking Hale. Sorry, I know that sounds awfully arrogant, but it's true. I look good. A lot of girls already want to be with me. I could take care of her; I could make things so easy. No one has ever given me a hard time for being bi." Rosalie crossed her arms and sat up much straighter. She was Rosalie fucking Hale, after all…
"Yes but you're absolutely the exception, not the rule. You have no idea what she's feeling right now because you never went through it." Hatcher spoke plainly.
"Sure I did, I mean…" Rosalie thought for a second. Her sexuality had always been embraced by others, and if anyone had ever objected, they were surely too afraid of her to ever voice their opinions. "No, no you're right, I never really did. I'm very lucky that way."
"Who knows what's going on in her head? You need to talk to her before you write her off."
"No, no I don't. I don't want to. I need to write her off. I just want to sleep with her one more time and be done with her. I know I shouldn't even do that, but I feel like I need to say goodbye. I just need to see her one last time and then I'll be fine." Rosalie was speaking more to herself than to the doctor at this point.
"I don't understand, why won't you talk to her? Surely you can muster the courage to at least hear her out."
"No, because the story isn't over, and this is where I get totally confused. Hatcher, Bella was insanely jealous of me on Friday night when I left with Jacob, like texting me 'did you fuck him' and saying all this stuff that was so nasty, all while her own boyfriend was sleeping in her bed next door! But fine, whatever, I told her Jacob and I were just friends. Then after her sister's birthday party last night, we were having an amazing time and I'd actually finally let it go, because once we started really kissing all of a sudden it didn't matter to me what she'd done anymore. I just wanted to be with her again; I didn't care. I'd spent the entire night trying to be controlled and emotionless – I tried to seduce her; mess with her head; get some power back. And I was doing a great job until we started really, really kissing. Whenever she kisses me, I have to fight so hard not to give in, and it is getting easier, but on Thursday I was so tired of fighting that I just decided to give up. I just want to be with her so badly, Hatcher. And when I did give in last night, it felt so good. She makes me feel so good. Ugh…" Rosalie huffed dramatically.
"So right as we walked into the building to go to my apartment to um, you know, right as I opened the door she saw a text message from Jake and she just flew off the handle at me. She accused me of lying, and fucking everybody, and using her, and she called me crazy for thinking she was worth anything, and I'm so sorry Hatcher, but SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND. She's the one that has someone else, not me. And I've never given her any reason to think that I was with anyone besides her. It's absolutely inappropriate to act like she has such crazy ownership over me, when I have nothing over her – I actually have to share her with someone else, and still I'm practically willing to do it. And she's so delusional about who she is, I mean, she can't see herself at ALL. She will not listen to me, but seriously, she had absolutely no right to speak to me the way she did. She was nasty, vicious. I realized last night that she keeps Edward around because she hasn't decided that I'm good enough yet. And she's right - I'm not good enough for her yet. And it's only downhill from here – she always wants to know so much about me. She accuses me of being withholding. Like I said earlier, if I'm not good enough for her now, I'll never be good enough for her after she actually finds out who I really am. It hurts in my chest, Hatcher. I think she broke my heart. I can't believe it, but it hurts so much. My thoughts are consumed with her. I have to let her go. Something that Friday with Edward happened to me, and every day after I've felt like I've been breaking down, bit by bit. Last night just shattered me though. I have to let her go. I started to change that Friday, too."
"How so?"
"I can feel myself shutting down. Not the intentional part of shutting down; the sub-conscious part where my brain just seems to act on its own accord. Despite what I told you about Thursday night, it IS getting easier for me to fuck with her; she's starting to look like everyone else to me for longer periods of time now. Even after she kisses me, sometimes. I lasted a LONG time that night before I cracked. Hatcher, I'd be more understanding about the whole 'in the closet' thing, but the way she's freaking out about other people, acting like she owns me - it's like she's not even considering how the Edward element might make me feel. It makes me feel worthless. I feel so worthless. And you know what, I've actually been really brave, for me at least; I've never exposed myself like this, I've never allowed any situation to get to the point where it could hurt me. And maybe this is payback for me being so closed off, but it's killing me. I swear to God, I just need to see her one more time so I can close the book on her, because I can't do this anymore, Hatcher. I always crack when I'm around her. I can't keep control. And I end up just being more and more vulnerable, and feeling more and more hurt when I think about what she's doing with that boyfriend."
