Chapter Text
- I think you are the wrong person for me.
- I'm sure I'm the right person for you.
I looked at the watch on my left wrist. Seven-thirty in the morning. And my appointment was definitely late.
The cafe near my college was a good place for a first date. I didn't find out, but if Alice had said so, I couldn't argue with her words. My best friend had a strange tendency to predict the future.
I looked at my porcelain cup on the table. The foam on my espresso cappuccino had shrunk and cooled exponentially. It was already my second cup since arriving half an hour earlier. I could blame it on my own anxiety and impatience, but since he was late, I could also blame the person who should have arrived five minutes earlier.
I also wanted to blame Alice. She was the main reason I'd agreed to such strange circumstances. Who in their right mind would go on blind dates without ever having met the other person? Not me. But since I had Alice Brandon as a friend, apparently, I made exceptions.
As I waited, I imagined what he looked like. Maybe he'd have broad shoulders like the man sitting at one of the tables in the back, or maybe defined curls in his hair falling into his eyes like the cute barista waiting tables, or maybe he'd have dark eyes like mine or light eyes like the executive sitting next to him, constantly clicking away on his laptop.
I sighed in disappointment, thinking he might not even show up. I'd wasted precious time when I could have been doing something truly productive—there were photoshoots I should have completed and others I should have developed a long time ago. And now, I was sitting there, waiting for a man who should have arrived six minutes ago.
I took another sip of my cold cappuccino. The liquid slid down my throat with difficulty, and for a moment, I felt like vomiting. All my nervousness turned to disbelief. I was about to leave, but I would give him a ten-minute grace period for being late, so as not to seem unfair.
The barista looked at me again in less than three minutes. It was a look of pain, and I was furious about it. I knew what she must have looked like. A beautiful woman with soft makeup, sitting at a distant table near the window—one of the best in the café—checking her phone every now and then as she peeked anxiously every time the café door opened, sighing in disappointment each time.
I glanced at my phone again and ignored Alice's message asking if my date had arrived yet. I wanted to yell at her in frustration, but it was no one's fault but mine. Listening to Alice was dangerous enough; following her instructions was even worse.
The door opened again, but this time I didn't look up immediately. I was focused on my reflection in my phone screen, admiring the lipstick Alice had chosen for me, when the scent hit me. I was sitting near the door and window, and the breeze from outside carried the scent of the person who had just entered.
It was a soft, floral scent that made me look up and admire the delicate aroma of what seemed to be an expensive perfume.
It was a woman—obviously, because of the feminine fragrance—but what struck me was something indescribable.
The woman was, in my most careless and discreet perception, the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life.
The first thing you noticed when you looked at her was her hair. It was fine, golden strands, honey-colored rather than light blonde, shining beautifully in the morning light. No. The blonde was rich and hydrated, with perfectly curled ends.
Her radiant skin was the second thing. Not pale, but flawless in the soft morning light. A strange pang of envy shot through my brain, and my throat tightened, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. If my date had walked in and seen that woman, I was sure he wouldn't have paid me any attention, even if he'd been sitting across from me.
She wore a stylish outfit: jeans and a light blue sweatshirt that covered her thighs. The long sleeves hid her wrists, but I could still see the silver rings on her delicate fingers. Her shoes were crisp white sneakers.
She looked extremely elegant, yet dressed like a young woman. Not that it didn't suit her—quite the opposite—but there was a slight contrast between her delicate appearance and the sophistication of someone who typically dresses in blazers and tailored suits.
I noticed, with another pang of envy, how her arrival had caught everyone's attention. From the cashier to the man sitting farther away, everyone was looking at her. I knew how flattering glances could do wonders for someone's confidence, but she seemed oblivious.
I took another sip of my cappuccino as I looked away. It was hard not to stare. She was exceptionally beautiful, a rarity you only see twice in a lifetime, and now she was walking into an ordinary café—a small beacon in the darkness for the eyes to follow.
I heard footsteps approaching my table. I imagined it was the barista again, coming to ask me if I wanted more coffee, with a rueful look and a soft smile. But when I looked up as the figure approached, my heart raced.
It was the beautiful woman.
