Sometimes it's good to have allies. That is all I have to say for this chapter. ;)

Thank you for your awesome reviews! I'm gushing so much! And so sorry for any errors in grammar and typos etc. It irks me so much when I come to see it at a later date. But oh well.

I have a feeling this might not be the most popular of chapters... but the next one- Oh my GOD!

Alright- I'm teasing. I'm sorry! Please continue to leave your lovely comments, even if they're not lovely, and once more, I am always utterly grateful for your genuine kindness!

Thank youu!

(Also, don't believe the word count. It liiiiies!)

Drowning my sorrows was one thing. Trying to do it in front of the guy who is drowning them is another. Edward's awkwardly romantic music isn't helping either so with a grumble, I switch the playlist to a dance-focused one. The sort of thing they'd play in a club back from the 90s. Giving Cullen the cold shoulder is a bit pathetic when we're the only two people in the kitchen but while everyone still inhabits the living room, debating about bloody teams and what-not, I set up six cups into a triangle on either side of the island and fill them with alcohol.

Which is fine. But like I said, I've drunk a lot already and right now I'm fueling the fire. Which here means that, because of the rising alcohol levels, I've automatically started throwing shapes in our kitchen.

Well at least I stick to my word. Dancing in the kitchen in fluffy socks is fun!

Turning around, I find Carlisle sitting idly next to the window on the counter. One leg hangs down while he holds his bent knee close to him. I immediately feel my cheeks begin to burn. And not just my cheeks actually…

Holy fuck I am so drunk there are multiple Cullen's in my kitchen.

'You okay there?'

'Fine.' I snap, spinning away from him on the tiptoes of my socks but I wobble a little and all of a sudden there's a warm hand on my arm. Again.

'Hon, I know you've got a thing for dancing but please be careful. You're bound to-'

I obnoxiously mouth his own words back to him. He smirks, I know he does because that's all he ever fucking does, and lifts an eyebrow at me.

'I'm fine.'

'Just warning you?' He murmurs, raising his hands in surrender while still unaccountably amused at whatever entertainment I seem to be providing. I don't care if he's watching me dance on these slippery tiles. I'm enjoying myself. Even if this floor is impossi-

Shiiit!

Suddenly, he jumps up, throwing his arms out but my trusted foot has found its balance in the nick of time. I continue to make a fool out of myself, acquiring the casual fall-to-the-floor as part of my routine with a drunken giggle. He huffs once so that his hair shifts from his dark eyes.

'Please just take in your surroundings?' He begs, peacefully. Admiring him once more, I find he's resting lazily against the counter, legs out the way of the floor as he continues to supervise my enjoyment. I'm pissed. I want to get back the spiritual snogging- and he's not complying.

'Nope.' I cuss.

'By all means, dance all you'd like. I was simply suggesting-'

'Stop criticising!' I whine, pathetically.

I'm quick to judge in this moment because I'm still irritable and worse than that, I'm showing off.

He rolls his eyes and leans away, encouraging for me to take my space once again. As well as having a cool little poppy jive, I take the moment to openly brash his shyness, deliberately trying to poke the bear. He couldn't be less than bored.

'Hardly fair to judge when you're stood there like a fucking tree-'

'I can hear you, Esme?' He says with a grin.

This isn't wise. I'm drunk. I'm dancing. I don't know what I'm saying and there's a gorgeous Adonis in front of my eyes, holding his hands out to me.

'Prove me wrong, then.' I propose, mockingly bowing down to the floor. 'All yours.'

He shakes his tired head, his floppy hair slipping into his eyelashes.

Wasn't I meant to be angry at him? Now I'm flirting again? Shit. He shyly turns away, his smile crumbling into his cheeks, especially the left side; a raw-pink, as his eyes avoid my own. He's trying to ignore my challenge. Coward.

Fine. If he's going to ignore me, I'm going to ignore him. So continuing to act like the sexiest mother-fucker on this planet, I mess around a little more. I shimmy my shoulders, bend my knees and throw out my hip all according to the tune of the song. In fact, I'm planning on stepping it up a notch and round out my ass a little. Blow me down- I think I've broken my flatmate into spontaneous combustion.

Why is it only when we're not facing one another that he becomes brave?

Quickly pulling me towards him, he twirls me so that I'm forced to balance on my tiptoes unless I want to fall to my butt. He pulls me towards him meaning I fall with both hands to his chest but the music tempo speeds up and, kinda leading me, he manages to push me out to follow my steps and ultimately- urm- dance with me?

