Thank you for your lovely comments on the last chapter! I think it's fair to say the ball is rolling... down a very steep hill! Anyway, I've had a lot of fun writing the next few chapters and hope you enjoy it just as much! Please leave your comments and I will be forever grateful!

Thank you! xx

'You know what I find insane?' Edward prompts, finger tapping against his chin as he gazes out the windscreen window, squinting.

The tone catches my attention. He sounds more playful than condescending and it brings a breeze to our awkward silence. I've parked the car up now and have been waiting in the silence for the last few moments to recover the use of my feet. Having undergone a horrendous night of longing and insufferable patience, all the while informing Edward on trade secrets, this is where I find myself. Silence.

'For the last time, I said I wasn't going to say anything else on the matter.' I sigh exhaustively. He frowns, hiding his smirk behind his hand. I'd had enough of his questioning looks from the moment I opened my mouth to him. I don't think I can deal with another bout of confusion.

'No, Esme. Not that.' He shakes his head at me.

'Oh?' I'm not surprised, I'm challenging him to surprise me.

'I was going to make a comment about how easily persuaded you are when-'

'Edward.'

He forces another grumble and settles into the passenger seat. 'If I'm not here to cause irritation then why invite me?'

'You know why.' I say quietly. My eyes are on the window too, the cold droplets of a drizzly day slipping down and gathering speed as I watch them.

'You're not going to run, Es.'

'Not while you're here.' It's a clever tactic to bully myself into matters which are probably far more helpful than I want to admit and I reckon he knows this.

'He'd be proud of you.' He murmurs supportively.

'He's not dead, Edward. He's working.' Honestly, what is wrong with this Kid?

'Sorry, I took one look at your state of mourning and got confused.'

I take a look at my clothes and frown. Unfortunately he's right. I'm dressed all in black, looking somewhat tired and somewhat bleak but with a healthy blush on my cheeks that hasn't left since late last night.

Last night…

I squeak my boots together before taking the keys and passing them into Edward's open palm.

'You're going to be fine.'

'I know!' I snap and then I feel guilty and give him an apologetic expression. He's hinting to my departure.

'The quicker-'

'That's not how an appointment works.'

'Es.' He calls, knowingly, his face surprisingly light hearted since yesterday's fury. I guess he had no reason to be angry anymore. Even if he was going along with my slight deception to Carlisle (not that he knew this), I was making an effort to be honest with one of them. 'Just go will you?'

'I'm leaving, anyway.' I say, fidgeting in the seat.

'Es-'

'For God's sake- I'm going!'

It's not as bad as I make out. In fact, it's just the waiting in the hall which is stress inducing and though I made Edward keep me company in the car, I've forbidden him from crossing the hospital steps.

Of the ninety minute appointment, the first thirty are pure torture. Not because I'm on the edge of balling my eyes out again which I've strangely become an expert in recently, instead because it's horribly quiet. She greets me with a semi-warm smile, one more of familiarity than of hope and points towards her office as if I might be doing an job interview. I feel the need to put on as much pretense, a polite smile and a handshake doesn't welcome itself.

'I'm glad you're here.' Doctor Browning says, and any kind of comfort this sentence might have given me is lost in the manner in which she says it.

Her room is smaller than I'd imagined though still neat. She has the ceiling to floor shelves that I've seen Carlisle gazing upon in the hardware store except a lot of her shelves are missing things to use the space. Her diploma is on display behind her head with a few odd quotes surrounding it about peace being within and all that trash. It's quaint and nervy and I just wish she had a photo of her kid or someone to make it feel better.

'How has your week been?' She begins and because my throat is weirdly dry, I'm left to the dependence of a shrug.

She doesn't question my silence but hands me a few sheets of paper that I have to sign proving that whatever I discuss is confidential. To be fair, I'm not saying anything so it's super confidential. Thirty minutes in of awkward silences and pitying small talk and she almost gives in.

'How about a game?' She asks, one ankle bouncing over the other.

'A game?' I repeat.

'Familiar with cards?'

Suddenly the hair and the clothes all fit the pretty image I have of her drinking expensive champagne with her husband and all her rich college friends, surrounding a cheese board.

'Sorry, I only take cash.'

And as we've already established, this isn't the kind of humour to have people laughing with me. But she ignores my jibe, finds a pack of cards from her desk and lays them in front of me for me to shuffle. I do a shit job but she doesn't say anything just yet, she touches the back of the card, stroking the blue pattern.

'If you guess correctly, you get to ask me a question. If not, you'll have to answer mine.' She informs and I'm so astounded by her informality, I have to double check to make sure Alice hasn't taken the seat in front of me.

'What?' Is all I manage.

She picks up the card, not showing it to either of us yet. 'Higher or lower?'

'Err?'

She nods to the next new card on the top pile.

'Than the one I have in my hand.' She explains, keeping a straight face when she finally turns it around to face her. I've not been in a situation like this so I just shrug and take a guess.

'Lower?'

She picks it up, nods and shows me both cards as if to prove herself; 'Correct.'

'Right?'

'So you may ask a question.' She goes on to repeat.

Without meaning to, my eyes go straight to the clock and they stay there, concerned, watching two whole minutes go by while I contemplate whatever decision I've walked myself into.

'How many of these sessions do I have to have?' I ask her, quietly.

She smirks, picking up the cards to shuffle them again before switching her silent look upon my face. She's so stern looking that it helps to make me feel a little more relaxed. It means we could both be stand off-ish without either being an ass.

'None.' She says.

'Yes but-'

'You haven't chosen a card.' She interrupts. I pause, my hand in the air.

'Okay,' I say steadily. 'Higher?'

She picks it up, and shakes her head, a small smile playing on her mouth though she still has that registered look of boredom that I think comes with my presence. 'Are you local to the hospital?'

'What?' I think this is the only word I'm comfortable with right now, all other sounds are pretentious and time consuming.

'Have you lived here all your life?' She clarifies. It's a stupid question.

'No.' I say wearily.

She waits. For a very long time.

'No, I'm from Ohio.'

This produces a small smile and she gestures to the pile of cards again as if my reward is to move on.