"Explain."
"Are you not listening to me? I feel like a broken record. I've told you, I can't keep my resolve with Bella. I fucking crack. How much more do you want me to humiliate myself in front of you? I'm weak, okay?" Rosalie snarled again. She was never one to raise her voice; instead, her tone would just get frighteningly sharp and menacing.
"Rosalie, I just want examples. I'm trying to understand. I don't think you're weak. I'm trying to help." Hatcher was standing up to her. Rosalie hated that.
"Fine, because this isn't already awful enough, please, do let me give you specifics." She snarked, words dripping with sarcasm, but continued to speak. "On Saturday during the day, she came over and I fucked around with her all morning, teasing her, doing all the stuff I used to do to people. But then when we were saying goodbye, she told me she'd miss me and I just cracked. And when I told her I'd miss her too, I meant every fucking word. And my heart hurt. That night, we had this huge party and I did my whole 'come here, go away' thing, and I had it down perfectly – I fucked her without feeling much of anything for her for hours. I just did massive amounts of coke, and I was so high I even let her fuck me with an, um, an apparatus. So everything is great, and then all of a sudden she gets me on my back where I'm totally vulnerable and she starts being incredibly tender. She starts actually like, making love to me, and singing along to 'Africa,' and you know what that song means to me, and then all of a sudden I crack again and I'm crying and more hopelessly in love with her than I've ever been. And she woke up in the middle of the night, or morning I guess, and was so sweet that I think I was more in love with her then than I'd even been when we went to sleep. Ugh she's so incredible. She's so funny, and endearing, and beautiful, and she's so special. I hate how much I think I might actually love her. Because I think this is love, right? I can't be in love with her. This can't be love. I am going to make damn sure I pull away before she gets the chance to. She WILL NOT get the option of picking her boyfriend over me. I can't keep feeling this way. She's walking all over me and breaking my fucking heart. And she doesn't love me back; not that I'd want her to…" Rosalie's face was beginning to flush. She had never been more eager to get out of Dr. Hatcher's office than she was right now. This was pure torture.
"Is there anything she could do to change it?" God how she wished that Hatcher would just drop the conversation. It was just making Rosalie sadder and sadder. And angrier and angrier. She didn't want to talk about this any longer.
"I don't know, Hatcher, I don't know. I'm sad, in this detached sort of way, even during the times when I feel dead around her. When I feel like I've always felt with people. I'm sad for myself. I didn't want this to happen with her. She was special. She IS special. But she was so special to me. Can we just stop talking? I don't even know what I'm saying anymore."
"Just tell me, what are you going to do?" Relentless, relentless fucking Hatcher…I can't stand this woman, Rosalie thought angrily.
"Look I just can't be around her anymore, not after last night. I need to stay away, and lick my wounds and get over her. Because if I'm around her I'll crack again. I just need to say goodbye first. It's getting cold – so then I might go to Mustique for a little while and warm up."
"Are you running away?" The therapist asked pointedly.
"Do you think I'm running away?" Rosalie countered. She was done with this conversation, and was more than willing to answer each question with her own question until Hatcher shut up and let her leave.