She looked at me expectantly, and that's when I noticed her eyes. A stunning shade of blue, like the sea in all its glory.
"Hello," she greeted, smiling, her pearly white teeth hitting me like a runaway train. "Can I sit down?"
I blinked twice, unable to respond. She raised an eyebrow, but continued to smile.
"Hmmm..." I swallowed. "I was... of course you can."
I noticed, with a pang of petty revenge, how the barista's eyes widened when the beautiful woman sat down across from me. He spilled some hot coffee on himself and grumbled under his breath as he walked back behind the counter.
As soon as he disappeared from view, I turned my gaze to the stranger. I had momentarily forgotten that I was waiting for someone and that she shouldn't be sitting in my supposed date's seat. But something intrigued me.
With so many empty tables, why did she ask if she could sit at mine?
The woman looked at me, seemingly calm and not as confused as I felt, so I decided to speak first:
“I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before, but someone is already sitting at this table with me.”
She blinked. My admiration for beautiful things increased even more when her long, thin, blond eyelashes brushed her rosy cheek.
“Oh,” she said sweetly, particularly charming.
She looked at me again as if studying my face before her eyebrows softened into a calm expression.
“Would you mind telling me where this person is?”
I raised my eyebrows to my hairline. Suddenly, perhaps she looked a little curious in my eyes. It was none of her business, but I opted for politeness in my response.
“He hasn’t arrived yet.”
"Oh, yes," she nodded, a strand of golden hair falling lightly over her eyes. She tucked it behind her right ear, revealing a sparkling earring. "So, you think it's a 'he'?"
This time, I couldn't control my expression. I was making the face my mother always said I made when I didn't understand algebra or an indirect invitation. Confusion overcame me.
The woman placed her hands on the dark wooden table and interlaced her long fingers, adorned with silver rings. I noticed how the sleeve of her sweatshirt didn't hide her slender, beautiful wrists. A small bracelet was on her right wrist, and a delicate watch on her left.
"I'm pretty sure so," I agreed, staring at the dark screen of my phone. Suddenly, I was scanning Alice's words and messages, trying to remember if she'd mentioned the name or gender of my blind date.
The woman—I didn't yet know her name—smiled and looked out the window. I couldn't tell if she looked amused or skeptical.
"What a lovely beginning," she said, her voice sweet and almost sassy to my ears. "I'm Rosalie Hale." She held out her hand to me, studying my face.
I looked at her white fingers and silver rings as I squeezed her hand. Her palm was warm and soft.
“Bella Swan,” I introduced myself and removed my hand from under the table.
"Bella." The way she said my name sent small spasms through my leg, which was shaking nervously. "Before we begin, I'd like to apologize for my delay. There were some unexpected issues that I had to deal with quickly, but I don't think they were a major inconvenience, since..." She lifted her left wrist, glancing at her watch. "I'm ten minutes late."
She lowered her wrist and crossed her fingers on the table again, the silver rings glinting in the pale morning light.
I blinked twice at her, absorbing her words like a heavy, dense mantra.
She… what?
What?
What the hell was she saying?
Alice said he would come. She said he would be here at seven-thirty. She said...
Oh my God.
I covered my mouth, feeling the shock hit me like a strong blow.
My eyes probably widened and my expression bordered on comical, because the woman—Rosalie Hale—laughed. The sound was beautiful, soft, delicate.
"Didn't Alice tell you?" she asked, slowly arching her golden eyebrow.
Before I could ask what she should have told me, or how Rosalie knew Alice, the waiter approached our table. I couldn't look at him because my face felt pale. Sweat gathered on my collar.
"Good morning," he greeted. I didn't look up, but from his tone, he seemed to be staring at Rosalie. "How may I serve you this morning?"
I looked at Rosalie, and she was smiling at me. Her eyes dropped to my cup and then back to my face, asking a silent question.
"A caramel espresso for me," his blue eyes said to the barista. "And for you, miss, a hot coffee with chocolate rolls."
“I’m not hungry,” I muttered, placing my fingertips on my right temple.
Rosalie just waved at the barista, who walked away, tripping slightly over his own feet.