'Higher?' I guess. It's the Five of Spades. One number above the Four of Hearts. It's a stupid childish game but I smile. 'Are you doing this because I could make you good money or as a favour to Carlisle?'

'You seem to be awfully concerned about his intentions, still?' She murmurs, eyeing me suspiciously as though I might have a microphone buried beneath my coat. 'Nevertheless, none. As a patient, your bills will be covered by the standard insurance. As for Doctor Cullen- he's not even here this week, is he? I wouldn't know. Different specialisms.' This could very well be a clever lie but she doesn't give a shit enough to want to convince me. Which makes me even surer it is the truth.

I guess another card right.

'What makes you think I need- whatever this is?' I ask rather awkwardly, looking about the space to confirm the stereotypes.

At the very least- I have to be grateful that there's no couch. Rather a lounging chair. She doesn't seem surprised by my open criticisms though she does seem entertained by them. 'I think you know for yourself why you came here.'

'Did you expect me to turn up?' I ask, unable to hide the attitude in my bark.

She thinks about this for a while. 'Not really. Then again, I don't expect anyone. I stay hopeful.'

'I guess you got lucky.' I surmise, shifting my shoulder in a friendly shrug.

'I guess I did.' She muses. I take another guess at 'lower' and get it wrong so that it's up to her to ask a question. 'Is there a specific reason for you deciding to finally book an appointment?'

'Not specific.' I say, dismissively. It doesn't fail her notice.

'But a reason, nevertheless?'

My hands start to fiddle, my bones clicking as I stretch my fingers out and then the fingers on my right hand. I stare at them for a while, thinking semi-bad thoughts, eyeing the nails and length. How they might have looked last night…

'Would you like me to open a window? You've gone awfully red?'

Her voice makes me jump because I've drifted away for a moment or two. I feel both my cheeks with the back of my hands, surprised by their warmth but not by their colour and let myself nod.

'Tell me, Miss Platt. How is your…?' Ass? -I think critically. She inclines her face away, opening the window with a fierce push before reclaiming a seat.

'Fine.'

'Better?' She asks.

'I don't always notice it.' I tell her honestly. 'It can be easy to forget about sometimes…'

'And work?' She poses. 'How is your boss?'

My palms are now replicating the same heat of my cheeks and with sweaty palms, I smooth the creases of the material on my legs.

'I've got… five days holiday.' Five?! Only five?! It's only been a few days. For fuck sake- Tilly pretty much ruined..?! Oh Jesus. Tilly. In five days' time, I'd have to see her again. I'd have to face them both…

'You really are going through the motions, aren't you Miss Platt?'

'Excuse me?' I croak

'Perhaps a glass of water?

I nod, give her moment of absence a chance to settle my now ghostly exterior and thank her for the plastic cup once she comes back in. It's like water to a dead plant. Useless but pleasing.

'And you'll be going back?' She assuumes.

'I-' I cut myself off, summing her up through the view of my lashes. She still has that bored expression written on her face, her hair pushed away from it as she waits. 'I need your help with something?'

For the first time since meeting her, she gives me a genuinely smug smile...

Edward is still sat in my car by the time I'm finished. He's fiddling with the radio, eyes nervously on the clock while I make my way back into the seat. It's hard to say if I look any different, I probably should. I don't feel too different. Maybe a bit more shaken yet not in a concerning manner. Either way, I'm not sure I like it.

'So?' He asks, eyebrows up. 'How was it?'

'Awkward.'

'That's it?' He refutes, looking mildly distressed.

I nod.

'Did she ask about your head?'

I nod again. 'She recommended I talk to the police.'

'And?'

'Well I've already spoken to Charlie, haven't I?'

Including this morning where I corrected my earlier statement to include my co-workers full name. Which reminds me I should really thank him again. Not all Officers would turn up to your house in the dead of night (almost) and be so polite. I'm half convinced that the moment I hand in my notice is going to be the worst week of my life and I'm already not looking forward to the Tuesday shift I have coming up. In five days' time. Edward's been waiting for this. Waiting for me to mention or even reference the Swans so he can make a point of discussing them.

'Speaking of, they send their well wishes.' He's judging by yesterday's standard, he's not aware that I've heard them for myself.

'Nice.' I say, bluntly.

'Es, come on. How do you expect him to do anything if-'

'I don't expect anything. I don't want any trouble.'

He turns his face to me, pausing his jitteriness to remember to actually be nice. Though his nicety is ridiculous and he becomes pathetic. 'You're tired.'

'No shit.' I catch my reflection in the mirror and wince. For all that mattered I might have not slept at all yesterday, I would've looked better. I have a mixture of gaunt purple exhaustion with a blush that won't leave my cheeks no matter how much air I take into the car.

'Well at least-. Err. Nevermind.'

'At least, what?'

'No, nothing, I was just going to say-. At least it's…Friday? Only a few more days?'

I roll my eyes, hitting up the engine so that it makes a gentle murmur of disappointment. 'Jesus, Edward, I give you an inch and you take a mile.'

'I was being… encouraging?' He tries, tasting the word carefully in his mouth as though he's fully aware it doesn't sound correct.

'You're being involved. It's weird.'

At least he agrees with me on that. We're both somewhat distracted and because he wants to leave my presence, without giving much of a reason why, I end up dropping him off back home.

'I don't know why you bothered coming with me if you're so busy?' I tell him once I've parked onto the curb of our street. He rolls his eyes, neck a little pink as he avoids facing me.

'What is with you today? You're so…'

'So?' I push.

'So foul. Jesus, you were nicer when you were moping.'

I'm still moping, I want to say. That seems a little inappropriate for Edward's ears. He gets out the car, leaning through the window all awkward and lanky, while clearly distressed by my presence. Perhaps I should get him stamped with the words; I don't need babysitting.

'What are you gunna do, see Alice?'

I roll my eyes, he really doesn't ever listen properly unless it is some kind of secret. 'I've got lessons. You know I don't finish till six today.'

He nods, remembering as he scratches his chin, fingers drumming a pattern on my window sill. 'And are you sure you're okay?'

