Disclaimer: Once again, these characters are not mine. They're Stephenie Meyer's. Only the plot is mine. But even then, some parts are still based on the book.

Okay, so most of the story will be written in Emmett's POV, but some will be written in Rosalie's. And they're all human.

Enjoy :) I hope this story will spark your interest.

Emmett's POV

Okay, so I'd never thought I would take French. When I was little, I had always wanted to learn to speak German and be like Hitler, to dominate the world. That was back then, before I learned the reasons behind his infamy. I just thought he was totally cool, since he was well-known. But my friends told me that German was the hardest language in the world, and when they put it like that…

That had pretty much convinced me that German was a no go. And plus, I didn't like how every single letter had to be pronounced when speaking the language, because wouldn't it just sound guttural in a way? Spanish was too…boring. Learning it would make my heritage all pointless.

Therefore, I decided to take French. What better way to get the ladies than with an alluring language?

Since today was the first day of my junior year, I had to make myself look good for the future of my high school career, and of course, for the girls. I usually wasn't a vain person, but today I allowed myself a brief glimpse at the window of my dark hair and model-like chest. I had worked hard for that chest, but it was all worth it in the end. Throwing it out just slightly, I walked into the classroom, immediately drawing stares from not just everyone in the vicinity, but the whole classroom. I saw jaws drop open and jealously in some eyes. I was a stunner, and I knew it. That thought made me grin.

Not long after I had arrived, someone else walked in. I didn't really care who the new arrival was, since I figured I would know every face by the time class was over. However, that wasn't the case. She drew many gasps as well, and people were openly ogling at her, without even trying to be covert about it. I couldn't help myself either. She was tall, slender, and looked exactly like a supermodel minus the anorexia. Her clothes fit her snugly, exactly accentuating the right places. Her golden hair gently fell in perfect waves down her back, almost to her waist. Not one strand was out of place. I wondered what it would look like if she put it up. Wow, was she a looker—no, not only that—she was drop dead gorgeous. I wondered why I had never noticed such a goddess before in the school. Was she a freshman? No…she couldn't be. Or at least, I hope she wasn't. No way was I dating a freshman. It doesn't matter how good they look; they were all conceited and snobbish.

As she walked towards an empty seat, I saw this unknown wonder wink at some of the guys and ignore with obvious scorn some of the ones that were practically drooling. I looked away in disgust too. They could at least try to have a little more tact—that way, they would preserve whatever dignity they had to begin with. But her legs were so perfect…I turned towards Miss Universe again. She was now flashing some random guy one of those smiles that I usually saw on a Crest Whitestrips commercial. Perfectly white and even teeth. Wow. I couldn't really blame the guy for immediately trying to strike up a conversation with her. Not doing so was like throwing away a diamond.

I turned away. I wasn't going to be like the rest of them, vying for her attention. I was going to talk to her later, not anytime soon. If I did, I'd sound like a desperate fool.

Right before the late bell rang, the teacher swept in and turned to face us in a wannabe pirouette. Judging from the way she came in, I could tell she was obviously a drama queen. Her three-and-a-half inch high sparkly stilettos confirmed that. I had always wondered how the opposite gender could carry that off—placing all their support on heels that were literally as thin as chopsticks. Without further ado, she gave us a smile that was intended to be charming but that I found to be sickening, and started to talk.

"Bienvenue à la salle de classe de français! Je m'appelle Mademoiselle Candeur. Does anyone know what I just said?"

We all looked at her blankly. It was only one minute into the class, and she expects us to already know French? What was up with this woman? It wasn't even one of those common French words that people know, like bonjour or touché. I didn't have a single clue to what the first word she uttered was. It sounded something like bee-ev-inue. Obviously, we were clueless to whatever she had just said. That is, all of us except for the goddess in a human body. Her raised hand certainly had our attention.

"Yes, my dear?" the teacher smiled at her.

"Welcome to the class of French. I am Miss Candeur." What a silky voice! I could listen to it for hours—I was fairly sure it would never grate against my ears like the teacher's sandpaper voice did.

