An update will come for the other story as well. Let me know if you hate it or not. I actually kind of enjoy the hate I get for my stories, some of the comments about how bad my writing are pretty funny and blunt. They're also reasonable so I kind of like them. I appreciate all the feedback regardless of what the outcome is.
Wild
Her hands weave the bolt into place with nimble ease. A sudden and disruptive tap resounds in the dim garage, and from underneath the truck she envisions the small vampires mouth enunciating the words to some inane pop melody. An idle breath releases from her lips evenly: the blonde slides from her position underneath, sets down her tools, wipes at the stains on her hands, and in a stealthy movement she observes Alice with a dull scowl.
"What is it that you need Alice?"
Alice dips her eyes towards the concrete floor.
"Bella had decided to head into the den of wolves with her friends." Alice murmurs into the late air.
A silent appraisal of the spiky-haired vampire is a means to ease her patience, to decrypt the sudden request, but it does none. The observation deepens oppose her incoming irritation because her nostrils flare. Be it her own dubiety or the evident plea in the eyes of her adoptive sister, but a fire burns in the amber of her eyes until a hue of coal takes its vibrancy. She sets the tools onto the wooden countertop meticulously, mind elsewhere—the vampires' meddlesome antics at the forefront of her thoughts. Her eyes cast towards her hands as she mechanically cleans the wrench, she eludes the pixies acute stare.
"I don't see how this information is pertinent to me," Rosalie sneers. "Or have you forgotten that I have told you on numerous occasions that I could care less for that meek little human."
(Soul clenched with dishonesty, her mind is stalled by that faint lie).
(Alice observes the blonde, transparently reproached from the harsh disillusionment Rosalie has cast upon herself. It has taken a lifetime to reach into the stoic impression the sullen vampire has repressed herself into, however in this instance Alice believes that this time her adoptive sister has fixed a perfect barrier between desire and fate. So, she decides to dive without trepidation for the result).
"Dishonesty with yourself will cause you a lifetime of pain you cannot reverse. Your perverse reaction to that 'meek little human' who has single handedly given you hope only highlights your stupidity, Rosalie."
The blonde vampire blinks then. Her mind whirls, and wide orbs rein in the expectant brow; the quirked lip, and terse nod stifles her abundant fury. Rosalie had not dared think of the human in any other manner besides 'frail, and impractical', hope had not been preserved for the brunette who had such a trivial role in her life. This human was cruel, candid, and; the unconventional circumstance that they've found themselves to be, has no such influence over her free will to develop the silly notion to label the emotions that Bella instilled upon her as hope. A tiresome frown worries her features in an impossibly precarious way.
"You won't be able to protect her in their territory," Alice implores delicately. "Just—please, for once Rosalie think about the repercussions that can come from the decision to keep her away."
Abrupt and heedless, she relents—only momentarily.
…
Calm, chilly, quite—this felt like home. She often despised the cold, as a child it would trickle into her bones and wreak havoc about her internal warmth, and the fevers, chills, snot, and rosy cheeks it brought were never kind. She believed she adored the heat of phoenix; however, she had always felt out of place in that lively and sunny city. Or possibly her loneliness was due to the intrusive idea that she was the sole purpose of her mother's sadness as the woman couldn't travel far and wide with her husband because of Bella. However, this, small and quaint town that she had decided to move back to on a whim seemed to be the peace that she hadn't known she craved for. The clumsy and peculiar interactions she had with her father during their rather homey and easy dinners, her loud and quirky friends, the rainy and dreary weather. It all has firmly bonded her to this town and its eccentric individuals it homes.
She breaths in the crisp and dampened air, the autumn leaves a tell all sign for the season to come. Fall was near, and it seemed to excite her friends much more than typically.
"Bella," She winces at the hand that clamps onto her shoulders. "We have a solution to your woes."
Blonde, honey orbs and that familiar ice creeps into her mind—and her lips twitch into a smile of irony at his loose lips. Her 'woes' were a far cry from the persistent dreary, and wet weather of the past days.
"We," Eric points around the group emphatically. "Know that this weather has affected you gravely my dear Isabella. So, we have decided to embark on a trip down to La Push to surf those radical waves before Fall whisks away the summer weather away completely. What do you say?"
