A squeal escapes Bella's lips as the hose turns on her, spraying freezing water on her overheated skin. She jumps out of direct reach, but the hose follows her closely.
"Rose!" She hears the high pitch voice yell in frustration. "Stop it!"
Bella wipes the fluid from her eyes as she manages to catch a break.
Alice is on Rosalie's back, trying to get the taller girl to stop her incessant attacks. She giggles when Rosalie raises her hands in defeat.
Alice hops off of Rosalie and stands beside her. "Were supposed to be filling water balloons." Alice pouts as they all reach for the bags containing the supplies.
Alice, the oldest of the three, was always the smallest, and at that moment, Rosalie's height towers over the other two.
Rosalie huffs as she tears open a bag of balloons with her teeth. "This is dumb." Bella can't help but agree with her as they set about the task.
A back-to-school picnic coordinated by their parents, and they have to do all the work.
She sighs. She could be on the reservation at the beach with Leah and Seth. Yet, instead, she's filling over three hundred water balloons with her friends.
"Can you believe we're going to be seventh graders?" Alice asks when they finish dragging the second bin full of jiggling colors across the yard and near Rosalie's dad's truck. "We're getting old."
Bella giggles as Rosalie falls in step behind Alice and turns to her rolling her eyes endearingly.
The girls finish the task before lunchtime, and Bella waves from beside Rose as Alice's mom picks her up. The girls go upstairs to play after eating, and Rosalie searches through her piles of movies. She turns to Bella, "What do you want to do?"
Bella shrugs her shoulders. She doesn't mind anything, but she also knows her dad spoke to Rosalie's mom about letting her stay until he could get her. With that in mind, she knows to be mindful of others as a guest.
Her eyes land on the boxes piled beside her bookshelf. "We can play a board game?" Rosalie's bright eyes widen as if she forgot her board games. She pulls a box from the stack.
Bella feels herself blush when Rosalie brushes her hands through her hair. "You have pretty hair." It's everything to her. Rosalie arguably the prettiest in their grade. She feels giddy.
They make it through half of their game before Rosalie groans and throws the two boards aside. "Hey!" Bella cries as her Guess Who board crashes onto the carpet-covered floor.
"I'm bored." Bella looks at her. "Let's play something else."
What more was there to do? Rosalie's game console downstairs, she moves to get up. "We can go downstairs and play video games?"
Bella's irritation grows as Rosalie sprawls across the grave of their game. "Then what do you want to do?"
Rosalie sits up as if struck by an idea. Bella waits for her to speak, but her impatience grows.
"Remember when we used to play house?"
Bella freezes as the words come from Rose's mouth. She knows Rosalie's waiting, but her shock gradually leaves. "Alice isn't here, though." She shrugs. "Aren't we also too big for that now?"
Rosalie scoots close on the bed to her. The duvet wrinkles as she closes the space. "We never played with Alice." Bella knows that, but she wants to disappear. The blush on her face deepens.
Brown eyes follow the familiar figure blurring across the field. She feels her face stretch into an involuntary grin before she realizes it. Bella's face flushes, and she knows Alice can tell the shift in her persona.
The band stops playing as the cheerleaders leave the field.
Alice leans in close to Bella. "Looks like Rosalie's back with Em." She ignores the way her heart sinks into her stomach.
Rosalie loves her.
She absolutely does, just not in the traditional sense, and Bella's alright with that.
Or she likes to argue she is alright.
She shakes the doubt from her mind as the image of Emmett twirling Rose around glares her in the face. The reality of their relationship. Bella doesn't mind, yet she does. So she settles for the ride with an undetermined destination.
Bella shrugs, trying to feign indifference. "Not sure." She avoids Alice's knowing gaze while they huddle for warmth. She settles for kissing her on the temple—a gesture of affection reserved for them and them alone.
She takes in Alice's serene expression as she shuts her eyes in deep concentration. Used to Alice's moments of meditation, they sit in silence.
"We're going to be alright." Coming from anyone else, Bella would laugh in their face, but from Mary Alice Brandon, her childhood best friend. She feels a strange calm settle over them amid the rowdy crowd. She believes her wholeheartedly.
Call it foolish if you must, but the words comfort Bella in their sincerity.
Blue eyes snap open, and Bella's focus narrows. The normally light and elfish features of her friend serious underneath the stadium lights. She examines her face in concern, waiting for Alice to speak. "Of course, Bella." She playfully knocks her head on her temple, giggling as a cry of pain passes through Bella's lips.
They return to normalcy for a short time.
It's enough for Bella to forget the panic of growing older, enough for both girls to momentarily erase their concerns of amounting to nothing. Everyone in the crowd feeling alone in their crisis but too blind to see others suffering the same crippling fears.
The weight of expectations looming over them in a cloud of dread, but they all choose to ignore it. The anxiety will be there tomorrow.
Not the first nor the last to feel uncertainty about life itself or the options available, they cope with the ways they can. In this case, it's a stupid football game at the end of spirit week.
