CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

The days went by too quickly for Rosalie's liking.

Alaska was in bloom in the summer. As they drove through the long roads, windows down, the air was cool and calming, the sky blue and dotted with wisps of clouds. The days rolled by easily as if they'd been doing such a thing for years. Violet never wanted anything to change. 

She tried not to think of the goodbyes that were yet to come. As soon as the summer ended, so would her relationship with Rosalie- if it could be called that. They hadn't talked about it but Violet hadn't wanted to. She didn't know what hung between them, but she knew that it was strong and unending yet knew it would soon change. Rosalie's presence was unwavering. 

Being alone with her for hours on end was easy. The silence was comfortable, the talk effortless. Violet was sure she had never felt such a way before- so serene and unbothered, so able to be herself at each minute of the day. When she looked at Rosalie, she felt calm. The fact surprised her. When she sat in the passenger seat, tucked up under a blanket as they drove through the night to their next destination, Violet would look at her and wonder where the standoffish and proud girl had gone, would wonder if Rosalie had ever been that girl or if it had just been a mask. Violet had a feeling Rosalie knew that she was looking and let her stare anyway. 

At night, when their eyes became too tired, they lay the seats down and draped their blankets together. It was then that they could deny themselves no longer. Violet liked the fire behind Rosalie's lips, the ecstasy that laced her tongue. For so long that taste had been hidden by the prickled thorns of Rosalie's words and now Violet could rip them away to feel the soft petals of her lips. Rose's hands would always find her waist, fitting there as if they had been designed with the right shape to sit there- a lock and key. Part of Rosalie wished that she could freeze time and let them remain like that- together- for the rest of time. But she knew it was selfish. Unlike her, Violet had a life to live and a living family to do it for.

As they reached Anchorage, the truck had barely rolled to its stop before Violet pushed the door open and stepped out into the fresh air. In the distance, the mountains seemed to roll on forever. They were great, protruding figures, carving out the horizon with a commanding largeness. Even the dabbing of powder-white snow could not make them look gentle. 

Though she could not see the water, she could smell it. The salt-tainted air reminded her of La Push. 

"What do you want to do first?"

Violet turned, unable to keep the grin from her face. "Me? We're here because of my choice. It's your turn to say what you want to do."

They'd already planned so much: their theatre tickets, their time frame for hiking the glacier trail, and more. Today, the city was theirs, and Rosalie wished to use it. 

"Let's just look around the city, see what there is, yeah?"

"Anything you want, Rosalie," Violet said, taking her by the hand and leading her to the signs that pointed them to the centre. 

The centre was bustling with life. Rosalie could hear everything and fought hard to keep the loudness of her ears down. It was easy to do with Violet by her side, pointing out the shops they could look at and the restaurants she would like to try. 

"Let's go in here!"

The air smelled old and rustic inside, and it was so very still. The far wall was covered in clocks in all sizes, the nearest one painted in vintage posters, some from wartime propaganda. For a while, they drifted between the shelves and the bookcases, stopping momentarily to glance at leather-bound books and odd trinkets. Rosalie was the first to pick something out. 

"It's beautiful," Violet said, chin resting on her shoulder. 

The antique was a locket in the Art Deco style. Encased in spikes of silver jewels, was a large, gleaming emerald, the shape of a teardrop. The necklace made her think of something her friend Vera had once owned. Something she had once given to Vera. 

Rosalie slipped away as Violet went to look at the old dresses. She found the counter at the very back of the shop. Behind it sat an elderly woman, with long, grey curls and a draping purple dress. As Rose approached, the woman smiled, her eyes creasing into soft crescents. 

"A beautiful locket," the old lady said. Her eyes shone with something indescribable, incomprehensible. Rosalie only nodded. "Dates all the way back to the beginning of the twentieth century. I was waiting for someone to pick this up. Looks like it chose the right hands."

"Thank you," Rose said, taking the necklace and handing the woman the money. Something about the exchange unnerved her. With the transaction done, she hurried away, pocketing the antique. 

As they left the shop and made their way back through the streets, the skies began to cloud over with great black, splodges, threatening a downpour. The two almost ran- hand in hand- back towards the truck, ignoring the looks sent their way, but the rain came before they reached the Jeep. 

"Where are the keys?" Rosalie shouted, sheltering the other girl with the jacket she'd ripped from her own body. 

Violet let out a bright laugh, her head tipping backwards. "And you're going to magically stay dry while I soak through?" Her hands gripped Rosalie's shirt, pushing her against the Jeep. She let her do it. "It's just a bit of rain, Rose. It won't kill us."

Violet's laugh dissolved against Rosalie's lips. Her kiss was heated, fighting off the cool chill of the rain. Her blood was pulsing, so fragrant with excitement, her heart beat loud and fast like a song that Rosalie could dance to. The rain might not kill her, but Rose thought Violet's kiss might. 

As the rain subsided into a gentle patter, they landed in the back of the Jeep, the open roof a clear gateway to the dark sky above. It was too cloudy to see anything noteworthy, but Violet looked anyway. Her fingers were lifted into eh hair, finger pointed, moving slowly as if she could trace out where she thought the constellations might be. 

Rosalie could have told her everything about the stars. She'd studied them for years, even gotten a degree in their science. But there was nothing to see but Violet's bright eyes and the delicate lifting of her chest. 

Violet turned over to her, lips parted with unsaid words.

"What are we doing, Rosalie?"

They had avoided the topic like the plague, but Rosalie was not surprised that it was Violet who dared to broach the topic. 

"Watching the stars," she said, even though she knew it was not the right answer.

Rosalie didn't want to acknowledge it all, didn't want to be reminded that this would all end. That it would have to end. 

"No, I mean what are we doing? What is this?" Violet said. The hand that was entwined in Rosalie's fingers gave a squeeze as if trying to show her point. "We both know I leave in a couple of weeks. We agreed on a summer, but this is more than I thought we'd have."

"We'll take it a day at a time," she said, rolling over so they were face to face. She could hear Violet's inhale and the quickness of her heart. For a moment, her face hid behind her strawberry hair, but Rose reached out and cleared the strands from her face, hands lingering. "Give us these few weeks, Vi."

"Okay." Violet let out a deep breath. "I just wish we had longer."

"We knew it wouldn't last forever."

Violet took the hand by her face in her own and pressed a soft kiss to Rosalie's palm. "I wish it could. I wish I could stay here, like this, forever."

If she was a weaker being- if she was Edward, perhaps- she would have thought of revealing it all then. Of telling her that forever was possible, with one little bite. But Rosalie could never do that. She loved her enough, she realised, to let Violet go and live her life. 

She said nothing. The words were thick and lodged in her throat. Instead, she reached her hand into her pocket and pulled out the necklace. 

"Rosalie..." Violet's words trailed off as her eyes found the locket. 

Rosalie reached toward her, swooping the other girl's hair from her shoulders so she could clasp it around her neck. Violet didn't protest. Her breath was held as Rosalie's hands disappeared behind her. At the coolness of the jewel against her chest, she sucked in a sharp breath. 

"I want you to wear this," she said, voice almost a whisper. A shiver went down Violet's back. "And I want you to think of me each time you touch it."

Violet's hands fell to clasp each side of her face. Her brows were furrowed, pained, as if she could not comprehend all she was feeling. 

"I'll think of you forever."

Sorry for making you all wait forever for this! I found the chapter really difficult to write. 

add my insta flowersforophelia.wp :)