Hi people….can you believe I finally decided to do this FF thing, well that's if they don't decide to remove it within the next few hours. Anyway, as is custom, here's your disclaimer. I do not own any recognizable Twilight characters, my imagination is that developed. It all belongs to Stephenie Meyer. All I own is the plot and a few characters throughout the story. Oh yeah and the lovely changes to your fave characters. Alrighty, that's my first and last disclaimer. That being said, I hope you enjoy my story and review please. Next upload at review number 10.
Resting my head back on my chair, I daydreamed of simpler times when my head didn't feel like somebody ran over it with a semi. It was a much more laidback time, when my life actually made sense. Filled with garden parties on manicured lawns, expensive cars, Girl Scout meetings on Saturdays, and big mansion like houses…The life a lot of people dream of for themselves and their families. Everything was structured and schedules included play time with the children of your mother's friends. It was never a question whether or not you would go to college and you could pretty much bet that you would want for anything.
Those are the kind of things I become accustomed to. The life I still live. The life I want for my own children one day. Only one problem…okay, you caught me, only a few problems. According to my parents and their entire social circle, my biggest problem is that I'm the token lesbian. I'm the proverbial rotten egg in our lily white baskets. My career was going well and I was on my way to a partner position so I could certainly afford to support a family. However, the only real issue in the way of my dream life was the on-again, off-again relationship with my longtime girlfriend Isabella Swan.
Apparently the only thing I ever did right in my entire life was attending Harvard University. But, it's not like I had much of a choice. My mother and father both attended Harvard. There wasn't a point in my life that I didn't know what university I would attend. By the time I was ten, I knew exactly who I was and would become. I'm not talking about who my mommy and daddy are or that I wanted to be a princess. Oh no. I was the child that teachers hated. I always knew to answer "My name is Rosalie Lillian Hale of the Washington Hales. Yes, the Drs. Hale are of relation. Yes, all three. I will attend Harvard University and I will be an attorney." What ten year olds, that you of know, run down their entire family tree?
Life was essentially handed to me on a platter from the time I was born into the world. I had everything as a kid. Growing up I went to the best prep schools and when the time came, I attended the best boarding schools at the strong insistence of my mother who was determined to detour my plans from the practice of law towards the "more respectable" medical profession. Heavens forbid, I wanted to be a teacher or anything remotely close to it. I would have been disowned altogether. However, in retrospect, it would have eliminated all the awkward conversations later in life when I came out to my family.
Coming out was the hardest thing I had ever done. I knew my parents were going to have heart attacks when they found out and I tried to make it easier by assuring them that it was what made me happy. Needless to say they were up in arms, ready to send out a militia to hunt down whoever had corrupted their daughter. Things only got worse when they met Isabella. She was everything they didn't want for me.
Isabella Swan was, and is, a success story if there ever was one. That, of course, was something I realized the first time I met her. Bee lived her whole life in Chicago with her mother and three sisters. They never had much or did much but Bee was really smart. She used her intelligence to her benefit and made it to college and eventually medical school. I was proud of all the things she had accomplished. Gender and status aside, Bee seemed like a person my parents would have chosen for me. But when they met her, all it took was one look at the disgusted scowls on their faces and their upturned noses to know I was wrong. They reprimanded me for associating myself with common trash and all the other things they could think of but, eventually it came down to an ultimatum before they accepted her place in my life. Since then, they had had maintained a civil relationship but never anything deeper than that. I loved her and as time when on it grew deeper than I could ever have imagined. Then a month ago, it all fell apart.
Getting annoyed with the twist my train of thought had taken, I turned away from the window of my office and faced the door. Absently closing the file on my desk, I tapped my perfectly manicured fingers against it before deciding to call it a night. I was nothing if not dedicated. My work ethic bordered on workaholic, but I enjoyed my job. Still, it was after seven on a Friday night and I was already late for dinner at my friends in Bethesda. As was tradition since our first meeting in law school, Alice and I got together to relax and let our hair down. Rising from my desk, I picked up my brief Ali and slide into my trench coat. Looking back at my office to make sure I had everything, I headed out for the weekend.
Alice Brandon, my less refined best friend, was standing on her front porch waiting for me when I arrived with a look that said she was out for blood. Parking right behind her and grabbing my more comfortable shoes from the backseat, I got out of the car and prepared to face the clearly expressed music.
"Hey Ali," I said.
"Oh no you don't Miss Rosalie. You aint comin' up in here actin' like that. What's wrong with you? I been callin' you all day and no answer. Your secretary's voice ain't that cute, ya know," Alice said letting her true mannerisms come to the forefront while encapsulating me in a hug. It was rare that Alice wasn't affectionate, that's just how she is. But, it was rare that she called me Miss Rosalie. I wonder what I did now. It seems like all the women in my life are angry with me for one reason or another.
"I'm sorry seriously, just tired. It's been a really long week," I said looking for an excuse, but unable to find anything to satisfy her. Ali looked me over once and although she seemed skeptical, she didn't voice her opinion. I could tell she was still worried about me. She hadn't made any attempt to hide how she felt about my separation from Bee. Over the past month, Ali has called and checked on me so much I felt like I had a second mother. But, I felt grateful that I had her because the first week was hard and every one after seemed increasingly more difficult than the last. For all Bee's half-baked apologies the first few days, I had yet to receive a real apology. At this point, I wasn't getting any apologies, real or otherwise, which was what hurt me most of all. After all this time, it was like she had given up or didn't care all. I could feel myself reaching the verge of tears, so I focused on Alice.
Ushering me into the kitchen, Alice told me all about her day and how things were in the corporate world. From the way she described her day, I was ready to pull my hair out. I had it rough but she obviously had the shorter end of the stick. I guess that was why I chose to specialize in family law instead of business law. The idea of spending all day controlling what money went towards what investments never clicked in my mind. But, Alice always had been intelligent and business savvy so I knew she did a better job than she gave herself credit for.
