The four of them found a spot on the empty beach near an old boat that had sat dormant on the sand for years. Carlisle and Emmett started a fire and they all cozied up next to it telling urban legend-style ghost stories.
"So the boy and girl are parked on the side of the road, right," Carlisle told them, using his hands to add unintentional animation, "And they hear on the radio that this lunatic killer has escaped-"
"You're telling it wrong," Emmett interrupted, taking a swig from a bottle of rum.
"Shh!" Carlisle said with a grin, "So, the news report says he had this long, sharp hook for a hand. The girl gets all scared, and she wants to go home. The boy is a little pissed, he peels out his car and they leave."
"No, that's not it," Emmett argued again, "Okay, the boy goes for help because their car stalled and the girl stays in the car and she hears this scratching sound on the roof of the car."
"It's not a scratching sound," Rosalid told him, inching her lips close to his, "It's a dripping sound."
"No," he said again, "It's a scratching sound because the boy's been hung from a tree limb and it's his feet scratching on the roof of the car."
"No he's been decapitated and it's the blood from his severed neck that's dripping."
"No, he wasn't decapitated," Esme chimed in, shaking her head, "He was gutted with the hook." She smiled, making both Emmett and Rosalie grin. "Well, that's the way I heard it." She looked at Carlisle.
"Look, you're all wrong," Carlisle protested, "The boy and girl get home and they find the lunatic's hook in the car door. That's the original story. That's how it really happened."
"None of it really happened," Emmett told him, "It's a bullshit ghost story to begin with."
"No, it's not," he went on, "It's true."
"Yeah, I don't think so Carlisle," Rosalie smiled at him and shook her head.
"I swear."
"Please," Esme looked over at him skeptically, "It's a fictional story to warn young girls of the dangers of having premarital sex."
"Well actually, honey," Carlisle smiled at her, "It's American folklore. All of those stories usually originate from some type of real-life incident."
Rosalie looked up at Emmett and scooted a little bit closer to him, and Esme sighed and looked at Carlisle.
He stared across the fire at his two friends, and then finally at Esme before cracking a wide smile.
...
Esme looked around the beach having listened to Carlisle when he originally asked her to close her eyes.
"Carlisle!" she called out loud, "Where did you go?"
Somewhere off in the distance she heard Rosalie's loud laughter, but she and Emmett had taken a walk down the empty beach in the opposite direction.
"Carlisle!" Esme called out again, before screaming as she felt him rush up behind her, grabbing her around the waist. The two of them began to laugh and she took his hand so they could walk some more. "You don't really believe those stories, do you?"
"They're true," he assured her with a laugh, pulling her down to sit in the sand with him.
Esme smiled at him, keeping her fingers interlocked with his, "I'm going to miss you."
"You don't have to," he said, tucking a hair behind her ear, "You can always ditch the Boston thing and come to New York with me."
"Well we can't all sit in the village coffee house on our lap tops," she teased, toying with the front of his shirt.
"See." Carlisle smiled, "Nobody gets me the way you do."
"I understand your pain."
He grinned back at her and Esme's smile faded.
"I hate this," she claimed, shaking her head, "I hate this. You're going to go away and you're going to fall for this black wearing, tattoo covered, head shaving, body piercing philosophy student."
"That sounds attractive," Carlisle joked.
"I'll never see you again."
"Hey," he softened his voice, "That's not true. Our relationship is going to last. Distance doesn't matter."
"Yeah?" Esme sighed and looked down.
Carlisle placed a hand on her face and she looked back up before edging forward to meet his lips with her own. She removed the light shall that covered the tank top she had underneath and continued to kiss him.
"Are you sure?" he asked her.
Esme nodded and Carlisle resumed their make-out session as she gently pulled him on top of her on their quiet nook on the beach.
...
Rosalie helped a stumbling Emmett back toward their meeting spot on the beach and tossed his keys to Carlisle as he and Esme walked hand in hand toward their friends.
"Give me my keys," Emmett demanded through glossy eyes.
"You're trashed, pal," Carlisle reminded him with a grin. He glanced up toward the empty parking lot at their lone vehicle.
"Nobody drives my car but me," Emmett went on.
Rosalie pulled his face toward hers and kissed him. "Come sit in the back with me. We can do this on the ride." She kissed him again and Emmett smiled before pulling away and pointing back at Carlisle.
"Nobody drives my car but me, you got that?" he repeated through drunken laughter.
"Loud and clear," Carlisle replied with a smile.
Esme looked at him with a grin and he kissed her on the cheek before escorting her to the passenger seat.
Emmett and Rosalie scampered into the back, fumbling around before Emmett finally got himself adjusted with the bottle of rum on his lap.
"Jeez, Em," she huffed, trying to adjust despite his sloppy antics.
Carlisle got in the driver's seat and closed the door before starting up the BMW and heading away from the beach. He linked his hand through Esme's and they exchanged a smile as they headed back down the windy road the overlooked the ocean.