The staring was back as the two girls stepped into the overpopulated corridor, the sound of Jules' laughter fading off into the buzz of loud chatter that invaded their senses. Jules couldn't help but roll her eyes after turning away from Rosalie, shifting her backpack around to her front so she could slip her umbrella into the water bottle pocket. "See you in homeroom?"
"I could walk you to your locker if you'd like." Rosalie was looming over her as they walked together, hovering.
"I'm not running away." Jules rolls her eyes again, ignoring the multiple gazes she feels on her skin. "You seem pretty adamant on your stupid decision to volunteer your precious free time on a busted truck. If that's the hill you wish to die on, fine. Who am I to stop you?"
"You're vexed." Rosalie's amused, having her way as she seemed to always manage to as they walked together through the parting crowds to Jules' locker right by their homeroom.
"You're vexing." Jules shoots back.
"No, it's more than that. You don't enjoy not being in control of the situation, do you? That's why you wanted to get rid of me. You don't enjoy someone else being in charge." Rosalie hits a nerve, Jules' jaw twitching at being psychoanalyzed. The blonde seems proud of herself for unearthing a secret. "Touchy, touchy."
"Bite me." Jules growls at her playful taunts.
Rosalie laughs, but there's a bitter edge to it. "Oh sweetheart, that's the last thing you'd want."
Jules grumbles, twisting at the combination before pulling her locker open, setting her coat inside it first. She'd dressed simpler than usual that morning, a pale pastel blue button down shirt rolled up to her elbows and tucked into the hem of her high waisted 501s, showing off her figure for Rosalie- not that she would ever admit to it. If she hadn't been in school she would've painted her lips red, but this might have been too obvious. The blonde at her side was clearly interested in fashion, and she oddly craved her approval. She hated that she craved her approval."Are you ever going to leave me alone?"
"We have all our classes together."
"So you did notice." It's a small triumph, but Jules celebrates it nonetheless as she fixes her hair in the little mirror she had taped to the inside of her door amidst the clutter of her polaroids. She begins to unpack her backpack, sorting quickly through what she needed and what she didn't. "Fun fact? Friends don't smother new friends."
Rosalie rolls her eyes. "Would it be so terrible to allow me to get to know you? I'm curious. Let me be curious."
"You have until lunch before you start to get on my nerves."
"You could never tire of me." Rosalie rolls her pretty gold eyes.
She hates that she might be right. Jules had struggled to understand the intensity of her feelings for this girl when they had been perfect strangers, but now that she was adamant in spending so much time with her, it felt like overexposure. Everything was suddenly too much, and she felt as if her skin was on fire. The entire situation just felt wrong, like she was trapped in someone else's story. It didn't make sense, none of it did. Why did the blonde care so much? Why couldn't she leave her alone? Why was her whole family watching her? The questions were endless, a storm brewing within her mind- a repeat of Saturday's showers. Her every thought had flickered back to sweeping golden hair then, but now Rosalie was here, right in front of her, and her sickly sweet scent was overwhelming her.
She hadn't noticed the blonde herding her without touch into their shared homeroom, too busy readjusting to her new reality while battling her own morning brain-drain. She had never enjoyed socializing this much this early, least of all when she felt as tired as she did. She felt like her nerves were exposed.
And then, the feeling doubled- a smiling mountain of a boy sat at the end of her table. Everything inside her screamed for retreat, screamed for her to dig her heels down and pivot, to race out of the door and never return. To flee from Forks itself if it meant she would never have to speak to a Cullen again. Never have to feel their strange eyes on her skin. It's politeness that wins out her internal war, the resolute knowledge that to run would be to cause a scene. To raise unwanted questions.
How did he know they were going to sit together? Jules hadn't accepted until she was in the car with Rosalie earlier this morning. Why was he sitting there? What the fuck is happening?
"Hi! Juliette, right? I'm Emmett." His grin is terrifyingly wide, dimples deeper than craters in his perfect porcelain skin. "Oh, you don't mind, do you? We moved here while you were gone, the window's kinda nice."
Jules turns to shoot a betrayed glare at Rosalie, but the blonde is prepared for her. "I was always going to give you a choice."
She doubted that. If anything, it seemed like Rosalie hadn't given her a single choice since she had decided to insert herself into her life. The charming blonde was beyond simply getting on her nerves now- she was well on her way to growing into the bane of her existence. She tried not to take it out on the sweet southern boy sat at her table. "Just Jules, not a morning person, not up for small talk."
"Duly noted." Emmett grins as she slips past him into the window seat, the furthest possible from his massive shadow.
"What's your favourite movie?"
Jules groaned, the sound stretching low and loud as she stretched forward languidly like a housecat, slumping her arms over her backpack in front of her. She let her chin drop over her forearms, pouting as the adoptive siblings grinned matching grins next to her. How dare they look this good at this hour."It's too early in the morning to socialize, you incessant hellion. Leave me alone."
This only made Emmett break, guffawing loud once more with full rolling belly laughter- not that Jules could hear it as the faint giggle directly at her side rings in her ears. An honest-to-god giggle. This girl would be the death of her.
Frustrated and far too tired from all her emotional and mental stress this morning, Jules only turns her gaze forward, pouting more like a tired, cranky child. She had no idea how endearing she looked in that moment. Gone was the mask of indifference, of casual and cool charisma. For the first time, Jules appeared her own age, childish in her reluctant surrender. Not for the first time, Jules contemplated another break for the door. She regretted her choice in always sitting in the back now, there was no easy escape. She felt very much cornered by the two intrusive teenagers sandwiching her between them and the windows.