Who knew bitching could result so successfully?

If I was angry, I've forgotten why because I'm laughing so much and I'm so utterly impressed that I'm happy to copy his footing, tainting it a little to suit my own style. He's laughing just as much, curling me back into his arm, spinning me again.

'Wooo! Go, Baby, go!' Emmett cheers from the doorway. The sudden entrance of an audience causes Carlisle to first jump out of his skin and secondly turn to ice.

'Emmett!' I complain loudly, hiding my amused smile. Carlisle is pink into his hairline, bless him. I pull myself out of his embrace and help to steady his balance, readjusting his white shirt to cover my shoulder. Both of them ignore it and watch each other like we're at an awkward show down?

'Don't mind me, I'm enjoying the show.' He teases with a naughty wink. I'm tempted to throw something.

'Hush, Emmett.' Carlisle murmurs gently, rubbing his hair down as every inch of him colours into an alternatively new colour.

'I was only coming to see if things are chill?'

I can feel my flatmate's unimpressed expression from behind, but still giggling, I nudge his hip gently and nod in reply. Chill as possible since Carlisle's got his eyes on me.

'Yep. Ready if everyone else is?'

I gesture to the display on the table which receives several gallant whoopings and a fist in the air.

'Hell Yeah!'

Emmett calls them all in from the living room and in seconds, an imminent argument breaks out about teams.

'I'm suitably impressed.' I whisper under my breath, draining a glass of water from the sink while Carlisle tries to return to his pasty angelic glow. He frowns at me before giving into a smile.

'Yeah, yeah.' He whines, dismissively. He rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles again, turning away from me to conceal the warmth of both cheeks.

Someone's missing.

Surveying over them, because let's be honest I'm so drunk I've forgotten how to count, I gently touch Carlisle's wrist.

'Where's Tilly?' I ask carefully, my voice mannish and pissy at the same time. I don't know why I expected her to still be here. For once, I'd falsely doubted her bravery.

'Gone.' He says blankly. Edward's about to perk up, raising a hand in the air but with a curt shake of Carlisle's head, Edward shuts his mouth and down falls the hand.

This isn't abnormal. What's abnormal is Edward sorely rubbing his cheek and shuddering as though he's the one with the inflamed skin. I look at the face in question, the one with the famous hand print. Of course, Carlisle is trying to cover it. What's worse is that when I suspiciously watch him, he looks at me as if I'm the weirdo-?! I smirk a little and shove his shoulder but it means nothing to him because his insides are steel. Gorgeous steel that I keep staring at. Weird that? How he could represent something so rigid when the implication of Cullen rigid had a way of liquidising my knees.

Seconds, actual seconds, before I'm about to demand the truth from the guilty faces in the room, the same argument from the living room descends and Emmett is hurtling abuse at Jasper who is critiquing tactics.

We haven't even played the bloody game yet.

'For fuck sake! Girls v Boys is fine!' I complain, pushing past to stand with my gang of girls. Why are all the males in the room juvenile fuckwits?!

…excusing Ol' Saint fucking Peter with his pearly pubic region. Urgh.

Though we've got the uncoordinated on our side, i.e. Bella, the boys are far easier to beat in the sense that their over-confidence is their downfall. Jaz also manages to strong arm Cullen into joining and though he doesn't drink the shot, nor like when his goal forces one of the girl to drink, it's no secret he enjoys the celebration of the boys around him.

'Gues'who keepsstaring at your ass,' Rose sings, biting the rim of her cup when she wanders over to me. I whip my head round to attempt to catch him in the act but I soon register the frown embedded in features. He's not gawking as I'd hope. He's not biting his lip or arching an eyebrow or enticing me over. He's thinking. Admittedly while staring at my ass but that's not the point.

He was wondering to what extent my ass had been touched.

'You?' I mock but when she bumps my arm and half throws her headback to indicate the oblivious singleton, I deliberately lean on the counter to push out my ass. Alice has come over to me now, knocking my stance and rolling the ball into my open palm.

'They're thrashing us,' she groans, clumsily throwing an arm to me.

'Come on, Losers!' Em leers. 'Bella's got some drinking to do.'

The Bella he is referring to groans, looking to me with bleary eyes, her hair slipping from its braid.

'Come on Es,' Edward teases.

Rolling my eyes, I nod, letting my left hand gracefully pass the fruit bowl.