"Rosalie, it's tough for me to say, because on the one hand I've watched you try really quite valiantly to put yourself out there and expose yourself in ways that were incredibly difficult for you, given what you've gone through. And I'm extremely disappointed that Bella hasn't pulled herself together a little more. On the other hand, what is so unbelievably hard for you to do comes completely naturally to other people, so I doubt very much that Bella understands the sacrifices you've made for her. And your reactions are based upon a life that has been in some ways very cruel to you. But they would be over-reactions for most people. I'm sorry, but that's the reality of the situation. I don't know if you should walk away. I don't doubt that she has the power to truly damage you, and emotionally, you're very fragile – it wouldn't take much to ruin you in a rather irrevocable fashion. But should you run away because of that? I don't know. Rosalie, I'm still not quite sure what kind of a role the whole 'closet' thing plays in some of her decision making. She might be more committed to you than you think. Especially given her reaction to your male friend." Okay, maybe Hatcher didn't need to shut up after all…
"So what should I do?" Rosalie whispered, not sure why she felt the need to speak so quietly.
"Look, don't reserve a pilot for your little Caribbean trip just yet, wait and see what she does. She absolutely needs to make things right after the way she behaved last night. If she doesn't come after you, then forget it, and get the hell out of Manhattan for a while so that you can recover. I know how much it will hurt you. But you're pretty hurt already, so what's a little more pain really going to do? Because if she does try to make amends, which I believe she will, you owe it to yourself to stick around long enough to see what that looks like and feels like to you. I know you'll regret it if you don't. Can you try that? How does that sound?"
Rosalie sighed. She was exhausted. "Well, it definitely caters to the part of me that is desperate to justify her behavior so I don't have to lose her…" She kicked at the corner of the Oriental rug in Dr. Hatcher's office with her trusty Chanel ballet flats. "…but I'd need a few days to pack for the islands anyway, so I might as well try it."
"It will be okay, Rosalie. I promise."
###
Rosalie walked through the front door of the apartment and tossed her keys in a silver bowl on the hall table. She grabbed the two white orchids that framed the mirror above the table and padded over to the sink to give them a drink. As she rounded the corner, her mouth dropped.
There, on the kitchen floor, was the largest, most beautiful vase of white flowers she'd ever received. Her super had left a note apologizing for entering the apartment unannounced, but explained that the flowers were simply too big to leave outside the front door and he hadn't known what else to do with them.
Rosalie gasped at the arrangement. White Calla Lilies, and white Roses, Freesia, Tulips, Amaryllis, white Phalaenopsis AND Dendrobium Orchids – the list of flowers in the bouquet went on and on. The vase wasn't really a vase at all; it was a dark blue glazed urn. Blue and white, her absolute favorite. The arrangement was utterly breathtaking.
She grabbed the card, assuming that one of the fashion houses had sent her some kind of gift in exchange for agreeing to host an in-store event or something of that nature. After all, she was very familiar with the florist where the exquisite arrangement had come from, and he was so expensive and exclusive that no individual could have just randomly called him up.
As she unsealed the heavy cardstock of the envelope, she paused for a second.
Whomever had sent this to her must have had the most uncanny sense of timing in human history. She had felt so absolutely awful, sad, conflicted, lovesick, everything – this morning, and yet all of a sudden these beautiful flowers had arrived and made her smile. Rosalie had an incredible fondness for natural beauty, both in flora and fauna, and she loved white flowers. This was the most gorgeous arrangement she'd ever seen – and for Rosalie Hale, that was saying something.
She was already mentally filing through her stationary collection, thinking of which stock she'd use for the thank-you note, as she popped the florist's note out.
And just about fell over.
Dear Rosalie,
I'm so incredibly sorry for everything. I care about you so, so much. Please just talk to me so that I can explain.
Love, Bella
Rosalie had already ignored roughly 32 text messages and 12 phone calls from the girl in the brief span of time since their argument.
She looked back at the arrangement and sighed.
And then was suddenly absolutely furious. If that girl had just spent $1,500 on flowers for her (she knew how much the bouquet cost, having sent many at the designer's behest when she worked in PR) – If Bella had done that, she was going to absolutely murder her. There was no possible way that the beautiful brunette could have afforded them. And to spend that kind of money on her?
Rosalie was livid.
