Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight and its characters. Only the original author and publisher (Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Company) own the story. This story was written for entertainment purposes only. This interpretation of the original story does not seek to earn any profit from its owners. It is merely written for fun so others may enjoy!
Chapter 3
As I stand under the hot water in my shower, the bone-deep exhaustion that permeates my entire body from last night's strong emotions starts to leave my body. Any time I experience a significant emotional event, standing under the spray and letting the hot water pour down me always seems to help me reset myself to continue with the new day. For months after Carlisle turned me, my family often found me standing under the water, partly crazed, trying to stabilize myself after a rough day coping with the raging emotions coursing through my veins.
"Who wouldn't be going crazy?" I mumble to myself as I complete my coping ritual and grab my shampoo. Between my favorite smell of lilacs and the wonderful feeling of massaging my hair, I can't help the groan that leaves my mouth. As I continue to massage my scalp, I imagine what it would be like with Isabella in the shower with me, standing under me and making similar groans as I massage her favorite shampoo into her hair.
Licking my lips over what her groans of pleasure would sound like, I imagine myself pressing my entire body against her back and wrapping my arms around her front to explore every inch of her. Exploring myself as if I were her, I begin to pant, thinking about how she would feel in my hands. With my libido driving my imagination, I can practically feel her moans as I begin to ravage her neck, and as she tilts her head to give me more access, my left hand begins to massage her breast while my right hand makes its way towards her center.
"Oh God," I moan as I continue to use myself as if I was her. Just as my hand finishes its track down my body reaching its destination, the feeling of cold water instead of the hot water I was used to startles me out of my lust-filled dream. With a startled gasp, I jump out of the cold water, shivering, not from the cold but the high just forced from my body by the surprising water change. As a vampire, cold water does not bother me, but it sure can ruin a sexual moment if you are not expecting the sudden change. With a grumble, I get back under the spray and finish my shower routine.
A little while later, I sit perfectly poised at my vanity in my towel, brushing out my hair. As I work through my hair, my mind starts to wander again, but instead of sexual thoughts, it is focused on one of the few good memories I have of my past. Every night, no matter what occurred, my mother would always sit with me in my room and brush out my hair while talking about our day. With a sense of hope, I began to think about how I could encourage Isabella to perform the same ritual.
Looking into my eyes in the mirror, I think, "How will I get this to happen, to include the shower scene?" With a smirk, I look at my beauty, "Of course, it will not be a problem at all; my beauty and my experience will ensure we experience these moments. Moments of pure joy that we will both enjoy." With a nod to myself, confirming my assuredness of the future, I set down my brush and reach to grab my makeup.
Before I grab my primer, my subconscious whispers self-destructively, "What experience, you have spent most of your life either shallow or angry, scoffing at the very idea of love!"
"You have no experience at love!"
With that final thought, I freeze with my arm stretched out, turning to look at myself in the mirror with horror. "I am right," I think with a sinking feeling. "I have no experience in these matters; I spent most of my human life expecting interested parties to approach me and all of my time as a vampire filled with anger."
"Is my plan really to flaunt my beauty at her? She will think I am an utter fool. I need to talk to her, connect with her!" Pulling my arm back, I rub at my face in frustration, and with another groan, I continue with my panicked thoughts, "How do I approach her?"
"How do I talk to her?"
"What do I say to her?"
My hands drop from my face, and I look at myself in the mirror, slouched with panic and fear, "How am I going to do this?" I say out loud. Before I can spiral further out of control, a knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. Realizing who is at the door, I stutter through my panic, "C-c-c-ome in Esme."
As she cautiously enters my territory, she stops when she meets my panic look in the mirror. She quickly takes in my slumped figure and the fear on my face, opposite my usually perfectly poised figure and emotionless face. She quickly rushes over and sits next to me at my vanity. Scooting over to give her more room on the bench, I look down at my shaking hands.
Shuffling over, Esme covers my hands with one of her own and reaches out with her other hand to stroke my cheek. She holds my hand and strokes my cheek for several moments until I turn to look at her, and she drops her hand from my face when I open my mouth. But I say nothing, "How do I tell her what I am feeling?" As she watches me open and close my mouth several times, she continues to hold my hands with both of hers, waiting patiently for me to say something.
