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They Should Have Been Blue

Summary:

In glittering LA, the elite like a good party.

Good parties are parties planned and executed by the renowned, widowed and Empowered (or at least she says she is) Esme Platt.

Dr Carine Cullen (and doesn’t she have other things she ought to be doing, like, I don’t know…seeing patients?) has no right, NO right to storm in and change everything, even if she isn’t who Esme thinks she is and the conclusion to a long and extremely public feud doesn’t end like she thinks it will.

Notes:

Gah!

I'm starting another fic!

FINISHTHEOTHERSGODDAMMIT!

But hey, inspiration for this struck like lightning and there isn't enough Carine/Esme out there so, don't worry, folks! I'm here to right that wrong!

I really hope you like this!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Battle Lines

Chapter Text

‘I live in beautiful world’, says the magnet on my fridge.

 

And I do. My world is pristine. 

 

Not a speck of dust to be found on any marble floor.

 

But, sometimes, the world isn’t so beautiful.

 

I remember scrubbing my own blood off those floors in the days of Charles.

 

Charles was my husband, a good man, respected man, wealthy man. A man my parents were extremely happy to accept when I brought him home to meet them.

 

Astoundingly, they still seemed to like him when I showed up at my grandmother’s funeral with a black eye and a ring of bruises around my ankles, arms and wrists.

 

I guess you fell, they said when I tried to explain. You ought to keep his home tidier.

 

I did.

 

I cleaned up all the blood and threw out anything that looked as if it had been broken by violence before the cleaners came.

 

Charles himself, though handsome, was not a good guy.

 

I’d known that even before I married him but, arrogantly, Esme Platt, voted ‘nicest girl’ in high school, was so nice that she was willing to put up with that. She was going to help him.

 

I guess I failed.

 

After the worst of our fights, the cops found him dead, face down in a pile of cocaine (on an unconscious stripper’s ass, but I only found that out later. Thank God for the Beverly Hills gossip system).

 

In the hospital, the cops asked me what I knew of his criminal dealings, but, between the bruises all over my body and the baby he’d just beaten out of me, I think they decided to let it go.

 

They must have thought that punishment enough for a dirty gold-digger.

 

But I wasn’t. Charles had taken from me more than I could have ever hoped to gain from him and to be honest, during our five long years of marriage, I think I lost my mind.

 

Without Charles’ web of despair to hold me in the air, I began to free-fall.

 

For the first time, I was safe.

 

However, who could I celebrate with? I was alone because my poor little baby, our poor little baby, hadn’t even had the opportunity to be born.

 

I had never felt pain like it when I saw them wrap him kindly in the blanket and take him away. 

 

I screamed like I was being gutted alive and woke up from the frenzy in a psych ward (standard procedure, you understand) being peered at by an angel.

 

The angel made something stir within me, something deep and primal and I refused to eat, drink or sleep until someone made her fucking go away.

 

Eventually, dejectedly, she did.

 

Then, I left. 

 

Through the wreckage the FBI had left of my home, I put my house back together. 

 

After that, I put my life back together.

 

I threw out or sold all Charles’ crap.

 

I got my teeth whitened.

 

I bought myself a shiny car.

 

I get my nails done every week.

 

I live in a beautiful world.

 

I have purpose, and do only good (I was voted ‘nicest girl’ in high school, if I didn’t already mention that).

 

My life is fulfilling and healthy.

 

I’m involved with charities, I run fundraisers, I have parties, and I volunteer at the hospital that almost saved my child’s life.

 

Speaking of! 

 

One of the biggest events of the year around here (after I got ahold of it) is the Hospital Gala and, after I inherited the responsibility of planning it, I was determined that it would be a party to remember.

 

Plus, event planning seems to suit me.

 

I’m in charge. I am in control. Everything that happens is what I anticipate will happen, and approve of happening.

 

Even the people on the planning committee I set up were to be expected.

 

…Jess Stanley…the ridiculously hyperactive Alice Whitlock…Rose, of course…

 

Oh! Actually…there was one small oddity…

 

I learned, to my…ineffable joy, that the woman I’d screamed at (which occasionally embarrasses me) was a top clinical psychologist and very much in the community’s consciousness.

 

And, for some reason, she…she…decided to grace our presence.

 

At the first meeting, she sat at the back of the room quietly, accepting the adoring smiles of the other women with a modest nod, saying nothing.

 

Judging everything.

 

Doing my best to ignore her, while they tittered in agreement, I told the committee how the Gala was going to work out. Every detail, down to the colour of the streamers on the walls, decided. 

 

By me.

 

(I settled on gold, by the way. But classy gold.)

 

Which is where the world fell apart anew.

 

“What about blue streamers?” the blonde woman suddenly suggested in that mild, unbearably reasonable manner of hers.

 

Blue streamers?

 

Yes, blue streamers.

 

And, at that moment, in the meeting room of my charity committee, battle lines were irreversibly drawn.

 

Chapter 2: Running in heels

Chapter Text

Can I tell you who Dr Cullen is?

 

Once, I had a dream that I was on the toilet. Then, the stall walls turned to glass and I found myself in the middle of the city with hundreds of people gawping as I took my shit.

 

Dr Cullen is the one person in the world that makes me feel the same way.

 

Like she can see straight through to my vulnerability. Like my walls are glass.

 

She doesn’t even have to speak, just knowing she's in the room makes me seize up with anxiety.

 

I mean, seriously?

 

I would’ve thought I’d be used to shrinks by now.

 

Another fun fact about Dr Cullen: everyone loves her.

 

I don’t know what it is about being an attractive doctor, but the world flocks around you.

 

And, yes, she is attractive.

 

I’ve bitched to many a friend over light lunches about how the Cate Blanchett look is better left to the lady herself and that styling your naturally blonde hair like Marylyn Monroe seems a little desperate, (if not a little annoyingly classy).

 

Classy or not, Dr Cullen talks to everyone, and everyone talks to her.

 

It’s like the world of social intricacies don’t even matter to her.

 

She probably thinks she’s Jesus.

 

And I do have better things to think about, by the way, like all my charity work, but unfortunately the exploits of somebody are taking up much needed room in my brain.

 

And then I remember that I’m not really, an airhead socialite and my life is horrible.

 

Carine has a purpose. And, seriously, it’s good that she pays little notice to social snobbery or she'd never give me the time of day (like I'd even want it).

 

But then, I know she knows.

 

She saw me in the hospital. She watched the worst moments of my life unfold, saw the parts of me that another person should never see.

 

So now I guess now she’s trying to help me.

 

True to form, the next instalment of the Dr Cullen show came at the end of the next committee meeting, as if she can’t leave well enough alone.

 

I was trying to wrestle with the door on my way out with my box full of folders when I heard footsteps running towards me.

 

And, I thought, who runs in heels, anyway?

 

Oh, of course.

 

“Here, let me,” said the voice that made my stomach clench.

 

I turned around with teeth gritted into that disney smile that doesn’t seem to work on her.

 

“Thank you, Dr Cullen! That’s sooo sweet of you!”

 

Instead of just getting the door for me, like a normal person, she literally sweeps the folders out of my arms and then holds the door open and I just walk through it, not knowing if I feel like an ass or some weird version of royalty.

 

“Carine, please,” she says.

 

“Carine,” I smile back politely.

 

(Of course I knew her name, like everybody, just never used it. Now I’ll have no choice. Or I won’t use it and see if she gets the hint. Decisions, decisions...)

 

Now at my car, so-called Carine hasn’t left, nor shows any indication of giving me back my belongings.

 

Oh, wait, she parked right next to me, as if that isn’t weird...

 

“Esme, I’m sorry about the streamer thing, the other day,” she said after she’d finally returned my things.

 

“Everyone in the committee is welcome to give an opinion,” I reminded her, which they are, naturally, because I’m not some psychopath.

 

“Gold looks really nice,” she said, probably trying to be nice, as if I deserve to be pitied.

 

“I know, that’s why I picked it,” I said, which sounds shitty, but I was tired and simply could not deal with that smile of hers any more today.

 

“Well, see you around,” she said, as if I wouldn’t be avoiding that.

 

As she got in her car, I decided to stand and watch because if there isn’t anything worse than getting out of a tight parking space with an audience.

 

But the world couldn’t be that kind to me.

 

“Bitch,” I muttered under my breath as she rather artfully backed out of her space and the Mercedes drove away.

 

After that, I got into my own, and dare I say shinier car, but this gave me no sense of power…or even of equality to the doctor and I’ll admit that all I did when I got home was cry.

 

Chapter 3: Uh...Overstepping, Much?

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

“What about chin length?” my friend Rosalie wondered, miming a pair of scissors with her fingers and holding her hair between them.

 

“No,” I said immediately, seeing ruin for my beautiful friend as the face of…Carine Cullen momentarily attached itself to her head.

 

Then Rose smirked at me.

 

“You still have that grudge against Dr Cullen, then?” she wondered, stirring her coffee.

 

“Yes. And it’s not a grudge,” I explained. “I just can’t stand her.”

 

“All she did was question the streamer choice,” Rosalie said with a tone that she must have thought reasonable.

 

“Yeah, well I’m in charge,” I reminded her. “It’s a lot of work to get blue streamers! I checked! And I already have the gold but of course as soon as Carine, that’s her name by the way, says blue, everyone wants blue, because she’s a psychologist and always knows best.”

 

“Blue is…calming, I guess…?” Rose tried.

 

“Not for me!” I told her, which is true, the amount of damn stress this has all caused.

 

Sensing some kind of artistic disturbance in the force, both Rose and I looked up before Edward made it through the door looking attractively and effortlessly windswept as he often liked to.

 

“Look who decided to show up,” Rose muttered, rolling her eyes. “Finally…”

 

“Sorry I’m late!” Edward said, seating himself with a flurry of purpose. “Rehearsal ran over!”

 

“You could have always stayed later, Edward,” I told him. “I know how much the production means to you.”

 

He looked affronted.

 

“And miss Wednesday coffee with my girls?” he spluttered. “Sister, I need boyfriend advice right now!”

 

Rosalie rolled her barbie eyes magnificently (and I say that as a compliment).

 

“You take being the gay best friend, way too seriously, Edward,” she said and the man himself stood back up and took a deep bow.

 

“I own no prouder title.”

 

Placing himself down carefully, Edward smirked.

 

“So, you and Jacob are a thing now?” I asked.

 

I hadn’t heard that they were.

 

“Uh, no!” Edward complained, throwing his hands up. “That’s the issue!”

 

He sighed.

 

“Maybe I need to see a psychic again…” he mused.

