Rosalie

1.

"Rosalie, your paper was wonderful. Splendid work," Mrs. Johnson, the senior honors English teacher, praised. I nodded to her in thanks, eyeing the large red A scrawled across the header of the page.

The bell rang soon after everyone received their papers back. On my way out the door, my name was called. I turned to face Mrs. Johnson, whose friendly smile held hints of pleading. Her body language showed that she was nervous. She wants something from me, and she's afraid I'll refuse.

"Yes, ma'am?" I prompted her politely, remaining rooted in the doorway.

"I couldn't help but notice how wonderful you are with literature. Not all of your peers can say the same," she smiled, as she complimented my schoolwork.

"If you don't mind, why are you telling me this?" I inquired slowly, trying to keep from coming across as rude.

"Mr. Roper, the common core English teacher, you know him, don't you?" she paused for my response, to which I nodded, "He's looking for someone willing to tutor his students."

"Tutoring? Me?"

"Miss Beauregard, it's entirely up to you. Think about it, won't you?" Mrs. Johnson bustled toward her desk, pulling out a notepad and scribbling on it. A late pass was thrusted into my hands with a warm smile.

"Thank you. I-I'll think about it," and with that I was on my way to AP physics.

The hallways were empty, seeing as it had been almost five minutes since the bell rang. My eyes watched my black flat shoes tap against the floor, effectively drawing my attention from my surroundings. As I prepared to turn the corner, I came into contact with a hard mass.

A squeal escaped my lips as I screwed my eyes shut and prepared myself for the impact with the floor. After several seconds and no pain, my eyes opened to see that the person I'd run into had caught me. His large blue eyes narrowed, as he helped me regain my balance.

"I'm sorry. I should've been watching where I was going," I chirped, straightening out my clothing. He said nothing, only raised an eyebrow. I found my eyes wandering over him. He was extremely good looking.

"U-Um, I'm Rosalie. I'm not sure we've met before," I coughed, as I offered my hand to him. A chuckle rang in my ears, though my hand stayed empty.

"Cute."

A frown found it's way onto my face, and my mouth dropped in surprise, "Pardon?"

"I said cute. Are you hard of hearing, Sweetheart?"

My arms crossed over my chest. He was much taller than me, meaning I had to look up at him to glare, but that didn't stop me.

I don't get this guy. I apologized for bumping into him! Why is he being so condescending?

"I can assure you: I am not. I am just finding it hard to understand why you won't accept my apology," I could feel a frustrated tone coming through my voice.

"Alright, alright. I accept your apology, Sweetheart. Is that better?" He laughed. Dimples appeared on his cheeks when he smiled at me.

"You don't have to be so snide about it," I huffed.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice portraying his amusement.

I shifted my weight on my feet, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. My cheeks grew red, while his eyes raked over my figure. I could basically feel his eyes on my skin, and it was starting to unnerve me.

"You know what, I like you. I think I'll keep you around," he grinned, before sidestepping me and continuing on his way. A smile of relief took over my features, before what he said registered in my brain. I felt my eyes widen, and I'm sure I resembled a deer in headlights.

"Wait, what? But I still don't know your name!" I called after him in exasperation. I needed to know.

I was surely missing half the notes in AP physics, but I couldn't be bothered to go there. This stranger has captured my attention and my curiosity. The sounds of his footsteps didn't stop as he kept walking, ignoring me.

"Jefferson."

It took me a second to realize he had spoken. He looked over his shoulder at me, and a wink was sent in my direction. My wide eyes blinked back at him silently.

"My name, Sweetheart. It's Jefferson Nevitte."

-

The smell of my mother's cooking wafted throughout the house. My homework littered my bed, the partially completed physics notes staring me in the face. I'd been nearly fifteen minutes late to class after my encounter with Jefferson.

A soft knocking prevented me from reliving the conversation yet again. I looked up to see my father entering my room.

"Hey, kiddo, dinner's almost ready," he informed me. I nodded whilst getting up from my bed.

I followed him to the dining room, where my mother was setting the table. I helped her with the silverware, and my father brought out the lasagna.

Dinner went the same way it always did. My dad talked about his day at work. My mom talked about the new book her bookclub is reading. Nothing was out of the ordinary until it was my turn to talk about my day.

"How was your day, honey?" My mother asked, her eyes not leaving me as she waited for a response.

I replayed my day in my head. Stubbed my toe on the way to second period. Received English paper back. Was late to physics. Met Jefferson. Really the only interesting thing, the only thing worthy of mentioning anyway, was Jefferson.

"I made a new friend, I think." I bit my lip in thought. I'm not quite sure what I think I'll keep you around means, but I think it means we're friends. Kind of.

"That's lovey. What's her name?" The smile on my dad's face sent a pang of guilt down my spine.

He thinks my friend is a girl. He's not going to be happy with me. If there's one thing I know about Richard Beauregard, the man that raised me, it's that he doesn't like when I interact with members of the male species. Don't get me wrong, he loves me. He's an amazing father. He just doesn't want anything to happen to me. Ever.

I cleared my throat and looked at my plate, "Actually, his name is Jefferson."

My parents both stilled, waiting for me to elaborate. I gave them a smile of reassurance, though it did nothing to appease them.

"I ran into him on my way to physics, and I think we're friends now. His name is Jefferson Nevitte."

The only thing that followed was the sound of my mother gasping softly and my father dropping his silverware.