She rolls her eyes so aggressively that Alice warns her she'll poke her eyes out. "It's just popcorn, pretty please." She bats her ridiculous doll-like eyes, and Bella caves. Jasper at work, the boyfriend's responsibilities fall on the best friend.
She groans in exaggeration as she gets up.
"You're lucky; I love you." She glowers at the beaming smile on Alice's face as she leaves the cacoon of their shared heated blanket. With a hidden smile, she yanks the coat off of Alice's lap and sprints from their row in the stands ignoring the cry behind her.
Bella forwent a jacket judging a hoodie would be enough. She tosses the jacket on top of her hoodie, and telepathically sends thanks to Alice for thinking ahead.
The steps sound thunderous as she makes her way to concessions.
She makes it five feet from the last step before a hand rips her beneath the cover of the bleachers. Startled, she cries out and shoves on the hand, digging into her jacket.
A scream dies on her lips as Rosalie's face comes into view in the pitch dark space. She visibly relaxes and feels her posture slacken. Bella wants to pinch herself for personifying the perfect spineless vertebrae. However, she knows better than anyone that everyone is considered weak in the presence of Rosalie Hale.
"Why didn't you answer my text?" The moment comes crashing down as Rosalie's vulnerabilities shine through. Something Bella exclusively gets to see in moments of intimacy. Moments where Bella can play make-believe, even for a second, and remain Rosalie's object of affection.
"Alice would see me texting and ask." She shrugs, not quite understanding the problem. Especially considering their ill-defined relationship didn't set texting perimeters.
She almost misses the way Rosalie's eyes flash. "Why would she see you texting?" Bella notices what she's doing before Rosalie understands the feelings coursing through her.
The way the blonde is goading her, almost prompting her with leading questions, it becomes glaringly obvious for Bella what's going on as Rosalie's brows set. She argues with herself in their small pause. Rosalie isn't like that and wouldn't lash out for something so small.
"She's right beside me?"
When Rosalie raises her signature brow, Bella knows all hope is lost.
"Sandbox lesbians, right, I forgot."
Bella flinches as if smacked by Rosalie's' use of old nicknames.
Something Bella hates with a burning passion.
"What the hell, Rose." She moves to walk away, but the arm keeps her in place. "Let go of the jacket. I'm not doing this right now."
The use of their childhood appointed nickname by bully set her off.
The pain Alice suffered alongside Bella in her refusal to abandon her was a sore spot for the brunette, so she lashes out. "I don't know what the fuck your problem is but leave me alone. Just because you chickened out and helped in humiliating me doesn't make Alice a lesbian." Her voice raises against her best effort to restrain her temper. "Even if it did, what's the big fucking deal?"
She shoves Rosalie back and feels the urge to get Alice and forget about their plans after.
"So, you are fucking?" Bella reels in shock of the accusation posed in the question. "It's cool, just want to make sure there's total transparency with our sexual partners."
She feels the insincerity hang in the air beneath the stands. It's stifling, but she tries to eliminate the suffocating quality.
Being honest, she ignores any potential partners or lovers if they aren't Rosalie. Her embarrassment comes to light when she realizes she's completely monogamous with Rosalie. She sits waiting for her beck and call.
She panics and spits out another answer. One rooted in falsities because her shame covers her like a second skin.
"No, I'm not sleeping with Alice." She watches closely as Rosalie visibly relaxes. "I'm seeing someone else, but I'm taking it slow." Violet eyes darken, and a firmness sets around the pink lips.
"What does that mean?"
"I'll let you know."
When Alice leaves her house at night to go home and facetime Jasper, Bella sits in her bed listening to the sound of Alice's car leave the driveway.
Silence fills the old house as she lays on her bed.
Her home's silence felt like a haven. The only sounds were the noises old buildings made—groaning of the furnace and plumbing. When she hears the sound of tires on the gravel, she feels her excitement fester.
She steeps in anticipation as she hears the muffled sound of the car door close, steps on the porch, and finally the creak of the front door. She tries to play it cool, but her stomach tightens with each step on the stair.
Bella continues to read the same passage over and over again. Nose buried in the book, she tries to act indifferent, but her heart races as she notices Rosalie in the peripheries of her eye, how her figure looms in the doorway.
The blonde clears her throat as she leans against the frame. Bella looks up and softly gasps.
Hair gently tousled, makeup light on her face, and eyes darkened in the dim lighting in her room. Bella stares in awe, but in the back of her mind, she knows she's getting the aftermath of Rosalie's date with Emmett. Even if she's freshly screwed or sweaty, she looks like a goddess basking in the light.
She puts her book face down onto the bedside table. The gaze on her never strays, and she moves to follow their routine.
Bella's hands reach for her T-shirt playing with the hem of it. Her fingers dance around the edge of the fabric and onto her skin. She knows Rosalie's watching her closely.