After struggling to say something for several more minutes, she smiles at me lovingly and says, "We don't have to talk about last night or what you are struggling with until you are ready, dear." She pauses, watching for my response, and when I utter a soft, "okay," she continues, "But I do need to know if you are okay."
With one last look at Esme, I look down at our joined hands and softly shake my head to tell her no, I am not okay. Before I can finish shaking my head, Esme pivots to straddle the bench and turns me enough so she can pull me into her arms. As I cling to her, she utters a soft, "Oh, Rose."
Several minutes pass with me clutching her as she holds me in her safe embrace before she softly says, "It's okay if nothing is okay, and while you may not be ready to tell me, I think I know what is going on." She pauses to hold my shoulders and push me away enough so she can look me in the eye. Once we make eye contact, she continues, "The rest of the family and I are here to stand at your side, ready to help you develop your relationship with your mate."
Seeing the surprise on my face that she so clearly understands my plight, she gives me a small smile as she asks, "Is there anything I can help you with now?" As if this was the signal my conscious was waiting for, I immediately start unloading question after question on her, "How do I talk to her?"
"How do I get her to like me?"
"What if I am too broken?"
"How do I get her to love me?"
"How do I become her friend?"
"How do I do anything when it comes to her?"
With a soft look, she tells me the simplest solution, "By taking it one step at a time, Rose." She continues with a faint smile, "You two are meant for each other; she will understand and accept you." Softly squeezing my shoulders, she adds, "Even fated relationships require effort, but as long as you both talk and share who you are, things will be okay." Dropping her hands from my shoulders, she grabs my hands again and continues, "It's okay to be scared, but do not overthink this; act naturally and be true to yourself. Stay true to yourself and her, and everything will work out naturally." Setting my hands down, she unstraddles the bench to sit on it normally and turns her head to look at me and say, "And Rose, never forget that you are not alone in this; I will always be here for you, okay?"
Looking into her eyes, I shakily smile and say, "I understand, Esme, and thank you." With a smile, she turns to look at the makeup on my vanity, and with a devious smile, she looks at me in the mirror. With a questioning look back at her, she smirks as she grabs my eye makeup and bright red lipstick and says, "How about I help you knock her socks off."
With a smile on my face and a sense of purpose filling me, I find myself naturally resuming my normally perfect posture. I spend the rest of the morning letting Esme apply my makeup and pick my outfit.
The rest of the morning passes in a blur of excitement and impatience to see my mate in our shared class just before lunch. Now that the moment is upon us, I pause as I walk down the hallway to English Literature in a moment of nervousness. As if he senses my emotional conflict, Emmet appears by my side and pulls me into a one-arm hug." Alice told me to watch out for this moment since we walk past each other on our way to our next class Rosalie," he mentions.
Deciding to tell Alice thank you in my mind, I feel my phone buzz, and with a quick look, I confirm it was her sending a "your welcome." As I place my phone back into my purse, Emmett continues, "Now, there is no need to be so nervous, just do what I do with my mate and go in there strutting your stuff."
Stepping out from his arm, I look at him with a raised eyebrow, "And what is this stuff I have to strut, dear brother?" With a smirk, he says, "Your hotness Rose!" Waggling his eyebrows at me, he continues, "I mean, you heard her yesterday she loves you in heels, and look at you standing here in your Lou whatever heels, sinfully tight pants, and a sexy button-down shirt showing off the girls."
With a scoff at Emmett, I say, "I will not be strutting my stuff as you so eloquently stated, Emmett, because I am a lady, and ladies do not flaunt; they entice." Rolling his eyes at me, "Whatever, Rose, now go and entice your lady," he says, raising his fingers to make quotation marks at the word entice.
Shaking my head at him, I walk away, determinedly not strutting, toward my next class. Once I pass the corner into the hallway with the entrance into my classroom insight, I look behind me to ensure he is not following me before I begin my strut into the class.
With a subtle smirk, I entire the room, excited to see the look on her face and her mouth drop as I walk up to her and sit next to her. But to my surprise, she is not in the classroom, and instead of her mouth dropping, every teenage boy's mouths drop. With a look of disgust, I stop my strut and hurry to my seat at the two-person desk in the back.
