The rain ran down the window in rushing rivulets next to Rosalie's shoulder from where she sat on Juliette's bed, the dismal light illuminating her porcelain skin. Despite the lack of conversation, the air didn't feel thick with tension or discomfort. Jules felt unusually relaxed as she hummed vacantly along to the soft music playing from her record player, sat straddling her desk chair with her left fore-arm resting over the back, eyes glued to her task as she took great care in exactly how she brought her painted flowers to life.
After Rosalie had dismissed the offer of another warm beverage, Jules had seen to making herself a cup of steaming mint tea, which now sat half-drank on the desk next to her amongst the neatly organized paints and tools as she focused on finishing her door. Rosalie had seen fit to start on her own homework, annotating the next set of poems due for Mister Mason's class in her anthology book. It felt nice not to have to force polite conversation with someone just because the circumstances forced them together- in fact, Jules had the impression Rosalie did not want to be in her presence at all. Jules would feel content to ignore the girl until she could leave, if it were humanly possible for Jules to ignore her at all. It felt strange- as if Jules were lying out in the sun, she could feel the presence of Rosalie Hale radiating towards her, ghosting almost palpable on her skin.
"May I ask you something?" Rosalie's lovely voice made her pause, glancing over her shoulder at the blonde, eyes flickering back to the paint she was mixing. "Why do you skate to school?"
Jules furrowed her eyebrows. She didn't recall seeing Rosalie when she had skated into school- and certainly not when she skated home. Her heart skipped a beat as Jules faced the revelation that she had noticed her. It sat funny in her stomach, knowing Rosalie Hale had potentially laid eyes on her long before Jules even knew she existed.
"Um, it's fun? I used to skate to school in Paris, but it was not terribly out of the norm there. Many of my friends skated with me." Jules shrugged. I don't think anyone's ever questioned my skates before.
"You don't have a car?" Rosalie's head tilted a little to the side, her poetry anthology book in her lap, against her raised knees, pen hovering over a page.
"I do. Sort of- it's a truck, um, it belonged to my grandfather." Jules furrowed her eyebrows, unable to comprehend why she was struggling to string a fluid sentence as she turned the wheeled desk chair around so she was facing the source of her discombobulation.
"You can't drive?" Rosalie's eyes shone with understanding, her tone reflecting what she thought was the end to the conversation. Jules only shook her head.
"I can- I passed my test this summer." She corrects, and she opens her mouth to continue to explain but the blonde cuts her off.
"So you choose not to?"
"No, no I don't choose to skate- I don't enjoy the risk of hypothermia." Jules rolled her eyes. Rosalie snorts. "The truck's stuck in the garage. It needs a lot of restoration before it'll be in driving condition. I'm hoping it'll be done by my senior year, at least."
"What year and make is it?" Rosalie frowns. "Or was it wrecked?"
"Neglect, mostly. It's been sitting here waiting for me for quite a few years." Jules hummed. "It's an F150 shortbed."
Rosalie's eyes lit up in recognition of the name, surprising Jules only a little as she felt the spark of curiosity light up within her, continuing on. "My Grandfather bought it new in 1986, but he could only drive it for a year I think before his mobility started to intervene. It's sat in one garage or the other ever since. Left it to me when he passed."
"It must mean a great deal to you." Rosalie's eyes were distant, but Jules only smiled fondly in the foggy memories of her Grandpa Geoff.
"It does. I used to be crazy about that thing, in my head it was a monster truck towering over me. In retrospect, I was probably just tiny." Jules chuckled. "It'll be nice to see it back to its former glory one day. Maybe drive it down to the California from here the way he wanted to."
"Can I see it?" Rosalie's response was hard and abrupt, almost a blurted demand, jarring Jules enough to frown at her. The blonde didn't seem to notice. "I'm pretty handy around an engine."
"Oh. Uh, sure." Jules set her paintbrush down, manoeuvring her body off the chair before she pulled the door open for Rosalie. "Yeah um, just through here."
Jules wiped her hands with the rag from before, making sure she wasn't smudging paint anywhere as Rosalie followed her to the entryway where she opened the door to the garage, across from the kitchen. Jules switched on the lights, waiting for the flickering tubes to finally buzz on for good. It was a pretty small space, cramped enough to only really house a few shelves of junk and parts and the washing machine and dryer, the rest of the space taken up by the large beast that was her grandfather's paint-chipped formerly forest green truck. The hood was mostly just rust, she'd managed to restore the chrome-work and a few of multiple dents, but she didn't have a lot of experience with engines. Billy Black had guided her through most of what she had managed to fix thus far. "Wow. You weren't kidding."
"It just needs some love." Jules chuckled, watching as Rosalie helped herself, popping the hood. Within it was a mess of cables that had been ruined by squirrels that had at one point made themselves residents within the truck, and the shambles of an engine that had certainly seen better days. "Poor thing has been lonely too long, hmm? Sometimes all it takes is someone to believe in what you can be to bring out your best self. Breathe the life back into your lungs."