After grabbing a plate and loading it down with all the baked chicken and pasta I could handle, we sat around trading office gossip for what seemed like hours. Just as I was about to inquire about our friend Esme's absence from dinner, Alice's girlfriend Victoria came home. After she told me all about Esme's new "man friend" and their date I decided to go home for the evening. Once we cleaned up our dinner dishes, I said goodnight to Alice and made drive to my apartment.
When I had showered and was situated against the fluffy pillows of my bed, I pulled up the down comforter and lay there thinking. Thinking and re-thinking my research and new angles to approach my cases from until sleep overtook me and I drifted into a dreamless abyss.
Two hours later I was awoken by the incessant ringing of my phone on my bedside table. Without looking at the caller I.D., I put the phone to my ear in a sleep induced stupor.
Rosalie, honey, is this a bad time?
No, Mother, I'm just lying in bed. What do you need?
Oh, I keep forgetting about the time difference darling. I could call at a more respectable hour.
No need, I was probably going to be up soon anyway. How's daddy?
Your father is fine. Sue Swan called me this morning, you know.
Did she really, how is sh-
Rosalie Lillian Hale, you know exactly how she is and what she said. I won't pretend that I'm okay with this 'thing' you have with this Swan girl but all of this bickering like school children has to stop. End it now Rosalie, and get your life together.
Mother, I love you, but I'm an adult and whatever happens with us from this point is our business.
I just hope you're making the right decision Rosalie. You are always talking about the family you want. With your life the way it is, how can you raise children?
It's too late for this conversation. I will talk to Isabella when the time is right. I love you mother.
That's all I ask, goodnight.
Placing my phone back on the table, I shift under my sheets trying to find a comfortable spot, but nothing could assuage the guilt I felt for putting Bee out so many, many nights ago. Still as much as I longed for her presence and loved her, I couldn't seem to forgive her. I need her, but don't want her. I want to be near her, and far away from her all at the same time. No matter what, I know my feelings for her won't change. Sadly, her feelings for me already have.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What the hell!
God I'm sweating like a damn bitch in heat right now; what a crock of shit. Fuck you, Jonah, and fuck your whack ass building manager job. What the hell! Son of a bitch! Here I am, attempting to come home after a long ass day at work and I still can't get into my own door, because this asshole won't get up and fix anything around this godforsaken dump of an apartment building.
I should be chest deep in the bathtub, buck naked with my woman… Mmmmm… my woman, slowly moving between her beautiful long ass legs, making the fuck sure she knows how much I love and adore her. But no, I'm not. I'm here, fucking wiggling the fucking key and getting myself all pissed off...
Because even if I weren't here, I'm still not sure if I would be spending this time with her! Cause I fucked up, and I fucked up big time… Is there really any other way to fuck up, if not big time?
I don't even know if there is an 'US' anymore. So here I am, my side swept bang sticking to my fucking head, my scrub pants are stuck to my fucking legs, and my white lab coat feels like it is painted to my chest. OK, back to the job at hand, getting into this fucking apartment without hurting myself or anything else for that matter. I hear a door open, shit, great. Now I have a fucking audience to watch me make a fucking fool of myself, fan-fucking-tastic, peachy keen… Fuck, did I really just think that... shit... I am turning into Rosalie.
I fall back against the wall facing the door leaning over, putting my hands on my knees, just to get some air. Fuck it's hot! But it's not fucking working. I decide to glance to my right just to see who the hell is watching me, and maybe get a look at their face, just to see what the hell they're thinking. And there's no one there. No matter how much I wish it were.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and mentally pat myself on the back for being such a good girl. And here we go again. I straighten up and face the fucking front door, I put the God damn key back in the lock and wiggle it a little, and then I hear it, the sound I've been waiting for all morning, the click, the click that tells me I'm in, the click that tells me I did it, the click that tells me I finally made it. 'Cause I'm a fucking genius.' Now I can breathe. I plop my bag and jacket down on the floor, and make my way in. I need a drink! So I head for the fridge.
The wine is cold, and I knock it back like my life depends on it, and right now it fucking does. I hear the footsteps on the hardwood first, and I look around in time to get myself hurled to the ground, hurting my ass bone in the process. 'Shit that hurt, and it's going to leave a fucking bruise, asshole!' I scream at him, but he just keeps pushing me hard to the floor. He's still on top of me – shit he's heavy, the fucking fat ass – but ya have to give him his due.
He looks at me weirdly. He's so God damn cute. Then the kisses start, and he has the biggest, longest, fucking tongue I have ever seen. Fuck me! I need to breathe. He needs to get the fuck off me now, so I start to push him, but he's having none of it. He just keeps pushing and kissing and pushing and kissing, then the licking… Well the fucking licking is getting too much, and he really has to get the fuck off me. So I start yelling at him, "Rocko... ROCKO, stop! Get the fuck off! ROCKO, get off. ROCKO HEEL!" and bingo, we have lift off.
Rocko is looking up at me with his big sad and sorry eyes. He knows something's wrong. He's looking around like he's expecting someone else to walk in, and he's right, there should be someone else with me, but there's not, because I fucked up big time. I need that someone else, and I need her right now. Last night, just thinking about her had my cock standing at attention. That damn woman was going to be the death of me.
I can still remember the first time she blew me off in the shower, the look on her face while I pounded in to her, and the feel of her bouncing up and down on me with streams of obscenities flowing out of her mouth. All moments when she should have pushed me away for being a freak, but she didn't. She loved me anyway. And even as high maintenance as she is I love her too. The woman has my heart.