A/N: Howdy do! This is my first Twilight one shot and it concerns Rosalie before she was a vampire. In Eclipse, she tells Bella that when she was a human, she didn't like the Cullens because they were prettier than her. I got inspiration from that to write a one shot in which Rosalie meets the Cullens at a party thrown by her parents. Enjoy!

Of Vanity and Envy

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, wrinkling my nose in distaste. I couldn’t go to the party in this state. My hair wasn’t doing what I wanted it to do. I wanted big, loose, seductive curls. But instead of curls, there was a minor wave. And I just wouldn’t settle for that.

I had tried fluffing up my hair, but nothing seemed to be working. With a furrowed brow, I crossed the room over to my bedroom door and pulled it open.

“Mother!” I shouted down the hallway. “Mother, I need your help!”

It would be a matter of seconds before my mother flew up the stairs and came barging into my bedroom. She always answered my every beck and call. I left the door open a crack and returned to my seat in front of my vanity. The circular mirror was surrounded by lights, much like you would see in a dressing room of some famous actress backstage. The only difference between myself and those actresses was this: they may be famous, but I was much more beautiful than they were.

All too soon, I heard the familiar sound of my mother’s footsteps thundering up the stairs in a hurry to get to me. She knew that I didn’t have the most patience in the world, which is why she was rushing to my side. Besides, tonight was the night of the biggest party until the Christmas Ball at City Hall. And we were hosting it at our home.

I smiled to myself, fluffing up my hair with my fingers. “Works like a charm,” I muttered to my reflection, smiling widely when I saw my mother enter the room over my shoulder.

My mother was a pretty woman back in the day; however, age had taken its toll on her, which was most unfortunate. While her eyes were still the most tranquil shade of sky blue, her once flawless skin had wrinkles. True, they were minor wrinkles, ones that everyone obtains with age. Laugh lines and crows feet. But I would much rather be shot execution style than allow myself to look that old. Well, I wouldn’t go to that drastic of measures, but I would make sure that I had make up with me at all times. You know, so I could make sure that I was in tip-top shape at all hours of the day.

Tonight, she was dressed in a regal dark blue gown. It had long sleeves that ended at her elbows, where a pair of white gloves covered the rest of her arms. She was probably hiding age spots, I imagine. The gown had an empire waist, since my mother wasn’t exactly as slim as she had been when she was twenty years old, and it swept down to the floor elegantly. A two foot train trailed behind her wherever she went. Her graying blonde hair was pulled back into a French twist, something that made her face look much younger. Instead of forty-four, she looked thirty-eight, which wasn’t the biggest improvement, but I suppose it would do.

“You need something, darling?”

“Yes,” I said, spinning around on the swirly seat to face my mother. “I need you to help me with my hair.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “Your hair looks just fine the way it is, Rose.”

I gritted my teeth and said, “But I want curls. Not big, nasty waves.”

“Oh, Rose,” my mother tutted, closing the door behind her and crossing the room. She spun the chair back around so I was facing my vanity. She began to play with my golden tresses and sighed. “These are hardly big, nasty curls. They’re gorgeous, not to mention in style.”

“But that’s the problem, Mother!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms up in exasperation. “If that particular hair do is in style, then everyone will have it. I want something no one else will have. I want to be different.”

Mother chuckled. “Rose, darling, you already are different. You are and will always be the most stunning girl on the block.” She fluffed my hair. “And, dare I say it, in all of Rochester.”

“You think so, Mama?”

“Oh, Rosie,” she said, smoothing the hair she had rumpled back down. “I just don’t think so. I know so.”

I beamed at my mother. She was a very smart woman, after all. Not to mention politically correct ninety-nine percent of the time.

X - X - X

Forty five minutes later, I was dressed and ready to go for the evening. I was standing in front of my full length mirror, surveying my reflection. I had to say that I looked pretty good, if not down right gorgeous. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the gentlemen in the room couldn’t keep their mouths clamped shut when I came down the stairs.

