Bella sits in the student union building, drinking a cup of coffee and waiting for Edward to return with their breakfast.
They carpooled together to campus, and Bella is in an exceptional mood, having spent the entire night sleeping next to Edward. She will have to have him stay over more often.
She's rereading a passage of Dracula and picking out literary symbols for an analytical essay when her mom calls.
She picks up and places a folded receipt in the novel to keep her place.
"Hi, Mom," she answers.
"Hey, Bella, Honey...I have some bad news," her mom says, her voice already full of apology.
"What? Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, it's just that I'm not going to be able to come visit you next week. Phil's parents are coming into town and you know how old they're getting. I really should stay here and visit with them while they're still around."
"Oh, yeah. Um. That's fine. I totally understand."
"Thanks, Bella. I'm really sorry, but I promise I'll make it up to you some other time. Is everything going okay at school?"
"Yeah. It's been a lot of fun. I...kind of started seeing this guy."
"You did?! I'm so happy for you! Is he cute? Smart?"
"He's, um, really cute and really smart. Almost too much so. His name is Edward."
"I want to see a picture! How long have you two been dating?"
"A little over a month, I guess."
"That's good then! I'm really—oh, you know what, I gotta go, Sweetie. Phil's heading out to practice and I have to drive him. Talk to you soon!"
"Bye," Bella waits for Renée to hang up before putting down her phone.
She texts her mom a photo from last week when she ate lunch with Edward at a vegan cafe on the Ave. Bella's halfway out of frame and he's dazzling, smiling, looking as perfect as a marble statue of a Greek god with his bright green eyes and strong jawline. She definitely doesn't distract from his good looks.
When she looks up from the screen, she sees her TA James walking by with what looks like two other grad students. One's a woman a little taller than Bella, with long, curly hair a brilliant shade of orange. The other's a medium-framed man with black hair, bronzey skin, and somewhat pretty features.
James spots Bella sitting drinking her coffee and waves, coming over.
"Morning, Bella! How's the final project going?" the sandy-haired man asks.
Bella takes a sip of her coffee, nodding, "Good, good. I'm about halfway done. I'm writing about latte art and what it's like to be a full-time student with a part-time job."
"That's right, you work at the campus cafe, don't you? I remember seeing you around there after class," he looks to the two others that walked in with him. "Oh, this is my friend Laurent and my girlfriend Victoria. Laurent teaches French Literature and Victoria is doing graduate studies in Game Theory at the business school."
"Oh, hi. Nice to meet you," Bella says with a little nod.
"It's nice meeting you as well, Bella," Laurent says, his voice tinged with an accent that sounds very authentically French.
"Did you invite her to the party this weekend?" Victoria asks.
"Oh, no," James says as if he had forgotten. "A few of the other journalism and literature majors are getting together for a party Saturday night. It'll be a good opportunity to network if you want to come."
"Oh. Um. I'll check my schedule," Bella blurts out nervously.
Victoria just gives a brief smile before turning to James. "Well, shall we be off?"
"Yeah. See you in class, Bella!"
She forces a smile as they leave. She doesn't feel comfortable going to a party with people she's hardly just met. It's not likely that Jessica or Angela will want to hang out with a bunch of older grad students talking about books and writing. She'll skip the party.
While she was talking with them, her mom texted her back. Bella laughs as she reads Renée's message. O-M-G! KEEPER!
She looks up from her phone and sees her keeper in person, coming in from the downstairs cafeteria with food.
"Here you go," Edward says, handing her a bagel and pulling her into a somewhat-awkward, seated embrace.
"Thanks. My mom just called. It turns out she's not coming to visit," she says disappointedly.
"Why?"
"Phil's parents are going to be in town."
"Hm, that's too bad," he sympathizes. "But this means you can come to Whistler with us! I'll teach you how to ski."
...
Soft sunlight streams through the blinds, gently waking Rosalie from her fantastic slumber in her brand new, penthouse apartment.
She's far more comfortable than she's been in weeks of sleeping on the little pull-out bed at her brother's place.
Snuggling into the cozy, Egyptian-cotton sheets, she yawns and rolls over.
Thwack.
Her heart skips a beat when she bumps into something solidly in the way of her leisurely stretch across the other side of the bed.
Whatever it is, it's warm and breathing. It feels like a body.
Her eyes snap open when she realizes it's not a something, but a someone.
Holy fuck.
Emmett's dark curly hair, dimples, and gratuitous muscle mass are occupying the right side of her bed. He's shirtless, arms splayed out over his head, sleeping like an oversized, protein-fueled baby.
This can't be happening. She was so certain that last night was some kind of fever dream.
Her present nakedness begs to differ. She sits up, taking the sheets with her, and tries to locate her misplaced clothing from the night before.
All she sees is Emmett's hoodie and joggers on the floor, along with the few dozen cardboard boxes still unpacked.
She turns the blinds a little, trying to get some light, while she digs through a mystery assortment of her belongings to find something to put on.