She had half a mind to send Bella a text message saying exactly that, but then she thought better of it. Perhaps Bella had used Pete Schwartzman's account. Maybe she hadn't paid for them after all. Pete was the director one of the largest hedge funds in the world, Greystone, and he was worth about $5 billion on his own. He sent stuff like this all the time. And Bella was his head assistant, although she dealt much more with the business end of his life as opposed to personal matters – Pete had other, lesser assistants for that. But she could have still used his card -it was certainly possible. The thought gave her some solace. So she didn't text message her. Because she was pretty sure Bella didn't pay for the bouquet.
Not to mention, she wasn't ready to talk to Bella yet.
###
"She's an asshole, Rosalie." Emmett lined up his shot and sent two balls into the far left pocket of the billiards table.
"What if she's not, Em?" Rosalie leaned back against the edge of the table where she'd been supervising Jacob and Emmett's very heated, high stakes game in the back of a wild, rowdy bar downtown. "I mean, she has spent like every single second with me, and honestly, what if it's because I'm a girl? I mean, you've seen what a monster her sister can be, what if she's just using him as cover because she's not ready for people to know that she's in a girl-girl relationship?"
"Nope, I don't care, she's an asshole," Emmett shot again. "You're not just some ordinary girl, you're Rosalie fucking Hale. Do you know how many girls would gladly come out of the closet for a chance to actually have a relationship with you?"
"Yeah but that's 'cause I'm hot and really rich, not because they know me, Em," Rosalie sipped her glass of bourbon (whiskey, technically; but only because it was made Tennessee. Rosalie loved her glass of Jack on the rocks when life got shitty...) "And seriously, how long can I keep clinging to the whole 'I'm Rosalie Hale so you better recognize' thing? I mean so what? I'm not sure how rational it is to continue to think that me being me somehow precludes Bella, or anyone else for that matter, from having to come to terms with the fact that they're fucking another girl."
"Yes it does!" Emmett swung his pool cue as he gestured wildly. "You are different, you're special, and anyone that doesn't fall on their knees for you can go to hell. There is no way I am going to let this girl hurt you."
Rosalie grabbed the cue from him before he broke something and patted his chest. "Thank you, Emmett." She smiled sadly. "It means a great deal to me that you see me that way, but I'm afraid if I keep running around with that mindset, I'm never going to allow myself any kind of chance at a real relationship."
"Since when do you want a real relationship?" Emmett scoffed, lining up for another shot.
"Since Bella, dumbass."
"Well I still think she's a huge asshole and you should get rid of her. You could do better. And it's so obvious that she's in love with you that I just KNOW you are going to get dragged down into this emotional nightmare that's going to make you shut down because you won't be able to walk away but she'll still make it impossible for you guys to be happy together." Emmett cursed as he missed the eight-ball by a hair's breadth, and look up at Rosalie with his own big, green (not nearly as brightly colored, but still beautiful) eyes. Rosalie could see genuine concern in them. She didn't want her baby brother to worry about her.
"She's not in love with me, but don't worry, bud," Rosalie re-assured him as she took another sip of her drink and hoped up to sit the edge of the table now that Emmett's turn was over. "I can feel myself shutting down. Maybe I'll sleep with her one more time and then be done with it."
"Bullshit," Emmett retorted.
"Why?" Rosalie questioned him as she re-tied the ribbon on the back of her black grosgrain and pearl Lanvin necklace. She was dressed down, pairing the ornate piece with a simple white tank and skinny black jeans, but her make-up was still perfect, and she had on pretty high python peep-toe slingbacks. Rosalie never left the house without looking hot, and tonight was no exception.
"Because you won't be able to do 'one more time,' not with her. Look, unless she tells you tomorrow that she's madly in love with you and her boyfriend is history, I say forget about her." As Emmett spoke to her with more insight and rationale than she'd expected, Rosalie undid her pony tail and shook her long blonde hair out, stick straight for this evening's activities.