 

“Maybe you should go too, Esme,” Rose smirked. “See how best to deal with Dr Evil-Queen-who-seems-perfectly-benign-to-me.”

 

“Carine drama still?” Edward asked excitedly, then giving the passing waiter an appraising up-and-down glance.

 

“You are unbelievable,” Rosalie sighed, having also noticed this.

 

“No more than normal,” I told Edward, looking pointedly at my coffee so neither of my friends saw how much I was triggered by her very name.

 

“Hey, all great ladies need a nemesis,” Edward continued, stealing a crumb of cake from Rose’s plate. “What you need to remember is that you need to slap that girl down, bitch.”

 

“I…think Esme kinda already did,” Rose said apologetically, while I felt a small snarl of shame in my belly and she received a handful of gel after she smacked Edward playfully on the head. “To be honest she seems like quite a nice woman.”

 

“Not you too!” I laughed, feeling pretty horrified at my friend’s deceit.

 

How did she not see that Carine was out to get me?

 

Before I could make a comment to that effect, Rose’s phone buzzed on the table.

 

Reading the message, Rose gave a grunt of frustration and mashed her phone into her perfect forehead.

 

“What’s up?” I asked, worried.

 

“That was Emmett,” she told me with a sigh, already packing the phone into her handbag and getting up to put on her jacket.

 

Rose leaving a half-empty coffee on the table was never a good sign.

 

“Seems that Leah finally snapped and apparently she smacked that kid, y’know Sam or whasisface?”

 

“‘Bout time she taught that little bully a lesson,” Edward nodded approvingly. “That’s my girl.”

 

“The school called Emmett in for a meeting and he needs the moral support,” Rose finished with a huff, flicking her hair out from under her collar.

 

“Or a calming influence,” I said, feeling sympathetic.

 

Emmett and elementary school disciplinary meetings did not mix.

 

Well, that’s a lie. Thanks to McCarthy junior’s zero-tolerance-for-bullshit policy, they mixed rather a lot. It’s never pretty, is what I meant.

 

Rosalie gave a bark of dark laughter as a stood and gave her a comforting hug.

 

“Tell me how it goes?” I whispered and she nodded.

 

“Give ‘em hell!” Edward added.

 

“Will do. Oh and Esme?” Rose said quickly, fishing for her car keys. “The women’s rights group is meeting early tomorrow, did you get the email?”

 

“Yes, I’ll see you there,” I told her, before watching her dash out to the car.

 

Poor Rose. At least she didn’t have to bake the-

 

“Shit!” I muttered as I remembered my promise. “I told Sue Clearwater I would bake!” 

 

“She does not need any more cookies,” Edward said, dragging Rose’s unfinished food towards himself.

 

“Ouch,” I muttered as a tried to remember what Sue was actually allergic to versus what she pretended to be allergic to (honestly, some people!)

 

“Need any help?” Edward wondered, though pulling his ‘these hands do not bake’ face.

 

I shook my head.

 

“I’ll do it after the hospital Gala meeting,” I said, then groaned remembering that, on top of everything else, today was a Carine day.

 

“Good luck, soldier,” Edward grinned, like normal reading my damn mind.

 

Fucking right I’ll need luck, I thought a little later as the gold glint of annoyingly neat hair caught my eye at the start of the Gala meeting.

 

The gold glint said nothing today, and I thought it might have learnt its lesson.

 

However, no joy.

 

When the meeting ended, the gold glint began growing steadily larger in my peripheral.

 

Fucking perfect! Here we go again…

 

“Esme! Hi!” Carine said and I managed to surprise my sigh only with God-like will.

 

“Dr Cullen!” I replied, fists clenching only fractionally. “You were very…er…quiet today.”

 

“Oh, Carine, please,” she corrected me quickly, as if she somehow thought that I hadn’t remembered our previous conversation. “And I really had nothing to add! I thought you covered everything. I don’t know how you come up with all those ideas!”

 

“It’s your job, though, right?” I reminded her. “To know how people’s brains work?”

 

She laughed a little and, as her eyes scrunched, I couldn’t help noticing that she was wearing a little mascara today, which I had never seen before. 

 

She didn’t need it, which was the kicker.

 

“The brain is so complex, I couldn’t ever possibly hope to understand all of it,” she said loftily.

 

“Wow, that’s really interesting,” I said, losing patience, and suddenly reaching the point when my feet decide I’ve been standing in my toe-pinching heels for too long. You know how it goes…

 

“Well…anyhow,” she continued wearing that ridiculous learned face of hers, oblivious to the fact that I had forty gluten and egg-free muffins to bake and could really do with getting going.

 

She fished in her bag for something and produced a little yellow notecard which she proceeded to hand to me.

 

Like, what the fuck is this?

 

“I just wanted to give you my number. My…er…personal number,” she said hopefully. “Just in case you ever…wanted to discuss anything…or just…”

 

She shrugged lamely.

 

I’m sorry? Discuss anything?

 

My stomach sank like lead. She wanted to talk about…that. That day.

 

Then, the lead boiled.

 

“I am not your patient!” I hissed at the woman, as venomously as I could, before shoving the damn thing in my pocket, seizing my laptop and stalking away.

Notes:

Poor Carine! Awww!

Don't worry, this is eventually a happy story because my heart weeps for Carine's effort!

I aim for this to end up being around 10,000 words long, but I know the chapters are quite short. Stick with it anyhow.

Also, would anyone be up for 'Gold is Good Too' - Carine's point of view?

Potentially more angsty but very much more...not very straight?

Chapter 4: The difference between 'heroine' and 'heroin'

Notes:

Okay HUGE trigger warning for the entirety of this bizarrely long chapter including opioid addiction, quite vivid description of attempted suicide and one veiled rape reference.

So go easy everyone.

Plus there are some very awkward phone calls.

Also, I hope I've written this in an acceptable way, because I've never found myself witness to this situation and have literally no idea what I'm talking about, so please nobody be offended.

Phew!

Last thing - a couple of sparks start to fly in this chapter and please know that however horrible Esme's past, the future is going to be a lot brighter...

Happy reading!

Chapter Text

 

“Fucking Carine!” I muttered as I pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

 

See? She has me talking to myself now like a crazy person!

 

“Fucking stupid little fucking eyelashes!” I added as I continued to drive. “…Discuss things…Huh! Honey, you can discuss things with my lawyer when I…HOLY SHIT!”

 

I didn’t even cringe at the sound my cool brakes made as slammed them on and swerved suddenly to the side of the road, leaping out of the car to join the small group of gawkers forming on the sidewalk.

 

The woman they were all staring up at was sitting on the ledge of one of the nearest building’s fifth-storey windows. She looked young, scared, but wholly intent upon shuffling her ass the few inches forward she would need to fall onto the street below.

 

“Someone call 911!” a male voice implored.

“I already did!” a woman answered him hysterically. “They’re not here!”

 

It turns out I must have half a brain after all, since at this point I already had my own phone in my hand and was fumbling for the little yellow notecard in my pocket.

 

Yes, I’m stubborn, but not stubborn enough to let my own Gala Committee drama actually kill someone, so, though it felt like sandpaper on the way down, I temporarily swallowed my pride.

 

My choice of emergency contact picked up on the second ring.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Carine?” I shouted into the phone, watching the street lights flickering on the young woman’s pinched face above me and feeling sick to my stomach. “Carine are you there?”

 

“Yes, Esme,” I heard and nearly wept with relief - too relieved to be surprised that she knew it was me so quickly. “What’s the prob-”

 

“I know I’ve just been very rude to you, and you probably hate me right now,” I told her as quickly as I could. “But there’s a girl trying to jump off the building at the end of the block.”

 

I think I might have been speaking Panic rather than English, but somehow Dr Cullen seemed to get the point since on the other side of the line I heard a car door slam.

 

“S-she’s threatening to jump! A-and I don’t know what to say and I…Carine, please, like…what do I do?”

 

“Keep her there for as long as you can!” Carine told me, and then I think I nodded my head to the empty air like a bewitched but really dumb Marionette puppet. “Make sure nobody else gets hurt. Keep everyone away. Give her space. I’m on my way!”

 

“Okay…” I whispered down the phone as it went dead.

 

“Where are the cops?” cried another person, who was looking wholly overexcited with the whole hideous situation.

 

“Someone’s on their way,” I said more firmly than I should but I could sense this bitch’s hand itching towards her camera phone, which pissed me off more than I could articulate. “But for now, let’s just step back a little so nobody else gets hurt if she does…fall, yeah? Thank you.”

 

Yes, thank you, fucking ghoul.

 

I shuffled the people backwards (apparently I’m good at shuffling groups of people to places) but one of the guys pushed proactively past me and went to climb up to where the woman was.

 

Jesus…

 

However, he hadn’t got too far before Carine’s Mercedes screeched to a halt behind my own car.

 

“Where?” she asked simply as she leapt out.

 

Before I could even point, Carine had spotted the emergency and was already scaling the fire escape, pushing past the guy who was good-naturedly calling up well-meant, but sadly unhelpful, things to the ghost teetering above us.

 

And, wow, by the way she is speedy because it didn’t seem to take her long to get to the railings at the level of the young woman’s window ledge.

 

…Actually, Carine wasn't stopping at the railings, rather squeezing herself onto one of the adjacent ledges.

 

My vision crackled with darkness for a moment and my head swam noting only one of her deeply intellectual hands grasping the side of the window.

 

All it took was a gust of wind and she’d…

 

“Carine don’t!” I shouted, panicked, as she shuffled closer to the woman with her ‘free’ hand outstretched.

 

I may have issues with the woman, but despite what I may have drunkenly sworn to Rose a couple of times, I didn’t want her to actually die.

 

Carine flat-out ignored me.

 

She is nuts, I tell you.

 

“Carine! What the hell are you doing?” I roared, furious with the insane danger she was putting herself in and with the creeping realisation that if the doctor did fall, it would crucially be my fault.

 

My heart was pounding so hard I couldn’t hear my own heels on the asphalt when I stumbled forward, hands over my mouth, as Carine reached her precarious target and knelt down beside her on a ledge thin enough to make a pigeon balk.

 

To this day, I have no idea what Carine said to that girl but just about when my nerves couldn't take it any longer, she was wrapping her coat around the other woman and leading her back slowly, slowly, and with the utmost care towards the fire escape, like a mother with a scared toddler in tow.

 

As the two reached the steps and started the slow descent, the onlookers started to cheer.

 

However, a glimpse of Carine’s face warned me not to join in.

 

Ohhhhh dear.