I sighed and drummed my fingers on the table.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "Actually, what am I doing here?"
Rosalie shrugged as she leaned back against the upholstered bench behind her. She looked graceful, crossing her legs and resting one arm on the back of the seat.
"You tell me," she replied, her blue eyes provocative. "I know why I'm here."
"What are you doing here?"
"Bella." Once again, that shiver ran down my spine. "You're not uninformed. You know why we're here."
I just winked at her. I thought of Alice, of her smile before she kissed my cheek and told me to enjoy the date. Of how her eyes had sparkled. I'd assumed it was excitement, but now they seemed mischievous in my recent memories.
"Is this a joke?" I asked. "Is Alice playing a prank? Did she pay you to come here?"
“Why would it be a joke?”
"Hmmm." I opened my mouth and closed it again. "Because if you're here for the same reason I am, you should know that I don't... like... women."
Rosalie just winked at me.
“Now I feel like you’re the one playing with me.”
Before I could say anything, the waiter returned. This time, he brought our orders on a shiny silver tray. I couldn't help but look up at his face, but he was focused on Rosalie.
The young man first placed Rosalie's drink in a white porcelain cup in front of her. The caramel aroma hit me quickly. Then, almost without any finesse, he placed my coffee and rolls in front of me.
"You can go now. Thank you." Rosalie dismissed him with a cold tone in her delicate voice.
He left immediately, this time without tripping.
Rosalie was still looking at me, her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together.
She was exceptionally beautiful, there was no doubt about that.
"Okay," I began, taking a deep breath to explain my confusion and help her understand the situation and why I thought we were playing Alice in Wonderland. "My best friend, Alice, said she'd help me find a blind date. My last breakup was tough, and it's been a while since I... you know... dated anyone."
Rosalie blinked silently.
"Alice said she could help me find the perfect date, but I wasn't supposed to know who it was." I rolled my eyes at my naive trust in my best friend. "And here we are."
I took the hot cup between my fingers and took a sip. It was a little bitter, but I didn't complain, needing to divert my attention from Rosalie.
She drummed her fingers on the dark wooden table, and I belatedly noticed that her nails were painted a deep crimson red. The small bracelet on her wrist glowed faintly in the light.
I looked into her electrifying blue eyes and felt my heart race. She was stunning, unmistakably beautiful.
Her silence made me nervous. Anxiety rippled through my body, my pulse racing. I placed my hands under the table, palms flat on my thighs. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so nervous.
"Where do you know Alice from?" I asked, realizing she wasn't going to respond to anything I had said.
Rosalie sighed and picked up her cup, glancing briefly at the china.
“We worked together recently.”
"Interesting," I muttered, trying to remember if Alice had mentioned Rosalie in one of her long, animated monologues. But there was no indication of that woman. "Clearly, this is a misunderstanding. Or a joke on her part."
"I don't know," Rosalie took a sip of espresso. "Alice's probably right."
“About what specifically?”
"Maybe I'm the perfect match," she said, peering over the rim of her cup. "For you."
I choked on the hot coffee in my mouth, my hand clasping my lips as I stood up. The chair creaked audibly as I pushed it back. The burn of the liquid stung my gums.
Rosalie looked startled, alarmed enough to set her cup down.
"I-I..." I stammered. The people around me were paying attention. "I-I... I'm sorry."
I took out my wallet and took out the money for breakfast, both mine and hers. My hand was shaking, and I felt a little out of it. I tried not to look at Rosalie as I slung my purse over my shoulder and set the money on the table.
"I'm sorry," I repeated softly. I looked down at the table, feeling the heat in my cheeks and neck. "It was all a big misunderstanding. I'm sorry you wasted your time."
I turned and walked away. I didn't look back, and only when I was far from the café, leaning against one of the wet walls of the college, did I put my hand to my chest.
It was my heart. It was beating uncontrollably.
…
"You did what?" Alice spun around in her swivel chair. Her big, dark eyes widened, her short, spiky hair sticking out in every direction.
After rushing out of the café like a madwoman, I walked quickly to Alice's apartment, knowing she would be there. Alice had a rigorous and busy schedule. I rarely found her doing nothing, and when she did, she was usually modeling her mannequins in various bright fabrics.