"Yeah, I'm with him," Jacob chimed in, attention back on the billiards game as he ambled back from the bar in ripped jeans and a faded dark green Dartmouth t-shirt that was just tight enough. He also wore green chucks ("I'm on the Jets, I gotta represent" he'd countered when Emmett teased him for color coordinating his outfit – not that Emmett himself wasn't also constantly guilty of that same infraction…) Jacob was dressed in sharp contrast to Emmett, who was in a custom-made slim fitting navy suit and a light pink shirt with a white collar. He proudly wore his favorite shoes: a pair of gorgeous made-to-measure chestnut double monk straps that Rosalie had given him on no particular occasion a few years back. She loved to buy her brother presents. He made her proud, and she just couldn't help herself…
"Oh look Rosalie, Mr. Wonderful is back…" Emmett teased his friend and leaned against the pool table next to Rosalie, crossing his arms to mirror her own and smirking at Jake like his sister as the athlete returned from signing autographs for the wait staff.
"Aw, I love that Hale smirk…" Jacob winked at Rosalie and whacked Emmett on the arm with the thick end own of his pool cue. "I have to say I agree with your brother on the whole Bella thing… Lose the zero and get with the hero, baby!" He flexed his biceps for her and grinned wickedly.
"Dude," Emmett punched him in the shoulder. Jacob looked at him questioningly, arms still flexed. "Are you seriously that gay? I mean like, for real, are you THAT gay Jake?"
"What, that was a sick line, dude" He protested. "Tell him, Rosalie, tell him how good that line just was."
"Oh yeah," Rosalie giggled into her glass. "That was so good my jeans are like, practically undoing themselves right now…"
She held her hand out towards her brother expectantly, and Emmett groaned as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his silver money clip. "You said it twice, now pay up, sucker," Rosalie chided him as she beamed and Emmett begrudgingly handed over two fifty-dollar bills, one for each time he'd called Jacob 'gay' – he'd been trying to stop himself from using the term that way, and decided that he'd pay his sister every time he slipped.
"Oooh, that's a hundred bucks you insensitive bastard…" Jacob smacked him again with the pool cue as he continued to flex his right arm for Rosalie and kissed his bicep adoringly. Emmett smacked him back with his cue, and Rosalie shrieked and giggled as Jacob tried to hide behind her and Emmett yelled at him for using his beloved sister as a human shield. She continued to laugh as the two fraternity brothers traded insults and flexed for each other, making ridiculous faces.
###
But the distraction was only temporary. While the two boys play fought next to her, Rosalie's mind began to wander back to Bella. She wondered what she was doing right now. She wondered if she should call her. She wondered if Bella would know that Rosalie was hurt. If she would know that the beautiful blonde wasn't ever coming back, just only saying goodbye.
One more time. Rosalie perked up, more from the thought of getting to touch Bella again than the idea that it would be her last hurrah. I'll just see her one more time…
###
She pulled her iPhone out of her pocket and had begun to text Bella when lightning quick hands snatched it away.
"Good reflexes, Black. You're like a fucking stealth assassin." Emmett's voice boomed as he slapped his buddy on the back. Rosalie reached for the phone, but Jacob held it high over her head.
"This is for your own good," Emmett reprimanded her as he took the phone. Jake nodded heartily and held up his full pint of beer. Emmett made a snotty face at her as he dropped it in the glass. Rosalie narrowed her eyes and made her own face back.
"Emmy, you motherfucker, I just got that!" Jacob grabbed the blonde and threw her over his shoulders, and the two rowdy boys began to shout "Shots, shots, shots" as they marched to the bar. By the time Jacob had sat her on the edge of the sticky fixture, the entire crown was chanting along with them. She was pissed at them, but she just smirked at the crowd watching and rolled her annoyed green eyes before throwing back a few of the disgusting tequila shots that had magically appeared.