"Excellent! But just so you know, the literal translation of that was 'Welcome to the classroom of French! I call myself Miss Candeur. Just for reference. We will now begin class by checking attendance, then we will learn the very simple necessities of French!" She picked up a sheet of paper and began calling out names.

"Candice Alamore..."

I felt myself zoning out. I found this woman to be seriously annoying and redundant. Who cares what those words meant literally? We'd learn the verbs later anyways, so what's the point? I turned towards Wondergirl again. This time she caught me looking at her and displayed her brilliant set of teeth at me. As much as I would have liked to respond to that, I turned away again. I was going to show her that I wouldn't be controlled by her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her look confused. I smiled to myself. Good. It was time she learned something new: simple dazzling doesn't work well on Emmett Cullen. Finally, I was snapped back to the present with the Candure (that's what it sounded like when she said it) woman's annoying whipcrack voice.

"…not here? Emmett Cullen is absent?"

One of my friends sitting behind me kicked the table leg just as I responded "Here, sorry". Mademoiselle what's-her-face glared at me and moved on.

What a freaking dou—woman. So it's a mutual hatred…but she can't do anything to me if I act like a good boy…right?

As the list went on and on, I waited to hear that girl confirm her presence, so that I would finally know her name. I figured I might have a long wait—this teacher was so effing slow. She was only at the H's. I sat in a stupor, wondering if one could possibly pass out from boredom, when—

"Rosalie El—Hell."

Our whole class burst out in raucous laugher, not unlike hyenas. Even the angel smiled slightly.

"SILENCE!" Miss Oh-she-thinks-she's-so-cool screamed. We all flinched but obediently choked back our snorts of mirth.

"Rosalie Hell."

I felt empathy for the owner of that name. I was pretty sure her last name wasn't "Hell", and—

"Here. And it's Hale." The words came out of the last mouth I would have expected it from.

My face registered shock. That was her name? It was so old-fashioned. What the hell were her parents thinking? Hell indeed. And why couldn't the teacher pronounce the 'h'?

I turned and raised an eyebrow at Eric Yorkie, the friend who had kicked me earlier. "Don't you know her?" he asked. "That's Rosalie Hale, Jasper's sister. You should know. You hang out with Jasper every day." He looked as if I was missing something very obvious.

She was Jasper's sister?! The Jasper from the football team? One of my best buddies?! I felt extremely retarded now. Quickly bringing Jasper's face to the fore of my mind, I compared them. Their facial features were almost the same, but they didn't look anything alike. Their eyes were an extremely light shade of slate grey, but with more grey than blue. All around were long lashes that curled slightly. They both had perfectly straight noses, not too hooked. However, Rosalie had lips that completely surpassed all of those of the lipstick commercial women. As for Jasper's…well, let's not go there.

Thank the gods, the sloth impersonator finally finished the list of names, to be replaced with something even worse. She started talking about herself.

"Well, to start off, I am Canadian-French, and I—"

Blah, blah, blah, I thought. Would she ever shut up that big mouth of hers? Instead I thought of one of my buddies on the football team, and also my best friend: Edward. I recalled that talent he had of looking like he was really focused on something but was actually in a far away place. I tried doing that now—seeing without seeing—and failed miserably.

"Mr. Cullen! I would like you to please pay attention!"

I quickly focused my eyes. Hmm. I would have to ask Edward about that sometime.

The rest of class was dedicated to us learning the simple necessities of French. As I listened to that old hag (well she isn't old; I just get the satisfaction from calling her that) drone on and on about how you were supposed to address a group of people or elders differently, I memorized it all without really even listening. I'm talented like that. And that's how I came to acquire my perfect grades. I'm a clever hunk—just like Edward was—which was why we have girls ogling over us. Bit annoying really, since a lot of them didn't have natural beauty; some painted their faces with so many layers of makeup that it sometimes made me want to throw up. I could see what Edward meant—people were so mediocre. And I could finally see why he's never held a single ounce of interest for anyone. I hadn't either, but Rosalie was certainly interesting. However, she was quite a minx, and I wasn't about to inflate her ego even more in addition to whatever the multitudes of previous guys had done earlier. Was she always this cocky?