Oh, I had been planning and practicing my big entrance for the past two week and I nearly had it perfected. I suppose I could’ve put in a little more practice, but it’s not like anyone would notice any flaws in my walk; they’d be too busy staring at my face.

The red gown I was wearing was, to say the very least, loud. It called a lot of attention to myself, which was something I just couldn’t resist when I had picked out the gown at the store with Mother and our housekeeper, Helen. Where was that woman, anyway? She was suppose to come up here and help me put on the pair of shoes Father had bought for me five minutes ago. With a frown set firmly into place to show my displeasure, I yanked the door open and called down the hallway for Helen.

I slammed the door a bit rougher than necessary and went back to my mirror. I need more lipstick. I found the shade of red that I had applied earlier and smeared some more on my lips, rubbing them together to spread the color. I observed myself and I had to say that I looked even more radiant than I had two minutes ago, as if it were at all possible.

“Oh boy, I feel sorry for the young gentlemen already,” Helen said from the doorway.

I chuckled, turning around. “So I look that good?”

“Good?” Helen laughed in her bark like way, which made me jump, even after sixteen years of having her in this household. “Miss Rose, you are very well aware that you look drop dead gorgeous. Now you sit down on your bed so we can get these shoes on you.”

She held up a pair of stunning gold shoes; the ones I had seen at the store the other day and had refused to pass up without buying. Father had been miffed that I wanted something so expensive, but like everything, I got my way and all because of my infamous pout. It had always worked on him, which is why I used in it in the first place.

I clapped my hands together excitedly and hurried over to my bed. I stuck out my foot as Helen knelt down in front of me, her knees cracking as she did so. I wouldn’t let myself go like Helen had. I suppose you could say that she was average looking when she was younger, but time hadn’t been kind to her. Her hair was a deep, steel gray color that she kept twisted in a tight bun that hung at the nape of her neck. Her tanned skin was coming loose from her body and she had two chins, not because she was fat, but because she was so old. I had never bothered to ask her how old she was, but I was guessing that she was around fifty years old.

Helen closed the clasp of the shoe and told me to hold out my foot to see. I looked down and my breath was stolen from it. It looked perfect!

“You look lovely, Miss Rose,” Helen said fondly as I stood up and spun in a small circle. The hem of my red silk dress fanned out around me. “You and that dress were made for each other.”

“You really think so, Helen?” I asked, doing another spin just for kicks.

“I really do,” she replied, sniffling. “Oh, if you were my daughter, I would hug you.”

“Don’t!” I shouted. I didn’t want her to come near me. Not when she had all that flour and dust and…well, whatever else housekeepers got on themselves to get on my dress. Especially not after the money Father had spent on it.

“All right, I won’t!” She held up her hands and scooted toward the door. “The party starts in five minutes, Miss Rose, but people have already started to show up. You should come downstairs as soon as possible.”

“Let me know when everyone gets here, Helen,” I instructed. “I want to be the last one in the room so everyone will be able to see how radiant I am.”

“Oh Miss Rose, don’t you see?” Helen said, shaking her head. “They already know you’re the prettiest girl in New York.”

And here I thought my mother was the smart one. People didn’t give Helen the Housekeeper enough credit. She was quite intelligent, now that I thought about it.

X - X - X

I had waited long enough. It was nearly eight o’clock, surely everyone who was coming to the party, which was nearly everyone in town, would have been here already, especially since our doors had opened at seven fifteen.

I did one last check in the mirror, decided to apply a little more lipstick, puckered and pouted at my reflection for a few more minutes before I decided that I was ready to present myself. I was ready to knock everyone off their feet and have them fawn over me, jealous. Oh, I loved it when my friends got jealous of me.

I crossed the room, spinning around in a tight circle once, my arms spread out of my side, before I opened my bedroom door and exited my bedroom. I thought to turn off my light, but that was all right. It wasn’t like Daddy didn’t have enough money to pay for it. If he could pay for a party, he could pay for the electric bill.

