Author's Note: All human characters, which are also OOC. I don't own Twilight.
The following story contains: Foul language, Sexual themes, and other suggestive content
Rosalie exhaled loudly as she shut her apartment door behind her. She blew a loose lock of hair out of her face. It fell right back into its annoying place and she reached up, freeing the glorious mass. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed again. She shrugged out her jacket and hung it on the back of the chair in her kitchen/dining room. The young woman wandered to the bathroom, her eyes puffy from crying. She had been dumped by her boyfriend for another and fired from her steady job as a journalist in the same day. She collapsed onto her bed, curling up into a ball and sobbing until she realized it was pointless. Crying wouldn't get her her job back or make Edward leave his new girlfriend and her once friend, Bella.
Her stomach grumbled in protest and she changed into flannel pants and an oversized t-shirt before scanning the fridge for leftovers. There was spaghetti, eggs from three days ago, and pizza from last night. She chose the pizza and was just about to sit down when there was a knock at the door. She rolled her eyes and opened the door slightly, the chain preventing her from opening it anymore. It was her neighbor from downstairs, the half delusional Mr. Stanley, who was always seemed to be snooping in her business ever since his wife left him. "Brought your paper," he grinned goofily and extended his hand, which did indeed have a newspaper in it. "Oh, thank you," the blonde forced a smile and took it. "Lovely weather we've been having." "Yeah," she agreed quietly. It was true. It had been usually sunny. "I hear it's supposed to rain tomorrow." He said the same thing nightly and she learned to accept it. "Oh. Thanks for letting me know." "Of course, Rose. Well, good night."
She forced back the wince at the use of her nickname. No one called her that, except Edward. Gosh, woman. Stop thinking about him, she scolded herself. "Yeah. You too." She starts closing the door when his voice stops her. "You haven't seen my cat, have you?" It was official. He was nuts. "Uh, no. We're not allowed to have pets in the building. Mr. Cullen made that pretty clear." "Right. I forgot." He smiled and left. She closed the door and locked it, breathing a sigh of relief. He was one of the three residents there; herself included…she didn't really count the landlord. He might be attractive but he rarely spoke with her. In fact, he didn't talk with anyone for that matter and when he did, it was never a good experience.
She sat down in front of her tv, resuming her eating and watching some drama show. She shut it off and tossed her dirty plate in the sink. She set the trash by the door and went into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and studied herself in the mirror once she was done. Crying made her look terrible. She'd be puffy under her eyes tomorrow too. She turned out the bathroom light and closed her bedroom door, pulling the covers down and climbing under them. Light poured in through her window, indicating it was morning. She kicked her sheets off and swore under her breath. This would be the second time she didn't take the garbage out because she hated to have to pick it up when some animal got in it. That had already happened more than she liked. She threw on a jacket over her shirt and slipped into her slippers, shuffling to the door and grabbing the bag she set there the night before. With a huff, she set it next to the overflowing cans. Since she was already out, she might as well get yesterday's mail. She nearly tripped over a child's discarded toy. Why was this here? Oh, right.
The other resident, the elderly yet friendly Ms. Cope, often had her granddaughter over. She looked the toy over, the colors on it were faded and it had cracked in half since she accidentally stepped on it. "Real smooth, Rose," she muttered to herself, tossing it on the pile of trash. She opened her box, grabbed her mail, and closed it, making her way back to the building. Speaking of the woman, she passed Ms. Cope in the hallway, who had a laundry basket in her hands and mumbled her usual 'hello.' "Hey," Rosalie muttered back and unlocked her door. "Miss Hale," the landlord's voice said behind her. She rolled her eyes and turned around, plastering a smile on her face. "Your rent is late…again. That's the third time." His arms were crossed in front of his chest and his blue eyes seared her own. Maybe, just maybe he'd buy her sob story of getting her heart broke and the fact that she lost her job. "I know that. I'm really sorry-" "Sorry won't pay your rent," he hissed, cutting her off. She frowned and looked away from the man. "I'll give you till tomorrow but don't think you won't get an eviction notice if you don't pay up." "Yes sir…" she growled. "Have a nice day," he murmured with a smirk and went back upstairs. "Asshole!" she said aloud, covering a hand over her mouth and praying he hadn't heard.
"My granddaughter's coming today and she doesn't need to be hearing language like that," Ms. Cope scolded behind her, the laundry basket now empty. Rosalie had the sudden urge to tell the woman her problems and to get comfort. Her parents wouldn't help her out since Rosalie had so desperately wanted freedom. She wanted to escape their clutches and be her own person. But now she was hanging by a thread. She was low on funds, her landlord hated her and didn't admire her like every other male she came across and she now had no job. "Right. I'm sorry. I'm just upset." "Whatever's the matter, dear?" "Well, my boyfriend left me and I lost my job." "Aw, you poor thing. Would you like some tea?" the woman asked kindly, reaching for her hand and patting it. "I'd like that," she said quietly, following the woman.
