It wasn't that Jules exactly disliked spending time with Rosalie Hale. If anything, their conversations flowed freely, and the more they spoke the more they seemed to share as common interests, from Jules' extensive knowledge in American Cinema that spanned generations worth of pop culture thanks to her upbringing, or their equally longwinded debates on what era of car design had the best aesthetic appeal. It was more that she could not trust that any of it was real. She could see it now, realizing she'd been too much of an idiot gawking at the exterior to notice what lay just beneath. Too busy focusing on Rosalie's soft, seraphic voice to fully comprehend what she meant as opposed to what she said. There was something there in her expressive eyes, extraordinary as they were in hue. If Jules looked past the exquisite surface, she could see the kaleidoscope of pain swirling in those eyes of hers, see the strange girl behind the godly mirage.
Hurt, pity, sorrow, regret, guilt...the emotions mixed together like the tender weaving of a tapestry, until one could no longer be distinguished from the other, until the melancholia hidden behind her briefly amused smiles threatened to overwhelm her. No- that was wrong, she did seem happy, at least in her presence. Either it was genuine or she was a ridiculously gifted actress, but Jules did not like to think the new friend that had thrust herself upon her so vehemently would be so callous as to lie to her about her joy, as brief as it might have been.
It was when their conversation lulled that she began to see past the illusion, see past the perfect mask she seemed to wear. They were mere flickers, the purse of her soft lips, the barest furrow of a brow as those morose eyes stared directly ahead, dainty hands a flurry of motion as she took perfect notes in their shared classes. Jules had suspected that something strange was afoot, there was no natural or logical explanation as to why someone would be so bizarrely invested in a new friendship to the extent that Jules could not even go to the bathroom without her faithful shadow at her side. I mean sure, it's unspoken girl code to go to the bathroom together, but come on.
Despite her unease, what she began to see in Rosalie Hale had created a fork in her spiral of unending doubts, and suddenly the why began to matter more to her than the what when it came to whatever the Cullens were up to. She loathed the bitter paranoia the source of her affections had brought out in her, wistful for simpler times like a year ago when her greatest worry was finishing off her biology homework in time to convince Charlie to let her go camping with Sam and Leah.
With her awareness came her wariness, her guard back up as she allowed Rosalie to join her for lunch at her table by the windows. It didn't take long for her family to join them, as Rosalie had warned her they would well ahead of time- a move Jules had appreciated until it began a whole new spiral of thought. How does she know exactly what to say to make me agree to everything she wants? Or am I just such a fool I've let her twist me around her pinky within a day of being by her side? Ugh, stop it Jules.
It's Edward that breaks her out of it, toying with the stem of an apple while Alice and Emmett argued over who would get control of the TV once they got home. "How do you ignore the staring?"
His voice was soft, somehow gentler still than even Rosalie's, but this somehow only served to make the strain in his tone clearer. He seemed frustrated- agitated, even. Jules blinked out of her stupor, before furrowing her eyebrows at the annoyingly pretty boy with tousled hair sat across the table from her and Emmett.
"I don't." She admits, her flat tone cutting through the multiple conversations at her table as all the Cullens turn to her, dark and golden eyes staring her down directly. Jules tries her hardest not to bristle despite the goosebumps. "You can't control how other people feel about you, but you can control how much you care about it."
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Téméraire: A Rosalie Hale Fanfiction
FanfictionC'était l'appel du vide. Juliette Rowe believed it was her sole responsibility to live her life to the very fullest, for she had too much to live for. She had done it all by herself. She had packed up her whole life, moved across the Atlantic, and...