I leaned over the banister and saw that there was quite the crowd in the room. My stomach fluttered with excitement as I prepared myself for my grand entrance. I started down the stairs slowly. I hadn’t taken more than two steps before a hush fell over the room and I descended the steps in what I assumed was a graceful manner. Every pair of eyes in the joint was glued to me. Many of the guests were speechless, others were whispering feverishly to one another. No doubt talking about how lovely I looked.

Father was waiting at the foot of the stairs for me. He was beaming at me, his beautiful daughter. He held out his hand for me and I took it as I stepped off the last stair. That seemed to shake everyone from their stupor. I grinned charmingly at everyone, accepting every compliment that came my way as I made my way through the foyer and toward the front parlor, where nearly everyone was gathered.

Someone rested a hand on my elbow and I turned my head to the side to see who it was. I grinned when I saw my mother.

“You look gorgeous, my dear,” she said, kissing my cheek carefully. Didn’t want to leave any lipstick stains. She had a glass of champagne in her hand and handed it over to me.

“Thank you, Mother,” I replied, beaming at her. “You look just as gorgeous, if not better.” Of course, that was a blatant lie, but why not flatter my mother for a few minutes? She deserved it, after all.

“Now, there’s someone I would like you to meet,” she began.

“Oh Mother,” I groaned. “It’s not another one of those pesky accountants from the bank, is it?”

I had learned a lesson about those accountants. All they wanted was a piece. And by that, I’m assuming you know what I mean. I momentarily winced as I remembered how Andrew Stanton had handled me, grabbing me roughly by my arms and shaking me because I wouldn’t give him what he wanted. Granted, I never told Mother or Father about that incident. Instead, I avoided Mr. Stanton at all costs.

“Oh no, darling,” Mother said. “It’s not another one of your father’s business associates. It’s the new doctor and family. Surely you know about the Cullens?”

Oh yes, I knew about the Cullens. Supposedly, Carlisle Cullen’s wife, Esme, had a younger brother who was quite the looker. My friends had gossiped about how gorgeous he was a few days ago when we all met up to do some shopping for the party. Then again, my friends thought anything that was taller than 6 foot and had a pair of soft eyes was gorgeous. I’d show them gorgeous.

“You want me to meet them? As in converse with them?”

Mother sent me a look. “You’re the hostess, Rosalie. You are to mingle with everyone.”

“All right,” I conceded. “But if that boy-.”

“You mean Mrs. Cullen’s younger brother?” My mother supplied.

“Yes, him. If he tries anything-.”

“He won’t, Rosalie. No need to worry, blossom. Would you like me to escort you into the front parlor?”

“Please,” I said, mentally sighing. I hope they wouldn’t bore me with medical talk. It was a really dreadful subject that I cared nothing about.

Like I expected, the room was packed to the brim. The music was much louder in the room, as was the chatter. It took me a few moments to register that the music was coming from the grand piano in the room. The one my parents intended for me to play, but I never did. I may have enjoyed music, but the piano just wasn’t my thing. Besides, it was dreadful to sit there and learn to play when the Mistress hired to instruct me had rank breath.

I also noticed that there was a crowd around the piano, which quirked my curiosity. Obviously, someone was playing the tune and I wanted to know who. It was a very pretty song, even by my standards, and it took a lot to impress me. Mother clasped my hand and tried to tug me through the crowd, but it was really unnecessary. People moved whenever they saw me coming, delivering me compliments and patting my shoulder in what they assumed was a friendly manner. I would prefer that they kept their mangy paws to themselves, but I was a lady and I would never say that out loud.

“Dr. Cullen?” My mother said.

A young man turned around and my breath was nearly stolen from me. He was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my life. The young doctor had golden hair that flopped casually into his eyes and, much to my amazement, his eyes seemed to be the same shade as his locks. He was a little taller than six foot with a nice build underneath his neatly tailored suit.

“Hello, Mrs. Hale,” Dr. Cullen said, his voice smoother than silk. “What a lovely party.”