'Yeah, Come on, Es.' Jasper repeats.

'Go Esme!' Alice cheers. Emmett is making faces at me, winding me up, getting me riled, Edward shoving him..

Alice was right. They are thrashing us. We have just over half our cups left in comparison but that meant I had so many more cups to hit. My surface area was wider. I half pretend to aim the ping pong ball, looking up to realise we're a number short.

'Don't cheat.' Cullen reprimands, taking the orange from my other hand and casually starting to peel it.

I usually preferred watching him eat apples, just as a tease to the stereotype.

'Hey,' I complain, the stench of the fruit hurting my eyes. The girls are shoving him back to his loser team mates and though he chews his food with a grin, I am more upset that I didn't get to see him with a soaking wet shirt.

Six rounds in and they're back to yelling at each other's faulty throws. I'm back to wishing I was in bed. For a different reason this time. But that's wicked. So ignoring these deep, immoral urges, I hum along to the song.

We're playing game after game at the peer-pressure of Emmett's obnoxious mouth. Our friends are drinking more than alcoholics and even holding my weight against the refrigerator is becoming a workout for my legs. Cullen moves to sit on the counter behind, keeping that watchful eye on us as the alcohol continues to flow down my throat and into my head. By all means, we have a lot of fun and Alice and I have taken to recreating some old age dance moves that have us giggling.

But pretty soon we reach the final stage of the alcohol.

Rose is fawning all over Emmett as he uses a mischievous hand to roam her gorgeous figure. Alice is neatly nibbling on the back of Jasper's neck so that he shudders every three minutes and Bella and Edward are having some dumb conversation about something horrific. Unimportant but apparently intense as he watches her every move with something far beyond the look of a crush.

All of a sudden, there's a booming clatter of various crockery and I glare at where Rose is pressed up to our sink, gripping onto Em as he bites into her collar bone.

'Urgh!' For once that wasn't my contemptuous bitch of a moan. In my fucking kitchen and everything. On my counter!

'OI! Guys!'

If Cullen doesn't stop laughing at me I swear to God. But the most energetic couple of our group turns to give a sheepish smile.

'Get a room!'

'Can-'

'I meant your own, Emmett!'

Jesus Christ, what is wrong with him?! Give him a shot and he thinks he's fucking Hercules.

'Aw, come on Es. Don't be jealous of the Meat Feast.' He quirks an eyebrow and winks to his girlfriend despite how lame it looks.

I glare harder, utterly silenced by his drunken bullshit while Rose gives him a hand-job three feet away.

'The wha-'

'Heyy, man.' Jasper slurs, raising a hand up as if to warn me away. His grin melts into his face as Alice continues to feast herself. What the fuck is it with these two?! And they called me the whore?! Yuuuck.

'Look. Wer'all drunk. Should prob'y-hick- get to bed-.' His southern drawl is teased out from the expert of Alice's weird masseuse hands and I share a look of foul disgust with Edward. He's puffed out his cheeks while I make the same comment with a gross shudder.

He has no obligation to complain. They're not in his bed. Eurgh.

'That was my point.' I add, irritably. Cullen moves in a minute, apparently having a silent conversation with Edward like he usually does before I hear the swing of his keys clatter about in his hand.

'Come on Emmett, I'll give you a ride.'

'Not drunk?' Emmett questions with a laugh.

It's the really insignificant things like this that make me want to lose my temper. Obviously Cullen isn't drunk? Clearly someone has to keep an eye on the poor choices of everybody here present. Especially when he's seconds away from getting it on in our kitchen. We eat here for fuck sake!

Carlisle stays silent, loosely shaking his head as he claps his hand onto Emmett's huge shoulder. Half supporting him, and by addition, Rosalie into a safer position.

'One day, my friend!' Emmett promises, hurryingly heading out the door because we clearly don't represent anything meaningful now he's getting a free ride to do the nasty with his girl. Well…it's hardly the nasty, is it?

Fine. Maybe I am jealous but only of the act- not the people. Considering my shower this afternoon, I've pretty much wound myself up. It's not fair that I don't get to release it when some douchebag with sex-on-tap, does?!

Carlisle smiles warmly to Emmett, not that the big guy registers it, helps grab their stuff like some sort of chauffeur and waits for us to politely say our goodbyes from the porch.

'Don't be mad, Es. Not like I spunked on your counter, is it?'