She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of Jacob's tee – the punishment hardly befitting the crime of placing her expensive black denim jeans on top of a filthy bar and peer-pressuring her into drinking tequila. Especially considering both Jacob AND Emmett knew about Rosalie's turbulent relationship with the evil Mexican worm…
###
Not three hours later, Emmett, Jacob, and Rosalie were all standing on top of the bar, dancing to a hysterical eighties cover band en costume and pouring shots into patron's mouths, like a scene from a certain, especially cheesy movie. Rosalie had made fast friends with the bartenders already – one of them a chubby old Irish fellow with a bum knee and the other a boy she'd gone to Yale with who had been a total nerd and was trying to re-make himself as a stud.
Rosalie had made it her drunken, tequila-fueled mission to generate as many tips for the two guys as she could, and was currently embarrassing herself with an inappropriate (but crowd-pleasing) dance routine on top of the bar to "Addicted to Love" while Jacob and Emmett flipped bottles back and forth straight out of the movie "Cocktail" (they were forced to learn their now impressive bottle-handling skills during their particularly grueling pledge ship period at Dartmouth…) While they danced and laughed and goofed around, Rosalie kept trying to sneak Emmett or Jacob's phone's out of their pockets so she could drunkenly call Bella. Unfortunately, she found that the two times she was actually successful, she then couldn't remember what number to call.
"I fucking love her!" Rosalie screamed into her brother's ear over the roar of the crowd. She was hammered.
"I'm addicted to love, Emmy!" She continued to scream as she gyrated to the music. Emmett drunkenly rolled his eyes.
"Well she fucking loves you too, she told me!" Emmett yelled back at her, but all Rosalie could hear between the volume of the crowd and her brother's own slurred speech was "Wuhlshefuckinluvsutoo."
"What?" She yelled back, trying to understand his garbled speech. Suddenly a hand grasped her leg from where she stood on the bar, and she bent down to speak to its owner, a younger male patron who was ready to tip her $300 to do a body shot. "Fellas," she yelled to her bartender buddies, who skittered over to the rowdy blonde model like eager puppies. "Mama's about to make you some money!"
###
Rosalie awoke with a throbbing head, a fuzzy memory, and a warm bottle of Gatorade that she'd spooned all night – an extremely poor replacement for her usual spooning partner. She wasn't sure why she'd woken up – it was nine in the morning but no one in the apartment had even gone to bed until about two hours earlier. Their drunken rampage that night had continued on to more clubs and bars than Rosalie cared to remember, and they'd been joined by Jasper and a few of the boys' other buddies soon after Rosalie had let some mild-mannered accountant suck tequila out of her belly button.
She soon realized why she'd awoken – there was shouting coming from the main room. "Rosalie, Rosalie!" She heard her brother's voice shouting outside her bedroom door. She grabbed her robe and threw it on, stumbling over last night's heels that she'd drunkenly thrown on the floor.
"Oh man, you're getting the full-court press baby!" Emmett shouted as soon as she opened the door. He was annoyingly energetic for someone that should have been passed out and drooling. Jacob, who had crashed on their couch, was up as well, and they were both laughing hysterically as two small delivery men struggled to get through their front door. "You know what?" Jacob snickered to Emmett. "I think I might like this chick after all…"
Emmett waved another florist's envelop around in front of her face, as her blurry eyes adjusted to the daylight. Her head was killing her. Once again, her mouth dropped as soon as her eyes could focus.
There, placed down on the floor, was another HUGE arrangement of white flowers in a dark blue urn; an arrangement even more spectacular than the first. And as today was a Saturday, there was no way that Bella could have paid for this arrangement using a corporate card; it would have raised way too many red flags.
Forget that her head was killing her; Rosalie was going to kill Bella.
"Oh my God, this girl is a total baller, you can't get an arrangement from this place for less than $800!" Emmett bounced around the room gleefully. He must be on drugs, Rosalie mused.
"Give me that," She snatched the card from his hand.
Dear Rosalie,
Please, please don't get rid of me. I can't take it. I need you. Just let me talk to you. I'll be at our bench in the park at midnight – I'll wait for you.