 

As she reached the bottom, Dr Cullen lost her cool, something that I had always hoped I’d get to see, though, in the current situation, it gave me no sense of satisfaction.

 

“We don’t need that, thanks!” she shouted. “Use your brains!”

 

“Oh my God, you’re a hero!” said hero-man cheerily, as if he didn’t have an ounce of social sense, whipping out his phone to take a picture.

 

Dr Cullen shoved the guy, and pretty hard at that.

 

“Sir, thank you for your concern,” she said as the woman beside her began to sob hysterically. “But fuck off. Immediately, please.”

 

The man looked shocked, and so was I for that matter. 

 

After experiencing first-hand her typically, and infuriatingly, impeccable manners, hearing Carine swear at someone was like going to Disneyland and having Queen Elsa call you a evil cunt (which, in fact, I’m pretty sure almost happened to me once. Long story…)

 

She stormed past him, managing to simultaneously support, steer and hide the face of the woman wrapped under her arm.

 

“Carine! Dr Cullen, thank you!” I said genuinely, running up to her, assuming for some reason that I was exempt from having to ‘fuck off’.

 

However, Dr Cullen, who was very much Dr Cullen at this point, didn’t seem to appreciate my goodwill.

 

“Go home, Esme,” she said without looking at me, pleasantly, but flatly enough for me to know that I was merely an annoyance to her, and was distinctively not helping.

 

Weirdly, that little lapse in her total attention, her almost-harsh tone, winded me and chilled me to the core and instead of feeling relief during the shaky drive the rest of the way home, I felt a little like I should jump off a window ledge instead. 

 

The feeling merely intensified as I arrived at my spotless, empty house. I was shivering and neglected to even look at my baking preparations, knowing full well that I wouldn’t be in any state to see other human beings the next day anyway.

 

Kicking off my shoes, which were really killing me at that point, I took some deep breaths. Before I could start to cry, which I could feel was threatening, the phone rang and, assuming it was Rose, (who was about the only person that I could bear to speak to) I took the call without checking the caller ID. 

 

That was a mistake, by the way.

 

“Rose! Hi! I-”

 

“Esme-Ann?” said the tinny voice I thought I was clear of, at least for a while.

 

My stomach dropped.

 

“Mom?”

 

“I’m s’prised ya picked up,” she continued, which is probably true.

 

I tend not to.

 

“I didn’t really mean to, if that helps,” I informed her. “What do you want?”

 

“I’d like to invite ya ‘d visit ya father before he dies,” she said in that horrible toe-curling way of hers. “T‘be nice for ya to make a li’l bit of an effort to reconcile with the man who raised ya.”

 

Oh Jesus, seriously?

 

“Well…it’s not actually only Dad I have the issue with,” I reminded her. “So…”

 

I shrugged aggressively to my empty living room.

 

“So what?” she pretty much hissed at me. “Ya just waitin’ for me ‘d go too? Maybe I’ll do it tonight. Wha’d’ya think? Nice neat shot ‘d the temple in the kitchen ya grew up in.”

 

My torso cramped thinking of that scared little face all the way up high and I started shaking a little more. It was the adrenaline, I think.

 

I was certainly not fucking crying.

 

“Mom, don’t say things like that,” I told her.

 

There was a horrible silence.

 

“Esme-Ann, are ya fucking crying?”

 

There was a more horrible silence.

 

“Better than crying fucking, which is worse, by the way,” I told her thickly, though I was not fucking crying. “And if it makes any difference, the most growing up I did in that kitchen was pouring you two booze before I caught the bus to Elementary school!”

 

“Well a lot’a other kids had it a lot hard’r’n you, ya know,” she had the nerve to say to me. “Ya lucky we ‘llowed ya to go ‘d that fucking school!”

 

I let out a peal of laughter that probably sounded crazy.

 

“Mom…it’s the law…” I reminder her.

 

What…the fuck?

 

“You know how things were f’r us…”  she shot back, and, yeah, she didn’t know the half of what I knew.

 

“Look, I can’t get into this now,” I told her.

 

“We…we miss ya honey,” Mom lied in return, and in a pretty half-assed way at that.

 

“Did dad say he missed me?” I asked pleasantly.

 

Silence.

 

“Didn’t think so,” I muttered, just savouring the part of the conversation where my mother stopped talking and just breathed down the phone.

 

Real loudly, too.

 

“The money is coming through, alright?” I told her, which was the real reason for the call. “But I’m paying the rental people directly because apparently you can’t handle cash because it always ends up in your fucking arm.”

 

“N’ya listen d’ me!” Mom shouted and, habitually, I cringed. “If ya’d stayed in Ohio, and not been s’ fuckin’ selfish, ya father wouldn’t’d had d’ work s’ hard, he wouldn’t’d gotten in the accident and he wouldn’t’d been given the oxycon’in, and then-”

 

“I moved because Charles wanted to move, okay?” I exploded. “And when I asked to move back in with you, you said no. And when he started to beat the shit out of me, you said no and-”

 

“Don’t ya ever criticise me!” Mom shrieked. “Ya d’n’t know how hard it is ‘d raise a child!”

 

“I’m just-”

 

“And ya never will!”

 

The phone went dead, and, as it did, I seriously started fucking crying.

 

As the night crept in in ernest, I felt so cold, and alone. Like I was stranded on the moon.

 

It was a familiar but nightmarish feeling, like being trapped under snow or thrashing desperately around in a lake so deep I couldn’t tell which way to swim to eventually break the surface.

 

My body stung, and I couldn’t sleep, so sometime in the early morning, when the phone on my nightstand vibrated, it was with the grogginess of despair rather than sleep that I reached for it.

 

“Mom, kindly fuck off…” I whispered hollowly into the phone but, to my surprise, I actually got a nervous chuckle down the line.

 

It wasn’t my mother’s.

 

“Sorry to wake you, um, Esme,” the voice said softly.

 

“Oh God, Carine, sorry,” I said, sitting up quickly with my chest stinging a little less all of a sudden. “You calling to make sure I haven’t gone insane after that?”

 

Hey, I probably had.

 

“I was calling to apologise for snapping at you,” she responded primly, but…kinda sweetly, I guess.

 

“At two in the morning?” I laughed, checking the time.

 

“I suppose,” she said haltingly. “And…to thank you for thinking to call me, although I…know you don’t really like me very much.”

 

“Well, no, I don’t necessarily dislike you,” I said tactfully, not really able to tell whether that was a lie or not. “And besides you’re mighty useful.”

 

“Then I’ll be useful for you,” she said, but it didn’t sound snide like it would coming from me.

 

“How is she?” I asked apprehensively, knowing she’d know full well who I meant.

 

“I can’t share that,” Dr Cullen said, being Dr Cullen.

 

Come on…

 

“Oh come on!” I huffed, because something like that is suspense I can’t deal with.

 

“But…for your peace of mind, there have been no calamities, as yet,” Carine said carefully, taking pity on me, I guess.

 

“You were amazing,” I breathed at last, because she honestly was.

 

“Just…doing my job, I suppose,” she said.

 

She almost sounded shy.

 

“Well I feel like you went very literally above and beyond the call of duty,” I said, as warmly as I could.

 

“That’s kind of you to say,” she continued and I felt my mouth quirk up at the sides hearing the genuine sheepishness in her voice. “But-”

 

Yeah.

 

But.

 

“But just one thing, Carine…” I interrupted sternly. “Don’t you ever fucking climb up the side of a building again, you nearly gave me a heart attack! Sorry for swearing.”

 

“Heart attacks I can help with too,” she added helpfully and, weirdly, I felt like there was about a sixty-percent chance she was trying to make fun of herself.

 

“Smart-ass,” I grinned. “Anyway, I hope you get a pay rise, at least.”

 

“It doesn’t quite work like that,” she laughed.

 

“Fucking bureaucracy…” I growled playfully, confident that Carine was one of those people who could pick up on nuances down the phone. “You know America has gone to the dogs…”

 

“Are we about to have a political debate at two-oh-seven in the morning?” Carine chuckled.

 

“Well…” I said, tutting. “…It’s actually two-oh-six by my clock so…”

 

“One of us must be wrong,” Carine said playfully.

 

“Indeed,” I said, which is a word I don’t recall ever using. “Or…wait! It just changed! We’re all good.”

 

“In the same time zone again…”

 

We both laughed for a little bit, I think to relieve the awkwardness of the situation, because I think the last time I spoke to a psychologist at two in the morning I was not in a good place. I had a weird feeling she knew that too.

 

“Are you alright, though?” she asked me at last.

 

“Yeah…just tough day, I suppose,” I said with a deep sigh, playing with my duvet cover.

 

“In that case I’d better let you get some sleep,” Carine replied.

 

Amending my statement, I actually felt as if I’d be okay, only as long as she stayed on the line.

 

“Wait, will you be coming to the meeting next week?” I asked, not to stall her, exactly but for…y’know, numbers…

 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she assured me.

 

“Awesome, so…see you there,” I said, feeling suddenly very awkward and…shit I was blushing.

 

Blushing alone, in the dark, because I was suddenly shy of Blondie.

 

Trippy.

 

“If…I don’t see you before,” I stumbled, feeling like an ass.

 

Why was I feeling like an ass?

 

“Well, see you when I see you,” Carine said breezily, not sounding like an ass, but rather ultra put-together, as per usual. “Bye, Esme.”

 

“Goodnight,” I said, putting my phone down gently on the nightstand.

 

Then she made a faux pas.

 

“Sweet dreams,” she answered softly before the call cut out, obviously having forgotten who she was speaking to.

 

Seriously Carine?

 

I started chucking into my pillow. Must be left-over adrenaline or something.

 

Weirdly, as if on command I did fall asleep. And my dreams, unusually, were pretty…okay.

 

Wow…she is good…

Chapter 5: A...'Mechanic'? Sure.

Notes:

Sorry it's been a while, guys.

Y'know...stuff...

But I'm back, and totally committed to getting this story (and the sequel) finished and posted for y'all.

Hopefully my twaddle can boost morale.

Stay well! Stay sane!

(And thank you for your comments! It's like shouting at the universe and the universe shouting back - it's lovely!)

Chapter Text

 

“That…is Jacob?” spluttered Rose across our usual table, jabbing a nicely-manicured nail at the screen of Edward’s phone. “That?”

 

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Edward said with a sparkle in his eye. “Native American, I mean, hello.”

 

I did see what Rose meant, though.

 

“He’s…he seems rather…”

 

I couldn’t think of what to say.

 

“Not your normal type?” I tried as Rose curtly said ‘straight.’

