My Angel

#5

Rosalie's POV -
Emmett walks over to me.
"You okay?" he asks me.
"I'm fine. She's not all that bad."
"But you're still hesitant."
"Royce was nice to begin with too."
"I was on her team. Not a great fielder but nice enough. Sarcastic. In some ways she's a little like you?"
"You were watching her?"
"Course."
"Why?"
"If you choose her, I need to know she's good enough."
"If."
"Will you?"
"I don't know. I guess I'll find out."
"I guess you will."
"I beat you by the way."
"No. Your team beat me. More like Jasper and Albert beat me. You scored 3HRs. I scored 5."
"Details."
"Only problem is now I owe my husband."
"That's right," Albert says popping up next to Emmett a hand around his waist, "You owe me whatever I want." He kisses Emmett's cheek and walked back to wear he came from.
"Just remember to close your door tonight, okay," I tell him and walk off. I here him sigh behind me and jog to catch up.
"Race you there!" he says as he passes me. I roll my eyes and speed to Carlisle.
"You absolute child," I say as he comes next to me.
"You played along."
"You would have won."

When we get back, I get out my phone and add her number to my contacts as HT. I'm sure Edward has heard me debating with myself in my head. I decide to give Hayden a small chance. Not at love. Not necessarily at friendship. Just at talking. Maybe it was instinct, I don't know. Maybe just the conversation she had with me.
You-You bat left handed.
I send. It's awkward, but I had to satisfy some curiosity.
HT- And?
Comes the immediate response.
You-You wrote in French with your right hand.
HT- My father was old fashioned. Sinestra. It's Italian for left. We get the word sinister from it. My father was of the opinion left handers were work of the devil. He taught me to write right handed.
You- I saw a study that it's really bad for your brain. For left handed people to write with their right hand.
HT- I'm dead. How bad can it be for me now?
HT- Have you seen the study that being left handed makes you die younger?
You- I think I saw something about that.
HT- It's incorrect. You see, they interviewed the families of dead people. Those with older dead people had only seen them write right handed as they had been shunned for being a leftie. Those with younger family members were not shunned, therefore they knew they were left handed. The data was skewed. It's quite interesting.
I smiled reading her message. She's reads studies and finds them interesting. I do that too.
HT- You texted me.
You- Evidently.
HT- Why? To ask about my dominant hand?
You-I don't know.
HT- Are we friends?
You- I don't know. Not yet. I am giving you a chance at something. I don't know what
HT- Okay then.
HT- I'll see you at school.
You- I'll see you at school.

I dropped my phone on my sofa. I don't know where this is going to go, or if I want it to go. I go to the garage and put on Queens greatest hits. Opening up the hood of my car, I start taking apart the engine. I put it back together again, making sure everything goes in the right place and filling up the water for the wind screen wipers. I check my tires, and finding nothing wrong with them, I move onto the Mercedes. I had to change a tire on it, but other than that it was fine. I take apart all of the cars' engines, making small fixes where not necessarily needed. I wash my hands and go back upstairs to do homework. I pass Edward in the music room, but I assume every one else is in their respective rooms. Going into my own, I complete my homework quicker than I wanted to. I try reading a book, but I can't focus. My mind starts wandering to Hayden every time I try. Eventually I just let them in. I wonder if I should let her in. Fate is telling me she's my one. But of she isn't. If I let down my walls and she hurts me, I know they will never come down again. I'd shut everyone out. It would hurt me and my family. I know I might be letting my chance at love slip through my fingers, but I have to hold back, at least for now. Until I now more. Last time I rushed in... No. I put on headphones and turned my radio to the place between stations, letting it play into my ears. To drown out the memories. Eventually, when I'm sure their gone, I turn off my radio and pick up my TV remote and put on a random channel. They're showing a documentary on sea life. I turn on my phone to see if I can find an article on Hayden's victim. That's her other problem. She drinks human blood. And she's made it clear she won't stop. I find the article and drop my phone when I see the picture. It's a blonde girl. She's only nineteen. She was starting her first term of college. She was barely an adult. And she looked a little like me.