Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Chapter 7 – Party at Maria's Tonight

"You look great," I praised Rose as she posed in front of the Tuscan style-framed, full-length mirror, admiring herself and the short, black dress she wore. She really did look great. The dress clung to the curves of her tall, hourglass-like body all the right places and she knew it. The glossy blonde curls that flowed around her face seemed to be untouched and natural, shining and her lips were looking very red – really dark red, a color everybody associated with Rosalie Hale.

"I know," she nodded, not sounding arrogant, her tone not matching her words at all. She twirled around, facing me, "You too."

I smiled – being the only person on the whole world Rose would ever compliment sort of boosted your self-esteem. And when you feel good, you look better too. "Thanks – now, move aside." I playfully pushed her away from the mirror, eyeing my appearance.

She looked at me, mock annoyed, "Did I just tell you you good? I take that back. Your ass looks so big in that skirt, it's seriously fascinating. Has it always been that fat?"

"Yes. And did I really tell you you looked great? When I saw you wearing that gorgeous dress, I felt sorry – for the dress, that is."

We laughed and looked at our reflection in the mirror – our eyes lined with thick black, lips bright red, lashes unnecessarily long, skin flawless and cheekbones pronounced. I was wearing a outfit Rose had picked for me. A little-bit-too-tight-fitting white tuxedo shirt tucked in a dark blue pleated miniskirt and my hair all waves and curls, as usual.

"Your cousin's riding with us to Maria's?" I asked her, fingering the end of my sleeve.

She shook her head, reapplying her lipstick. Again. Well, it's lipstick. That's okay. Lipgloss. Now that's baaaaaaaad for your lips, children (Mary Alice Brandon, Christmas Eve 2007)."No, he's already there." She scowled, "Seems like Emmett and him hit off pretty well. They went together."

"Ooh, like a date?" I grinned, flinging myself onto her king-size bed. Hmmmm… I loooooooove Rose's bed. Why can't I have a bed like that? So unfair.

"Very funny," she said, her tone indicating the opposite. She sat next to me, a lot more gracefully than I'd done, and began playing with the collection of anklets jingling around my ankle. I loved anklets – I had thousands of them and there were always at least seven tinkling around my ankles. "He's just been here for one day. He could at least wait."

"Don't blame him. He's a boy," was my simple explanation.

She glanced at me disapprovingly, "You're so tactless."

"Well, you're a bitch."

"And proud of it – let's go, it's 9 o'clock. And no, we can't take the truck," she answered my unasked question as soon as she saw me open my mouth.

I scowled darkly at her, "You're so unfair, Rose."

"You really think I'm going to show up at a party in that thing? Please, I'd rather jump off a cliff than having to suffer that humiliation," she informed me disdainfully.

"I thought you'd do everything for me?" I queried with a grin. I was actually being quite serious, but I knew Rose hated those serious, important conversations you'd later remember and talk about. That's probably why so many didn't know how to treat Rose – she wasn't the facetious person who cracked hilarious jokes, or a wise person who loved long, earnest conversations all day, or the shy type who mostly kept quiet, or your stereotype bitch, the Queen Bee, like Lauren Mallory (whom was on top of our hate list. Just above fluorescent lights. And really, I didn't hate a lot of things in life. As Daddy said, hating something or someone is loving one less. But Lauren Mallory… uuuuuuugh. She was – was… well, there weren't really a lot of words to describe how much I hated Lauren Mallory).

"I would," Rose agreed firmly as we descended the spiral staircase, "But not when it involves that thing you dare to call a truck." Yeah, Rose was more a fan of sports cars.

What's it with everybody being so mean to my truck? It didn't do anything to you! I sighed exaggerated, rolling my eyes. "Thanks. Wait – is that your mom?" I asked a tad incredulous when I saw Mrs Hale's dark blonde head sticking out from behind the crème leather loveseat.

"Oh, yeah…" Rose scowled, grabbing my hand and dragging me with her, "You're not wearing the leather jacket thing, okay? Here, wear this." She pushed a fashionable gray-colored trench coat in my hands, trying to change the subject. She hated talking about her parents. "You look hot. All the boys will love you, Bell."

"Says you," I grinned, receiving a smile in return. Rose loved compliments. "Well, let's go! Paaaaaaaarty!"

Arms wrapped around each other's shoulders and waists, we half-stumbled to Rose's fiery-red M3, laughing happily. I felt extremely careless at the moment and I was up for everything. God, what would happen after the shots?

The drive, filled with laughing, gossiping and pathetically singing along with the loud songs on the radio, didn't last very long. Maria's house wasn't really faraway from Rose's.

