Rosalie

2.

"Dad..."

I didn't get the chance to finish my sentence before he started laughing. It was an angry, bitter laugh. My hands folded in my lap, as my appetite vanished.

"You can't be serious, Rosalie," he shook his head.

"What's so wrong with having him for a friend?" My mother sent me a patronizing smile the second the words left my mouth.

"Honey, he's not the type of person you should associate yourself with. He's bad news."

I was never one to disobey my parents or argue. Being an only child, I got nearly everything I could ever ask for. They had three rules for me growing up: always be polite, carry your pepper spray, and stay away from boys. I never really minded them until right now.

"That's ridiculous. He's nice!" I argued, though I'm not sure he really was all that nice.

"He comes from the wrong side of town, Rose, honestly. What's gotten into you?" came my mother's rebuttal, which sent a pang of irritation through me.

"So, what I'm hearing is that I can't be friends with Jefferson because of where he lives?" I stood from my chair, pushing it underneath the table. "I'm not feeling very hungry anymore."

"Sweetheart, don't be this way. You can make other friends, better friends!"

Sweetheart.

I took in a sharp breath and turned on my heel to retreat to my bedroom. All the confrontation was making me tired. This was certainly not a normal occurrence for my family.

I don't even know why it matters all that much to me; my dad is right. I can make other friends, so why am I so set of Jefferson Nevitte? I just met him this afternoon.

He wasn't even that friendly. He made fun of me. What the hell is my problem?

A loud ding brought me from my internal monologue, drawing my attention to my phone that lay amongst the scattered homework. My heart stuttered when I read the words on the screen, which only added to my confusion.

Unknown number: Goodnight, Sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow. Xx

Oh, god.

-

My face was shoved in my locker, looking for the book I required for history. I was beginning to think I left it at home when I pulled from my locker, and the door was slammed shut.

"Looking for this, Sweetheart?"

Standing before me was Jefferson, and in his hand was my missing history book. I tilted my head at him and reached for it. Suddenly, he yanked it back towards his chest.

"Where's my thank you? I could've left this in the hallway where you dropped it," he smirked.

"Fine, thank you. Can I have it back now?" I reached for my textbook once again, but it still didn't meet my grasp.

"Walk with me."

He gave me no opportunity to refuse, as he turned and started walking. I hiked my messenger bag strap higher on my shoulder and hurried to catch up with him. His legs were incredibly long –and that's saying something, because I'm not exactly short.

"Where are we going?" I demanded, dodging students to match his pace. They moved out of his way, perhaps out of fear, but they did not move for me.

"To class, Sweetheart, where else?" He laughed, casting a look over his shoulder.

"Why are we walking together?" He stopped walking after I asked, and I felt like maybe I shouldn't have.

"You don't want to walk with me?"

I opened and closed my mouth repeatedly, yet no words ever came out. Strangled sounds, the fragments of words I was trying to say, escaped me. His dimples saved me from any further embarrassment when they made an appearance.

"I'm just messing with you. Come on, we're gonna be late," he chucked, throwing an arm around my shoulder. A squeak resembling a small mouse came from me, prolonging his amusement.

"You're definitely something else."

-

I listened to our teacher drone on about the importance of a two-party system with extreme boredom. His voice stopped and he took his place behind his desk.

"I want you all to pair up, because you're going to be starting a project."

I cringed as so many eyes drifted to me. Partner projects were the bane of my existence. See, it's great being the smart girl until parter projects come around, and you're the one-stop-shop to visit for an easy A.

"One of you will assume the role of the Democratic Party, and the other will be the Republican Party. I expect you to do your research and have a legitimate debate prepared to preform for the class in one week."

I kept my eyes forward to prevent myself from making eye contact with any of my peers. I've learned that after it's announced that we'll need a partner, eye contact is basically like signing over your soul. That person is your partner, and there's no way around it.

"Begin."

The scraping of chairs alerted me to the stampede of people who now want to be my best friend. They crowded around me, all of them smiling their widest fake smile. I waited patiently for the first of them to speak, still not looking into their eyes.

"So, Rosalie, do you have a partner yet?"

There it is. I plastered a polite smile onto my Airy Fairy painted lips. I looked composed, but on the inside I was having a full-on panic attack. My eyes darted around the room, before settling on Jefferson, who had not moved from his chair directly to the left of me. He was the only one who hasn't moved.

I cleared my throat, straightening my posture, before heaving a sigh, "I'm sorry, but I do. Jefferson's my partner."

A collective, overly dramatic gasp escaped the group of leeches at my desk, and Jefferson's head snapped to look at me. His eyes were burning holes in the side of my face, but I didn't falter. He was my ticket out of this mess.

"Sorry, losers. Beat it," Jefferson shrugged. The crowd dwindled, and I threw a thankful smile to him.

"I didn't mean to throw you under the bus like that, but I panicked. It gets a bit overwhelming sometimes," I sighed.

"Don't be silly, Sweetheart. We both know you just want an excuse to hang out with me," he winked.

"As if," I scoffed in tune with the lunch bell. Gathering my things, I took notice of the fact that Jefferson waited at the door for me.

As I approached him, he rested his arm around my shoulder again. With that, we walked together to lunch.