 

Edward pouted and Rose snatched his phone out of his hand.

 

“Are there more? Can I flip forwards?” she asked, fiddling with his screen. “Or will I get one of your dick pics or…whoa!”

 

“Whoa,” I agreed.

 

Jacob did have quite big muscles and…

 

“He takes care of himself, you’ve gotta give him that,” Rose muttered dryly as I giggled at the suggestiveness of the picture Jacob had sent Edward.

 

“Okay, I take it back,” I chuckled. “He is gay.”

 

“What human holds a wrench like that?” Rose snorted.

 

“A bit of a fistful,” I laughed.

 

“And oils his chest?”

 

“He’s a mechanic, I told you!” Edward said indignantly.

 

“A mechanic?” Rose said slowly. “Wow. So you are shooting porn together.”

 

Immediately, she looked up and, as he went past, grabbed the arm of the waiter.

 

“Mike, c’mere a second,” she said, thrusting the phone in his face. “Does this guy look gay?”

 

“I guess…in a kind of porn star kind of way,” he said mildly, but with a small smirk that made me think he’d overheard our conversation.

 

“Thank you, Mike!” Rose smirked. “See, this is why I always tip him!”

 

“Edward, he looks sweet,” I said, taking pity on poor Eddie, who was really just after our approval. “I’d love to meet him sometime.”

 

“How did you even find this guy?” Rose continued. “You have not been to a garage in you life.”

 

“My cousin,” Edward answered simply.

 

Of course. Alice.

 

This would be Alice, the nosiest woman in the universe. A girl who married a heavily-scarred, PTSD-ridden, military veteran pretty much straight out of college and together now they run…

 

…Wait for it…

 

…A matchmaking business.

 

Yeah.

 

Pairing up single, rich people in LA.

 

So, you can see why I’m nervous of Alice.

 

“How does Alice know him?” I wondered.

 

Edward shrugged, and then leant forwards excitedly, folding his phone with his precious soft-porn photo library lovingly into his blazer.

 

“Anyway…enough of me…” he said heavily, swinging his eyes towards me.

 

Uh oh.

 

“So…I heard you were setting up the Dr Cullen fan club, Esme.”

 

Uh oh.

 

“I’m sure there already is one,” Rose said, nudging Ed. “Are you going to join it?”

 

“I’ll join it it means she’ll tell me what hairdresser she uses,” he shot back with a raise of a sassy eyebrow.

 

“But yeah,” Rose said. “What did go down that night?”

 

How would I even explain?

 

“Carine climbed up the side of the building…you know round the block from the hospital? With the-”

 

“Yeah I know the one,” Rose said, frowning. “She climbed up there? What the fuck?”

 

“And she saved a girl’s life,” Edward cut in before I had a chance to speak.

 

“Oh, so you already knew exactly what happened and you just wanted to steal the punchline from me,” I said. “That is so typical.”

 

Honestly, he always does this.

 

“Anyone we know?” Rose continued idly (yeah, she can be a bit of a hard bastard at times).

 

“No, but her name’s Bella Swan,” Edward gushed. “And she has a young daughter and I’m pretty sure she’s a prostitute.”

 

“How do you always know all of this?” I spluttered. “It blows my mind! I didn’t know that and I was there!”

 

Yeah, Edward is the nosiest man in the universe.

 

“Well, you, Esme, should be milking Dr Cullen for more details,” he smirked. “Especially since she gave you her number.”

 

I put my spoon back on my saucer with a clatter.

 

“You know," I told him. "I really wonder about the way information circulates around this neighbourhood sometimes.”

 

Indignation aside, Edward was right, Dr Cullen would have the details, and my own nosiness (…or let’s call it concern, which is a more appropriate description) was flaring up.

 

As a result, when I later caught sight of Carine, I walked towards her, rather than sprinting away like I would have the previous day.

 

I was cutting across the greenery in front of the children’s hospital, un-clipping the volunteer badge from the front of my shirt, when I saw the glint of gold and my heart leapt with unexpected nervousness.

 

I was sure it was Carine.

 

She was sitting cross-legged under a tree with a clipboard folded under her arm and a kindergarten-aged kid rolling around on a picnic mat with a scattered herd of little plastic pony toys.

 

“So, if Rainbowdash goes behind my back while I was telling Fluttershy where Applejack went,” Carine was saying, quite inexplicably to me. “And Rainbowdash can’t hear me talking, would Rainbowdash know where Applejack went when she comes back?”

 

“Rainbowdash could just ask Fluttershy!” the little girl burst, brandishing a particular toy with the savagery of triumph.

 

“So…your answer is that she can’t know what I said to Fluttershy if she isn’t there to hear it?” Carine confirmed.

 

“Well…yeah, duh…” sighed the kid.

 

Realising they were in the middle of something technical, I turned to leave, but the kid spied me out.

 

“Hey!” she squealed, poking a little finger in my direction. “She has the same bag as my mom!”

 

I cringed as my escape was thwarted.

 

“Esme! Hi,” Carine said, unexpectedly rising to her feet as I turned around.

 

“Hi, Carine,” I replied, noticing with a pang how tired she looked today.

 

Not surprising, really. She’d probably been up all night.

 

“Is this your daughter?” I asked politely, although this was clearly some kind of mental development assessment and I felt guilty I’d interrupted.

 

Besides, the kid was clearly hispanic and I couldn’t see any of Carine’s features or Nordic paleness in her.

 

“Nope,” Carine said.

 

“Oh,” I said.

 

Elaboration did not arrive.

 

“So…did you just find her?” I laughed.

 

Carine looked guilty.

 

“Um, Esme, I can’t really tell you…”

 

Triumphant, I whipped out my ID badge.

 

“Nice try, but I’m covered by hospital confidentiality,” I said, sounding way more smug than I intended.

 

“Alright,” Carine said, advancing on me.

 

…Actually she was getting very close. Personal space, much?

 

Then I realised she didn’t want the girl to hear.

 

“She’s um…the young lady’s from the other night,” Carine said against my ear, very softly then raised the volume to include the kid too. “We’re just playing some games.”

 

“‘Cept you ask so much questions!” the kid groaned, mashing a blue horse against her head with frustration.

 

I sniggered.

 

Poor girl. I know how she felt.

 

“She does, doesn’t she?” I laughed, catching Carine’s eye and seeing a playfulness I really didn’t expect there.

 

“You look like a Disney princess, by the way,” added the kid, thrusting a yellow pony in my direction, with an expression that told me I had just had the highest grade of praise bestowed upon me.

 

Carine darted down to pick up the horse’s hat which had fallen off and handed it politely back to the girl.

 

“Oh! Bless you, sweetie!” I said, heart melting. “Which one?”

 

“All of them,” she said carelessly.

 

“Well that is sweet of you,” I told her, and it really was.

 

Bless her little pigtails!

 

Carine beamed between us proudly.

 

“You should do parties,” the girl continued in a tone of voice she was obviously imitating from a grown-up which was really cute. “Dress up as princesses for kids. You’d make a killing.”

 

“Maybe I could,” I said to humour her, chuckling at her word-use.

 

“Actually you’re pretty enough to do adult parties, too,” she continued thoughtfully, cantering the most fiercely-pink pony down her leg. “You would make waaaaaay more money for that, but you’d probably have to take the dress off.”

 

Whoa. That was a little less cute. What the fuck?

 

I then remembered what Edward had told me about her mother, and I felt terrible for the growing-up that I guessed this little kid had already had to do.

 

“Well…right then…” Carine said with a nervous laugh, fingers inching towards her clipboard.

 

“I’d probably better get going…” I said, equally caught-off-guard.

 

“Yeah…” Carine replied with a small smile.

 

“See you soon. Good luck,” I laughed.

 

“Thanks,” Carine mouthed.

 

“Bye, honey,” I said, bending to give the girl a wave.

 

“Bye, princess Esme!” called the kid. “And m’name’s Bree by the way.”

 

“Bye, Bree,” I grinned, leaving her in Carine’s capable hands.

 

As the two of them returned to their ‘game’, and I looked back, my chest swelled with something that could have been emptiness, or happiness. Somehow I couldn’t tell.

 

And I could still feel Carine’s breath against my ear.

Chapter 6: She's not good at art. She's just not.

Notes:

Been a while.

Sorry for the delay - you know how it goes ;)

Enjoy the chapter, anyhow!

Finally some...flutterings.

Chapter Text

 

 

 

That evening I texted Carine. Yeah, by choice.

 

Why?

 

Fuck only knows. Self-destructive impulses, maybe?

 

Survive the kid? She seemed precocious, to say the least!

 

The reply came straight back.

 

Yup, very smart. The kind of kid that can make a complete fool out of anyone :)

 

Oooh, a smiley face. What did that mean?

 

I didn’t have long to ponder before she’d sent another message.

 

I think I need a drink! Want to join me?

 

A drink? We were doing drinks, now? Not long ago we weren’t even speaking.

 

Or rather…I wasn’t speaking to her.

 

She did kinda just save someone’s life.

 

Oh God! This should have been just a quick yes or no! She’ll definitely be wondering what’s taking so long!

 

What is taking so long?

 

Agh, she’ll still be waiting.

 

Hell!

 

Shit!

 

Fuck!

 

Errrrrr…

 

Then, I remembered with a little relief that there was somewhere else I was supposed to be.

 

Sorry, I have an art class tonight and I’ve bunked 2 weeks in a row so better go :/

 

No reply.

 

Come on, Carine!

 

Maybe she’s just gone to the bathroom?

 

Or…

 

With a small sigh, I realised what I would have to do.

 

Would you like to come too? I typed.

 

Carine’s message popped up immediately.

 

Absolutely! I’m no good, though

 

I grinned to myself.

 

Yes, but you go to an art class to get good, right?

 

You got me there! Where is it?

 

It felt weird dragging Carine into the art studio, somewhere which was very much my territory but, as I pulled up and saw her waiting outside the building (she comes early to things. I should have known), I could feel the smile stretch across my face, try as I might to stop it.

 

“Esme!” she beamed and, again, my stomach did that weird thing.

 

I guess I’m still not over seeing her almost die.

 

“Carine!” I called back, apparently breathless from walking the few steps from my parking spot to the door.

 

Jesus, I am so unfit nowadays…

 

“Enter if you dare. I shall expect great things, Dr Cullen,” I continued with a laugh as she raised an eyebrow.

 

“Aye, aye,” she said wryly as she got the door for me.

 

I badgered my friend Renee, who runs the class, into setting up an easel for the doctor, who, despite being a master of the mind, was struggling to hold the brush the right way around.