'Are you trying to make me hurl? Get out of here, you animal!' But the sound of everyone's laughter has loosened my distaste into a bit of a laugh. 'See you soon, guys.'

It's Rosalie that surprises me. As she's leaving, I drunkenly remember to thank her for the car again and she actually hugs me. Like on purpose. Which sucks because she's not the one I've been directing my pheromones to. Nevertheless, I hug her back a little and stand to watch Carlisle help them into his car. He's just zipping up his black jacket and opening his door when he calls:

'Hold done the fort for me, will ya?'

I think about replying but instead decide to poke my tongue out.

'Got it, Cap'n.' Edward promises with a salute and now I'm embarrassed and just want to die in a horrible winter, alone and forgotten because obviously he's more interested in boy-conversation. Man, is he in trouble when I have a sober leg to stand on. Carlisle smiles, winks, probably to his buddy, and climbs in the car while the rest of us turn back to face each other.

I'm kinda gutted that for the next ten minutes I've got no one to eye-flirt with. Goddamn.

With less than a wave, Jasper is upstairs in a flash and it's about three seconds on closing the door that I hear the shower run. Bella is obviously more polite and specifically bids us goodnight before also, reaching across to hug me. I must be giving off some anti-guy vibes or something. Edward doesn't say much. As the second most sober, he surveys the carnage of our downstairs, shrugs and crookedly smiles.

'Goodnight, then.' I dismiss grumpily.

How ridiculous of me to think Edward would be so kind as to offer to help? Wow. The day that happens, I think I'll actually kill over and become a 1940s housewife. Arrogant ass.

'Thank-you.' He sings, smiling even wider.

'Whatever.'

He sings goodnight to Alice from upstairs and quietly closes his door so that it's only me downstairs. But I do what a decent person would and clear away the mess. Which isn't too bad. It means I get to change the music to something mopey and clear the glasses to the exact standard they're required to be cleaned.

'You in here?'

I need to not be so jumpy when Alice is around. It's becoming a new fact of nature which I'll have to work on. With a wave of the cloth in my hand, I confirm that I am.

'Sweet of you and Carlisle to offer us a bed.' She announces randomly and the sudden spurt of her words are making me question if we were already half way through a conversation I've forgotten to listen to? I reckon she's being smart somehow, she's playing with her words in a way that I can't understand because I'm drunk.

Stupid gorgeous Cullen, only seeming genuinely happy when he's rejecting me. I'm too busy wiping a glass over and trying not to break it with my attitude to understand what she's on about.

'I think he said he's going to sleep on the sofa?'

Is this a game?

'Why?' I garble, now getting my hand stuck in the cylinder of another glass. She rolls her eyes and reaches over to help me though on the scale of drunk, she's worse than me.

'What do you mean 'why'?' She's grinning at me, she knows what I'm going to say even if I don't.

'He can have his bed?'

Correction: Share.

I throw the waves of my hair back over my shoulders and turn away from her giggling face to try and put some of the cups away. However, she's proving to be extremely irritating.

'Es?'

'Yeah?' I murmur distractedly. I've finally pushed every last drinking utensil away and shut the cupboard door. Woo! Now all I have to do is wipe all the sides down…. Of which she is finding extremely interesting at the moment because she won't leave me alone? It's just cleaning? Jeez Alice, if you were that interested- you might've helped.

'Er-nothing?' She squeaks, eyes to the floor as she watches me fuss around in order to restore my house-pride. It's unfair that she's sounding more sober than me. At least she looks worse… I.e drunker. Not worse as in worse. Looking at her now, I wouldn't even qualify for her outfit.

Even through my hazy eyes (and even though we're both wobbling) she does look unexpectedly excited about something. Something, I'm not picking up on. Her large eyes finally have the glint that she lost a few weeks ago. Her mouth is pulled up in a pout and the way she's staring at me is not dissimilar to my younger siblings. It's rather sweet. And ultimately dangerous.

'What I mean is-. You're okay now, right?'

Oh.

That.

I'm not sure what to reply. So I just shrug nervously. Thinking of Tilly is like drinking industrial vats of acid. Carlisle hurting, either physically or emotionally brought confusion and frustration that I'm desperate to remedy-. Yet Carlisle. Just Carlisle. He also brought an unexplainable reminder of safety. He hasn't been gone three minutes and I'm already giddy for his return.

'I'm…okay. Guess I can't exactly be mad when I'm not the one whose been slapped, huh?'