She sat at her desk, hunched over a giant white sheet of paper, drawing, her legs dangling. Three mannequins were propped up in a corner, and fabrics were strewn across the sofa. To anyone else, her apartment might have seemed chaotic. To me and Jasper, her boyfriend, it was a tangible corner of her mind.
As soon as I told her I'd left Rosalie there, Alice reacted. I wanted to argue, to scold her for sending me out at seven in the morning for a "perfect date" that had turned into a bad joke, but looking at her now, her eyes wide and her expression startled, I realized I might have misunderstood something.
“I left it there,” I muttered, setting my bag on her couch, where two different colored fabrics were strewn about.
"What? Why?" she asked, and I could see she looked genuinely upset. "Did she do something?"
"No," I said, thinking of Rosalie's blue eyes and shiny fingers. "She was kind. But that's not the point."
"How is that not the point?" Alice asked, this time standing and waving her hands. "Rosalie is perfect. Perfect."
“Alice, are you kidding me?”
Alice winked at me.
"What?"
“She is a woman.”
“And… what’s the problem?” His furrowed brows furrowed.
“You know I don’t like women,” I rolled my eyes.
"You never said anything about it." Alice looked indignant. "Back in fourth grade, you said Jessica Stanley was pretty. Her hair. Her hair was pretty."
"And there was that time you said Leah Clearwater was so strong you wanted her to carry you." I opened my mouth to argue, but closed it. It was true. Leah, my childhood friend, had strong, tanned arms.
"That doesn't mean anything, Alice," I said, sitting on the couch and crossing my arms. "Setting me up with another woman without considering my preferences or sexuality doesn't make you the best friend in the world."
Alice snorted and crossed her arms.
"Okay, okay," she looked away. "But it was Rosalie Hale I sent you, not just any woman. Rosalie Hale, Bella!"
This time, I snorted out loud.
"Alice, what were you thinking?" I buried my face in my hands. I was embarrassed, especially for trusting Alice and abandoning a woman as beautiful as Rosalie in a mediocre cafe.
"Apparently, I'm not in a good place, having left you to go find Rosalie." She sat down beside me, the fabric rustling as the springs creaked under her weight. "That woman is exceptional."
"Where did you find her?" I asked, remembering Rosalie's words about working with Alice.
"In a modeling campaign. I was hired to dress her in a fitting room at some event. That's how we met."
"Wow." I remembered the curves of her waist and her perfect face, without a single blemish or scar. "It makes sense that she's a model."
"Yes." Alice got up and went to the kitchen. "And you managed to dismiss her?"
I got up and followed her. Alice grabbed two cups from the cupboard as she made us tea. My cup was personalized; Alice had bought it for me after seeing me drinking from her favorite mug. We lived together for two years at the beginning of college—a fun and chaotic time. Alice was like...
Like a glitter bomb. Wherever it exploded, you'd end up covered in pink sparkles.
She looked at me as I settled into the chair in front of her marble counter. Unlike Alice's messy bedroom, the rest of the apartment was impeccably clean and organized. The entire floor was white and shiny, the windows were spotless and beautiful, the appliances were functional and quiet, and her utensils and dishes were neatly stored inside the small cabinet drawers.
"I didn't know what to do," I said, my voice sounding so weak even to my own ears. "I mean, you might as well be kidding me."
“I wasn’t!”
"But my date was 'she,' not 'he.' You should know I don't like women romantically. Come on, Alice! You're my best friend."
Alice froze as the water boiled on the electric stove. Her back was turned, but I could recognize the pattern of guilt in the tension of her shoulder blades. I'd known Alice for many years and could read her behavior. I knew when she was happy, sad, anxious, or angry—and especially when she felt guilty about something.
She turned to me, her eyes bright but downcast.
"I'm sorry," she said, without stuttering or seeming to lie. "You're right. I didn't consult you before attempting something so extravagant. I should have known better."
I sighed and opened my arms. Alice placed the tea on the counter before coming over to me and snuggling into my embrace. Her soft, floral scent was as familiar as my own. Her soft hair brushed my chin and cheek.