 

“Wow, well…I see a little of the subject matter, I guess,” I said brightly and, I hope, encouragingly, after I had finished another lap around the room.

 

I unofficially kind of co-supervise the class. I was promoted for being able to ‘critique unobtrusively’. I don’t know if I feel complemented by that or not.

 

“It’s very…” I faltered as I failed to think of any unobtrusive criticism to give Carine’s…thingy.

 

It wasn’t the wine bottle she was supposed to be painting, that’s for damn sure.

 

“Not very good?” she smirked.

 

“Impressionistic…” I tried haltingly.

 

“Like Picasso?” she asked eagerly, sapphire eyes glittering, suddenly enough like an excited little kid to make my heart hurt.

 

“In…principle, yes,” I said, kind of cringing as I did so.

 

“Or I could do a Jackson Pollock!” she said, eyes twinkling in a way that made me extremely nervous. “Hang on.”

 

She was about to get way too into this, I could tell.

 

“Carine…” I laughed as she ripped the canvas from the easel and flung herself, along with it, onto the floor.

 

“Everything alright here, ladies?” Renee asked looking freaked out.

 

Nobody in the class tended to have fits of artistic passion. Certainly never to this extent.

 

“Fine,” I laughed.

 

Carine, with a look of great focus, began splattering paint randomly, and rather unflatteringly, across her creation.

 

“She’s a practicing psychologist…” I added delicately, as an explanation.

 

“Ahhh, I see,” Renee responded knowingly.

 

Mystery solved.

 

“And…that looks good, I think!” the doctor declared, popping athletically back to her feet like a hopeful meerkat.

 

Oh Carine…

 

Next to my generally uptight social circle, the fact that the room was sneering and Carine didn’t seem to give a fuck, let alone two, made her a bit of a rockstar in my rather rudely-widened eyes.

 

Yeah, and fuck the other vapid, rich, artistic wannabes. I was having a great time just watching the madness happen.

 

“Does anyone have any control over you?” I laughed. “For real, though?”

 

“Ultimately, the only person that can truly determine the actions of an individual is the individual themselves,” Carine quoted, helpfully.

 

I somehow got the feeling, despite her apparent earnestness, that she was being sly.

 

Well, I can do sly as well.

 

“Would you say, personally, that you have an acceptable level of control over yourself?” I said, dead-pan.

 

She nudged my arm with an eye roll.

 

“Alright! Let’s see yours, then…” she chuckled.

 

When she got to my canvas, I couldn’t help but feel pleased at how surprised she was by what she saw.

 

“Wow,” she breathed. “Esme, it’s beautiful.”

 

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to grin with satisfaction.

 

It was nice to be able to prove to Dr Cullen that I was able to do some stuff well (and I could sketch well, I’d give myself that). Usually when I was around her I was being stroppy, or needing help saving suicide attempters, or not being able to open doors properly.

 

“How do you do that?” she wondered, with the kind of scientific glint in her eye which made the question stubbornly non-rhetorical.

 

“Here, I can…”

 

I handed her a pen and then went to cover her hand with mine.

 

“Yeah?” I asked gently, seeking permission, after Carine hadn’t managed a word.

 

She nodded, looking surprised and more then a little apprehensive.

 

“Yeah…So…you just take it round…” I said, guiding her hand around in a smooth curve across the empty canvas.

 

Her skin was soft and politely pliant under my bossy grip. She had very beautiful hands, actually.

 

With a twinge of grim satisfaction, I added this trait to the list of irritatingly perfect characteristics of hers.

 

“…And then you make some strikes…this way…” I continued, doing my best to ignore the awkward warmth that two hands make together.

 

Moving her hand, I began shading.

 

“Eyes on the canvas, Carine!” I scolded, my austerity ruined by a smirk at the speed at which her gaze snapped, panicked but studious, back to where it should have been: on the canvas rather than me.

 

“Er…sorry,” she said.

 

Her hand squirmed in mine, (which is when I noticed that her nails were a very nice shape. (Fucking Carine!))

 

“And then you go the other way,” I carried on. “At the same angle…just like…that…”

 

Finished, I stepped back while letting her hand go.

 

It dropped away from me like a particularly sluggish leaf in the fall.

 

The doctor was gaping at me in unmistakable awe l ike I’d just levitated the goddamn easel.

 

Despite myself, I found the expression undeniably cute on her adult-face.

 

“It’s just cross-hatching, Carine,” I laughed, a blush on my face.

 

I’m not good at compliments. Even silent ones.

 

As I was driving home, it also struck me how warm Carine’s hand had been. I guess I didn’t expect it - her extremely fair colouring made it look like she had frosted over sometimes.

 

But whatever she was, she certainly wasn’t ice.

Chapter 7: Rescue Mission

Notes:

Thank you for continuing to read.

I'm so sleepy today that I have nothing intelligent to say about this chapter, except that I don't think badly of any of the 'broken souls' in Carine's church, or religion in general, I'm just trying to write in-character (and I'm quite enjoying being a shit on this glorious, rainy Thursday morning).

Please nobody be offended by anything I've written!

(I hope it's come out okay...)

Chapter Text

 

What I realised (and I have no idea how I never knew) is that Dr Cullen only lives a couple of streets away from me.

 

After the realisation that she has an apartment, it so followed that she might have an actual life and I knew absolutely noting about it.

 

Which, for me, is absolutely crazy.

 

Was she married? Did she have kids? What did she do in her spare time?

 

(If Carine really did ‘spare time’. I know she works an awful lot).

 

Now, since we live so close together, it’s natural I’d see her around, right?

 

For sure I wasn’t stalking her, that would be creepy, just sometimes I follow her to try and say ‘hi’, but she’s just too speedy.

 

(Yeah, like, what the fuck? She must have the longest legs ever. She’s such a fast walker).

 

What I do know, is that Carine goes to Church.

 

It’s not the one in our neighbourhood, it’s the creepy one about a twenty-five minute walk away which I think sometimes doubles up as a homeless shelter and a needle swap on Wednesday afternoons.

 

It’s the one where people go if they need God but nowhere else will take them, basically.

 

Did Carine have addiction issues? Or, like, a dirty mafia past or something?

 

As she entered the building, I was intrigued by this weird but typically Carine-ish behaviour and…okay, maybe I was following her a little bit. But what the fuck?

 

As far as I’d heard, there was about a sixty percent chance of getting assaulted in there.

 

In fact, given Carine’s general infuriating attractiveness, I’d scoot that up to eighty-five.

 

If she’s not out in ten minutes, I told myself, I’m going in to drag out as many pieces of her as I can find.

 

After fifteen, I couldn’t stall any longer.

 

This was a rescue mission.

 

I steeled myself and opened the big door.

 

Inside it was pretty empty and through the gloom (well, not gloom, cheap but efficient lighting. It actually didn’t look too bad. This place really wasn’t living up to expectation) I could easily pick out the twinkle of Carine.

 

It felt like my eyes zeroed in on her like a camera in a spy movie.

 

Oh! And she was totally fine! Throat non-slit!

 

She was just sitting in one of the pews…laughing?

 

Oh fuck, no she’s crying.

 

The impulse to run out the door was short lived.

 

Somehow through the fog of self-centredness, it hadn’t occurred to me that Carine was an actual human with problems and emotions, but watching her cry was like seeing a puppy get kicked in the face.

 

Not good, people.

 

I’d help her.

 

Poor Carine.

 

Slowly I approached, cursing my heals for making such a noise.

 

A few people even turned to look.

 

I am not comfortable with this.

 

“Dr…Cullen! Hi…” I whispered when I was close enough to whisper.

 

Sleepily she turned around, not jumping with fright like an normal person.

 

Jeez, she really is an alien.

 

Or she has, like, vampire hearing or something.

 

“Hello, Esme,” she said weakly, with a strange twisted smile on her lips.

 

Ironic, maybe? Kind of like she was expecting me.

 

Oh shit! Maybe she’d seen me trailing her…

 

…In which case she is definitely a vampire of some description.

 

Including all this creepy church shit, I have a serious case for it.

 

“Carine…are you okay?” I asked, handing her a tissue as I gingerly lowered myself down onto the seat next to her.

 

(For once I found myself hoping that that stain was someone’s period, not some fucking animal sacrifice. Sorry to be gross).

 

“Fine,” she replied stiffly.

 

You don’t look too fine, lady.

 

She seemed to read my mind.

 

“I’m just struggling with a few things,” she said in a sigh. “Coming here helps me.”

 

We sat for a moment in stifling silence.

 

“Are you religious?” I asked, just to break it.

 

“I am,” she revealed with a resolute nod.

 

And heeeeeere we fucking go. I should have guessed Carine was in the God-Squad.

 

“I grew up in a church community,” she continued. “Well, in a Church, actually. But I…er…don’t have much contact with them anymore.”

 

“Why did you leave?” I wondered, interested now.

 

“I was…incompatible,” she said with a nastiness that kind of shocked me. “For reasons both inside and outside of my control.”

 

She chuckled ruefully to, or perhaps at, herself.

 

“I mean, when I was six, I taught myself the entirety of Darwin’s theory of evolution whilst lying under my bed, which is where I hid the textbook like some kind of…”

 

She waved her arms (perfect hands, perfect nails. Fucking Carine!) around searching for the right phrase

 

“Obscene…devil porn!” she hissed, at last.

 

A couldn’t stop the laugh.

 

“Are you supposed to even say that in a church?” I giggled as I tried to whisper.

 

“Probably not,” she replied with a small, accidental smile.

 

As this point, a guy two rows behind us started muttering to himself. It was getting louder and louder and was starting to get to me a little.

 

“Do you want to grab coffee?” I asked the doctor, after shooting a fugitive look over my shoulder.

 

“Yes,” she twinkled at me. “I’d love that.”

 

We walked together to my regular coffee place and got a bit of a look from Mike as he came to take our orders.

 

Blessedly, he didn’t comment on the fact that Carine and I were sitting peacefully at the same table (hell, the same room) after some of the things I’d told him about her.

 

I’ll really have to stop bitching about her since Carine was actually being really…nice. And not in an overbearing way, either.

 

Except she insisted on paying for my coffee.

 

Of course I refused. Flatly.

 

But then she did that weird Jedi thing of hers and became inescapably reasonable and generous and I forgot why I had an issue with it.

 

“So…are you married?” I asked her over the top of my sugar-saturated cappuccino, pleased Carine was looking a little better for the caffeine.

 

She drinks her coffee black like a grown up.

 

Should’a known.

 

Typical.

 

“Yes, very happily,” she answered sagely.

