This is unbeta'd and not pre-read by anyone. All mistakes are my own.

MA: This story will have explicit and lemony scenes. If boy x boy relations offend you please don't read any further.

Characters belong to S. Meyer.

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[year: 2001 – Jasper age 14]

The girl standing in our doorway looked as if she could have modeled for Ralph Lauren or maybe Tommy Hilfiger. She had shiny, straight blonde hair that was slightly longer than shoulder length and as her ice blue eyes eyed me up and down I detected the slightest bit of disdain from the tiny pucker of a frown at the bridge of her nose. She was wearing a knee length knit dress that had an expensive look and it showed off her young, not quite full curves beautifully.

I'd recognize that face anywhere.

I waited patiently for the girl to vocalize the reason she'd ended up here in Houston on our doorstep. Being that she normally lived in Florida I knew it couldn't be an absurd coincidence that we ended up meeting.

"Hi," she finally offered, showing off a brilliant, white smile. "I'm looking for Robert Hale's son?"

A flash of surprise shot through me. She didn't even know my name.

"Why?" I asked. For the first time a girl had piqued my interest. Of course it still wasn't in the same manner as most hormone-filled fourteen year old boys.

How did Little Miss Preppy manage to find out about us?

"It's personal. Does he live here?" She persisted.

I decided to play with her a little to find out why she was here. I still hadn't decided if I wanted to meet her.

"Fuck yeah ya got the right abode. But if you're here to score some weed, he's only got enough shit for himself this week."

"What?" She looked like she'd been slapped. Two little circles of pink appeared on her cheeks. "No," she stuttered. "I…don't…he sells…drugs?"

I started to laugh my ass off. I wanted to hate her, but she screamed sweet and charmingly innocent. And who can hate a lamb?

"No, I was pulling your fuckin' leg. Did ya want to come inside?"

She craned her neck trying to see inside our house. "Is he here now?"

"Maybe," I admitted. Will she ever put two-and-two together?

"Maybe?" she asked, sounding slightly confused.

"Well, he'd probably want me to screen whoever was askin' for him. You know, to weed out door-to-door salespeople and undesirables," I joked.

"Oh, okay. Is it okay if my friend parks in the driveway?"

I peeked around her and sucked in a breath when I caught sight of a silver Land Rover that would have cost a pretty penny. Sweet! Nice ride. Another blonde girl was sitting in the driver's seat talking on a cell phone, looking slightly bored.

"Does she want to come in too?"

"No," she responded quickly. "Just me."

I led the way into the living room, but when I turned to ask if she wanted something to drink I noticed she'd stopped in the hallway and was studying the numerous pictures Momma had lined along the wall.

When she became aware of my presence by her side she glanced back and forth from me to one of my pictures from my middle school graduation.

Bingo. I guess the jig is up.

"You dyed your hair," she commented. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I could," I shrugged. I wasn't about to disclose personal decisions with a stranger.

"Was it to look more like her?" she pointed to Momma in one of the pictures. Momma had rich dark hair that was almost black. "Or to look less like Daddy?"

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She was still sitting in our living room when Momma got home from work. Her friend Madison who'd driven her had left already, having returned to their hotel room when Rosalie explained she wanted to stay for longer.

When Momma walked in and saw Rosalie she dropped her styrofoam cup of coffee, spilling the remaining contents onto our cream colored carpet.

"Wha…Wha…"

After that eloquent display of the English language Momma took off for the cover of the kitchen.

I followed her close behind.

"What is she doing here?" Momma asked.

"Not sure. Maybe half curiosity and half rebellious, sheltered teen girl syndrome."

"Rebellious, sheltered…never mind. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Surprisingly a visit with my half-sister wasn't half the melodrama I'd imagined.

Momma followed me back into the living room.

I introduced them. "Rosalie Hale, Maria Whitlock."

Rosalie stood up and stepped forward with a shy smile, offering Momma her hand to shake.

"Hi Ms. Whitlock, so nice to finally meet you."

Her manners remained impeccable even though the situation was more awkward than my coming out in the boys' change room after gym class. I admired the way she remained positive and friendly. It wasn't the way I operated, but it worked well for her.

"Oh, nice to meet you too Rosalie." Even with the evidence of her previous life partner's infidelity standing directly in front of her, Momma was unfailingly polite. "When did you arrive?" Momma asked as she shot me a questioning look.

"I stopped by about an hour ago and Jasper has been kind enough to sit and talk with me."