Let's be honest, I don't even have a right to be irritated when I'm not the one parading the mark of a skank on my face. Alice's muddy doe-eyes widen as if she's surprised I've noticed such a thing. It's really quite patronising.

'Slapped?' She repeats, awkwardly.

'I'm not an idiot, Alice.' It's rude of her to even attempt to pull the wool over my eyes.

'You can't hold it against him, Es. He was drunk-' She's speaking far too quickly, thanks to the alcohol, that I'm struggling to keep up. I'm always struggling to keep up. 'I mean, we're all pretty drunk, it had to happen-'

'Drunk? What are you on about?' I readdress, annoyed. How blind was she? Non-alcoholic root beer!

'Are you joking? He's been guzzling pints all night?! Anyway. Admittedly, he had no right to do it but I guess he just acted? It was the only rational option!'

Rational?

'Bullshit Alice! He hasn't touched a drop!' I argue, stopping my cleaning to at least see if she can explain herself seeing as listening to her is just giving me a headache.

I'm not sure if I'm madly confused or confusedly mad. Either way, I'm irritated. To make it worse, her ignorance is grinding my gears

'-Fair is fair, I didn't think he had it in him! But Oh my God. It was totally needed! It was only a slap- and it wasn't that hard.'

Shit drops and I implode.

'What the fuck?!'

'What?!' She asks, panicked.

'He hit her?!'

She jumps away from me, amazed by the volume of my words. My whole world is suffering an Earthquake.

'Her?' She repeats.

My shoulders and my arms seem to take over in a weird convulsive shiver. My brain is thinking but not enough. Carlisle actually-

'What are you on about, Es?'

'What am I on about?! What are you on about?! He hit her?! He fucking hit her?! What the f-'

'Esme! Slow down!'

'Me slow down?!' I demand, crazily, jabbing an accusing finger at her. 'You speed up and explain what the fuck happened! Now!'

'Esme Anne Platt. Listen to what I am saying-'

I'm going crazy. Do I call the Police? On Carlisle? That's ridiculous. But he touched her? He actually fucking hurt-.

Her small hands take a hold of both of my shaking shoulders and with a fierce but uncontrollably rude tone, she yells.

'Carlisle equals hysterical. Comprende?!'

'Alice!' I seethe. Her hand imitating a zip is enough to shut me up. She's scary when she's yelling. And worse when drunk.

'Edward also equals hysterical. Comprende?!'

'For fuck sake! Get to the point!'

'Jeeez man, listen. So Carlisle was ranting and raving, turning blue with anger so Edward, quite literally…slapped a bit of sense into him?'

It's amazing how even Alice's ego is quick to abandon her in this moment.

'What?!'

The

Actual

Fuck

: A poem by Esme Platt.

She growls and scrubs at her face before apparently cursing her life off to our ceiling.

'Hell, I thought you knew!' she whines petulantly. 'I wouldn't have said anything otherwise!'

'Edward. Slapped. Carlisle?!'

That bastard!

She shrugs a little then reluctantly nods her head. 'It's fine, though! Carlisle even thanked him after- Where you going-'

My feet are already moving in a hurry and in a manner of frustration and absolute fury, I've set a war path. Alice grabs me by the shirt and though she looks like nothing, her grip is enough to stop me getting anywhere past the second step.

'And what you gunna do- go yelling at Edward?'

'I'm going to find out what the hell was said!'

And what the hell Carlisle was ranting about in front of people.

'Shit, Esme. What do you think was said?! Just gibberish- he was angry?'

'Why are you treating this like normal, Alice?! Carlisle doesn't get angry!'

Slight lie.

She shifts her weight to her hip and shakes her head gently at me so that a few of the little spikes come unstuck. I have no idea what she's thinking of me at this current moment but I have a feeling that whatever it is, my appearance isn't helping. My hair feels loose, I'm breathing like a bull through my nose and the palms of my hands are fruity pink where I've got them squeezed so tightly.

'What exactly happened?' She asks curiously, her voice soft and her tone inviting. 'With the DVDs and the…examination thing?'

Dammit why are we talking rather than her helping

'What does it matter, Alice?! Just get explaining!'

Oh god. He's taking so long-. What if he's going to do something stupid?! Does he know where my boss lives? That's ridiculous- for fuck sake, he was perfectly calm before he left! We even danced! To a Pop song!

