Dusk.

Chapter One: Origin.

A/N: Hey guys! I’ve decided to finally write a Twilight version of Rosalie and Emmett’s relationship! I had this idea while driving home from school- I know, daydreaming while driving, tsk tsk! I’ve changed a few minor details, but it’s essentially the same plot as Twilight. Rated T for some language and later, ahem, “intimate relations”. ;) In any event, I hope you enjoy it, and don’t forget to review!

Unfortunately, all I own is a life-size Kellan Lutz cutout, several shirtless posters and this plot. ~sigh~

Rosalie’s POV

Forks. How pathetic.

Why not name it Spoons… Knives, even? I sighed internally as I made my way through the deserted, faded green terminal to baggage claim.

Growing up, I had frequent summer visits to my father here in gray and green, overcast Forks, though I’ve never quite enjoyed them. My fondest memory was always leaving this dreary, destitute small town. The same people were always here, the buildings were so uniform, everything was so unlike New York. New York was everything to me- the mother of my tan skin and blonde hair, the victor of my heart and everything good, and producer of my fashion sense. God only knows, had I been here, I wouldn’t have my trademark prowess; I would’ve been a slightly more attractive version of Jessica Stanley. The thought of being so insecure and plain made my stomach churn. Just being in Forks’ atmosphere, I felt sick, as if I were wasting away by the second.

I missed my home in Rochester, I missed my mother who was there without me, wishing she were here for another infamous “Cheer up, Rosalie!” pep talk.

She always knew exactly what to say, in exactly the right way. She was a brilliant woman; I understood why she left my cold, introverted father. She was the definition all-American woman, the one everyone envied, the fun-loving, ditzy headed, carefree Ellen Hale. Beautiful, blonde haired, blue eyed. He didn’t deserve someone like her.

Stop dwelling on it, I chastised myself, hearing my mother’s voice echoing my own. I sighed at the thought of her and watched the trickle of people passing through the terminal. I narrowed my eyes bitterly, waiting in line to pass through passport checking.

I sure lucked out on my looks from her, I thought, angling my head to watch my reflection in the bullet proof plexiglass. No one would know how vulnerable I really was, unless I revealed my true colors. It wasn’t as if anyone would see through my cold exterior, I was my father’s daughter after all.

 I hated being his daughter though, reminding my mother of all that pain, day after day. It was easy for her to forget about him, though. She had trouble refraining herself from being a truly happy, go lucky woman. With her constant bright, positive attitude, I somehow found life tolerable in the Big Apple.

The simple thought of her gave me back my fierce courage and self-confidence.

If anyone could survive this Hell hole, it’s you Rosalie Hale, I settled my mind decidedly. I let my mouth form a thin line, giving the passport clerk an unenthusiastic once-over.

He was staring at my passport picture dumbly, glancing up from the recent picture as he stamped it.

“Welcome to Fo-orks,” He cleared his throat as his voice cracked.

I didn’t blame him. I was beautiful.

It wasn’t easy to not notice it. Rosalie Lillian Hale, beauty of a goddess, definitely something to be noticed.

I sighed, flashing a half-hearted smile, followed with a thank you and sauntered onward. With my suitcase in tow, I headed to the lobby. Wandering out to the sidewalk where a few others waited for their rides, I spotted my father and his face shifted from reluctant to shock in mere seconds, causing me to frown slightly. I chastised my immediate thoughts of early departure and reminded myself of my promise to my mother- specifically to be a polite, perfect little kiss-up.