I don't own Twilight.

Mackenzie, Kelley, and Lauren are wonderful. I love them and everything they do for my chapters.

I think I ended Nerdlisle's week on a high note. I hope you guys agree, and I'll see y'all again on Monday!

My heart is pounding in my ears.

"You… what?"

She pulls anxiously on the end of her shirt and looks at the floor while she speaks. She's nervous.

"It's really flooded out there. I think it would be better if you stay here. I can make us something to eat, and you can sleep on the couch. I just don't want anything to happen to you if you try to go back out in this weather."

I want to answer her, but I can't speak. All my insecurities that I've been trying to hide come rushing back, and I can hardly open my mouth to make a sound.

"Please, Carlisle," she says. "For my peace of mind. I hate the thought of sending you out there with the streets in such bad condition."

"Okay," I manage to stutter.

I don't want her to worry about me. It occurs to me that I love the fact she does worry about me, but my brain is still stuck on her request and hasn't caught up with my mouth yet.

She smiles, and my mind goes blank again. "Great! Are you hungry? I can make us something when the last batch of cookies comes out."

"You don't need to go through any trouble," I say softly. I can't seem to meet her eyes. I keep staring at the couch cushion, my body wracked with nerves at the thought of spending the night here.

"It's no trouble," she assures me. She's already in the kitchen, taking the cookies out of the oven.

She brings a couple of cookies from the first batch into the living room and hands one to me before sitting on the loveseat.

"We can't just eat these cookies all night. I can make us individual pizzas on flatbread. They're really good and only take a few minutes."

I nod, finally giving in. "That sounds delicious."

…

She's right. It's only ten minutes later that I'm holding a warm plate with a pizza on it, and she's changed the channel to CNN.

Evidently mystery girl likes the news.

My phone vibrates in my pocket before I can even take a bite. I roll my eyes.

"Has to be Edward."

Mystery girl laughs. "He's probably worried about you."

"I told him I was here," I say.

"Well you can take it in the bedroom if you want. He'll probably freak out if you ignore him."

I nod absentmindedly and walk down the hall as I answer the phone. It takes several moments for me to realize exactly what she suggested, the fact I agreed to it, and where I am now.

"Whoa," I whisper into the phone as I spin around. I'm in her bedroom.

"What? What happened? Are you all right, bro?"

MG was right. He's freaking out.

"I'm in her bedroom."

"WHAT?"

I can practically hear him dropping whatever he's holding.

"Dude, what in the hell happened in the last few hours? One minute you're going to the library to study with her in this insane weather, the next you're in her apartment, and now you're telling me you're in her bedroom!"

"I don't know," I say. "She asked me to stay on her couch tonight. There's no way I can get the car home in this."

"Holy hell, bro."

"I know."

"So, you're not coming home tonight?"

"No."

"Well, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

I roll my eyes again. "Helpful, Edward. Really helpful."

"What do you want me to say? It sounds like you've got everything under control."

"I don't," I tell him. "I'm trying to stay calm, but I'll be sleeping in the same apartment as her. I'm ready to have a panic attack!"

"Okay, settle down. She wants you to stay there because she obviously worries about your safety and doesn't want you driving in this rain. I don't blame her at all for that. What did I tell you the other day? Stay calm, and don't let her see how nervous she makes you. I swear, I'm going to write that on a post it note and staple it to your forehead."

I try to laugh, but I'm too busy trying to regaining control of my racing thoughts.

"I'll be okay," I say. "I have to go. She made food for us and it's getting cold."

"All right. Just remember to enjoy yourself above everything. Who knows when you'll be able to spend time with her like this again."

I nod even though he can't see me. I tell him goodbye before I hang up the phone. I look around one more time, now that I'm really in here. It smells like vanilla. Her blanket is blue, like mine. Unlike mine, hers looks new and comfortable – like if I crawled under it I would never want to come out again.

She has two dressers. One with a mirror, and a tall one with a TV on top of it. There are a couple pieces of art on the walls, and the carpet has those marks that say she vacuums every day.

She gets more perfect with everything I learn about her.

I walk back down the hall, my head bent, and my shoulders slumped.

Why would someone as amazing as her even give me the time of day, much less insist I stay on her couch because of the rain?

I sit down on the couch and immediately start eating my pizza. I'm hungrier than I realized.

"This is amazing, Esme." Apparently homemade pizza is all it takes to bring back what little confidence I have. "You're a wonderful cook."

She blushes. She actually blushed.

"It's nothing," she says. "I'm not that good."

"Yes, you are," I insist. "Who has ever told you that you're not?"