That's a point. He was calm. Too calm. He has a plan. Oh shit, what do I do!? Maybe I should call the police?!

He's going to do something really fucking-.

'Jesus, Esme! Sit down before you faint.'

I flinch from the shrillness of her voice and sink automatically to the step, my eyes on the door and my chest rising in heavy pants.

'Gotta be honest, I have no idea what's going on with you at the moment. But you gotta chill. You're more anxious than Bella.'

I feel like it's not really appropriate to criticise that she's replacing me with a girl she's known a week but man if I wasn't distracted I'd be pissed off. She's lucky I'm infatuated by Cullen at the moment. Otherwise I'd grill her.

When I say infatuated I mean because he's sexy and I'm open to any kind of body sharing he would like to do with me.

Not like... actually infatuated. More like gentle obsession. I was just a fan. N.1 fan.

After a few seconds, I realise I've made no acknowledgement of her comment and she's looking concerned at me with her arms across her torso. So I try to look devastated and flutter my eyelashes.

'I've already opened my big mouth, don't expect me to say anything else.' She adds sophisticatedly. It's making me want to hurl on her shoes.

'For fuck sake! Just tell me!'

Those perfectly drawn eyebrows flirt over her eye socket and with a playful smile she shakes her head.

'I'm sure you'll get it out of him tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow? Why not now?!'

She raises her hands up again and shrugs. 'Because it's bedtime?'

Is she trying to make my brain implode?!

'Alice!'

'What? I'm drunk and I want sex- don't judge me!'

'Can't you see I'm having a crisis, here?!' And I'm fucking blowing up as we speak.

She's sensed that I'm losing it because she's moved to pull me back from the stairs to the doorway of our kitchen. Drunkenly stooping to her heels, she picks up something from the floor and passes it to me. The damp cloth that I threw. I sigh, feeling the whole fire in my gut slowly distinguish as I take it from her and dry the table until it's perfectly clean.

Proves how drunk I am if I can't lose my temper without wanting to do some creepy deep-cleaning kinda shit.

'You're too passionate for your own good, sometimes.' She murmurs tiredly, wiping one of my angry tears away. I didn't realise I was crying again until now. Everything makes me cry at the moment. I'm crying at the fact I didn't get the orgasm I wanted, that's not fair.

It's also not fair the bastard keeps taunting me with it. If he wasn't such a wimp- we could be screwing right now!

She has that gentle smile on her face that is reminding me I need to be normal. At least while she's in the room and then once she leaves I can crumble to shit. Or at least until I hear those footsteps back through the door.

'He's also very level headed.' She says after a while. And she's right, he is, but sometimes I wish he wasn't so sweet. Sometimes I wish he was passionate as I was. Passionate with anger, with love, with envy, with desire….

With something that wasn't just restraint.

'Mm.' More like Mmm… Those pelvic muscles.

What the Fuck am I saying- he could be out there committing fucking murder?! No. No, he wouldn't do that. It's Carlisle. Totally non-murderous type. Oh my fucking God but what if he's lost it-. I don't know what to assume?! The more I try and find a sense of balance with what to feel, the more intoxicated I'm becoming.

She's patient enough to want to wait for my go ahead before heading upstairs. I look around the living room and sigh. My home perfectly disgraced. How kind. I'll have to deep clean the carpet tomorrow. On the start of my ten day holiday-... A ten day holiday I might not have if Cullen does something dumb.

'Coming?'

I force a smile at Alice, nod weakly and turn off all the lights in hope that it'll make things seem normal.

Luckily, some of my self-respect is returned as her own drunken state heads downhill the closer she gets to her obviously naked boyfriend. Which I'm going to not think about because the two of them having sex in my bed is the kind of shit that's going to make me-

She hugs me and pretty much slams my bedroom door in my face.

'Goodnight to you, too?'

Jeeez, selfish much?

I fidget for a while as I 'patiently' sit on his office chair, twirling it far and beyond to the window and then dragging it back to make it seem like I'm not a child. Who is drunk. Twirling gets boring very quickly and because I'm dizzy enough as it is without the awful sloshing feeling of my stomach, I decide I need to find another distraction for a while. Emptying out my bladder and washing my face for the sixth time does little. So stupidly, I decide looking in the mirror to see how wasted I am is a good idea. My regret soon takes over my concern. I'm a little more than just embarrassed, that's for sure. Everything from the expression on my face to the posture of my hips is proclaiming how drunk I am.