What more perfect way to find out than to question others? After seating myself at a lunch table with our regular group, I immediately turned to Jasper Hale. Why hadn't he ever said anything before about a sister? If I had been her brother, I would have bragged about her to no end.

"Why didn't you ever tell me you had a sister?!" I chided him.

He laughed lightly at me. "Because you never asked. So, I assume you've finally found out about Rosalie? Has she got you on your toes too?" This last was followed with snickers from around the group. I made a mental note to later throw the football straight at his face and break his nose.

"What grade is she in?" This too was followed by unconcealed laughter.

Then Alice, my sister, (not in blood, since we were both adopted) took pity on me and explained.

"Emmett, you are funny. She's in your grade…I thought you said you knew every single person in your grade? And what happened to you saying that you knew all the good-looking girls in the school?" At least she had the grace to spare me from a few other things I had said before.

I wasn't a blusher, but I avoided everyone's eyes when I answered. "I thought she was a sophomore, even a freshman. She certainly acts like one."

Edward grinned at me. "Are you sure you don't act like one as well?"

I gave up. Once someone took advantage of my vulnerabilities the rest were on me like a pack of wolves. Arguing with them would only bring up more embarrassing subjects.

Edward, however, didn't. For someone who claimed he wasn't interested in girls, he was pretty nosy about my love life.

"You like her, don't you? Emmett Cullen and Rosalie Hale, the spiffy coup—OW!"

I had kicked him rather violently under the table. Not with all my strength, of course, because then he would end up in a cast for at least a month and my parents would never, ever forgive me. Especially since my dad, Carlisle, was the doctor-surgeon extraordinaire of our city.

"Shut up," I hissed under my breath at him. I didn't want Jasper to know. Who knows what a protective brother might do even to his best friend? Unfortunately, Jasper noticed.

"You like Rosalie?" he asked quietly. When Jasper spoke like that, it was hard to know if he was deadly furious or just curious.

I turned my face up, just a little. "No, I do not like her," I scoffed. "Since when did you pick on me when I ask about girls?"

Jasper laughed. "Your face tells all."

My face?! WHAT?! I was sure I had kept a noncommittal face. Darn you Edward…you and your perfect emotionless mask. I was fuming until Alice called something to my attention.

"Hey Emmett…you're in heaven now…look who's coming here…" Stupid them. Why won't they believe me?

But I had no time to think of that, as Rosalie-bloody-gorgeous-Hale came up to our table and smiled at me coyly. "Hey, everyone. Bonjour, mon beau garçon."

Mon beau garçon?! How flirty was she? And darn it, I was trapped. No one else here was in French except for Alice, but she was not a boy. She didn't even bother hiding her mirth, and Rosalie was smirking by now. Doomed. There was no way out of this. I was going to have to suck it up, and…

A/N: Whoo! What will Emmett do? So how did you guys like it? I don't think I did this story justice, but I was trying to make Emmett have conflicted feelings towards Rosalie. Tell me how I did please! Should I continue? Or should I not?

In case anyone was wondering, mon beau garcon is French for "my handsome boy". Okay, I just made Rosalie sound all weird now :( And Emmett will later find out why the teacher has trouble pronouncing the 'h'. Hint: it's French related! :D

Also, a great thanks to dear forever yours, my awesome beta. She gave me this idea, and also her support. Staying up until six in the morning :P Cookie for you! x3 Ok, so if you haven't already, go read her stories! She's an excellent author and her stories own all :)

Oh yeah, and Emmett's and Rosalie's behavior towards the teacher (and vice versa) are based on mine's and my beta's. She's Emmett, and I'm Rosalie xD Although I'm nowhere near as smart as she is. The teacher's preferential treatment isn't exaggerated. Well maybe just a little. Haha. Yes yes we're both in French :P

Please please please review! Reviews inspire me to write a lot :D