"You have such a colourful vocabulary. Did you do well in English back in France?" Rosalie inquires, and for a moment Jules blinks, forgetting that she had already told the girl the basics of her whole life story the first time they'd met. Great job Jules. "Or did you speak in English at home?"
"Not particularly." She admits. "I um, I called my Uncle often. He doesn't speak French. I used to spend my summers here with him as well."
That flicker of pain skips across Rosalie's expressive eyes once more, her smile falling. "You and Chief Swan are close."
"He's all I have left." Jules repeats, but there's so much more emotion in those words now. Charlie meant so much more to her than a simple guardian. He was her family. She would do unspeakable things in order to keep him safe, without a hint of hesitation- of this she was certain. Then she grimaces, the guilt nagging in the back of her mind. Bella. I should call her, check in. Shit. "Well, I have a cousin- his daughter, Bella? But we haven't seen each other in years."
"She doesn't live with you." Rosalie seems to be trying to fit the puzzle pieces together while Emmett listens curiously, his entire musclebound torso twisted around to face them.
"Non. I think Uncle Charlie and Renée split when Bella was one-ish. I've never quite cared for her, to be honest. She never gave Uncle Charlie a choice." She shake her head. "I mean, my mum had just passed. Who takes someone's daughter away from them when they've just lost their sister? Épouvantable."
"And that's why you care so deeply for him? Because you're both alone." Rosalie tries to psychoanalyze her again, but Jules scrunches up her nose in distaste. "I'm sorry…I'm just- trying to figure you out."
"I'm not a riddle to unravel." She grumbles with a roll of her eyes, still resting languidly cuddling her backpack. There's no bite to her tone anymore, it's soft- as if it took her far too much energy to even project her voice for their benefit. "I care for him because he's my family. I'm sure you of all people would understand."
And she does, the emotions flickering within those clear golden pools staring directly at her. Still, it's Emmett who responds, not her. "Yeah, we're real protective of our family. Right Rosie?"
"Rosie?" Jules' head perks up, grin wide and eyes alight.
"I'll paint your truck pink if you dare." Rosalie's shutdown is casual and swift. Jules' expression drops at once, the horror clear as day in her eyes as she furrowed her brow.
"You wouldn't." Jules isn't sure, but she wants to call her bluff regardless. "If anyone asked, I would tell them you did it for me. You would never allow your handiwork to look so vile, it would be slander."
And she's right, it seems, as Rosalie hums as her chin rises only slightly with smug pride up in the air, the picture of haughtiness. And then Jules is distracted, her slow mind catching up. "Wait…if you love cars so much, why a BMW?"
"You don't like it?" Rosalie frowns at once.
"No, I would not say that. It just…it doesn't suit you." Jules decides. The siblings peer curiously at her, and she knows she's about to admit to more than she intended for, laying out more of her cards on the table. She grimaces at the thought. "I assume the wrangler is yours Emmett, non? Your siblings are too young to drive. Or, is it your twin's?"
"It's mine." Emmett seems proud that she noticed his jeep.
"Right. It suits you. The bulk, the ruggedness. You seem like the outdoorsy type. I'm not far off, yes?" Jules offers, and the boy nods, amused. Rosalie was still frowning as she turned back to her. "From what little time we have spent together, you seem more…je ne sais pas. I feel like a vintage would have suited you better."
"The wrangler is for all of us, we enjoy camping together." Rosalie shakes her head. "The BMW was a hand-me-down, it used to be my father's car before he got a new one."
"It came out a few months ago?" Jules catches her in her lie, frowning.
Rosalie appears sheepish, sharing a glance with Emmett, who only looked amused. "We…try to be discreet. Our family is quite wealthy, we don't want to attract unwanted attention."
Emmett cuts her off before she can argue that this was a ridiculous notion, obviously they were wealthy- they were currently swathed in Dior and Armani. "How do you know so much about cars anyway?"
Jules flushes furiously. "I enjoy pretty things."
"And yet you want to restore an F150." Rosalie chuckles at her.
"Sentimental value." Jules shrugs, reaching for her coffee.
Rosalie watches, waiting until she's done taking a long draw from the rich, almost-black liquid within the stainless steel tumbler. "What's your favourite car?"
"'61 Jaguar E-Type. Yours?" She shoots back.
Rosalie smirks."'65 Corvette Mako Shark II."
"Mmmm, that was a gorgeous car." Jules moans, eyes fluttering shut as she pictures the familiar model in her mind. Rosalie chuckles next to her. "The lines on that thing was crazy. I wish it went into production."
"I like my cars American-made." Rosalie admits. "It's the only reason why I wouldn't choose a BMW for myself. Still, it's red and it's convertible. I suppose it will have to do."
"You like red, don't you?" Jules smiles with amusement, sipping more coffee.
"Red has always been my colour…recently, though, I've found myself growing quite fond of blue."
Jules fails to hear the teasing in her tone, nor see Emmett flick his sister's arm faster than the speed of light. She only hummed her acknowledgement, sipping more coffee as Mister Varner began to call out the register. A part of her was glad that Rosalie had been so persistent and intrusive, enjoying the easy flow of their conversation, of their shared interests and shared humour. She enjoyed the banter more than she would care to admit. Jules knew that the more the two Cullens spoke to her, the more she was adjusting to them, adapting to all their quirks and the strange gut feeling they invoked within her. A part of her was grateful for it.
The other part pondered if they were doing it on purpose.