No wonder why he rejected me.

And on that note, I now need about thirty more shots.

It's literally not even three minutes before I'm back in Cullen's bedroom, pacing along the carpet when she's knocking at the door.

'Fucking hell, Alice! Condoms are in- Edward?' He hangs in the doorway, awkward and lanky with his non-flattering drunk smile on his face.

Oh Jesus, I do not need another virgin on my hands- please God, I've made my choice.

'Well that's a sentence I never want to hear again?' He complains, his cheeks red and his hair slipping into his face. I roll my eyes.

'Same goes for you, condoms are in-'

'I'm not after condoms?'

'Oh.' I say. Because why else would Edward want me?

He scratches the back of his head and nods to Carlisle's room which is making me feel like I'm trespassing. Which means he's trespassing, right?

'He's not home yet.' I wonder if he can detect my bitchy tone or if he's come to regard it as a part of my accent.

'I wanted to speak with you…' He says quietly, his green eyes to the floor. Grumbling half-heartedly, I retreat to Carlisle's desk and clamber on top.

Urrrgh, what happened to the good old fashioned internet? For fuck sake even Cullen took the initiative and got researching-. That reminds me... his research, maybe I could use that to get off? Can't think of that now. Edward's disturbing the room.

'Look, all you need to be is patient and calm. The more nervous you're going to be the harder it's going to be to perform.'

'Excuse me?' He mumbles, frowning hard.

'If you excuse the pun.' I realise, waving a hand away though I'm a comedienne.

'The pun?' He repeats.

'Yeah, anyway forget it. Just relax and enjoy it. You'll be-'

'That's not why I wanted to talk.' He complains. 'Jesus. Is everything just sex with you?!' In a typical Cullen fashion, unless it's in fact a Masen tradition that's been adopted by our landlord, Edward grimaces and instantly throws his hands out in an apology. 'I didn't mean that.'

'They never do.' I mutter bluntly.

He raises an eyebrow before awkwardly sitting in Carlisle's desk chair, another thing that's wound me up. 'So?' I ask impatiently.

'…So… urm. I've been thinking?'

I've been yelling too loudly- look how nervous he is, this isn't good.

'Dangerous.' I mutter. He's not impressed.

'I just wanted to say that I'm…sorry for what I said….'

Huh?

'Pardon?' I repeat, incredulous. Did I actually believe I was going to have an explanation on my hands, there? Jesus, I forgot how tight these losers are.

'When I was winding you up the other day? It was totally out of order of me and I have no right-'

'What on earth are you doing?' I interrupt, hands raised upwards.

'Me? I'm apologising?'

He's getting embarrassed under my anger which is fine but he's as pink and as fidgety as a worm in a saucepan.

'What for?!' I protest. He shouldn't be apologising to me, Dickhead.

We don't apologise! We're not apologising people! We are angry blurt-it-all-out-and smile-awkwardly kind of people?! That was the beauty of our friendship! We didn't have to apologise?!

Why is he killing it?!

'I was outta line and regardless of what you think Carlisle has said-' he stops me from interrupting by standing up quickly and stepping away. 'After tonight, I'm aware that half the things I've said to you aren't fair this week…'

'Where is this coming from Why are you spewing this?!' I ask, crossing my arms tighter to try and make myself seem smaller.

I don't want an apology?! I want to know half the shit that has been said?! I'd also quite like to be reassured Cullen's not being a twat and that he's seconds away from parking up on the drive. He should be back by now!

Edward doesn't reply for a few seconds. This is not what I wanted.

'Because…'

'What?!' I demand, panicked. If you're gunna kill this understanding of mine at least do it with some voice!

'Because it's obvious that you haven't been your usual self this week and it's not okay-'

'Whatever Cullen has said-!' I burst in, far too hot and over tired and drunk. Just the very look on his face is enough to piss me off once more.

'He hasn't told me anything! Now if you'd let me get there- I'm saying sorry to reiterate that you're my friend, Esme-'

'I know that, you drunkard! Get to the point!'

He's now getting severely wound up by my many interjections as shown by how he's trying to rip his own copper hair from his head. Yet another thing I'm sure had been picked up by Carlisle.

'-And I'm worried for you!' He finalises, looking at me with a face of struggle, exhausted by the efforts it took for a simple sentence to fall from his mouth.

The first thing that can be assumed is that I'm blaming Cullen and I'm really, really nervous.