My mother giggled in a girlish manner. “Oh, Dr. Cullen-.”

“Please, call me Carlisle,” he amended, smiling charmingly. I felt my stomach give a great swoop.

“Well, thank you, Carlisle,” Mother said, putting heavy emphasis on his name. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. One would think that she was twenty one, not forty-four. Her blue eyes turned to the woman on his arm. “And I’m assuming this lovely lady is your wife?”

“Oh yes,” Carlisle said, placing a fond hand on her arm. “Where are my manners?” He smiled apologetically and I swear I saw my mother’s heart break a little. Mothers. “Mrs. Hale-.”

“It’s Gwendolyn.”

He smiled again. “Gwendolyn, this is my wife, Esme. Esme, this is Gwendolyn Hale.”

The woman on his arm was pretty, to say the very least. She wasn’t stunning, but she certainly had an air of classic beauty to her. In my opinion, she looked like a silent movie film star. Her face was round and warm, her caramel colored locks loose around her face. And of course, they were falling in soft waves. I ground my teeth because she pulled off the look much better than I did. Oddly enough, her eyes were the exact same shade as her gorgeous husband’s.

Esme extended her hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Mrs. Hale.”

My mother shook her hand and smiled. “Carlisle has told my husband so much about you.”

The beautiful woman turned her eyes to her husband, smiling. “I hope they’ve been good things.”

“But of course,” Carlisle said, gazing upon Esme as though she was the only woman in the world.

I cleared my throat impatiently and gave my mother a sharp pinch on her arm. “Oh, dear me, wherever have my manners gone?” My mother laughed as did the Cullens. “Carlisle, Esme, this is my daughter, Rosalie. Rose, these are the Cullens. You know, the ones I’ve told you so much about?”

Oh, right. We were going to play this game, were we? I smiled as charmingly as possible and greeted them, extending my hand. I was frightened at how cold their hands were.

“That’s a beautiful gown, Miss Hale,” Esme said. “Chinese silk?”

“French,” I corrected, smiling.

“My apologies,” Esme replied, her voice soft and kind, much like a mother’s would be.

“Would you like another glass of champagne?” I asked.

“No,” she said, holding up her glass. “Mine’s still full. I’m not a big drinker.”

“How about you, Dr. Cullen? Do you need a refill?”

“Thank you very much, Miss Hale,” Carlisle said. “But no. Like my wife, I am not big on drinking. Not good for the liver.”

I smiled tightly. “Right.” I took a deep drink from my glass.

The music stopped playing and there was a great round of applause. I was curious and pushed myself up on my tip toes to see who had taken all the attention away from me. I was always the center of attention at each and every party I attended; I wasn’t going to let someone steal my thunder.

The crowd parted the mysterious musician made their way through the room. Much to my surprise, a startlingly handsome young man stopped at Carlisle’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear. The pair laughed and Carlisle turned back toward me.

“Miss Hale, I would like you to meet my brother-in-law, Edward,” he gestured to the boy at his side.

My eyes went wide and my mouth went dry. The girls were right; Edward Cullen was one of the most gorgeous men - if not the most delicious - I have ever seen in my life. The planes of his face were angular, but not in a rough way. There was a childish innocence to his face and I guessed that he wasn’t much older than I. His hair was deep auburn, almost the color of aged bronze, and his skin was a flawless pale color. He put mine to shame. Like Carlisle, his hair flopped into his eyes, which were the exact same shade at both Carlisle and Esme’s. I was curious, but didn’t say anything as I continued to rake my eyes over him. He was a bit taller than Carlisle, and I would guess that he was about six two or six three, give or take a few inches. He was lean and devastatingly handsome. And apparently, he knew how to play the piano rather well.

Perhaps I would start hanging out with a different crowd in order to get Edward on his own. My heart thrummed wildly at the thought.

“Hello,” he muttered, nodding his head but not extending his hand. His voice was like velvet, smooth and soothing.