She gestured toward the table and Rosalie sat down. Ms. Cope handed her a box of tissues and she hadn't even realized tears had been streaming down her unblemished face. "So, what did you do for work?" She wiped under her eyes and was sure she looked like a mess again. "Oh, I was a journalist for the local paper." "That's interesting." "I guess so. You work at the high school, right?" The woman nodded. "I remember. I graduated there last year." The kettle whistled loudly interrupting their conversation. She sipped at the tea, steam rising up and swirling into the air. She finished and thanked her, getting up to leave. "You're welcome. I don't get much company besides my granddaughter." "That's too bad. I'll try to be more neighborly," Rosalie said sincerely.
She opened her apartment door and decided to eat. It was way past 12 and she missed breakfast hours ago. She finished the leftover spaghetti and scrubbed the dishes till her reflection shown in them. She smiled at herself then frowned. Where was she going to get the money to pay her rent? Perhaps she could bribe the crazy Mr. Stanley downstairs. She remembered she hadn't bothered to change her clothing but did it really matter? After all, Mr. Stanley wandered around in his robe most days and his figure was certainly not flattering. She hesitantly walked down the stairs, the final step creaking loudly under her weight, and she knocked on his door. He answered with a grin. "I found her!" he shouted. "Who?" He pulled her in by the wrist and his voice became hushed, "Shh…wait here."
He left the room and came back carrying a furry mess in his hands. "My baby," he cooed, showing her a kitten. "Aww, she's cute." Her nose crinkled up as she inhaled. "Ew, she stinks." "Didn't get a chance to wash her yet." "I need a favor." He set the kitten down at their feet and the animal rubbed against her legs and purred loudly. Could she really do this? "Sure. What is it?" "It's nothing. Nevermind." "You sure?" She could not stop herself from blurting out, "It's just if a certain someone found out you had a filthy cat in here…well it wouldn't be good." "What!" He looked shocked. "Please, she's all I have. My own kid doesn't even like me but this sweet kitty does." Nope, she didn't have the heart. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered, running up the stairs and sealing herself in her apartment.
She did feel sorry for them; they just wanted company, which was something she never gave. A bitter cry escaped her lips and she dialed her parent's house. "Hello?" her mother answered. "It's me." "Rose?" "You were right. I can't be independent. I need someone to baby me constantly and tell me how pretty and perfect I am. Are you happy now!" The other end was silent then an uninterested voice, "What happened?" "I lost my job and Edward…you know the guy you set me up with? That worked out so well. I'm probably going to get evicted tomorrow," she sobbed into the phone. "Oh," the voice simply said. She hung up, furious and decided to shower, something, anything to calm her.
She began to relax, cleaning every inch of her body, when the water became freezing. She shrieked and shut the water off. She dried off and pulled on her robe. She was going to march upstairs and give him a piece of her mind. She rapped on his door. Seconds passed and her impatience was increasing. The door opened and he eyed her suspiciously, "Miss Hale, what a surprise." She scowled, "I know you're pissed for me being late on my rent but seriously, shutting off my hot water?" He chuckled quietly. "I honestly have no idea what you mean." She put a hand on her hip, her finger jabbing at him accusingly. "You can stop the act." He shook his head, not a single hair falling out of place. "Who's acting? I know what you think of me."
She said nothing and tightened the belt of her robe. He cleared his throat. "You won't have the money." It was a statement but she shook her head 'yes' anyways. "Hmm, well, that's disappointing." She intentionally waited until his eyes were on her, reaching just inside her robe to scratch at imaginary itches. She glanced up at him through her lashes and half smiled. He raised a brow but didn't flinch as she ran her long, manicured fingers ran up his arm. She purred, "Can't you make an exception? Just this once?" His jaw tightened and he cupped a hand under her chin. "You think that works on me?" he whispered. She jerked out of his grip and huffed at his jab, "Fine. Throw me out!" He laughed like she had said a joke. She stared at him in confusion and he laughed again.
"Well, it does." His lips pressed against hers and her breasts crushed against his chest as he drew her inside, kicking the door shut behind them. She felt an aching between her legs and her resistance melting away as he untied the knot of her robe. His lips left hers a second and he whispered near her ear, "Forget about the money. Forget about everything." His fingers traced over her delicate curves and her moan filled the well furnished room. Her own hands worked off his shirt and explored underneath the fabric until he pulled away. She squealed as he threw her over her shoulder and carried her to the bedroom. He plopped her onto the bed and she shred her remaining clothing as her heart pounded loudly in her chest and echoing in her ears. She met his possessive gaze and her legs eased open, which he took as an invitation. He slid inside her slowly, making sure she felt every inch. Lacing his fingers with hers, he pinned her arms above her head. "Perfect," he whispered, voice heavy with desire. She arched upwards and wrapped a knee around his hip in response. It certainly is, she thought, snuggling into the pillows behind her.