If he asks one more time-. Though he is being cautious and I should appreciate that so I smile weakly and rest my head against the seat, revving up the engine for an answer but it only really produces a gentle frown.

'I'd better go, I'm already late for my first lesson.'

'I'll see you at home, then.' He quips quickly, stepping away to quickly disappear. I beep the horn at him. 'What?'

'You didn't want me to bring something home for dinner, did you? I could cook something?' I offer, generously and now I realise how pathetically lonely this is coming across. He's noticed it, too. He rolls those green eyes until he's staring at the state of his hair.

'Two days, Esme.'

Three more like it- I know what planes are like and I have the worst luck in the world. He taps the bonnet with his long fingers and runs down our driveway, waving me off like the teenager he is.

My lessons aren't too bad, though and the break I have between two-to-three o'clock is long enough to snuggle myself in the corner of the library and research up on a few job opportunities before the last lecture. I've texted Carlisle six times and thought about sending a seventh but after the lack of replies, I'm giving myself enough paranoia that I don't think I'll be able to deal with the embarrassment of another rejection. It's frustrating and I can't understand why after such a good night- such a great night- he doesn't want to speak to me. Humiliation? Concern? Disgust? Or the worst of them all: Regret? I'm hoping he's just stupidly busy. Being dragged here there and everywhere by hot-shot doctors with bank checks while I tumble myself into a knot.

I've spent a little time on the phone to Emmett. He still wants to play baseball tomorrow but he's worried about my head. Alice has offered to host us either way, promising weakly not to drink and although I know it's not a good idea to go while I'm still as irritable as a cat in an ice-cold bath- it's still baseball. With or without Carlisle, it is fun being with the gang. Just not as fun.

It's stopped raining since this morning and the drizzle is quickly clearing up even though there wasn't much of it in the first place. I fiddle with a few loose strands of my hair in one particular class, pinning them over the stitches to avoid the questions and the staring of the strangers around me but to my satisfaction, they don't give me another look. The first two professors are pleased to see me and pleased by my contribution though it's limited and somewhat direct.

'Esme?' The same professor from the other day stops me, collecting a few things in a briefcase before offering a suspicious smile. 'Good work today.' I'm about to thank him when he stops me again, thinking. 'You have Olivia next, right? Marble 101.'

This is probably meant to be a slight joke as his co-workers expense but I nod anyway, looking horrifically awkward as I do so.

'Well, if you get chance, I really think it'll be beneficial for you to look up these sculptors…' He writes a few names on a bit of paper, tears off the corner and passes it my way. They're all old Greek figures, one in particular that I know from the reading.

'Thank you.'

I'm starting to wonder what it is that makes him want to help, considering I was dreaming of tearing up his guts two days ago but I can appreciate it and what I can appreciate even more is the next lecture. I like the fact that Brian called it Marble 101 because that's pretty much what it is and yet, rather than be bored to tears as I usually am with most types of lectures now, I find I'm hanging off my seat. Olivia, who is just about rolling in various qualifications and titles, is presenting some kind of introduction to how sculpture is timeless and despite all the waffle, every new slide catches my eye. Marble is kind of gorgeous. You've got figures sculptured to perfection with clear complexions, full lips, waves detailed in their hair, muscles constructed from nothing and all of them, while being so beautiful and wise in their depiction, are weirdly innocent. As pure as the stone they're made from with not one deliberate embellishment. Not even down to the pre-puberty genitals which, frankly, need a bit of a revision.

It catches my attention so much that when the lecture is dismissed, I don't register enough to stand up. My head is so full with all these amazing ideas, all claiming my attention as they come rushing from hand to page.

'Lectures over.'

I look up to find my professor watching over my handwriting and waiting for my exit.

'Sorry.' I murmur, packing everything away with fumbling hands but the screen catches me again and I'm staring at Michelangelo's David, the stature, the posture, the marble.

'He's caught your eye, hmm?'

Another awkward smile makes itself known on my face and without knowing why, I nod a little.

'He's kinda hot.' I admit, laughing a little when I feel my cheeks warming. She swishes her fiery ponytail over her shoulder so that it moves when she agrees with me.

'Maybe. If you're into that kind of thing.' She says, gesturing with both hands to the enlarged angle of him from the projector. I see even more from this position and we snicker among ourselves as though we're children. 'I'm pleased you've discovered an interest.'

I don't think we've spoken much before. I guess we wouldn't exactly cross paths. But I quite like her. She has the most gorgeous auburn hair and probably a temper to match it. She's dressed in matching colours to her shoes and handbag though couldn't be older than her mid-thirties and seems even younger. I make it past her desk, grinning pathetically but she calls me again just as I'm about to cross the door.

'Hey, Esme? Italy is a wonderful place. And he's even more spectacular in person?' The raise of her eyebrow is clear enough that I get the suggestion right away. And of course, I curse the money in my bank for it.

'Thanks, Olivia. I'll consider it.'

'I'll keep recommending it.' She promises. 'See you next week.'

I smile back, waving as I retreat from the room and come colliding right into someone, smack into the middle of their chest like I haven't left the room at all and I'm hitting marble.

'Oops, my bad.' And finding the balance on my back heels, I move again.

'And Edward said you were in such a bad mood?' He teases, gently encircling my wrist with his fingers and pulling me back.

My eyes blink and then again, a little more furiously. I don't trust my view for the moment. I'm overwhelmed by that familiar cologne of woodland pine and freshly grown mint. I take in the smart jeans, the simple button up shirt encased by a black jacket before looking right up at his face. Carlisle's face. He's home. His mouth is pressed together, similar to the sharpness of his jaw and the stubble that grazes it, hold on…stubble?!

Oh my fucking God, is that stubble?! Carlisle Cullen has stubble?!

Stubble?!

With my eyes enlarging, I take a harder look. That is definitely a shadow and it looks…it looks good? Why on Earth has he been shaving for so long if this is what he looks like with stubble?!

Holy …wow. Just wow. Stubble is his thing… stubble and dishevelled… yep that is his thing.

'Err?!'

'Hello to you, too.' He murmurs with a grin wide enough to show off all of his gleaming teeth.

He's home?!