Love,
Bella
The last part of the note was barely legible, as the florist had clearly struggled to fit the entire message on the small card. Rosalie couldn't deny how incredibly thoughtful, and decidedly grand, Bella's gestures had been over the past two days.
But she also couldn't deny how incredibly stupid it was for Bella to spend that kind of money on her, and she regretted not answering her phone when Bella had begun to call it immediately after their argument, if for no reason other than stopping her from spending so much money like this.
Of course she would see Bella tonight, but she would cut her off at the pass; there was no way that she was going to let Bella wait for her in a public park at midnight, especially on Halloween. She had to hand it to Bella, though. It was a pretty clever ploy – she knew how protective Rosalie was of her, and had crafted her plan accordingly. She'd even remembered that Rosalie had a charity auction/benefit to attend that ended at 11:30pm. Rosalie felt suddenly lovesick as her mind strayed to the beautiful brunette, and how thoughtful she was being. She didn't want to be lovesick. She just wanted to say goodbye and go away for a while.
"Rosalie," Emmett teased as he and Jacob bounced up and down and traded jabs back and forth like the annoying frat boys that they were. "Rose-a-lie…"
"Jesus Christ you two, go back to bed weirdoes!" Rosalie looked between them as she rolled her eyes and huffed.
She scooped up the heavy urn and, after removing its cellophane and paper wrappings, placed it on the left side of the console under her huge plasma. Yesterday's arrangement was on the right. She had to admit that they looked rather spectacular…
###
Rosalie pounded on the door at 11:15pm. She wasn't sure if Bella would be at a party or not, as it was Halloween, but she kept her fingers crossed. Thanks to Emmett's brothers-against-drunk-dialing stunt, she'd had to replace her phone that morning and she'd lost all her contacts in the process.
AND the little shit wouldn't give her Bella's number, forcing her to "let Bella sweat it out, Rosalie, trust me…"
She tapped her foot impatiently. She had left the auction well before it was over in order to get back to the apartments, much to the annoyance of some of the other junior committee members. But she didn't care; she was far more concerned that Bella would go wandering over to Carl Shurtz Park in the middle of the night.
Rosalie thought she heard shuffling from inside the apartment, and she knocked on the door again. She wasn't really sure what she was going to say or do; she just planned to go off of Bella's reactions. Okay, maybe she was flying by the seat of her pants a little bit. Or more like by the seat of the red Herve Leger band-aid dress that hugged her torso. She was still clutching a silver feathered mask she'd worn to the event – a masquerade theme. She hated masquerade themes. They were so uninspired.
She leaned against the side of the door frame, toned arms crossed, and heart beating faster than she would have liked.
Suddenly, the door opened. Rosalie startled a bit.
Bella stood; hand on the doorknob, in an oversized black v-neck and a baggy pair of grey sweats. And Rosalie's rubber flip-flops. Her eyes were swollen; cheeks streaked red from what Rosalie assumed were tears. Her gorgeous, chocolate irises glistened with moisture, glistening with specks of light from above that made them shimmer.
Rosalie began to speak, but nothing came out. She just stared at Bella. Fuck me, how am I ever going to get over her? How am I going to do this? She looked so beautiful to Rosalie in that moment, and so fragile, all thin arms and graceful neck and oversize clothes that draped off of her as if she was hanger in Rosalie's closet.
Bella looked absolutely heartbroken. And Rosalie's heart began to betray her.
"I thought you were never going to talk to me again," Bella whispered sadly. "I was just about to get dressed and go to the park – did you get the flowers I sent?"
Suddenly, Rosalie found her voice.
"Yes Bella, and what the fuck were you thinking? You spent $3,000 on FLOWERS for me? And you were going to go to a fucking public park at MIDNIGHT on Halloween? You could have gotten killed! What if I didn't come?"
"I didn't think you would, actually…" Bella's eyes began brimming again. "I didn't really care if I got mugged or something, I just thought I'd try. And the flowers…" She began to choke as sobs suddenly wracked her body. "I thought you'd –sob- like them, -hic- you love blue –sob- blue and white –sob-, I found the –hic- florist that you used and I didn't –sob- care how much money they were I just…" The small girl actually sat down on the hardwood floor and leaned against the door as she began to weep.
