Chapter 7

Everyone Carlisle bumped into at the hospital seemed to have heard about his 'secret crush'. Apparently, Tanya had repeated their conversation to a lot of people, and exaggerated a great deal.

"Oh, hey, Carlisle, I hear you've got a girlfriend ?"

He nearly spat back the chunk of sandwich he'd just bitten off. Instead, he choked on it and coughed violently as he tried to regain his breath.

"That's – not true," he managed to say.

The person who'd spoken, an friendly doctor named Eleazar who ate lunch with Carlisle fairly often, said :

"I'm sorry, Tanya told me you'd started dating your neighbor who helped you when you were sick."

"Well – my neighbor did help me, but – she's not my girlfriend."

"Why do you sound so sad? Did you ask her and she said no ?"

Carlisle flushed.

"I did not ask Esme to be my girlfriend. She's – my friend. That's all."

"Mmm-hmm."

Eleazar didn't sound convinced. He arched an eyebrow at Carlisle. However, before he could add anything, someone else entered the room. It was Carmen, another doctor who'd come back to work the same day as Carlisle after a few days' absence (she'd caught the flu, too).

"Hey," she said.

Eleazar's face turned red. He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

"Hi, Carmen," Carlisle said. He grinned at Eleazar, amused.

"Want to eat with us ?" he offered.

"No, thanks, I already ate. How are you ?" she asked the both of them, a smile gracing her lips as she looked at Eleazar.

"I'm fine, thanks," Carlisle answered when his friend still didn't speak.

"I heard you were sick, too. I also heard something else. About your neighbor ?"

Carlisle cursed Tanya internally. Did she really have to talk about it to everyone ?

"Who told you about Esme ?" he sighed. "Tanya ?"

Upon seeing her guilty face, he knew he'd guessed right.

"For the last time, she is not my girlfriend and I don't have a crush on her."

Or did he ?

"He keeps repeating it and yet no one believes him," Eleazar half-whispered at Carmen.

She laughed. Carlisle glared.

"You better shut your mouth if you don't want me to say anything embarrassing about other people in this room," he warned.

Eleazar raised his hands in the air in a surrender gesture.

"I won't say anything," he promised.

He winked at Carmen.

"Well, I'll leave you guys alone," she said.

Carlisle was confused. Why had she come into the room, if it wasn't for lunch ? It was unlikely that her sole purpose was asking them if they were all right.

However, before walking out, she turned her eyes on Eleazar.

"Hey, do you want to have dinner with me this evening ?"

Oh. That was it.

"This evening ? Yeah – yeah, sure !"

She smiled and kissed his cheek, promising she'd text him, before leaving the room. He stood gazing after her with a bewildered expression, his hand touching the place where she'd kissed him.

"Well," Carlisle said, "you're lucky she asked you first. You'd never have dared."

Eleazar pulled himself together, though he was still grinning like an idiot.

"What do you mean ?"

Carlisle rolled his eyes.

"Come on. Think I haven't noticed how you react whenever she enters the room you're in ?"

"You're certainly not an example. I mean, do you really expect me to believe there's nothing between you and – Esme, right ?"

"There truly is nothing."

"But you wish there was ?"

Carlisle's cheeks reddened a little.

"Listen, I – I don't know. I – maybe ? I'm – really not sure."

Eleazar had a compassionate expression.

"I'll leave you alone to try and figure it out."

"I'm not sure I can just decide in a few minutes," Carlisle murmured.

He paused before continuing :

"I just – I don't know. I certainly like her – but is it platonic ? She was very kind to me, and helped me a lot. I enjoy her company. I'm not sick anymore, but I – I need her."

Eleazar nodded.

"Take your time."

He left the room, humming under his breath before the prospect of a pleasant evening with Carmen.

Carlisle didn't know what to think. Did he have a crush on Esme, like everyone kept repeating ? But he'd only talked to her for the first time a few days ago. And yet – hadn't he spent the day before thinking about her ? Hadn't he waited impatiently for the morning to see her again ? Speaking (or rather, thinking) of Esme, was she all right ? He wondered what she was doing right now. He hoped she wasn't too cold.

He plopped down in the nearest chair and sighed, burying his hands in his hair. After deciding he wouldn't succeed in figuring out anything, he remembered he had a job to do and he stood up. Lunch break was over.

On his way back, after the end of his shift, Carlisle stopped to buy a radiator.

"Carlisle !"

"Hi, Esme ! I hope you had a good day ?"

"The usual," Esme replied with a shrug. "But what's that ?"

She pointed to the radiator Carlisle was trying to more or less hide behind his back – unfortunately, it was larger than him.

"A new radiator for you."

He set it down on the floor next to him.

"Aw, thanks, you're so sweet !"

Warmth swelled through his chest and his cheeks pinked.

"But you didn't need to bother," she continued. "I could've bought one myself. Besides, your heating doesn't work. You should keep it for yourself."

"Please take it," he insisted. "I don't need it, I managed to light a fire in my chimney. Thanks for the matches, by the way."