Nothing worth translating comes out of my mouth so I take fistfuls of his shirt and hold onto him, pushing myself onto my tiptoes to make it easier to hug him but he's a gentleman and he stoops a little to squeeze my shoulders with his body.

He's taller than I always estimate and so relaxed, allowing me to fit perfectly with his arms, pressed tight against him as though this is completely natural for us. I take several extra doses of the scent on his shirt collar, committing it to memory in case I have to suffer without it again.

'You fool, when I said hurry home, it was a figure of speech!'

I feel him chuckle, actually feel it this time, gently vibrations against my skin as perfectly beautiful as the natural lock of his arms.

'Oh, I know.'

He pulls back, a hand still weaved into the side of my hair as those spirited blue eyes take in every detail of what horror I must look like. I can't really care, who has the time? I let my right hand touch his cheek, expecting to be prickled by the sudden shadow that has invaded his face but it still feels relatively smooth, just thick and heavy.

'You have stubble!' I murmur, just as amazed as I was when I first saw it and incredibly, incredibly in love with it. It's different and yet so outrageously good. My other hand feels the opposite side of his face and he lifts his jaw to allow for better exploration under his chin. It's thicker by his neck: coarser, still good looking. It makes him look like some sort of rogue model.

'I didn't have time to shave.' He chuckles, making a show of what little irritation it's causing him. 'I'm sorry.'

'Not at all. I like it. Love it in fact. It's so-'

Afraid that he might see the trembling excitement in my hands, I reluctantly pull them from his face, grinning. So he moves his hand from my hair, a gentle touch lingering along my skin until his index finger and thumb settle under my chin, pulling my face towards him so that I can't shy away.

'So-?' He encourages, his enticing breath dragging me in, cool on my blushing face and sweet like aeroplane mints. As he waits, he grows impatient and a testing eyebrow flickers up in question. My grin goes even loopier.

'Sexy.' I murmur, taking in every drop of colour from his staring and holding dearly onto it. He brushes the edge of his thumb along the line of my lip, and to stop the itch, I smile. So he slides it to rest in the middle of my bottom lip, instead plump and delicate. He gently inclines his head, grinning as he drops his eyes from mine to my mouth.

'May I?' He whispers.

Though I don't want to concern him, I do quickly flash my eyes to the hall around us. We're not alone, as I would love to be right now, though we are very much blended into the traffic of students fighting their way to the car-lot. For an answer, I push myself onto my tiptoes. I don't know how he manages it, I'm already acting spontaneously, but he holds off for just a moment so that I can taste his laugh. It's warmer up closer and thick like a mist yet sweet, refreshing and addicting like the first breath of oxygen after drowning.

As he angles his face, his eyes close so I shut mine too, taking a nervous intake of his ghosting words when I feel his laughter again. It's sweet and overpoweringly enticing like peppermint, making my mouth water. He delicately locks my bottom lip between his so that I feel his stubble itch beneath my nose. It tickles so I chuckle, pulling him closer to me as he recaptures my lips and I move to allow him further access. He pulls away rashly, mouth warm and flushed pink.

I didn't realise there could be such an absence to my mouth without him. It's so noticeable.

'Don't tempt me?' He pleads, pushing his mouth onto mine for one last taste as though securing a deal with a handshake.

'You're getting better.' I compliment, my lips ticklish as they call for his attention again. This time, he denies them the pleasure.

'Have dinner with me?' For a moment, I'm so pleased by his cute grin that I'm ignoring the words that are falling from it.

'We live together, you Twit?' I say, laughing.

'Let me take you to dinner?' He corrects, eyeing me nervously. Oh. Dinner. Dinner, dinner.

'Now?' I ask. He smiles, nodding his head. I weakly take another look at my choice of outfit: All black but workable. I've looked far worse on better days. It's just my hair- oh God my hair. This time, I couldn't trust the dexterity to entwine the strands into something remotely pretty. And yet the more time I could get with him outside of Edward's watch would be a blissful, beautiful blessing. 'Fine, but we're walking. And we're not going to Lascada's.'

'Fantastic.' He agrees, his voice cheery like a nursery rhyme. 'My car is at home.'

'It is?'

As we start walking, he offers his hand out for my backpack, sliding it onto his shoulder with ease and taking the same size steps as my feet as if to slow us down even more.

'I ran from ours. Edward had pretty much rammed my car right into the drive and I knew the time he would take to move it again would make me late.'

I raise an eyebrow at him. 'Well, you don't look like you ran?'

Does he ever?

'I've got the collar to prove it.' He grins, and after asking for my hand, he presses it against the bottom of his neck to the slightly damp ends of his hair. Despite the somewhat intimacy of the act, I'm feeling incredibly flattered once more as I pinch the ends so that they look like triangular spikes. It's with great regret I retract my hand.

'So when did you get back?' I quiz him, unable to look away for fear he might just vanish like some kind of mirage.

He holds out the door of the building for us so that the breeze hits us in a wave. I'm grateful that it's still a little dreary looking though more grateful that it's not raining. We circle past my car in the lot and take a calm walk into town as though we know exactly where we're going though we haven't said anything of the kind.

'Flight got in at two. Edward picked me up at three, so I didn't get home till twenty minutes ago.'

Home sounds so much nicer from his mouth than mine. Home. Finally. I think he should stick to being a home doctor, in fact. Making our house into a local surgery or something so that he never has to leave and-. Oh Jesus. That's insane.

'Wait. You got here at two? Then when did-'

He cuts me off with a bigger, more mischievous grin, gleaming his teeth at me because he knows that it will make me laugh.

'Carlisle!' I groan, relishing the sound out loud while feeling almost, very nearly almost embarrassed (though, the pride takes over this time). 'We only got off the phone at eleven?!' And I know for a fact the journey itself takes around 10 hours with the plane ride.

'I know but I had everything packed and I slept on the plane this time. I'm feeling perfectly fine.' He spots my gawking and rolls his eyes. 'Alright, so I might've booked my flight early.'

'How early, Cullen?'