Ignoring the looks, I set my stuff at my desk with a frown, and I sit down. Only to hear my phone buzz in my purse. Pulling it out, I see a text from Alice stating, "If it helps, she would have loved your strut." With a growl, I text back, "why didn't you tell me she would not be here?"
Getting only a winky emoji back from her, I throw my phone in my purse and place my head in my hands with a groan. The bell rings soon after, signaling the beginning of the class sans my mate. As I continue to groan into my hands in embarrassment, her smell quickly invades my senses. I quickly sit up, fixing my posture, hoping she did not see me in such an embarrassing pose.
I watch her hesitantly enter the classroom and walk up to the teacher, Ms. Sterling, holding out a piece of paper; she softly says, "Sorry I am late; I got a little lost trying to find the classroom."
"God, her voice sounds so amazing," I think to myself, missing the initial response from the teacher. Ms. Stirling says, "Go ahead and take any open seat; it looks like there are three available."
With a quick glance around, I confirm that three of the 25 seats are available. Two are open next to another girl and a boy, and the other is next to me. Watching as she glances around at the other seats, I cannot help but sit up even straighter and subtly push my chest out while I adopt what I hope is an enticing look on my face. When her eyes settle on me, I see her pause for a moment and then look down as she starts walking toward me and the other empty seat.
"Please sit next to me, oh god, please sit next to me, "I think, hoping my face does not betray my emotions. As she walks past the other empty seat, I have to bite the corner of my lip to prevent myself from whooping in joy. "I am a lady, and ladies do not whoop," I internally remind myself. As I continue biting my lip, I start to think about how I will introduce myself as she walks closer. My thoughts are interrupted when I notice that her heart rate is increasing as she continues to get closer.
"Oh no, does she fear me?" I briefly panic. But that thought quickly leaves her mind when I notice her gaze is on my lips, and her heart rate is increasing even more.
With a shocked, "oh my" in my head, I stop biting my lip as she comes to my, "no, our table" I correct and places her stuff at the side. As she sits down and places her notebook and pencil on the surface in front of her, I begin to plan my introduction mentally. "Okay, just tap her shoulder to get her to look at you, then hold your hand out and say hi. Just be cool; you got this. It won't be…"
Before I can finish mentally hyping myself, Isabella suddenly faces me in her chair, holding out her hand, and confidently says, despite her heart beating rapidly, "Hello, I hope you don't mind me sitting next to you. My name is Isabella, but I go by Bella. What is your name?"
"Holy crap, so confidant even though she is nervous, that is beautiful," I think internally, but I say, "R-R-Rosalie, my name is Rosalie."
"Great, you sound like an idiot. You are supposed to be the confidant one. You are the freaking vampire, for God's sake," I internally berate myself. "Nice to meet you, Rosalie," she says with her hand still out, subtly wiggling it, and with a start, I realize she is waiting for me to shake her hand. Shaking my head internally, I reach out to grab her hand, saying, "Nice to meet you, Bella."
When I grab her hand, she gives it a little shake before letting go and turning to face Ms. Sterling so she can pay attention to what she is saying. But I am too lost in my head, reliving the moment of finally getting to touch my mate, to pay attention to the teacher. It takes me several moments of staring at her before I remember to drop my hand and face towards the front.
After facing my teacher, I start to internally celebrate over finally connecting with my mate when I suddenly have a startling thought.
"I am hers, and I will do anything for her!"
A/N: A big thank you to everyone who left some comments, favorites, and follows. I enjoyed seeing them!
A couple of points for this chapter:
1. Bella takes care of her mother in the books but is rather weak and quickly caves to Edward, which does not make sense. She has a strength that helps her overcome fears and nervousness and helps her talk to pretty ladies despite being nervous.
2. Beauty does not mean you are confident. Even the most beautiful person can have self-esteem and self-doubt.
3. I am not sure how explicit I will get with my postings in Fanfiction, but I may edit them out so I don't get in trouble with the website. But don't worry; I will not edit the chapters I post in AO3. I have not edited anything out, and my username is almost the same. The only difference is there isn't a space between my first and last.
Until next time!