He winked. She smiled.

"I'm glad you saw and used them. I hoped you would."

"Thank you," he said warmly. "Anyway, see ? I can manage perfectly well on my own. You need the radiator, though. I'm sure you've been shivering all day."

She shook her head half-heartedly, before sighing.

"Okay, I'll take it, but please let me provide you with firewood."

"You don't need to, I –"

"Please," she interrupted him. "If I'm taking your radiator, then you're taking my firewood. It's only fair."

He smiled.

"Okay," he finally agreed.

He helped her install the radiator under the counter of the newsstand. Once they were done, they straightened up and Esme said :

"Well. Let's go to the Tesco, then ?"

"Sure."

They set off. He was no longer sick and didn't need her support, yet he had an irrepressible desire to hold her hand. Their sleeves kept grazing as they walked. Somehow, they got closer and now their forearms brushed. He couldn't help it. As his hand nearly collided with hers, he extended his fingers and snatched hers. He was staring right in front of him, and so was she. Neither showed any signs that something had changed, but Carlisle repressed a grin as Esme squeezed his hand ever so slightly.

"Do you want to buy potatoes again ?" Esme asked.

"Yes."

She grabbed a sack and put it in their cart.

"Do you need more salad or do you have enough left ?"

"I don't think I need more."

"Carrots ?" she suggested with a smile.

He was reminded of the last time they'd been there, standing next to the carrots in the vegetable section. Esme's hand on his cheek, her other clutching his arm while his had instinctively found its way to her waist. He remembered being barely able to breathe, their gazes locked, until that old lady had pushed them aside. Was that why Esme was smiling ? Was she recalling that as well ?

"Yes, let's take carrots," he answered, grinning back.

They also bought oranges, butter, eggs, rice and bread. After ensuring he had enough sandwiches, Esme led him to the checkout.

At his insistence, Esme accompanied him inside his house. They went to the kitchen to put away the food. When they were done, Carlisle fidgeted uneasily, twisting his hands. Noticing that, Esme turned towards him.

"Are you okay ?"

"Y–yes, I just wanted to ask – if you'd like to stay here for dinner ?"

He looked at the floor, awaiting nervously for her answer.

"Of course," she said.

His head snapped up and a smile lit his face up.

"Great ! …what do you want to eat ?"

"Rice and salad ? We can eat oranges for dessert."

"Perfect."

He checked his watch.

"9 p.m. We should probably start dinner."

Esme nodded and took out a cooking pan from the only cupboard in Carlisle's kitchen that wasn't empty. All by itself, It contained a part of the small amount of food he had (only the food that wasn't in the fridge), all the dishes, the cutlery and the two pans he owned. Esme handed the one she'd just taken to him and he filled it with water before putting it to boil.

While they waited for it to be hot enough to cook the rice, Esme got a bowl and the salad. She began to cut it. Carlisle was making the vinaigrette.

"Shit," he muttered.

As he stirred, a few drops of oil had landed on his shirt, staining the fabric. Esme briefly abandoned her salad and her knife to get a closer look. She went to the sink, drenched a sponge in water and doused soap on it before coming back to him.

"Don't move," she asked.

Placing one hand on his chest to keep the fabric in place, she rubbed the stain with the sponge. Carlisle knew that it was perfectly appropriate and he wasn't supposed to see anything more in it than a friend helping him clean his shirt, but he couldn't help it. Her breath was warm on his body, and the hand that rested on his chest was unfortunately right on his heart. He had no doubt she could feel it pound, but he hoped she was too concentrated on her task to notice it.

Finally, she drew back, watching the greasy spot.

"It's not that bad," she said. "We have to let it sit for a few minutes and then soak it in warm water."

"How do you know that ?" he asked, a little surprised and admiring.

She smiled.

"I stained my own shirt a few weeks ago, and I googled it."

He grinned.

"Were you making a vinaigrette, too ?" he joked.

"Yeah."

She chuckled and picked up her knife to finish cutting the salad. Once done, she said :

"You'll – have to take off your shirt."

"Oh."

He felt his cheeks going red.

"I can – get out of the kitchen. Or turn around," she suggested.

"No, you don't need to."

Trying not to feel self-conscious, he opened the buttons and shed his shirt. She quickly took it and put it in the sink, face pink, averting her eyes from his bare torso.

"I'll just –" he pointed towards the door.

She nodded, opening the tap. He went into his room and put on a clean shirt. When he came back, the rice was cooking and the vinaigrette done. He laid the table and they sat down. They began eating. Almost as soon as they finished the salad, Esme's phone rang. It was the timer she'd set for the rice. Carlisle got up and soon came back with the pan and a large spoon to help themselves. They were about halfway through the food when Esme swallowed what she was eating and said :

"Carlisle, if you don't mind my asking –"

He raised his head, paying close attention. She was visibly uncomfortable, playing with her fork, but she seemed curious at the same time. He nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"Yes ?"

"Would you tell me who Edward is ?"