'Wednesday morning? I kept an eye on the flight times the moment I landed in Anchorage, but today was the earliest-'

'What about work?' I say, singing out the word and trying not to fawn at witnessing the face in the flesh. 'How are they not firing your ass?' I sass, my voice concerned though I'm very aware that not one ounce of guilt would evade my day if he got sacked tomorrow.

He leads me down the posher end of town, one of the paths I would moan about if I wasn't so happy to see him. It's just about getting darker, the street-lamps are switching onto their orange glow and he slows his steps to a restaurant that I feel rather pleased with. It's a popular chain except not one of those whose price-list will blow you out of house and home like Lascada does. He points to it with a thumb.

'You haven't answered me?' I remind him as he drags me inside, overly charming as ever to anyone in sight.

'I know.' He looks over his shoulder at me, grins again as though it's a permanent feature on his face and then worriedly throws a frown into the mix as he reads my face. I pat my hair down, calming it from the gentle wind and something in my head catches his attention-. Oh shit, the stitches. How could I have been so stupid?!

Well…I guess it had to come out sometime. I knew I was going to tell him… Why did it have to be in a moment of genuine happiness, though?! Hurriedly, I brush my hair back over it.

'Carlisle, look-.'

What the fuck am I meant to say now? He smiles encouragingly and pulls a chair out for me. Okay, so maybe Edward's already spoken to him? I fall into it, exhausted, frustrated, irritated and completely besotted at the way he discards of his jacket onto the back of his seat. He's still curious to see what I'm exactly I'm hiding from him though for once, not worried. Good, start off small then.

'It doesn't hurt that bad?' I begin, watching wherever his eyes fall to and for the moment, they seem to be lost in- well… Me.

'What doesn't?' He asks, somewhat bemused.

That's a kick in the teeth. Cards out on the table, I guess. Pushing my hair behind my ear, I start again and obviously get interrupted by the spunky new waiter who is all over whatever situation he wants from us.

'Ready to order?' He asks, pointing to the open menu Carlisle has managed to peruse for a few seconds. At the time, food seemed like a great idea, now I am rather wishing we were at home. At the very least, we have some privacy there.

So no, I'm not ready to order but fuck it.

'What do you recommend?' I ask. The waiter smiles, probably some college kid a few years younger than me and recites the menu from memory. The first dish that comes out of his mouth, I accept.

'Yeah, that one.'

'Sure?' He asks, maybe surprised by my choice. I'm too focused in my stunt of bravery right now to want to worm myself out of it.

'That and a tap water would be fantastic, thanks.'

Carlisle raises an eyebrow, amused though closes the menu with a flick of his finger and agrees with my decision. 'Er, I'll take the same, please?'

The moment we're alone, I spot a slight blush appearing on his cheeks as he leans close and asks: 'We're not in any rush, are we?'

'I've got to get it out before the guilt kills me.' I rush in, hating whatever stupid decision I was thinking about when I committed myself to keeping my mouth shut. He thanks the waiter for the water and takes a hasty drink.

'So we went out Wednesday night-.' I remind him gently. He suddenly looks largely uncomfortable, his jaw tight though his expression is seemingly empty, waiting with elbows on the table for me to confess to my sins as though I might simply be giving him a grocery list.

Well, here comes the long list.

'We went to that new club? The one around-.' I start weakly, he's dismissing it with a silent nod, an awkward fake smile stuck on his mouth. 'Well, we were all pretty drunk…?'

'I remember.' He says clearly. It makes my stomach drop to my feet.

'So we went to this club and it was pretty busy and- well I was, we were… I don't know. I started talking to someone I sort of recognised and I asked him for a drink-'

He breathes out his nose, weirdly pale for someone who blushes at kissing. Oh God.

'Like a no-strings attached drink.' I explain hurriedly. 'I wasn't- I wasn't looking for. Urgh I wasn't flirting?'

'It's fine, Esme.'

'No listen to me, I really wasn't. I asked for a drink, he said something and I walked away. I did, I swear.'

'Es, it's fine.'

And to prove his trust, he reaches a hand across to where mine is placed onto the table and goes to place a touch against mine though his focus is suddenly caught as he gently follows a graze with the tip of his finger. When I nervously spot him through my lashes, I see his eyebrows furrowed as he still looks at the mark.

'...I don't remember much but I think he went to touch me so I pushed him into the bar-.'

If ever I recount this moment in a few years' time, I know he'll deny it but at this split second, he looks genuinely pleased by my sudden violence. This of course soon turns to worry and then concern to the point where he might just shit himself in panic. Might as well give him something to panic over then. I inhale shakily and talk fast.

'Well lots happened but basically... I kinda...got bottled?' I spurt nervously, his eyes widen as he translates the meaning. 'In the head...' I add quietly. This pushes his composure over the edge.

'What?!'

'I don't really-.' I groan. 'It was all so fast and I know they had good intentions but Alice and Rose weren't helping and she was really angry and she just grabbed a bottle-.'

'She? Who's she?' he asks desperately, curving his neck to see if he can spot where I've been hit. I hide even more, retreating in my seat.

'Promise me you won't freak out?' I beg him. He's not willing to concede.

'I'm not playing games, Esme. Who was it?' The sharp words of his words hit me with a surprising amount of tartness and out of duty, I hang my head a little.

'...Tilly.'

If he could look anymore pale, he would be dead right now. Or maybe just translucent. I've never seen him look so bleak. He puts a curled fist against his mouth as though thinking and inhales.

'And the guy?' He asks, quietly, biting his lip hard as if it is the only way to keep him from saying something regretful. 'You said you knew him?'

'I don't know his name. I've seen him around enough times. He's…well, I think… I think he's my boss's son?'

His eyes fly open, the blue hitting the corner of the table with such an intense scowl-.'I need air.' He chokes.

'Carlisle, wait!'

He's already stood up, hands shaky as his eyes shift around our table. 'Stay here, I'll be right back.'

'Just let me explain!' I beg of him, reaching out to pull him back but he's adamant and pink and I know that at the heart of it all, he's right. He does need air.

'Five minutes!' He hisses. 'Just give me five minutes, please. I promise you, I'll be back in a moment.'

Before I have chance to yell or deliberate, he's already moved, passing out back via the smoking area, his hands tightly curled and his jaw locked.