Rosalie glanced back at the way Jules smiled warmly at the truck, skinny arms folded under her chest. She could not read the blonde's expression from where she leaned over the engine, but there was an age-old melancholy in her eyes that Jules could not bear to unravel. What a strange little mystery you are, ma chérie. "You enjoy restoring things."
"I do." Jules nods, leaning back against the doorway, crossing one foot over the other. She wrinkles her nose up, shrugging. "Well, I am not certain if restoration is the correct term."
Rosalie only continued to look at her, the patience as she listened something Jules was not used to amongst her peers, and something she had not realized she had craved with her crumbling relationship with her friends in La Push, so busy with their own lives as they were. There was something unusual about the near-stranger in her garage and the way she soothed her very bones. "There's something about old things that has always left me spellbound. There's such a rich story behind every piece, such history and beauty and pride behind the craftsmanship. I like to give them a second chance at life where others would deem their lifetime complete."
"Plus, I get bored easily." Jules adds on charmingly with a cheeky grin, making Rosalie finally break and chuckle. "I must admit, I did not expect you to be interested in mechanics."
"I want to become a car designer." Rosalie turned her attention back to the engine in front of her, trying to hide the way her lips twitched upward- an impossible feat considering how hyper-aware Jules seemed to be about her every action. "I feel like I've spent years and years inside a garage."
"I'll admit, I'm more interested in the superficial than the mechanics. I'm not very good at that part." Jules chuckled. "It's why I expect I'll take so long to fix up the engine. My Uncle's friends have been guiding me through it, but they're unable to stop by often enough to make steady progress."
"I could help if you'd like." Rosalie offered, eyes lighting up. Jules froze, not expecting to hear genuine excitement in her voice. Or at least, the closest thing to excitement she had seen on the frustratingly aloof goddess in her garage.
"I would appreciate that, but I would not wish to-"
"I insist." Rosalie cut her off with the same icy cool tone she had used in the hospital, leaving no room for argument as Jules' mouth clamped shut. She squinted at the blonde, but Rosalie did not flinch. "In fact, I insist on driving you home from school from now on. The last thing I need is you catching pneumonia and Carlisle having to deal with it."
"Thanks. I really appreciate how much you care for my wellbeing." Jules snarked sarcastically.
Rosalie's lips twitched upward in a triumphant smirk. And then she seemed distracted, eyes growing distant. Jules frowned, about to ask if she was alright, before she heard the sound of Charlie's keys in the front door directly behind her.
"Jules? You o- Jesus!" Charlie jumped after realizing that his niece was directly next to him and not crashed on her bed like she had been earlier in the week. "Make a sound, would ya?"
"You did not give me the opportunity." Jules rolled her eyes with amusement over her shoulder, turning back to Rosalie who had a strange look on her face. "Uncle Charlie, you remember Rosalie Hale."
"Just Rosalie." The blonde shoots her a brief sharp glare, to which Jules only raised an eyebrow lazily with a dimpled grin. "The storm sounds like it's let up, I should probably get going before it gets bad again."
"You probably should, this is the kind that lasts 'til morning." Charlie nodded grimly, immediately concerned for the wellbeing of the teenage guest in his house. "Uh, you need an escort with the cruiser?"
"No sir, I'm sure I'll be fine. I'm a safe driver." Rosalie's smile seems to make the ever-broody Charlie Swan blink in stupor, Jules' heart twitching with oddly misplaced over-protectiveness as she pushes herself off the doorway, nodding over her shoulder.
"Come on. I will help you pack up your things." She gives Rosalie an escape from her Uncle, patting him on his rain-drenched shoulder as she passed him. "Get into the shower old man, leave your clothes out. You smell like wet dog."
"Been a long day." Charlie groaned, trudging up the stairs in his wet boots. "I'll mop that up later!"
"No you won't!" Jules shouts back after him. Once more, Rosalie seems distant, and Jules cannot comprehend the sudden change in demeanour as she leads the blonde back to her bedroom. "Sorry about that. You sure you don't want to wait? Perhaps the rain will stop all-together."
"You heard the Chief, it'll probably last all night. He's been here longer than the both of us." Rosalie points out sagely as she collects up her anthology book and highlighters while Jules picks up her backpack for her. When her things are packed up, they both walk back towards the front door, halting and hovering, lingering in the doorway where Jules continued to hold the knob. Was this truly as abrupt a goodbye as it feels, or do I just want her to stay forever? What is wrong with me?
Rosalie isn't the kind to be kind without reason, something Jules suspects as the curiously unreadable blonde's lips twitch upward into another soft almost-smirk. "I'll see you on Monday."
"Yep." Jules nods.
"Don't spend your whole weekend painting, you have homework. Lots of it." Rosalie scolds her pre-emptively, making Jules roll her eyes with a light huff of indignation. The blonde's eyes swim with mirth. "If it rains in the morning I'll come pick you up for school."
"You don't-"
"I insist."
