A/N: I do not own any of the Twilight characters.
I woke up to the sounds of heavy breathing and bed springs creaking for the third time this week. I knew immediately that my roommate, Kim, had her boyfriend over yet again. Didn't that boy have a home or someone else that loved him so that he didn't spend every night in my dorm room?
I gave an annoyed grunt as I rolled over and slammed my pillow over my head. This was getting ridiculous. It was my first year at Dartmouth, the school of my dreams, and I hadn't gotten a solid night's sleep in months. It would be acceptable and even expected if it was due to studying, but no, it was due to my roommate's sex drive. I had lost track of what boyfriend she was on at this point, and really did it matter? She would be on to the next one by next week.
Of all night to choose to have an all-nighter, Kim could have chosen the worst night possible. I had spent all year trying to bet into Professor Blair's Victorian Novels class and a spot had finally opened up. I had sworn that I could work hard to catch up on all the classes I missed and I knew that Prof. Blair would be watching me to make sure I was up to the task. My first class is tomorrow at 9am.
My first year at Dartmouth was uneventful. Some might argue down right boring. I didn't really go out, mostly because I didn't have anyone to go out with. I'm pretty quiet. I got into Dartmouth on a scholarship, so it leaves me as a kind of social outcast with the richer kids that go here.
My Dad left my Mom and I when I was a kid and she died five years ago. I didn't have any family to take me in, so I went into the system. Foster care wasn't bad really. Nothing like the stories on the news. My foster mother was overburdened, there were twelve of us, but I always had clean clothes and warm food to eat. She cared for me, just not as much as my mother. My Mother and I were very close and so losing her at 14 was traumatic. I was never the best at expressing emotions so I unfortunately developed some habits that left my arms and legs covered in raised scars.
So, here I was at 19, in my dream school but completely isolated. These are the thoughts that were running through my head as I tried not to listen to my roommate trying out a new position she read about in Cosmo. I didn't have the guts to look, but it sounded like it was successful.
The alarm couldn't have gone off. It just couldn't. There is no way I would have slept through it, not today. I can't be late today. I look at the clock one last time before running out the door in the same sweatpants and XXL t-shirt that I slept it. 8:50am. I had ten minutes. Class was on the other side of campus. My delusional mind made me believe that I could do it. I could run across the dorm halls, the quad, the administrative offices and make it to class on time.
As I walked into class, I realized how flawed my thinking was.
"Ah, Miss. Bates, how lovely of you to join us. I thought with all the nagging, oh excuse me, I mean all the effort you put into getting into this class, you would be here early. I see now that you rather prefer dramatic entrances. I'll have to remember to use you for any dramatic reading we have." Prof. Blair spoke, clearly mocking me.
The entire room was full with mostly upper classmen. I scanned the room hoping, no desperately needing, a seat with which to take refuge in.
I finally saw one. There was a pair of seats, slightly off to the side that looked almost set apart from the rest of the room. I didn't want to sit in such a seat that would draw even more attention to myself, but it was the only one open.
Sitting in one of the pair was the most gorgeous women I have ever seen. She had porcelain white skin, long wavy blond hair, perfect full bowed lips (painted a daring red), and the most obscene amber eyes. Seriously, who has amber eyes? She was wearing a brown tweed pencil skirt, brown patent leather Christian Louboutin's, and an ivory v-neck sweater. Looking at her and then looking at me was comical. I had obviously just rolled out of bed, still in my nightclothes and I no doubt that a mess of bed-head, if I was lucky there wasn't dried drool on my cheek. Whereas her porcelain skin glowed as if she were an angel, my pale skin made me look like I was in chemotherapy. She looked as if she had already been up for hours doing her hair, make-up and picking out the exact right outfit. I quickly patted down my hair and slid into the seat next to the beauty.
I was stunned as she turned to her left to face me. She struck me as the type of girl that would pretend this blight beside her didn't exist. I was immediately enthralled by her presence.
"Hello. I'm Rosalie. Rosalie Hale"