It's funny that after four days of waiting, two weeks almost to kiss me, four years for him to claim some sexuality, that these five minutes are the longest I've ever had to suffer. These five minutes hurt in a way that the various other excuses can't. He's not wanting to hurt me, or wanting me to suffer or even asking much of me. He's in pain, in such a fierce rage as I've never seen him before, way different to all the other frustrations, different even to when he's raging on a murderous rant because this time everything he's feeling has a completely understandable cause. I understand it all.

I do as he asks and wait, my head in hands, the guilt wearing away at my flesh, prodding at the table because there is nothing else to do except as he asks.

The ticking of the clock bites into skin as I wait.

'I'm sorry.' He murmurs toughly, returning now to stand beside me as though he hasn't moved an inch away. I think he feels me jump because he lowers his tone to an even softer murmur after taking my hand gently from the table and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. 'I'm very sorry.'

'You?' I ask ridiculously, my voice almost hysterical. 'If I hadn't of been so stupid- Ugh, that doesn't matter now…'

'What about your head? Can I take a look?'

'No.' I say and I'm surprised both by the fact I've said it and that he understands why. 'Maybe later, once you've calmed down.'

'I am calm?' He repeats, pretending to be confused. I open his hand out the table, face down and lay my open palm next to it to compare the grazes. His are obviously newer and he is quick to wipe whatever blood away there might have been but the way he holds it suggest that it'll swell up soon enough. He's staring at them too, his hair curving over like a hidden curtain.

'Snap, I guess.' I say softly

'So what happened? Did anyone see? Are you filing a complaint?'

I want to tell him to stop or roll my eyes. Instead I just nod my head. 'I spoke to Charlie yesterday but Edward was annoying me and I ousted Charlie so I could yell at him-.'

'Charlie?' He asks. 'Charlie Swan?' And though he seems pleased about this, his face changes, like he's suddenly remembered something bad. I continue.

'There's also this…' and pulling out some paper from my bag, I push the sheets towards him and wait. He has his newspaper face on, reading the lines until he reads the important one. His grip loosens from the edge of the paper and he pulls the sheet down to look at me.

'For real?' He asks, hopefully.

'I have to find another job first but I had a quick look today and there's quite a few kindergarten opportunities.' I follow the rim of my glass and smirk a little. 'Worst case scenario I could always ask for a few extra shifts at-'

'What about the scholarship? You're still applying to that, right?'

'Yes but….' I shrug and scratch my forehead which he manages to understand. Or at least he's happy to put to rest. It's a decision out of my hands.

'Even if you hand it in now.' He starts, already growing excessive in his hope. 'You know that-'

'Yes I know you can support me. But it's like taking away my independence!' I pause, waiting for him to empathise. He stays quiet to let me finish. 'I don't want to be running to you every two minutes because I need money for this or money or for that like some sort of Stepford wife. I wouldn't take it from anyone, not even Alice.'

'Can we please put your safety in front of whatever issues you have with your mother? Please?' He barks, sounding particularly snarky and amazed, I stare open mouthed at him. He rolls his eyes before swallowing down his temper and starting again in a better approach.

'Can you honestly tell me you're safe-'

'Carlisle!'

'Honestly?' He pushes.

'You've just come home.' I beg, exhaustively. 'I don't want to sit and argue with you over every stupid mistake, I make.'

'Es, I spent every minute of the time while I was away regretting getting on the plane. Every minute was dedicated to praying nothing would bad would happen-.'

'Which is why I didn't tell you. You can't handle it when I fuck up and I fuck up a lot! I didn't want you locked in a hotel somewhere blaming yourself for my stupidity.'

He tries to fight this, to say something equally as defensive but he doesn't want to follow the tense route we've already fallen down. A page that I can agree on.

'I wasn't locked.' He murmurs, the suggestion of a sigh relaxing his expression.

'Can't you see I'm trying to fix things? I phoned Charlie really early this morning to finish my statement and I even went to the shrink who hates me!'

This catches him. 'You saw Doctor Browning?' He asks, curiously.

'I booked an appointment yesterday and saw her this morning. I'll be seeing her next Tuesday where she'll lay me on a couch and hypnotise me to confess said 'mother issues'.' I confess with rolling eyes. He puts his hand back on the table, pushing the sheet back to me.

'Really?'

'Yes, really!' I mutter impatiently. He's looking at me with those wide gorgeous eyes, his reaction hidden beneath a perfect poker face. 'Really.' I promise.

'Well let me in on it? We'll fix things together. Fuck it, we'll go storming into the coffee shop if you let me. Superhero outfits and all!' And though he's still pissed off I'm in love with how he's tried to push this into some positivity. Kinda. In all likelihood, he's possibly being quite sarcastic yet he is still cute, still a blessing and still, miraculously, sat in front of me.

'And you can design the costumes.' He adds with a wink, grabbing his drink and just holding it in his hand while he calculates my expression as if he's ready to cheers me at any moment. I shake my head at him, fighting hard to not laugh. He's such a sweetheart.

'Fine, but you'll be in Lycra.' I warn him. 'And it'll be right up your ass, none of those comfy materials.'

'I can work with that.' He says with a shrug. 'We'll have to have a team name something like the Cullen clan or something.'

'And who made you team-leader?' I tease, raising an index finger to the ceiling.

'Alright what about Platt's paragons?' And he wiggles his fingers as though he's some children's show magician.

'Paragoons more like.' I laugh. 'But it's great to have you home.'

Despite the fact I didn't really make much effort to order dinner, I'm surprised to find I like it. It's some posh seafood risotto though it's still pretty great and even though he's probably planning on returning to his anger at a later date, it takes the simplest of stories about his week to have us in stitches. The better kind this time. I'm nearly finished now, pushing the remnants of food around my plate. That's when he reaches into his pocket and slides something onto the table; a piece of card. He pushes it gently into my eye line as though pushing a stack of money towards a prostitute, discreetly, embarrassed and now I'm laughing again.

'What's this?' I ask, picking it up and turning it over.