A game of theirs to ensure Rosalie's arousal drowns her fears. The only way they engage in intimacy sober is when Bella entices her enough to let go of reservations. She clenches her eyes shut as she tries to forget the measures they go to for this relationship.
Bella's entire body flushes as she trails her fingertips across her exposed middle. The skin raises, leaving a trail. Her hand brushes across her nipple, and she fights back a shiver.
She feels it raise in the palm of her hand, and she slowly closes around it with a swirl of her fingers. Bella's face feels unbearably hot. Her body burns bright beneath the watchful gaze.
Bella's hand leaves her clavicle as her other hand plays with the band of her shorts.
She itches to open her eyes and look, but she knows it'll only push the blonde away. Bella strokes the soft skin above the band of the hip-hugging shorts and dips on occasion. She barely notices her breaths come in pants and puffs or the sound of clothes hitting the floor.
Bella's arousal skyrockets as she accidentally brushes her center through the shorts. The moan that escapes her deafens her ears enough that she doesn't hear the door to her room close.
She completely loses herself in the sensations roaring through her body until a voice travels from near her ear. "Pull your shorts down." She follows the directive instantly.
A hand clutches her side, pulling her into an entirely laid out position.
Bella's eyes shoot open when Rosalie's voice comes from above, "Fuck." Rosalie's violet eyes follow her closely as her hand begins to explore her exposed center.
Her eyes close, only to widen in shock when Rosalie's hand tears her hand away from her center.
Bella can't even feel embarrassed about the wetness coating her fingers. She nearly passes out as Rosalie takes her index finger and places it against her lips. Bella holds her breath as Rosalie's lips part, and her pink tongue pokes out enough to touch the digit.
Bella's so focused on the scene before her that she ignores the other hand until it reaches her heat. She snaps out of her daze and gives as good as she receives.
The girls wrestle around in their desire before Bella finally gains the upper hand. She watches from underneath her lashes as darkened hooded eyes glazed over in arousal look at her with unfurled attraction. It's more than that, honestly, because she notices the adoration in her stare as she kisses her way down the plane of her stomach.
Their contact never breaks as Bella kisses her thighs in appreciation. She nearly loses it when the skin glistens in the moonlight. Her arousal is clearly enough to coat the thighs. She looks in a mixture of awe and pride, the arousal from purely watching her.
Bella maintains their staring contest as she tentatively swipes at the bundle of nerves. She watches in satisfaction as Rosalie's face twists in ecstasy but refuses to end their eye contact. Bella watches her closely as she explores her center. A weakness only she's privy to know about, she takes advantage of it holding her stare the entire time.
A hand wraps into her hair, pulling her closer to the moisture, Bella barely can breathe, but Rose's face eggs her on.
At this point, the girl, riding her face, digs her hands too harshly into her hair. Bella's groans in slight pain at the fingers ripping her roots, but the eyes on her face prevent her from stopping her mouth.
"So pretty." Bella flushes from head to toe. Her body feels alive as Rosalie whispers other words of praise in the space between them.
Rosalie's back arches once, and Bella knows she's close. So she increases her efforts, her jaw hurts, but the desire for praise overwhelms her.
"Bella." Rosalie gasps out into the bedroom. She watches as the girl falls apart before her eyes—a mess of blonde waves, flushed skin, and freckled constellations.
Hands urge her up, and she follows without hesitation.
Violet eyes stare into her depths, she wants to turn away, but their intensity makes it impossible.
Rosalie's hair covers them in a cocoon of warmth as she switches their positions. Bella's breath catches as she feels blunt nails drag on her sides and across her thighs. In the promise of something strong.
Those same nails trace figures all across her skin. She realizes when Rosalie's lips envelop hers in a kiss that the entire time she's tracing an R. Bella's gasp escapes into awaiting lips as fingers reach the apex of her thighs.
Rosalie's eyes bore down into her hooded ones. "You're so wet." Bella moans as the fingers explore. "Just for me." Bella hears the undertone of her whispers, and she chooses to minimize the harm. To give into Rosalie's fantasies where everything turns out how she wants.
"Rose," she moans into her ear in a breathless voice. She feels the other hand on her waist dig into the flesh as if to ground themselves. "Please."
Bella falls into pleasure as a passenger. The blonde plays her beautifully. She knows what she needs and when exactly.
Intertwined with one another, Bella feels complete. Her discontent and uncertainty wiped away as Rose whispers to her about her family's complex dynamic. Bella listens because she cares, and she knows the blonde does as well.
Albeit in her own way, Bella knows, without doubt, Rosalie loves her. The cloud from earlier looms over them, but Bella doesn't care. It only enhances Rosalie's raw beauty. It glares at her as they whisper to one another throughout the night in a blatant effort to forget their linguistic differences. If it translates into a language Bella understands or not, Bella knows it doesn't. She loves Rosalie, but she knows it isn't enough, nor is Rosalie giving enough.
But as Rose drifts to sleep and tightens her hold on Bella's middle as she lays her head on her clavicle, Bella doesn't care.
Love is what they make it.