Out of her window, the sun is still only barely rising over Lake Washington. Her bedmate's change in breathing suggests she's woken him up in her quiet frenzy of movement.
He blindly reaches out, missing her now that she's retreated off the mattress, his hand sliding toward empty space across the comforter.
"G'morning," he says sleepily, voice scratchy in his half-awake state. He struggles to open his eyes so he can figure out where she's gone.
Rosalie jumps up and grabs a towel from one of the several boxes she's been digging through. She ducks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
What is she going to do?
She winces at the used condom in the trash bin.
Turning on the shower, she sits on the smooth, cold tile and lets the warm water run over her.
It's not a big deal, she tries to convince herself.
Plenty of girls would kill to wake up in a big, beautiful apartment with a good-looking guy who's sweet despite being treated with general bitchiness.
They would wake up, cuddle in bed a while, and maybe go for a second round before making some breakfast and going on with their day.
Plenty of girls also aren't broken.
She can't seem to stop the voice in her head telling her that she's easy and a whore. Guilt eats away at her.
She had previously agreed to marry an awful man she hardly knew, and now she was jumping into bed with yet another that she'd known for an even shorter time, purely to validate her own ego.
Her ex-fiancé and his friends—whose wives she used to go to dinner with every weekend—had treated her as nothing more than a shiny toy to use up and throw away, and she thinks she's proving them to be right.
Has she learned nothing?
She doesn't believe she deserves the decency or respect of love when she lets herself get into these situations. If people knew what she'd done, they'd never look at her the same way.
Rosalie chokes back a sob and tries to quiet herself when she hears knocking on the door.
"Hey, Rose? Is everything okay?" Emmett calls out. "You've been in there for a while."
"I'm fine," she croaks. "Can you please leave?"
"You don't sound fine. Was I that bad?" he jokes with a half-hearted laugh.
The tears won't stop. She sniffles.
She doesn't have much experience to compare it to, but what they'd done together wasn't bad, she doesn't think. At the moment it was okay. It felt nice.
It isn't him that's the problem, it's her.
She's overly shallow. Selfish. There's a black hole where her heart should be. Royce was right to have known she isn't marriage material.
Happily ever afters don't exist for girls like her.
"I can leave, but I want a McMuffin. If you want in on the Postmates order, I should probably stay until it gets here," he says when she doesn't answer. "Lemme know. They have pancakes. You seem like someone who likes pancakes."
...
It's cold, wet, and disgusting outside.
Jasper sits in the sunken parking garage stairwell, watching the rain drip down the concrete walkway above. It will likely be pouring all day, but at least he has a momentary small respite from the drizzly Seattle skies.
The stale smell of cigarette smoke drifts over from nowhere in particular. He pulls his rain jacket closer around him.
He had just gone to office hours for his Psychology class and is in the process of killing time until his afternoon lecture starts.
His head is throbbing. It feels like his heart's racing.
Grabbing the small orange bottle from his backpack, he shakes out a pill and swallows it.
TAKE ONE TABLET BY MOUTH UP TO 3 TIMES DAILY.
He takes another for good measure.
His hands are too shaky. He drops the bottle as he's replacing the cap and the contents scatter across the cement. "Fuck."
The ground level door at the top of the stairs opens and slams shut. He hears someone briskly coming down the steps. He scoops up the tablets and pockets them.
Alice's unfriendly, redheaded housemate walks down the stairs and past him, stopping abruptly. He'd definitely seen what just happened. Edward turns and gives him an unpleasant look.
"Hey," Jasper says with a slight nod of his head.
"Are you waiting on Alice?" Edward asks.
"No, I'm just waiting."
The redhead looks around skeptically at their less-than-hospitable surroundings sandwiched between the campus theater and parking garage. "For what?"
Jasper shrugs.
"Well, she's inside working on stuff for the show," Edward says, scuffing the bottom of one of his brown loafers on the pavement. "She told me to tell you to come inside."
"Oh, okay."
"You're going to Whistler with us, right?" he says more than asks.
"Yeah."
"I don't know what your intentions are with Alice or why you can't seem to show up anywhere sober, but I'd appreciate if you kept your distance around Bella and myself. I'm trying to have a nice vacation with my girlfriend, and I don't need you ruining it," Edward admonishes. The redhead doesn't wait for a reply and continues walking away at the same quick pace as before.
Rosalie said that Edward was rude, but he did have a point. What had he said he was majoring in again? Law? It suits him.
Jasper could go inside once he felt calmer. He needed some more time before things kicked in.
The ground level door above opens again. Someone's holding it open because it doesn't immediately follow with a slam.
"Jasper!" calls out a dulcet voice, gleefully impatient.
He stands and follows the sound of Alice's summoning.
"Are you coming in?" she asks as he comes up the stairs. "You don't have class until two, right? You're on campus early?"
"Yeah, I went to office hours. My TA didn't have time later in the day."
"You can keep me company. I have a lot more hand-beading and embroidery work to get done, and I'm bored with watching Netflix."