 

“Aww, what’s his name?” I asked.

 

I was trying to picture Carine married to someone. I ended up torn between some nerdy guy with thick eighties-style glasses and Brad Pitt. Or maybe some rockstar type. Or a hippie? I really couldn’t call it.

 

She is a weasel to pair up, that’s for sure.

 

And, it turns out, I was wrong on all counts.

 

“HBO,” she told me brightly, with a dangerous glint in her eye.

 

“Er…what?” I said nervously.

 

I got a very frightening feeling this was going to be a Carine-joke.

 

Carine-jokes are generally so off-the-wall or too intelligent for everyone around her to actually understand, which makes it so un-funny, everyone ends up in fits of hapless laughter.

 

I have seen this happen.

 

“The Game of Thrones finale screwed me real good,” she finished with a flourish, and looked at me expectantly.

 

Oh.

 

Like…?

 

Oh.

 

I’m not gonna laugh at that. I refuse.

 

That’s not funny.

 

It’s not…

 

That really isn’t funny.

 

Yah…

 

So…I’m not really sure if it was my mouth or my nose most of the coffee sprayed out of when I exploded with slightly hysterical laughter.

 

It went. Fucking. All. Over. Me.

 

“Sorry, I have caffeine issues…” I gasped, mortified, while Carine magically produced handfuls of tissue from somewhere to mop up the mess.

 

“Sorry,” she said with a frown. “Here…do you need more…?”

 

I nodded dumbly and took another wad of tissue. I can’t believe this was happening to me!

 

In front of her!

 

There is coffee. Dripping down. My fucking face.

 

And it came.

 

Out my nose…

 

Shit.

Chapter 8: Someone Dropped the L-Bomb

Notes:

Hey y'all!

As always, I don't mean to accidentally offend anyone with this.

And, hey, enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

“I’ve never…agh…seen it,” I coughed, desperately trying to recover some kind of poise. “G-Game of Thrones.”

 

Kill me. Kill me. Kill me.

 

“You’ve never..?”  marvelled Carine, attractively agog, apparently un-fazed by my social death. “We’ll have to watch it together! We can…”

 

She faltered, probably realising that she had just proposed we spend hours upon hours together.

 

“Or…I-I could lend you my collection,” she suggested quietly. “I have it on DVD.”

 

“On DVD?” I asked her, still breathless with embarrassment. “The whole thing?”

 

That is adorably geeky.

 

The only remains of coffee were not prepared to be removed from my clothing any time soon, so my frantic scrubbing stopped.

 

Everything felt very still.

 

“Are you okay, Carine?” I asked, partly as a diversion from my own mortification.

 

(Yeah, asks the woman who just snorted coffee all over herself in a public place, for fuck’s sake!)

 

“Yes,” she decided, handing me another, unneeded, paper napkin.

 

I gave her a look that has been accused of being scrutinising.

 

Try as I might, I couldn’t seen to figure this woman out.

 

All blonde, all jawline, all cheekbones and all mystery.

 

And she was sad. How would God allow Carine to be sad?

 

“Crying alone in a church doesn’t seem like very much okay,” I told her, quietly so as not to be overheard. “If I may give you a dose of your own medicine for a second.”

 

Yeah, the creepy church of broken souls at that.

 

I mean…fuck…

 

“I…I’m not…” Carine murmured, looking particularly Siberian and far-away all of a sudden, like the air she was breathing was frosty. “I’m not how I should be.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Not how she should be? Fuck’s sake, Carine! What’s perfection got wrong with it?

 

However, I kept listening.

 

The kicked puppy feeling was back.

 

“I just…I’m wired up…not wrong,” Carine continued slowly. “But in a way that…”

 

She shook her head. Her curls danced around violently, mesmerisingly.

 

“It isn’t a big deal,” she sniffed, businesslike again. “I mean, it really isn’t and it shouldn’t be but it’s just tricky. I mean I….don’t judge other people who also…I try not to judge people.”

 

I felt a little like I was losing her thread here.

 

“Just…something is happening to me that I’ve always dreaded,” she burst, with a passion that somehow suggested I should know what the hell she was talking about. “And…it’s more serious than I imagined it would be and I…”

 

She looked at me pleadingly.

 

You understand, don’t you, Esme?

 

Err…nope!

 

I tried to think of something understanding to say, not that she was giving me a lot to go on.

 

“Wow…that sounds…”

 

Seriously fucking vague.

 

“…Sucky.”

 

“It is…” she sighed, in apparent relief. “And yet…it’s not. Perhaps it sucks because it’s not as bad as it should be?”

 

She made a twitchy, irritated movement and her gaze dropped away stormily.

 

“I don’t know,” she muttered hopelessly.

 

There was a beat of silence. I found it scarily…amusing.

 

Fuck, Esme. Don’t you dare peacock-laugh again.

 

“You don’t know?” I repeated, with what I’m sure must have been a mischievous smile stretching across my face. “Did you just say ‘I don’t know’?”

 

Carine smiled too. It was just one of her little unconscious ones but I felt triumphant, like I’d just won a war or something.

 

“Can I get that in writing?” I carried on, like a giggly eighth-grader.

 

The little smile stretched. Hell, I’d won two wars now.

 

“And can you sign underneath it?”

 

I was getting in her personal space now, grabbing onto her arm like an annoying little sister. By instinct, I knew she wouldn’t take offence at my teasing.

 

“Can I frame it?”

 

Half-heartedly, Carine tried to detach me from herself, her laugh clear and bell-like.

 

“Can I give prints of it to Rose and Edward for Christmas?”

 

“If you’d like,” she choked, wiping tears from her eyes. “I’m sure they’ll be very collectable in the future.”

 

I sat back again to admire my handiwork.

 

Making Carine laugh is better than baiting her. No comparison.

 

I’d have to make a note of that.

 

I now have not one, but two insanely beautiful friends, I thought as Carine spent the last of her chuckles. She’s like the sun…

 

I don’t know what was happening to me. I was buzzed. Like a double caffeine hit.

 

I’d have to have a word with Mike about the strength of his coffee these days. Value for money is one thing, but sending customers into nervous hysteria in front of their much more attractive friends is quite another.

 

“So, what about you?” Carine asked at last, when we’d both calmed down a little.

 

With Carine’s question, I felt the electric-like buzz over my skin coil into a snarl of panic in my stomach.

 

It was a knee-jerk thing. I hoard my personal information like it could strangle me if it got loose enough in my grip. Maybe it could.

 

See, I know things about people, they don't know things about me!

 

“What about me?” I countered, a little too aggressively.

 

Smooth, Esme, smooth.

 

“How’s…things?” Carine shrugged, meeting my gaze evenly.

 

I coughed and my throat sounded attention-grabbingly dry. It turned into an awkward double-cough.

 

“Good,” I managed. “I guess…yeah…”

 

She waited. She watched.

 

My mind filled with that glittering blue colour of her irises. It’s a bit like the ocean catching the sun on a summer’s day.

 

I would not fall for this Jedi bullshit again.

 

I’m not about to spill my guts to Carine Cullen.

 

I’m not.

 

“I…I dunno,” I mumbled. “I’m having a little trouble with my parents.”

 

Fucksake, Esme!

 

“My mom…” I said with a sigh and a defeated flop of my hand on the table. “Well, you heard on the phone…”

 

Carine said nothing, creating a vacuum between us that sucked the words out of my mouth.

 

“It really tires me out,” I admitted. “It…doesn’t…really…”

 

“It doesn’t make things any easier, does it?” Carine said meaningfully.

 

I sucked in a gasp and felt something being pushed into my hand. Another tissue (and where is she finding them all?)

 

“Esme?”

 

With a pathetic whimper, I felt my eyes start to sting.

 

I shook my head violently like a kid.

 

“No,” I whispered in a tiny squeak.

 

I don’t know how, but Carine understood the impossible: my feelings.

 

And for that I was beyond grateful.

 

“I just…my mind…” I garbled, teary and gross, trying in vain to separate the tissues from one another. “It’s, like, when things are good, they’re amazing. And when things are bad it’s…”

 

I felt Carine’s hand warm on my shoulder like a hug.

 

“It’s intolerable,” I whispered.

 

Never said that before. I should hang out with smart people more often.

 

“I can imagine,” Carine said.

 

How can you imagine…all of this…

 

But she could. It was crazy, but she could imagine what he did, and what happened because of it.

 

Like lightning it occurred to me that she could be in the same situation right now, or had been.

 

I’d been told I was still too scared of Charles, even now he’s dead. He still has something of a hold over me.

 

However, I could think of no reason why I couldn’t track down Carine’s tormentor and personally tear his fucking bal-

 

“Growing up must have been tricky,” Carine offered, breaking me out of my murder-trance.

 

Jeez, I am having a day here.

 

“Huh…” I started in a voice that wasn’t quite my own. “Well…”

 

Yeah, Carine, it really was.

 

“Yeah…I was…well, also I was weird,” I admitted.

 

Carine laughed disbelievingly (perhaps politely so).

 

“Yeah,” I said more enthusiastically. “I am naturally neurotic. I think I also have sensory over-sensitivity or something. You probably know. Everyone thought I had ADHD, but apparently I’m just tuned to a high frequency all the time. It’s like I have to deal with the whole world all at once. All the time. Do you ever get that?"

 

She smiled and slightly inclined assent.

 

I beamed through my tears.

 

She’s so smart! It’s like a superpower! And she gets things!

 

I squared my shoulders and decided to commit to the interrogation.

 

I hadn’t realised how good it would feel to just talk to someone who wasn’t Edward or Rose. Maybe it was the lack of interruption? I can’t remember the last time a conversation partner let me say more than two consecutive sentences.

 

“I was also a real Tom-boy,” I added for interest. “As a kid. Teenager. Whatever.”

 

“Really?” she smirked in a friendly way.

 

“Yup,” I confirmed with a self-depreciating nod. “Yeah, I loved climbing trees…running…I was really skinny, actually.”

 

Credit to her, Carine did not raise her eyebrows even a fraction, which is saying something.

 

“Like you’d know that now,” I laughed, gesturing to my…well, to me. “With my baking addiction, and all.”

 

She actually looked happy to hear what I had to say, which is fortunate, since she’d bust some kind of dam inside me - one which had spent years holding back a giant monologue about my childhood, stopping it from boring the shit out of my dinner guests.

 

“You’ve just grown up,” Carine said with a shrug and a twinkle in her eye.

 

She was leaning on the table, lightly supporting her chin with her interlocked fingers and looking very blonde and pretty.