Bella swallows the mirthful chuckle threatening to escape her lips at the notion of her actively doing anything that remotely has to do with coordination. However, her mind has been captured with the firm punch of the blonde that has reserved her to remain at a distance.
"I don't know much about surfing as I am helplessly uncoordinated, but I haven't been to La Push in forever and maybe I could relax while watching you guys."
(That familiar peer. Overcome with the turmoil of plausibility, disquieted from her own sorrow).
Bella blinks, a stealthy wind shifts into the air slips into the slits of her pants, trickles into her bones, and her body reacts with a tentative shiver. Her eyes flicker to the darkened skies, a downpour was meant to occur today. Only there was a particular grievance about the day, a somber heaviness in her chest. Today would be detrimental, and somehow it eased and instilled a feel of trepidation and elation in her as she could not decipher what was to be so detrimental to her.
…
The hall essentially vacant apart from her lone presence, her lips curl around a futile scream, as frustration encompasses her mood, and her wayward reaction to this rather consequential moment. Her choice has been made, and she dare not wonder of its repercussions. While her ears are tuned to the expensive hall that seemed far more clamorous empty than full, she sours viciously at the mild and lonely footfall to her left. lub-dub-lub…that familiar heartbeat resounds wildly and dubiously, her hands clench. A low and vile truth that the heartbeat tells, and her decision becomes all the more cruel.
Sturdy frame leaned on the locker next to the owner of whom she waits for, Rosalie delivers the arrival of the human with a studious and wooden inclination of her head. Bella appraises her peculiar presence with an eerily curious tilt of her own head, as she halts in front of the blonde. Silence bodes them well, as the pair remain discontented to speak. The blonde quells the quick quirk of her lip as the human rattles through her locker in irritation.
(A wild breath of her soul quiets her loneliness—easily and delicately so).
It all seems too riled, as the calm trepidation leaks from every movement of the human, her own silence dispels the content she covets in reserved moments like so. The olive knitted sweater that the brunette adorns steals her stare, and the blonde elects that she loathes the shade on the flushed skin that absorbs the human in an odd manner. Meek. Rosalie touts her disapproval for the overtly flustered teen, with a solid sneer and the displacement of her stare. This plain and small human was all the same, a feeble creature that stood above none.
"You don't seem too happy today," Bella offers lowly. "And it seems like my presence may be apart of your foul mood in some way or another."
Rosalie inks down another one of her displeasures with the teen, but the amusement settled within her core cannot be quelled; however dull, this human has captured her attention like none other and she fully intends to explore why that is so, (despite the notion that fate has allowed her the emotion akin to so). She peers at the human with a solemn and assured inclination, her barriers weakened temporarily.
"You like to read." Rosalie drawls out stiffly.
For over a year she had observed the human sidle past the halls; settled in the library, and head ducked lowly in the cafeteria due to a different novel weekly. A twinkle occurs about the murky brown orbs, and Rosalie bristles internally. The salient comment is a veiled note that seems to interest the human kindly, and she dully observes the quirked lip of the human.
"And apparently it's you who can't seem to stay away." Bella punches the witty comment with a curt and cautious 'slam' of her locker. "So, tell me to what or whom do I owe the pleasure of your presence to Rosalie?"
Rosalie bounds from the locker she previously leaned upon and her darkened orbs land on the ordinary human. Hands clenched; irises tumultuous—she pauses. Bella. The overt absence of her control around the teen, this wholly dull and tiresome human has her composure at an impasse. Contrite, reproached, and burned from her inability to fathom who this human was, and is the vampire bridled. Despite the devilish venom frantically storming her mouth, the blonde feels tethered to the meek voice, of which has generated such reaction. The vampire refuses to settle her eyes, mind adamant that if seen her prey may fall victim to waywardness. However, her silence does not daunt the witless human. Rosalie lowers at the porcelain tiles in deep contemplation, dark orbs cavernous and loud.
(She quells the sullen echo that encompasses the blonde).
"I want to apologize for my behaviour towards you," Rosalie numbly blinks. "I understand that my initial impression of you is a bit biased."
"In what way?"
Provocation, this teen dares and smiles kindly at her remote and candid antics; Bella is terse when she is so, curtness and composure as equally aloof as she. Rosalie finds that this human pleasantly maddens her, the irony of the situation daunts her. Bella feeds into her control witfully, coolly, and studiously.
(Interest wholly charmed with wonderment).