"You are forgiven," I murmured against the top of her head. Her shampoo, soft and fragrant, filled the small space between us.
Alice pulled away and pretended to wipe away imaginary tears as she skipped towards the two cups.
"I'll talk to Rosalie and apologize profusely. I was wrong about her, too," Alice said, pursing her lips. "It'll be a shame for her."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, taking the hot cup. Alice walked to the other side of the counter and added some sugar to the cup with a small spoon.
“Unlike you, Rosalie knew who she was meeting.”
I frowned as I looked at Alice. Suddenly, a bubbling feeling covered my stomach like a warm blanket.
“Alice.”
She looked over the rim of her cup.
"What?"
"What do you mean by that?"
Alice smiled.
“When I planned this for you, I already planned it for her.”
“Alice.”
Alice took a sip of tea and placed the cup on the counter, then walked slowly to the other side, smiling mischievously, her white teeth holding her lower lip.
“She had seen you before.”
“Alice.”
“I showed her your picture, and guess what…”
"Alice." I tried to walk around the counter after her, but Alice could be clever when she wanted to be. She turned around and went the other way again, smiling broadly this time.
“She found you extremely attractive, Bella.”
I felt the heat rise from my collarbone to my neck and from my neck to my cheeks.
“Alice!”
After my scream, Alice ran into her room, giggling like a naughty child caught red-handed. Her laughter prompted me to chase her down the hall to her room, where she had jumped on the bed, bouncing like a trampoline.
I tried to grab her legs, and only on the second try did I manage to grab her and pull her down. Alice fell, her body bouncing twice on the mattress before settling back down. She was still laughing happily.
I climbed onto the bed and wrapped my leg around her waist, my fingers brushing against her stomach.
"Ready for my revenge?" she smiled, smiling. Alice lay there, her short black hair spread out over the white bedspread. Her wide, beautiful smile lingered on her lips, and her hands rested on mine, making no move to pull away.
“Bella, don't you dare.”
I smile mischievously.
“You will pay for all the embarrassment I suffered this morning and continue to suffer.”
Alice rolled her eyes dramatically. "Then go ahead."
Before she could smile again, I gave her a series of tickles on her belly. She giggled, avoiding my hands, but my body was on top of hers, and at that moment, she couldn't escape me even if she wanted to.
"Stop! Stop!" she begged, laughing loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
"Only when you promise never to do something like that again."
"I promise! I promise!"
"Pinky swear!" I smiled with glee as I watched her writhe violently beneath me.
"I swear! Pinky swear!" she laughed when I changed the direction of my attack. "Stop! Stop! I'm going to piss myself!"
Finally, I stopped tickling her. She was still laughing as I lay beside her, the mattress bouncing as I fell onto it.
Alice turned to face me, her wide, pearly smile causing my smile to mirror hers. It was like action and fact. Alice pointed at me intentionally, and I smiled back with the same wide, radiant smile. She was my personal glitter bomb.
"You play so dirty," Alice said, narrowing her brown eyes at me.
“And you love it,” he replied, turning me onto my side and resting my head on his open hand.
Alice rolled her eyes, but nodded solemnly.
“Unfortunately, you are right.”
“Yes!” I gave a little cheer and she laughed.
Alice rolled her eyes.
“You know,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows, “Rosalie really liked you.”
I groaned, remembering the blonde who, above all, was a model. I looked up at the ceiling.
"I'm so embarrassed. I shouldn't have left like that."
“You will talk to her about it.”
“She must hate me now.”
“I would easily hate you.”
“Shut up, Alice.”
My best friend laughed and threw her head back.
"Don't worry, Bells," she said, running her hand through my hair. "The city is huge. I highly doubt you two will ever run into each other."
I silently prayed that the universe would prove Alice right.
"Now, get up," Alice pleaded. "Let's go have lunch. After my failure as a best friend, I'm on the hook."
“Are you sure?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Alice closed her eyes.
"I know it's going to hurt my pocket, but yes. I'm sure."
"Very well." I also stood up and followed her out of the room. "Prepare to go broke."