Maria's house was a mess – lights were flickering off and on, loud music and I could feel the vibrations tickling my feet. I looked at Rose with a big grin on my face, which she returned, throwing an arm around my shoulders. The moment we entered the teen-filled house people greeted us, cheering, smiling, waving and nodding. A girl, Victoria, was yelling something in my ear, but I couldn't hear her because of the pounding music that was almost hurting my ears.

I observed the party a bit, watching some people talking and just looking at how everyone else was dancing – have some fun people, dance! –, boys and girls making out and grinding against each other, some taking shots at the bar Maria used to brag about ("Soooo, we have this bar now, it's so cool, especially after you find out where Mom and Dad hide the good stuff, if you know what I mean…") and the rest dancing to the beat of the music.

Hmm, seems like Maria knows how to throw a party.

"Come dancing," Rose mouthed to me, leading me to what must have been the dance floor – people were dancing everywhere, it was a bit hard to say what the dance floor was. I moved my body with the rhythm of the music, laughing joyfully as Rose and I threw our hands up.

"Shots!" I yelled in Rose's ear. She looked at me questionably, perfectly-arched eyebrows raised. She hadn't heard me. "Shots!"

She looked at me, nodding understandingly and grabbing my hand tightly. It was quite easy to lose each other in the enormous sea of people. Holy shit, who did Maria really invite? The people sitting and fooling around at the bar made place for us as soon us we approached, greeting us brightly, squinting from all the alcohol.

"Hi there, ladies!" Tyler Crowley greeted us from behind the bar. We ignored him, more interested in the shot glasses he'd poured in for us. I drank everything down, feeling the alcohol burn in my throat, but it was a nice burn. My first time drinking had been Gin (Irina and I had stolen it from her dad. The same night I spewed my guts out) and that for your first time, completely sober, really hurt like a bitch.

"I'm going to dance again!" Rose screamed in my ear after a few shots, eyeing Emmett, who just entered the living room and was being greeted with clamorous cheering, "You're coming with me?"

"No," I mouthed, shaking my head vehemently – ooooooooh, pretty colors, "See you later."

After planting a kiss on my cheek, she strutted her way towards Emmett. I was impressed, she was still walking in a straight line. And I couldn't even do that sober. Now that's unfair, I thought sourly.

"Give me another one," I demanded Crowley for the sixth – or seventh… maybe eighth? I didn't remember, really – time.

I turned my back to the bar, watching what everyone was doing once again. I saw Emmett and Rose, dancing closely and grinding against each other like the horny teenagers they were – maybe I wouldn't see her later at all –, Edward casually talking with Maria, Kate, James and Laurent, two guys he and Emmett sometimes hung out with – they were probably the people who took care of the alcohol too. Not everything could be from Maria's rich mommy and daddy – and Tanya being sandwiched by two guys – Riley and Garrett, from what it looked like.

"We haven't talked yet," a smooth, drawling voice interrupted my observations.

I looked up to see Jasper, a content expression on his face. Was he just as drunk as I was? I noticed that when he smiled at me, a dimple, just one, would appear at the left corner of his mouth. "We haven't," I agreed, smiling like a drunk idiot. Oh, wait – I was.

Jasper looked at me, looking extremely amused at my state. I knooooow, I'm funny to laugh at. "You're drunk," he stated, somewhat unnecessarily, leaning forward to hear me better.

"Noooooooo," I mocked. Ugh, have some class goddammit, idiot!

He smiled a bit again, more to himself than to me, and my eyes flew to the dimple again. It was awfully interesting. The dimple, I mean. Not in the way you just can't stop gaping at the gigantic wart on your aunt's nose, but in the way you can't stop staring at the hair of someone who has natural Shirley Temple-curls.

"You're funny," he stated, not smiling at all and his voice not suggesting he even thought I was funny. Something he and Rose shared, I noticed. Saying words that don't match the tone of their voice at all.

I raised an eyebrow and looked in his eyes – stormy blue eyes I couldn't really decipher in the flashing lights.

Blue eyes, orange eyes, pink eyes, yellow eyes and blue again. And look, now they're green!

"Where did you move from again?" I required, frowning slightly and rubbing my eyes. Everything was so haaaaaaazy.

"Houston, Texas," he answered, looking amused again and watching me through his orange – green… purple (?)… pink – eyes. What was it with this guy and being amused? Rose wasn't amused all the time either. Why would her cousin be?

"Texas," I breathed, sounding very stupid, "Texas. Do you want to dance, Texas?"

He looked pensive for a moment, but finally agreed with a "fine", looping his arm around my shoulder and leading me to the wannabe-dance floor. I took a breath, sniffing a smell I was going to call 'Jasper No. 1, by Jasper Whitlock'.

Can I buy that somewhere, you think?

I would spread it over the whole world.

AN: Heheee. Portraying drunk people's fun!

Please review!

Dory