 

Her relaxed pose loosened my tongue even further.

 

“Yeah,” I chucked. “I used to wear dungarees. To school! My parents really didn’t like it….”

 

Now they were coming, the memories wouldn’t stop.

 

“…And there was this girl in high school, Lauren Mallory…”

 

I scowled.

 

Fucking Lauren Mallory! I haven’t forgotten you, by the way…

 

“…She said it made me look like a lesbian.”

 

I looked to Carine for an eye-roll and a smirk at the behaviour of the ridiculous bitch who tormented my teen years, but she was looking strangely serious, and all of a sudden extremely intense.

 

“Are you?” she asked quickly.

 

I felt my whole body tense.

 

Mood killed.

 

Shutters back up.

 

And where the fuck did that come from?

 

“Am I…am I a lesbian?” I repeated incredulously.

 

I felt that was unfair.

 

It was like she’d stung me with a beamer after promising to throw underhand and the ball hit me in the face.

 

I was as angry as when I accidentally bump my head on the corner of the kitchen cupboard.

 

Like, murderously angry. 

 

And feeling the need to destroy what just caused me such annoying, petty pain.

 

“Are you seriously asking me that?” I breathed.

 

Who the fuck did she think she was, asking me something like…like that?

 

That was just rude!

 

On what basis is she asking this?

 

Of course I’m not!

 

I’m not!

 

Why would I be?

 

That’s…

 

What a stupid fucking question!

 

Fucking Carine!

 

“Is it surprising because you think it’s obvious you aren’t…” Dr Cullen recited, in a tone like this was a fucking hospital appointment. “Obvious you are or…”

 

Obviously Genius Psychologist finally managed to work out that she’d really, really pissed me off.

 

“Or…or that I should mind my…own…business…” she finished with a wince, looking rightly sheepish.

 

“The third one,” I said as icily as I could.

 

I threw a wad of cash on the table. Far too much, but nothing I couldn’t afford.

 

It would do Mike more good than me, assuming he even got the excess and the greedy bitch didn’t gobble it up like she’d just done with my feelings, my trust.

 

“There!” I spat, realising that this whole afternoon had been a complete and utter fuck-up on my part.

 

I am, without fail, more cagey with people than that so this sort of thing doesn’t happen to me.

 

I’d lost too many pieces of myself already to be feeding nibbles of emotion to…let’s be real here, a stranger.

 

“Esme,” Dr Cullen breathed, horror on her face as she rose robotically to her feet, but she was too damn slow.

 

Too damn fucking slow, Dr Cullen.

 

I was already leaving.

 

Yes, get a load of the looney. This is what you came for, anyway, right?

 

“Enjoy your drink now that it’s been paid for with my dead husband’s blood money!” I called over my shoulder, phone already in my hand.

 

I stalked away down the street, ignoring the stares I was getting through the window.

 

I am so done with getting stares today!

 

“Rose,” I laughed disbelievingly after she’d picked up the call and I was sure psycho wasn’t fucking following me. “You will not believe what Carine Cullen just said to me!”

 

Notes:

I'm so sad for Carine right now.

For both of them, actually.

I've upset myself.

Chapter 9: Speak of the devil (like, literally...)

Notes:

Hello!

I know this has been a while coming, but writing has been slow at the moment and I've had a tonne of work to do (somehow I don't think that 'writing lesbian fanfiction instead' would be a valid reason for not submitting assignments!).

I tried to make this chapter a little longer to make up for it, though, and I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you to alligatorblood, princessbluebella3 and chicago51 for your lovely comments - I really love reading them, I just haven't had the chance to reply yet. (Keep 'em coming, please!)

I hope everyone's doing good,

Pippa :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Wednesday:

 

Esme, it’s Carine. I’m so sorry I overstepped. I really wasn’t trying to offend you with what I said. It was wrong of me to get so personal. It’s a bad habit of mine. Can you forgive me? : /

 

Forgive you?

 

Ha! In your dreams, you sociopath!

 

Thursday:

 

Hi, Esme. We missed you at the meeting yesterday! Rosalie McCarthy told me you weren’t feeling well. Is there anything I can do to help?

 

Er…just fuck off, thanks…

 

Friday:

 

Esme, I’m just in the grocery store and I was wondering if you needed anything. It would be no trouble for me to drop by with food if you’re still not feeling great

 

Do I need anything? Yeah, just one fucking day where you don’t force me to constantly fucking think about you!

 

Saturday:

 

Hey Esme, I guess you’re still out of action. I’m really sorry, again, and I hope you didn’t think I was being pushy yesterday. I really hope you’re feeling better : /

 

This bitch…I can’t even…

 

When on Sunday no message came, I thought she’d finally got the point of my radio silence. However, it was not to be.

 

Monday:

 

Hello Esme, I’ve mailed you something. It should be arriving today. Please don’t feel obliged to do anything with it! I just wondered if you would be interested. I hope you’re having a nice day

 

Like magic (and it has occurred to me that Ca-Dr Cullen may actually be magic), the doorbell rang just as I finished reading the message.

 

Sure, I wasn’t waiting for Dr Cullen’s texts. It’s just good to know what the enemy’s doing.

 

I sure as hell wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of opening that fucking package.

 

Nope, I’m just gonna leave it on the doorstep.

 

I’m not even curious.

 

Not one bit.

 

Unless…okay, maybe it was to do with the Gala.

 

Or…or…

 

I slammed my phone on the counter.

 

“Goddammit!” I snarled.

 

I’m a Christmas Eve present-rattler kind of person, and no surprise package is being left on my doorstep. Typical Carine, I bet she knows that.

 

I set off towards the door like a small foraging-mammal.

 

Guiltily, I felt a little excited.

 

What could it be?

 

Knowing Carine, freaking anything. A puppy, maybe? An astronomy book? A garden gnome?

 

Ooooh, I hope it’s edible.

 

The box was wrapped as carefully and as meticulously as I expected.

I felt moved at the thought of Carine’s lovely hands smoothing down all the corners neatly, applying the exact amount of tape for maximum effectiveness yet minimal waste.

 

Not being able to bring myself to slice though the address she’d hand-written, I spent a decent amount of time cutting around it, until I could open the box.

 

Inside was a fluffy chunky-knit lilac blanket (lilac! How the hell did she know that was my favourite colour?), a smaller box tied with string containing a batch of cookies she had most likely home-baked and…

 

My chest swelled.

 

…G-Game of Thrones season one.

 

Get well soon, Esme! she’d written on one of her little yellow notecards.

 

I felt my eyes prickle, my vision blurred.

 

Oh Carine.

 

On the box of the DVD, she’d attached a sheet of paper…a really long piece of paper where she had written down every. Single. Possible. Trigger warning.

 

And that’s a fair few.

 

Jeez, there are pages and pages of this! How much time did this take her?

 

What the hell am I going to do with this woman?

 

Despite myself, I grinned.

 

I was even offended by her…well it wasn’t even an insinuation, that I was emotionally unsound, because it was one of the sweetest, most thoughtful things anyone had ever done for me.

 

Fuck the fact that I was wearing the same pair of pyjamas I’d been wearing for three straight days, I literally ran to my phone and jabbed a finger at her contact icon to FaceTime her.

 

I really needed to get a proper picture to go there, as well. A grey generic silhouette would not do to represent Carine.

 

I was doubtful she’d pick up - I had no idea where she normally was at seven on a Monday evening, but fairly soon my speakers blared with the sound of rustling.

“Esme!” Carine burst cheerfully.

 

I caught a brief glimpse of her face before the camera swung around to show me the door handle she was trying to work with the same hand holding the phone.

 

“Just a…moment…” she carried on over the sound of keys jingling. “Can I put you on my iPad instead?”

 

“Okay…” I replied, buzzed.

 

I can’t believe how good it felt to see her again.

 

When she re-appeared, a few seconds later, she was inside her home.

 

“Hi! How are you feeling?” she asked, whirling me around as she sought out the light switch.

 

With a flash of gold, Carine was visible again.

 

“Game of Thrones, Carine?” I giggled by way of reply.

 

She took off her coat and threw her keys down on the counter, propping me up next to them.

 

She seemed tired, but contented.

 

Her hair was up in a big clip. She looked nice.

 

“I hope you don’t feel that it was odd of me to send it,” she said gingerly. “It was a little odd, actually. I…”

 

She shrugged.

 

“…I meant well.”

 

“Spoiler alert,” I grinned, holding up her sheet of notes.

 

She flailed her hands uselessly.

 

“I just…” she mumbled, tailing off into nothing.

 

…Met you on a psych ward?

 

“I know, Carine, it’s okay,” I said, for once managing to repress my embarrassment. “Thank you. Really. For everything.”

 

There was something else I also ought to say.

 

“And I’m sorry, Carine,” I told her genuinely. “I shouldn’t have flown off the handle like that the other day. We were having a nice conversation and it really wasn't fair to you.”

 

“Esme, no, I shouldn’t have pushed,” she insisted urgently. “I would say I was trying to offer you psychological assistance, but…really I was just being nosy.”

 

She grimaced at me apologetically.

 

“Well…I’m…flattered you were interested,” I said, feeling actually extremely flattered.

 

“Are you feeling better?” she asked carefully.

 

From the look on her face, obviously Carine knew that, A: I wasn’t ‘sick’, just couldn’t get out of bed for four days, and B: it may have slightly had something to do with her.

 

I decided to tell the truth.

 

“Yes, I am. Thanks. And thanks for your messages. I…only just got them.”

 

Okay, that wasn’t the truth, but I thought of the flash of hurt on her face after I walked out of Mike’s and it made me ashamed of ignoring her for nearly a week.

 

“I’m so pleased,” she said, catching my eye a little shyly.

 

Her eyes are so…blue…

 

In the following pause, we grinned at each other for a bit, then grins became giggles like we were two fourth-graders.

 

I couldn’t stay mad at someone looking that good in a burgundy turtle-neck sweater, I just couldn’t.

 

And that laugh that made me want to laugh.

 

She’s forgiven. And from her smiling eyes, I knew I was forgiven too.

 

Fuck’s sake, she’s lovely.

 

“You look great in that colour, by the way,” I said as she sat herself down at the counter and unzipped her boots, still smiling.

 

She looked startled, but pleased.

 

“But don’t look at what I’m wearing!” I cried quickly, before she could respond, wondering why the hell I thought it was a good idea to video call this excruciatingly well-dressed and sophisticated women in a fucking onesie.

 

“You look lovely, Esme,” she told me kindly. “You always do.”

 

(I know she was being polite, but my ego was exploding).