"Oh fuck, there goes my fucking resolve," Rosalie muttered under her breath, sure that Bella would never hear as she cried so hard. Bella is crying. Those tears were like kryptonite to her. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck…
"Bella, sweetheart, no, they were incredible, don't cry" Rosalie bent down in five inch black croc heels and grasped Bella's arms and legs, scooping the weeping brunette up in her arms. Her action seemed to only make Bella sob more. "Shh, shh, its okay, its okay," she tried to soothe the fragile girl.
"I," Bella gasped for air in order to form words, "I –sob- was beginning to thi –sob- think I'd never see you again, and I –sob- I just can't –sob- live without you, Rose, -hic- I'll do anything, just please –sob – don't go anywhere."
"I'm right here, its okay, I'm right here" Rosalie purred, bringing Bella into her bedroom and sitting down on her bed with the beautiful girl in her arms. Her heart absolutely melted every time she saw Bella cry, and she knew that it was clouding her judgment. She knew she needed to have some resolve, to have a backbone.
Just one more time, she mused. One more time can't hurt. I'll just do this one more time…
###
Rosalie tried to stay sane as she kissed her and Bella kissed her back; tried not to lose herself completely; tried to maintain some modicum of sanity amidst the sea of adrenaline that washed over her with every touch, every sigh, every gaze from the gorgeous girl beneath her. Bella cried into her lips, and Rosalie mentally grimaced. She couldn't hold out much longer, she couldn't keep control over this situation…
Because she could barely stand to be near this girl, this incredible girl that she was so taken with, and not be taken herself by the intensity of her emotions. Fuck it, she wanted to; no, she needed to be with this girl, no matter what. She needed to make sure that no one ever made Bella cry like this again. My Bella, she mentally claimed her.
Bella's lips trembled into their kisses, and Rosalie felt like hers might be trembling as well. Bella clung to her with a ferocity that the blonde had never before seen.
Rosalie kissed her tenderly, gently, but also urgently. Words were useless; the emotions being conveyed by the incredible power, the unbelievable connection they both felt when they kissed – those emotions said enough. Bella was exhausted; that much Rosalie could easily tell. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. Rosalie held the weary body that grasped her so tightly as she kissed and stroked her, trying to tell herself that it was just this 'one more time,' trying for once to will her mind to actually vacillate between loving Bella and not caring, as she was currently failing so miserably to do.
She was failing, because all she could feel was this incredible warmth in her heart. It was love, it had to be. It was love or she was dying – she wasn't sure about that one yet. It just had to be something that powerful. It was new, and it was even worse and more intense. And it just got worse with every second that the beautiful, fragile girl clung to her. Fuck, what is this? Rosalie didn't know what to look for, what to expect to feel, but something about this night, something about the feelings that Bella's haunting eyes and weeping words had stirred in her; something was so incredibly different. Like love times one thousand. Rosalie's body felt heavy, full of some liquid previously unknown to her. It was weird. It was terrifying. It was awesome. Oh fuck, this really is happening to me…
Rosalie knew in that moment, more than any other that had ever passed, that she was unreasonably and now absolutely inexorably in-love with Bella. And she would probably never be able to walk away…
TBC
###
A/N: Okay so now we're at the point where the first three chapters of the story began. They're a continuation of this night. If you want to go back and read them, go for it. The pace will be weird, and some stuff in the first three chapters will probably be pretty redundant, but I wrote those really never intending to get into a huge story. I apologize for this chapter being awfully long, and I'm sorry that the girls weren't really together for most of it. I just felt like I needed to explain what Rose had been thinking for the past two weeks in order to lead up to the first three chapters without total confusion. Anyway, I hope its okay. I'm going to post again tomorrow, and that post will pick up right where chapter three ends (like right there, when Bella has just started to um, do something to Rose…)