It has his name written in gothic black ink but it's folded. I look at him, wait for his nod and then open it up. The card is heavy in my fingers, and I wonder how much it must have cost to make considering the detailed borders along the outside. It's beautifully printed with the most gorgeous calligraphy in thick letters across the paper. Very posh and very formal with a colour of yellow striking like a religious glow.

'It's my condition.' He says, pushing his plate away and leaning his elbow on the chair. 'I was allowed to leave early providing I attend that next Saturday.'

'Oh.' Then I continue reading: Formally invited to an evening Fundraiser at Eustace Cullen's home; Regent's road, 6:30pm Saturday … Huh? 'This is mandatory?!' I ask in disbelief.

'Yep.' He says, popping the 'P' and scrunching up his nose. He sighs loudly. 'I've got to go anyway for the sake of the new department and his…fundraising.' His tone dampens on the word. His smile is still there, even if it's stuck with his mouth on the fork.

I keep listening, resting my elbows against the wood, brows low on my eyes, how he normally wears them.

'Edward's parents will be there so he'll be attending….'

'Fun,' I murmur with a laugh, turning the invitation over to take in the detail again. Super expensive looking.

'So?' He starts delicately, as patient in his expression as he is with his words. With his first two fingers, he readjusts the collar of his shirt, pulling it up slightly as if to let some air in. I stare for a very long time. To the point that he has to cough and readdress his intention. 'Would you like to come with?'

'To this?' I question, raising the card back to him. A fundraising ball? A ball? Not exactly my kind of- why is he looking at me like that?

'If you'd like?' he adds swiftly. It's hard to tell if he's paler or pinker in this light, either way I can see he's uncomfortable.

'Isn't this the sort of thing you'd ask a girlfriend to?' My eyebrow is raised in a moment of suspicion.

'I'm asking you.' He clarifies, nodding his head towards me. His hands have suddenly started to intertwine themselves and he focuses on this rather than the return of his answer.

'Like a date?' I say carefully. He hesitates. I'm not entirely sure why but he does and offers an equally nervy look.

'Also known as a plus one?'

'Carlisle?'

He swallows, adding a tense smile as though we're discussing nuclear war rather than a simple party.

'Is this a date?' I ask, gesturing to the space around us. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, his smile crumbles into an awkward wry smile of embarrassment.

'Would you like it to be?'

'No.' I tell him honestly. To start with I don't even want to begin with the state of my hair... 'So a ball?'

'I would understand if you'd rather decline?' He says softly and I suddenly remember that this is another really new thing for him; Dealing with family issues. Asking for back-up. All that stuff. With a hand, he brushes away a waved lock of hair from his eyes and combs it back for something to do. '...Especially considering he's asked for Edward and I to attend dinner with the Masen's at four.'

'Is the ball not a dinner then?' I ask, smiling at my ignorance. He shakes his head, just by an inch.

'Not quite.' He informs and I'm grateful he doesn't make me feel like a twit in the way he answers. 'But it's not quite a ball either, it's a fundraiser...'

I am completely unaware of the distinctions between the two, particularly in front of equally affluent men so I nod slowly and move on.

'Are you going to go to dinner?'

He looks momentarily frustrated as if he wants to say no. Clearly responsibility takes over preference. 'Yes.' He sighs. 'Yeah, I'll be attending.'

'Are you nervous?' I ask, my voice soft again. He smiles and looks at a space in the wall behind my head before nodding absently.

'I've past the last two years without having to speak to him. I'm concerned how badly this event could go for us…' It's easy to hear that us, regarded the state of his position within the hospital and further than that, the very reputation of the hospital itself.

Rather than the gorgeously, alluring threat of the combination between one saint and myself. Us. What a stoic meaning for a sound made up of two inconsequential, puny letters.

'He's a member of the community just as you are Carlisle. Destroying your career won't help him in anyway.'

'Perhaps it provides an ego boost? Especially if I'm the one who has to help encourage it…'

'Yes.'

He nods, agreeing, rolling his brightly blue eyes.

'Yes.' I repeat to him. He looks up from his plate and furrows his eyebrows, I groan, playfully. 'Yes, I would love to be your date.'

'Wait-. Really?'

'Sure, I'll pack the costumes.' And just to boost his confidence a little, I grin widely at him. 'You know I love a good dance. It sounds like fun!'

It doesn't sound like fun, it sounds like a disaster but I have every responsibility to go down with him. At the very least, I want to.

'I was convinced you were going to say no.' He beams at me, looking away briefly before shaking his head in disbelief.

'Because your father's a creep?' I guess, he laughs at this in his casual flowing manner, no hint of malice or concern to his thoughts.

'Essentially.' He agrees, nodding.

'Well, I can promise you that I'll only be sticking to one Cullen.'

He smirks, so that it crinkles his eyes slightly though the smirk turns to an uncomfortable sigh and within moments he's frowning, his lips a tough line and his expression guilty.

'Esme,' he begins awkwardly. 'I think I need to tell-'

We're both suddenly interrupted by the same waiter who is waving dessert menus in our faces and clearing up our plates. He's talking very fast, and in the complete opposite tone of how Carlisle began. He hides under the interruption.

'I actually think the bill will be perfectly fine thanks.' I say but I catch Carlisle's face and smile, he nods in agreement.

Though he protests and by protests, I mean turns into a right little bitch about it all, I pay for dinner before he has a chance to, tipping the waiter and standing to take our leave.

'But I said I was going to take you to dinner.' He complains once we're back outside. It's colder now but a soothing cold and once he helps me get my coat on, I realise how cosy it actually is with a breeze in the air.

At the very least if I had rejected his development of a date, I wanted to ensure no advantage was taken from it.

'You can take me to dinner another time. Consider it an apology for the slight lie about-' And I comically point to my head. This reminds him of the offending mark and he angles himself as though to look at it though I move and this brings up back to the present.

He's looking far guiltier now I've said this.

'How about a walk?' I suggest.

'Where to? The beach?'

I nod. 'It's quite nice out and it's not late. Besides I haven't seen you in ages, I don't think I'm ready quite yet to have to share you with Edward.'