She talks like she's been up for hours, despite it only being 9:30. She probably has been.
He isn't sure he's ever seen someone consistently brimming with so much enthusiasm and energy so early in the day. Or any time of day.
It's refreshing. He likes it. He likes her.
She grabs his hand and leads him into the auditorium where there are rows of red fabric seats and a decently sized stage. Alice goes to a seat in the center where her backpack and sewing are left stacked up.
"Taking a break from the design room?" he asks, looking down at her fingers intertwined with his own.
"Kind of. I wanted a change in scenery. It has a good ambiance in here, don't you think?"
He would have to agree any room she's in has a good ambiance, but that's hardly what she means.
"Yeah, it does."
"Have you been waking up anywhere strange lately?" she questions, her tone innocuous and airy.
He shakes his head. "I haven't been going out much."
He'd been staying in and drinking mostly. At least that way there was a sort of limit to how much he could consume.
Although he did go out with his friends last night. They didn't stay until last call like they usually did, though.
She squeezes his hand before letting go and starting on the beading she mentioned earlier.
The dress material is deep red and silky. It doesn't look like anything she would wear herself, but the design and overall attention-to-detail is distinctly Alice.
"Have I invited you to the show yet? You're coming, right?" she asks uncertainly.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world."
...
Rosalie emerges from the steam-filled bathroom with wet hair and skin scrubbed until it's pink.
Her room looks exactly as she left it, with the exception that now there is no Emmett and her bed's been made back up.
She finds the box of clothing she had been searching for earlier and grabs a clean shirt and leggings out of it.
Taking a deep breath, she rolls the blinds open all the way so she can see the overcast view of the lake fully. Some seagulls glide across the sky, diving at fish in the water.
She hesitantly walks out to the living room, not overly surprised that Emmett still hasn't left. He's sitting at the counter island in the kitchen with the food he said he'd order earlier.
He's clothed again, thankfully.
"Hey," he frowns sympathetically when he sees her. She must look pretty bad. "I got you pancakes, but then I didn't know if you liked bacon or hash browns, so I got both. And coffee. And a side of fruit. Take your pick."
"Thanks," she says, taking the coffee and removing the lid so it can cool. She takes a sip and it scalds her tongue.
"What happened?" he asks, watching as she picks apart a strip of bacon.
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
"It doesn't seem like nothing. You look really upset. I feel bad."
She shakes her head, "Well, you shouldn't."
"Are you sure? I don't—aw, don't cry," he gets up and runs around the kitchen island to hug while she sits and tries to drink her coffee. She unsuccessfully wills the tears in her eyes to not fall.
His snug, comfortingly warm embrace only makes her fall back apart into sobs. He rests his chin on top of her damp hair.
"You were great last night. I thought we had really good chemistry," Emmett reflects aloud. "You seemed okay when we went to sleep, so I'm confused."
She was fine when they went to sleep. It wasn't until morning that it hit her and she suddenly found herself stricken with anxiety.
Like Cinderella and her magical pumpkin carriage, there's a limit to how much pretending she can do. She's still not back to normal, and she isn't sure if she'll ever be.
Normal Rosalie—the one from two months ago when she still lived out east and had her life together—wouldn't have gotten herself in this type of situation.
She sniffles, "I haven't woken up with anyone in my bed before."
"Oh. Oh! Wait, that wasn't your first time, was it? I guess I assumed—" Emmett falters.
He's being considerate enough. Talking seems to help. She feels like she can think a bit clearer now that she's less worked up.
"No, I..." she exhales. She wonders what counts, and if what happened previously qualifies. "It wasn't. I'm just still kind of shaken up from the engagement, I think."
"It's okay. I understand, kinda," he says, rubbing her back. He leans over so he can look her in the eye. "I really like you and I'd really like to keep seeing you, if possible. I don't want this to be a one-time thing. I'd like to maybe...date...or something."
Rosalie shakes her head again.
"You don't want to keep seeing each other?" he's taken aback.
She sighs, "No, I do."
"Really?!" he exclaims excitedly. "Sorry, I thought you might ghost me after this. You're still crying. I'll try to contain my enthusiasm."
"I don't understand that," she says, with small a teary-eyed laugh. "I've been so mean to you."
His rumbling chuckle shakes them both, his arms relaxing so he's not squeezing her in a bear hug any longer. "You're so cool! And you're cute even when your nose is all red and kind of snotty."
She grabs one of the napkins off the countertop and blots at her face. He kisses her on the temple before going back to his spot seated across from her to eat his breakfast.
Rosalie feels like maybe she'll be okay like this. Maybe, just maybe, there's a chance she can have the smallest bit of happiness.
The blond grabs a pat of butter and one of the mini syrup pods off the counter to put over her stack of pancakes.
"Thanks, Emmett."
His bright blue eyes look up at her, twinkling. He gives her a dimpled smile. "For what?"
"For not being a jerk."
"I try not to," he grins. "By the way, are you going to the game next weekend? You should come see me play. I can get you good seats."