"What are your plans for this weekend?" Rosalie counters, eyes falling onto the human.
A beautiful ruckus consumes the human's heartbeat, and the vampire weakens, a dark and sullen shadow overcoming her. Bella blinks, a flare of irritation clings to her—however the teen relents, hands adjusting the books in her arms.
(They're equal like so. Souls tethered and amusement entirely entertained by the other).
"A couple of my friends invited me to La Push to watch them surf. What are your plans for this weekend?"
Bella entreats earnestly, stare expectant and intricate. Rosalie follows in pursuit as the teen saunters towards the cafeteria, intent on ruminating her own motivations for soliciting the human's company. Her qualms, about this precarious dance isn't rectifiable and the heaviness in her chest quells only at the ideal outcome that she intends to occur. Shoulders taut, lips curled, and mind made impossibly resolute she clasps her hands together behind her back, as a personal dilemma stalks her.
(There is something faint, an almost whisper in that regal expression of the rather obtuse blonde, loneliness perhaps, defiance still above all).
"I wanted to…" Rosalie evaluates the words on her tongue warily. "I actually wanted to spend it with you," The blonde observes the modest falter in the human's step.
"To see what it is that I underestimated about you." Rosalie concludes her statement with poise.
(A sincere rumble underneath the core that's tattered, beaten, and lost between them quakes—beautifully worn, and optimistic).
Perhaps this rather audacious, and opportunistic blonde and the might of her curtness is what pulls the chuckle from the human's chest in all amusement. A faint, honest and wide twinkle comes to her eye as she finally releases her deliberations to settle back onto the blonde. The vampire bristles at the kind and earnest melody, before casting her eyes ahead ruefully. Balked from the rather odd reaction.
"I don't think that it's entirely untrue, but I can't help but feel like there's some ulterior motive behind your sudden change of heart. Just three days ago you wanted nothing to do with me, and now you want to get to know me."
Rosalie clamps her teeth down unto her slick tongue, eyebrow quirked and mood ever more irked.
"And people change Isabella," She mutters darkly. "My own shouldn't seem so unfathomable."
This human radiates a brilliant mirth, mouth curved into a fair smile that dims as her mind continues to reel, and whirl around the motivation for this queer conversation. However, she is far from affronted, and that dismays the blonde easily.
(That kettle is heated passionately, and their leisure dance flicker lively flames proudly. One sputters, the other peers in an unfamiliar adoration).
"And somehow I find that to be a little ironic coming from you Rosalie."
The vampire halts, mood darkened, lips warped in a defiant sneer—they're closer to the cafeteria and the wave of a pertinent smell slithers into her senses in a silent taunt. A scent, rather a stench draws a hiss from her pursed lips, this human is impossibly irksome. Bella stalls and peers at the blonde with wonderment, curiosity, and that horrid phenomenon of entertainment flickers behind her umber eyes.
(Infuriated, and charmed with this human. A lure that seems more vile than pleasant).
"How presumptuous of you," The blonde scowls deeply. "You don't know me."
"Well how about you start by being a little less rude and a little more friendly, because it seems to me that you already have this idea of who I am before we've even had the chance to have a decent conversation."
She becomes piqued by the curtness of the remark, and it's then that she reins in her violent uninhibited reaction, scorned by this mousy human whose more resolved and has far more bite than she initially believed. Rosalie, practice, cultivated, poised, and reserved stares at the teen in wide bemusement. Her amber orbs steady, and intentional as she ponders about this unconventional human—the teen ambles past her motionless stature silently, three steps far before the low words are enunciated well.
"It is not aloofness it is superiority. We all have our flaws Rosalie and I like to think that being a fool isn't one of mine."
Her words stifled, dead on her lips. Her stoned stature slackens, and then relents wearily.
…
She falls into creaky seat, the inelastic plastic the least of her tribulations. Her mind wickedly swaddled from that once meek human, her wild turmoil burdened with that firm and soft voice; enkindled with this rather sincere teen. Rosalie smiles, soft, low, and somber; interest severely heightened.
lub-dub-lub… Rosalie bridles at the familiar heartbeat; human, comely and vibrant.
(She pursues with a symphony of her own, melancholic, and lonesome that resounds beautifully so).
Another quote but from Megan Abbott. True in every sense too. My editing will get better, since I am pretty trash at that most times.