She rubs her arm, curling in on herself like she's trying to disappear. I recognize the move. It's a trick I perfected in high school.

"No one," she says. "It just isn't every day that people compliment me the way you do."

I make it my mission right then and there to compliment her every time I see her.

"People should compliment you," I tell her. "You're perfect."

I hold my breath. I don't know where I found the courage to say something so bold, but I can't take it back now. I hope she doesn't think I'm insane.

She shakes her head. "Don't say that, Carlisle. I'm just a girl. I'm nothing special."

Why does she think that? It's hard for me to imagine how humble she is. She should know how perfect she is. I wish she would believe me.

I can't even be nervous about her reaction to my words. All I care about is making her understand.

I don't know if it's the fact it's late and there's very little light in the room, meaning she can't see me blush. Maybe it's the rain outside that started all of this. I want it to be the fact that mystery girl seems to be opening up to me.

Whatever it is, something makes me brave enough to blurt out what I've suspected all along.

"Does he make you feel that way?" My voice is a whisper and my words are mumbled, but I want to pat myself on the back just for saying them.

She sighs and rests her head against the couch, watching me. Her eyes are scrutinizing, and I can't look at them. I stare at the floor, fidgeting more and more the longer I wait for her to speak.

The seconds tick by and my panic is skyrocketing. I feel like I'm sweating even though it's a little cold in the room. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. Why did I have to ask her something so personal? All I wanted to do was make her see that she's amazing, even if she doesn't think so. What if I over-stepped my boundaries?

One day when I'm a very old man, I'm going to write a step-by-step instruction manual for losers on how to deal with girls who are too good for them.

I never thought this would be easy, but then again I never thought I would be in a situation like this at all.

Finally, when I feel like I'm going to be sick if she doesn't say something soon, she sighs again.

"He loves me," she whispers. "I know he does."

I hold my breath and don't respond, praying she'll continue.

"But we come from very different backgrounds. He grew up privileged. I didn't. He's used to people tripping over themselves to make him happy. It doesn't always occur to him to return the favor."

I'm terrified to ask any of the millions of questions that are spinning around my head. I don't want to make her angry or scare her out of saying anything.

I decide on something safe.

"How long have you been together?"

"Two years."

Two years? Don't couples usually live together after that long? What is up with this dude? Oh my goodness, I sound like my brother.

She told me that he loves of her. That's something I'm not convinced of at all. But I want to know if she really loves him. I've seen them kiss. They put on a good show, but I want to know how real it is.

I can't possibly ask that, though. I'm sure I'm going to throw up from nerves if I even open my mouth right now.

"I just wish he would tell me sweet things like you do more often."

Her voice is so soft I almost don't hear it. I get the feeling she might have said it to herself. She's looking down and fidgeting with a loose thread on her jeans.

The more she says the more I get the feeling we aren't as different as I think we are. I've been laughed at and looked down on my entire life because societal perceptions tell people I wasn't worth their time simply because I'm not as beautiful and graceful as they are. Mystery girl has grace and style, but the one person who is supposed to cherish her and make her feel special obviously doesn't do that.

I just wish she could see that she deserves so much more than him.

"You deserve to be told sweet things every day, Esme. I want to tell you something sweet every day."

She lifts her head, and her smile is so beautiful it's like when people in books describe smiles as blinding. I never understood that phrase until this moment.

"Thanks, Carlisle," she says. "That really means a lot to me."

I answer with a smile of my own.

"It's getting late," she says. "We should probably get some sleep."

I nod. I don't want to stop talking but I am exhausted. I yawn involuntarily and she smiles.

"I'll get you a pillow and blanket. The couch is actually really comfortable to sleep on."

She comes back a minute later with one of the pillows from her bed and a big comforter that I didn't see before. It's tan and suede. Just like the couch.

I thank her quietly and stare at the floor, expecting her to turn out the light and leave.

Instead I feel a light pressure on my arm and look over to see her kneeling down next to me.

"Thank you for listening, Carlisle. I know we've just been studying together, but you're a really great friend."

She rubs my arm, and kisses my cheek before walking to the bedroom. I don't breathe until I hear the door click when it closes.

I fall back against the pillow, a wide smile on my face. My face is warm where her lips touched my skin. Her scent surrounds me, and I realize she gave me her pillow. It occurs to me the other one probably smells like her boyfriend, but I don't care.

She gave me the pillow that she sleeps on. She kissed my cheek. She opened up to me.

My brother is an idiot.

MG has to like me.

I roll over and close my eyes, still smiling, knowing this will probably be the best night's sleep I'll ever get.