The whole encounter was fascinating and so far I'd learned nothing. Somehow this tiny, perfectly coifed, whisp of a girl had interrogation skills to match Jack McCoy's. I'd revealed more than I would have wanted and she hadn't given me anything.

Some of the things she'd found out were virtually right in front of her. I was a natural blonde like Dad (she noticed in the pictures hanging), but I dyed my hair black and even tinted my eyebrows. I never went to school without outlining my eyes with a black liner and I have a tongue piercing.

Other information she learned by manipulating me into talking about myself. Somehow I ended up talking about how I hate all team sports, but I like to run cross country. How I spent last summer working at my uncle's ranch and loved riding horses. I even ended up telling her about the online role playing games I've recently started spending too much time on, and the fact that I hadn't yet had a boyfriend. Yeah, I told her I was gay – I didn't hide it from anyone these days.

"Does Robert know you're here?"

Everyone in the room knew the answer to Momma's question, but I figured she was asking so that we could get to the bottom of her visit.

"Oh no," she shook her head prettily. "Daddy has no idea. I told him I was going to the Keys for a weekend with Madison's family. They have a beach house there."

The fact that it was now Sunday and they'd never make it back home in time didn't seem to faze the girl.

Momma had no idea who Madison was, but I think she was willing to overlook the small details.

"We'd better call him then."

"Oh, okay," my sister replied, sounding mildly amused. "Daddy will flip his lid and ground me," she giggled, "but he's such a softy that it will never stick."

I bet. She'll probably use an absurdly cute voice and bat her eyelashes and Dad will cave immediately.

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Dad was understandably concerned with his fourteen year old daughter's road trip across three states and into a fourth. We could both hear his voice as Momma spoke to him on the phone reassuring him that she'd keep an eye on her.

Rosalie was given my bed and I slept on the couch. Her friend Madison, who it turns out is seventeen, stayed in their hotel room alone.

A knocking at the front door woke me up when it was still way too early for anyone to function.

I hadn't seen my father in over eight months. My stubborn refusal to have anything to do with him and my barely restrained hostility had worn him down. He called Momma on occasion to get the scoop on my latest teenage rebellion, but he no longer attempted to visit or contact me in any way.

The way his eyes zeroed in on my jet black hair reminded me he probably hadn't seen any of the physical changes I'd gone through. Momma might have told him about the hair, but she disliked it so much she refused to photograph me.

"Come on in. She's sleeping in my bedroom."

I left the door open behind me and slunk back to the couch to dive under the covers.

He followed me in and to my dismay he sat down in the La-Z-Boy recliner next to the couch. I covered my head to avoid his gaze.

"How are you son?"

I snorted and pulled the covers off my head.

"Son?" I responded, disbelief dripping from my tone. "Why don't ya go see your daughter? I believe this fuckin' roadtrip was most certainly a cry for Daddy's attention."

"I know I deserve your derision, but is there any way we can move past this? I don't love Rosalie more than you. You are both my children." His tone was artless, but I didn't trust him.

Actions speak louder than words.

"Do ya deny that you've spent way more time dotin' on her our entire lives, than ya ever have for me? Momma and I only ever saw you once a month for a couple of days. Ya spent all your time and…money on your other family."

"You're right I did. If I had to do it over I'd do some things a lot differently. But, it doesn't mean I don't love you. You have to understand Jasper, before the whole situation became transparent to everyone involved I never worried about you."

I interrupted, not wanting to hear more. I was angry that I'd let him get to me and the fact that his words were fucking hurt me again was ridiculous. I should have gotten over them already.

"Fuck off Robert. Go wake up Little Miss Florida Sunshine and get out." I rolled over to face the back of the couch and pulled the covers over my head again.

"Jasper, you didn't let me finish," my dad's voice sounded wounded. "I didn't mean I never worried about you, what I meant was that I knew I didn't have to worry about you. Maria is an excellent, loving mother and I had the utmost confidence in her parenting skills. I had no worries that you weren't being cared for in the best way possible."

I hadn't acknowledged him that I was still listening, but I'd frozen in place, wanting for some reason to hear what he had to say.

I must be a total freak for pain.

"Rosie on the other hand, I always had to worry about. Yvette is not a natural mother. She is cold and distant, almost to the point of neglectful. I was the only acting parent if you want to get technical, and I needed to "dote" on her to make sure she knew someone truly loved her. I might spoil her with money and gifts, but I still believe you have the better deal."

I listened to him, but all I heard were excuses.

I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to shut out the world.

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