As I speak, his face changes. Not because of the light which has accentuated the grievance in his mystery but rather because he seems to be pleased by this sentence. His usual straight features soften to the edges, coloring to a slight amber from the restaurant's glow. I point to the way I want to walk down and stand close to his left side. As we walk, he gently pulls my back pack from me and slips it onto his shoulders again in complete disregard to the style or the dark flower pattern on the back.

For a second, my arm had come out ready for his to slip a hold through it. They go instead to the base of his spine, locked together as though resembling an oak branch.

'Es…' he mumbles difficulty, once we've walked a fair bit in silence. My eyes are focused on the sidewalk as we follow our inner-compass. His tone is passive, particularly quiet considering the depth of all we had shared since last night and the whimper of the sound causes my gaze to snap back. His eyes are following his feet at first though when he meets my face, the embarrassment causes me to look to the concrete.

'Why did you tell Edward you asked me out in First year?'

I never noticed how juvenile it sounded until now. He's frowning, but also smiling and I don't know what one to trust. For now, my chest feels awkwardly tight again like if I try and speak it'll be really squeaky and he'll laugh at me. I sigh so that it comes out in a gust of wind from my lips. I should've expected this to happen but still, the obvious betrayal from Edward irritates me. Why did his need to know everything outweigh his need to keep his mouth shut?! Especially because it's now made the space between Carlisle and I even less stable than it had been.

'Because I did...' I reply. He stares at the walk ahead of us, an eyebrow raised and pouting. Then he looks at me.

'You asked for coffee.' He corrects, a displeased tone to his voice.

I stare hard at his jaw for an excuse to focus my attention from not being hurt. Or pissed off. Or both.

'No, I asked for coffee twice. On the third time, I asked for a date.'

'I don't remember that.' He murmurs guiltily, shoving his hands in his pockets again and looking down at his shoes. 'I only remember declining the coffee because I hated it then.'

He still hates it now.

'Okay, Sex Ed four-oh-one: When a girl invites you for coffee, it's never just coffee.' I explain. The smile he returns is a vacant one and completely erases my teasing grin.

'Is that what you were asking for four years ago? Sex?'

What is with this man speaking before thinking!

'Jesus, Carlisle! Of course not. I'd moved from a farm where I'd sacrificed six years of my life to an absolute dick-head. On-top of the weight of killing my dad!'

'You didn't kill him.' He intervenes, frowning. There is something about the way he says it which suggests this wasn't the most important thing he wanted to answer. Then I intervene before he has a chance.

'Like every other sad student, I was lonely. I was looking for a friend, any friend. A friend you have coffee with. Even if you were pretty stand-offish at first.'

'I brought you coffee everyday?' He alters, confused as if this completely evades the fact that he spent our first year so self-involved he struggled to remember my name.

'After declining my offers. And yeah, you brought coffee, you gave me the coffee, and you left without saying another word.' He looks even more embarrassed than he was before, maybe worse than he did in the restaurant. 'Sure, you were always cute but it took like four months for you to even talk to me.'

'Was this during the holidays?' He guesses, struggling to grasp the memory and simply shoehorning a guess in for a little bit of hope. From the corner of my eye, I catch him pink in the cheeks and not because of the wind.

'It'd been snowing, your heating had cut out... We were literally the only two in the common room?' I remind him, trying to hide the hurt behind my smile. Though his determination in trying to picture it is at least amending my initial displeasure.

'What did we talk about?'

'You were studying.' I recall.

'And you asked me out?' He assumes, disbelievingly. He's wrong anyway which is just as irritating.

'The fact you don't remember, Carlisle proves how bad it went, doesn't it?'

He shies away from the comment, smiling more out of guilt. He's trying furiously to remember the day, plucking things out of thin air until finally-.

'You were having an argument with your brother, right?' His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes pinched closed as he thinks about the scene in his head.

I finally grin, nodding enthusiastically. I'd been sat at one end of the room, furiously yelling back into the phone as Rich tried to argue his point. Carlisle had been sat in the other corner, very much focused until my fury had interrupted him.

'That was it!' I commend him. 'I don't remember what the arguing was about but it's how we struck up a conversation on work commitments.'

'See? I do know! It's just so buried under all this stupid-' He holds his hand to his hair and shakes his head for an answer.

'That's all you can remember, isn't it?' I realise, rolling my eyes. He looks sheepish.

'I remember the holidays. I remember being in the common room with you up until Christmas Eve but I don't remember you ever asking me for a date?'

'Explains a lot.' I say with a delicate nod, smirking. 'Because I asked you out on January the first.'

'You couldn't have?'

'Carlisle, I distinctly remember using the 'New-Year-New-Start' bullshit and asking if you would go on a date with me.'

He's silent for a long time and when I turn I realise he's looking out in front of him in horror.

'I'm so sorry…'

'What? What for?' I say, easing his concern with a laugh. A sharp one at that.

'I did. I declined, I remember now.'

I think we've reached an impasse because there's nothing that I want him to add to this sentence or anything more he can add without embarrassing the both of us. I might have asked him on a date, I might have thought him attractive and intriguing... but it was fair to say neither one of us would've been prepared for the other. We've been walking longer than it feels like and have finally reached the start of the beach. He kicks up a few stones with the toe of his shoe before turning to me and sighing.

I drop to my butt on the sand, grinning despite his awkward expression and reach my hand up to him. He frowns but reaches out and touches his non-bruised touch with mine, lining our fingers together. I grasp them and roughly yank him down to the space beside me so that he only just catches himself upon his knees.

Once he's curled next to me, I grab a hold of his shirt buttons to pull him to me by way of forgiveness. I do as he would, asking with the raise of an eyebrow and at his consent, I kiss him as sweetly and as reservedly as I can manage. Despite his dire look of frustration, he still manages to forget himself, he helps me to forget myself and melt around me. He takes my face into his hands, kissing me back far more passionately than I would've expected considering his sudden misery but he cuts himself off abruptly, looking furious with himself.

If that had been the first time I had kissed him, it still would not have been worth a fracture of the feeling compared to when he chose to kiss me. And yet, having the elation sweep at my tongue and lip like passing thread still had the horrific ability to drive my senses crazy for him.

'Esme, there's something I really need to explain to you…'