“Hi,” I said, a bit miffed that he didn’t shake my hand. I dropped my hand, returning it to my side, and straightened my shoulders. “My mother has told me a lot about you.”

“Has she?” Edward said, not really sounding interested. He glanced over to the door and I saw his jaw flex. He had a very nice jaw. Strong and sturdy, but not overly so.

Well, to answer his question, she really hadn’t. The most I had heard about him was that he was so handsome, it was almost impossible to bear. I would’ve thought that the second he laid eyes on me, I would’ve had him eating out of the palm of my hand. Beautiful people belonged together; it was as simple as that.

He raised a brow at me, snatched a champagne flute off the tray and downed some. His face scrunched up and I raised both of my brows.

“Is the champagne too bitter?” I asked. That would ruin the party, if it was.

“No,” he said. “I just don’t fancy the stuff.”

“Oh,” I muttered, not really sure what to say. Why hadn’t he asked me to join him outside? Why wasn’t he groveling at my feet for a few words in private? I was starting to feel disappointment seep into my bones.

An amused smile lit up his face. “What?” I snapped.

“Nothing,” he replied, not even bothering to look at me.

How incredibly rude! If there weren’t so many people in the house, I would kick him out to the streets. Ha, I would like to see him get over that embarrassment! No one dared not to look at Rosalie Hale when they were speaking to her! I’d show him!

I opened my mouth to announce my plans on leaving his company when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and began to talk in hushed tones to whomever had claimed his attention.

I huffed and stomped off in the other direction, looking for one of my usual admirers who groveled at my feet. I searched for a few minutes, but I didn’t find anyone. In fact, there was hardly anyone who hadn’t gravitated toward the front parlor. There was a great increase in volume and suddenly, people were demanding that someone “play another song”.

I pushed my way through the crowd, the beautiful music settling deep into my bones. Once I managed to elbow my way through the crowd, my ears burned red and I was almost entirely positive that steam was coming out of my ears.

It was Edward Cullen. He was playing the piano. And worst of all, he was stealing the show, taking all the attention away from me with his piano playing. I stomped furiously and resisted the urge to scream.

Not only had Edward Cullen failed to recognize me, grovel at my feet, and beg for my hand in marriage within ten minutes of knowing me, but he was drawing the attention of the people who usually admired me! He was stealing my thunder! Me, Rosalie Hale, the most beautiful girl in all of Rochester. Hell, the most beautiful girl in all of New York! Some little gangly…boy with the most hideous shade of hair I had ever seen in my life was stealing my thunder! Oh, the nerve of him!

I pushed my way out of the room, bumping into shoulders of people I would’ve conversed with politely, and ran down the narrow hall that led to the kitchen. It was hot and steamy in the kitchen and several of the hired hands from the caterer’s right down the street were bustling about, exiting the room with their silver trays of various party foods to feed to the room at large. I narrowly avoided colliding with a young brunette who was carrying a tray of champagne flutes.

Rolling my eyes to myself, I shoved the back kitchen door open and stepped out onto the small, wooden porch. I found a place on the first step and sank down next to a gentleman in a caterer’s uniform smoking a cigarette. I swore to myself that I would seek revenge on Edward Cullen one way or another. I would show him. I’d like to see him try to take the attention away from me at the next party thrown in town. Ha, like he could achieve that twice in the row. He had just gotten lucky tonight.

The boy sitting next to me offered me a cigarette and I gladly took it. He struck up a match, held it to the end of the cigarette and waited for it to catch. With a sharp flick of his wrist, the flame was extinguished and my cigarette was lit. I took a deep drag off the rolled tobacco, thanked the boy offhandedly, and watched as he rose fluidly, wiped the dirt off his pants, and stepped inside.

I sat out on the porch for another fifteen minutes, smoking my cigarette and staring out at the darkening streets. I could still hear the beautiful music and loud rounds of applause for the musician sitting behind the piano. There was another chorus demanding that he play again and I rolled my eyes.

Stupid, charmingly handsome, egotistical pig! I’d show him.