'Why?!' I push, dreading the inevitable confession of Cullen's ranting mouth.

'Because this is the second time this week you have been in tears!' he blurts out. From there, the motorcar of Edward's mouth seems to be on a huge decline with no breaks. 'You don't cry! You don't cry when you're angry! When you're drunk or happy, or even in the middle of a screaming match with your mother. You don't even emotionally cry. So to see it happen twice has got me a little concerned, I'll admit!'

I blame every fucking incorrect shot of alcohol for having me slip from the top of Carlisle's desk right onto the side of my uncoordinated body from the floor. He helps me up without much comment and scratches his face.

'I don't know what to say.' I reply honestly, which feels a bit foreign but whatever.

'Before you go off in a death wish, Carlisle honestly hasn't said anything.'

'Sure.' I reply quickly chewing through my lip in both flattery and fury. 'Hence the slapping, right?'

He rolls his green eyes. 'The reason I slapped him was for another matter entirely-'

'Yeah?' I reply challengingly, grinding my back teeth into powder but he tiredly sighs and nods his head.

'Yes.'

'You're such a fucking liar-'

'Hurtle abuse all you like, I'm not telling you anything!'

'That's not fair, Edward! You know he's too proud to tell me what the hell happened. Even when I have a right to know!'

Alright, maybe I don't have a 'right' but I'm furious nevertheless. Edward frowns a little, not in response but rather in thought, his eyes are hard but the smile on his face is softer.

'That's bullshit and you know it.' He murmurs playfully and it's only now that I'm reminded we're not in our best modes of responsible thought. Or rather, I'm not. Hence the outbreak of my mouth.

'He's just so infuriating! The way he tries to control everything-'

'You're right.' Edward replies sarcastically. 'He is a control freak.'

A spontaneous arm comes out to clap him round the back of the head. The noise is enough for me to throw an apologetic look to him. He sniggers, rubs the sore part of his head and pinches the bridge of his nose as though I'm an irritating child or whatever. Which is not okay because if anyone is the Kid, in maturity and age, it's him!

'Ow?!'

'Carlisle is not a control freak! He's just…worked up and nervous. About stuff…' I sigh deeply and twirl my hair around my finger. 'It's probably a mother thing…'

'A mother thing?' Edward repeats, in disagreement.

'Well look at you, Jasper and Emmett. Even as the most sheltered of the lot, you're perfectly fine with responding to people without spontaneous combustion nor a monologue infused with arrogance and insane anxiety?'

He leans back and laughs, shaking his head just slightly.

'What?'

But for the moment he just laughs harder, rubbing his chest where it clearly hurts. I huff impatiently.

'What?!'

'That's hardly a mother thing, Esme. It's more of a you-thing. He has no self-control around you.' He offers a shy smile before shrugging. 'Anyway, sleep well.'

Self-control? None?! Pffft, say that to the Chasity belt he's tying around himself. Self-control, is overrated anyway. Who likes not having fun?

The drunk in me is pathetic enough to poke her tongue out as he leaves but it's hardly like he notices. That's okay though, I don't need his interference when my head is buzzing.

It's cold in Carlisle's room. Not enough that it's irritating my nipples, but enough that I've noticed he's taking a while. And the longer he takes, the hazier my focus, and sense of calm is getting.

Finally his car is on the drive. I leap out from my lazed expression from the desk and pull the curtain aside to catch a glimpse of him, he hasn't seen me. It gives me time to try and restore myself to total uninterested indifference. My head is heavy, my eyes are struggling to stay awake but my heart beats quickly.

The front door closes. Not loudly but enough that I recognise it. It's an agonising and painful decision to simply wait for him to make his way up the stairs.

And I wait.

And I wait longer.

It's been over twenty minutes. I'm still waiting and there is no movement from downstairs? Not okay, how am I expected to sleep on my own?!

I try to wait a little longer, but as the minutes slowly tick my, my confusion is turning into a frown and I'm now confused and drunk. And to make it worse. The walls are thin enough that I think I'm starting to hear dirty talk coming from my room. Yuck.

If I thought I was wobbling before, I'm clearly unaware of how untrustworthy my feet can be and grabbing one of his long, woolen cardigans and wrapping it around myself thrice over, I clamber out the room, down the stairs and into the living room where there's a chill in the air.

The lights are all off which is making me a little nervous but with a look to the right, I see our backdoor swinging gently, the breeze nipping at my exposed skin and follow it.