 

“Thanks,” I blushed, weirdly mesmerised by the smooth sweeps of Carine’s arms as she shrugged off her ultra-stylish tailored jacket.

 

She’s as graceful as a swan…

 

“Let me see your kitchen!” I asked, excitedly, as soon as I’d blinked myself back to Earth (low blood sugar, probably. Wait, where did I leave those cookies…?)

 

It looked very plain when she obligingly swung the camera around. Functional, but boring. More like an office kitchen than somewhere where someone actually lives.

 

There were a lot of books lying around, though, which made me smile.

 

Someone (…not necessarily me, though I would be a sound choice) needs to get hold of Carine’s apartment, put some more bookshelves up and decorate.

 

I think the space would work really nicely with a splash of-

 

Hang on a minute.

 

What the hell was that?

 

“How did you get that?” I gasped, flabbergasted pointing to a painting on her wall.

 

I saw the sale price for it in a Sotheby’s catalogue a few years ago.

 

That was not a cheap painting.

 

How the fuck-

 

“That?” Carine asked, looking oddly vague all of a sudden. “…Er…a…friend gave it to me. Er, it was a gift.”

 

“Wow…that’s quite a…picture…” I said slowly, a strangely sour taste filling my mouth.

 

Quite a friend, too.

 

Wait…it wasn’t…a-a friend friend, was it?

 

“We met in Italy when I was studying,” Carine said slowly, lost in thought. “And we’re…yeah, we’re good friends.”

 

She shrugged a little too casually, not looking at me.

 

My gut cramped.

 

So, mystery solved.

 

Carine and some suave, piss-rich Italian guy.

 

I didn’t like that.

 

I didn’t like that one bit.

 

I felt…a little bit enraged actually. Kinda…maybe even jealous which is pretty weird since I wouldn’t really go for a Mediterranean guy.

 

And, let’s be real, being jealous of Carine is a bottomless pit, so I’d better cut it out now. For my own sanity.

 

“You studied in Italy?” I asked, homing in on the least-painful piece of information I’d just received.

 

“For a bit, yes,” she nodded, looking thoughtful.

 

“Do you speak Italian?” I continued, maybe with a hint of desperation.

 

(She’sdatingsomeItalianguyshe’sdatingsomeItalianguyshe’sdatingsomeItalianguy!)

 

The doctor smiled.

 

Of course I didn’t understand what she said when she gave me a demonstration, but yes, fucking Carine fucking spoke Italian.

 

Really well.

 

Like, gives you goosebumps kind of really well. I didn’t know that was a thing.

 

“Wow!” I said much too loud.

 

Those sounds should not be allowed to come out of her mouth.

 

It was too much for me to handle (though too much of what, I didn’t quite know).

 

I thought she might put me in a kind of awe-trance.

 

She looked strangely emotional for a moment, then took a sarcastic, but good-natured, bow which led her in a graceful arc towards the fridge.

 

“I’m really hungry, do you mind if I stuff my face?” she asked, throwing rather random packets of food onto the counter. “I don’t want to be rude, but…”

 

“Go ahead,” I said, still breathless with…rage, envy?

 

The fuck is happening to me?

 

Carine’s efficiency was evident even in her meal preparation: in the blink of an eye she had cheese-topped tortilla chips in the microwave and guacamole grilling on bread.

 

She made a bowl of granola, with yogurt and berries, watermelon slices, salad with mozzarella and tomato…

 

“You really going to eat all of that?” I wondered, a little bit shocked, actually.

 

“Yes,” she grinned defiantly, cheekily, as she threw a handful of cashews into her mouth. “I have the metabolism of a monster and, quite simply, I’m greedy.”

 

She flipped the flimsy plastic lid on an open punnet of grapes and popped one, and then a second, into her mouth.

 

She chewed with great concentration, then paused.

 

“Nope. It’s not quite doing it,” she said decisively and, in a swoop, produced a bottle of red wine and a glass.

 

For some reason I was surprised that Carine drank. She carries an air of puritanism.

 

You know…no booze…no swearing…no screwi-

 

“Cheers,” she said, raising her glass to me and taking a sip.

 

Did she know what she was doing to me right now?

 

My mouth was watering.

 

I could almost smell those nachos…

 

She looked so at home. Tall, blonde and surrounded by expensive art and good wine.

 

It looked like a damn good time.

 

“You can prepare some seriously nice-looking food, Carine. I’ll have to break into your apartment some time and try it,” I said at last, not pointedly, but…

 

She smiled and I waited.

 

Sure, Esme! Come over now, if you like!

 

Instead Carine chuckled distractedly, politely. No invitation came.

 

I was ashamed at how disappointed I felt. But why the fuck should she invite me over? 

 

I shouldn’t expect her to be ready to look after me all the time.

 

She has a fucking life. She has a fucking boyfriend.

 

I felt a swell of hopelessness all of a sudden.

 

The feeling only intensified as Carine’s phone rang and her eyes darted away from me.

 

They didn’t normally do that. I felt robbed of them.

 

“Speak of the devil…Aro,” Carine muttered, captivated.

 

Mesmerised.

 

Fucking enthralled.

 

Is that the bastard? I wondered.

 

Does he have her apartment fucking bugged, or something?

 

She smiled a little sheepishly and floundered uncharacteristically with her words.

 

“My…er…my…”

 

“Your Italian friend?” I asked, ash in my mouth.

 

I thought that I had sounded normal when I said that, but she looked at me in alarm, like I was pulling a fucking jealous gargoyle face. Maybe I was.

 

“It’s fine,” she frowned, looking a little flustered. “I’ll…I’ll cancel the call.”

 

“No, take it, take it. Please,” I said graciously, or at least I hoped so.

 

Cheerful, cheerful.

 

(Fucking Italian douchebag! Get your virtual mitts off of her! Or so help me God…)

 

The phone kept ringing and it was not prepared to be ignored, the noise insistent and penetrative.

 

I cringed like someone had just spat in my face.

 

Why, oh why, did my brain choose that word? Of all the fucking words to-

 

“Okay then, Esme.” Carine said, startling me a little with her briskness, clearly succumbing to the allure of Art-buying Dick-face and deciding to answer the call. “Speak soon!”

 

And so, just like that, I was no longer relevant.

 

I couldn’t even muster a response before, with a cute little popping noise, Carine vanished from my screen without trace. She was no longer mine.

 

For the rest of the evening, I cried.

Notes:

My heart is breaking for Esme! She's so in love!

Chapter 10: Alien vs. Predator vs. Esme on her period

Notes:

Yo.

As per usual, it's been a while, but there should be another chapter following this one soon, so perhaps this story can finally move into some actual romance for a goddamn change.

If you feel moved to leave a comment, please do - It really motivates me.

Hope everyone's doing good.

Enjoy...

Chapter Text

So…I should have known this was going to be a complete and utter cluster-fuck.

 

Me, Carine, my monstrously heavy period, yoga class.

 

I’m just mentioning this so that what is about to happen seems just a little more reasonable.

 

Although it wasn’t, don’t judge me.

 

I’m just not in a good place right now.

 

The Gala is less than a fucking week away and since I spent four days lying in bed staring at nothing, there are a zillion things to do between now and then.

 

Additionally, and this is a fun added extra to blow up my life, Carine is being screwed by some rich Italian.

 

Carine.

 

Carine.

 

Screwed.

 

Ruminating on this fact is a creepy preoccupation, but my mind can’t actually handle the wrongness of it.

 

What does he look like?

 

What does he work as?

 

What attracted Carine to him? (We all know why he’s attracted to Carine, like, hello).

 

And finally what gives him the freaking nerve to believe for a second that he’s good enough for her.

 

Who is good enough for Carine?

 

She’s like a supernatural being. And a really fucking lovely one, at that.

 

This guy…I should want to sleep with him, but…I kinda wanna kill him?

 

Okay, reality check, I want to kill everyone.

 

Cause…yeah. My period.

 

“Seriously, Rose!” I stormed as I followed Carine’s car to this fucking yoga thingy she invited me to, as if she didn’t have some charming Italian ass-hole to talk to instead of me. “I can’t imagine why she’d be interested in him. I mean, a fucking Monet painting? How pretentious is this prick?”

 

I clenched my fist on the steering wheel.

 

“Jesus,” I spat. “Why is she with such a shit-bag?”

 

“Well…” came Rose’s wind-chime voice over the car speakers. “I guess that - Seth get your shoes on! - I guess you’ve never met the guy, so…I dunno maybe he’s got…something special?”

 

“No, Carine has ‘something special’, not…” I trailed off, suddenly feeling a little weird that Carine was only about fifteen feet away from me as I was saying this.

 

I mean, in a different car, but…

 

“And why the hell isn’t he living with her?” I demanded, remembering yet another mistake made by this horrible weirdo. “You know how fast I would move in if we were dating?”

 

I snapped my fingers to demonstrate.

 

Yup. That fast. For the food alone.

 

I tutted angrily.

 

He really is a moron.

 

“Ooooh, what, Monday night call? How romantic…” I simpered. “He’s a fucking idiot!”

 

“How do you even know they’re -Leah! Not now, Chrissakes!- Er…that they’re dating?” Rose asked and, yes, perhaps she had a point.

 

I paused for a second, Carine’s eyes twinkling at me merrily from her kitchen where she was waiting for Signor Douchebag’s call, perhaps the ghost of a blush in her cheeks.

 

Carine sitting in the back row at the Gala meeting, a small secret smile on her lips.

 

Carine crying with awe in her church at the all-consuming power of attraction.

 

She belongs to him now.

 

“Because…Because…I…I-I think she’s in love,” I whispered.

 

As soon as it was out of my mouth, I felt in my bones that this was one of the Profound Moments I occasionally have.

 

The way Carine looks sometimes, the way she smiles, just shrieks oestrogen explosion.

 

And that’s because some well-dressed, intellectual, gallery-visiting motherfucker is stealing her.

 

Inexplicably, I felt a sob build up in my chest.

 

Rose heard it down the phone.

 

“Esme, do you have your period?” she asked, straight up.

 

“Uh-huh,” I sniffed.

 

“And Carine talked you into yoga?” Rose asked, horrified. “Today?”

 

I know. What was I thinking?

 

I went out this afternoon, between double-checking a catering order and a final fitting for my Gala dress, to buy a fucking sports bra.

 

Me, Esme Ann Platt. A sports bra.

 

“Esme! What were you thinking?” Rose cried, knowing that there was a certain time of the month that I should be chained up in a darkened room for the safety of myself and those around me.

 

Werewolf legends must come from fucking somewhere.

 

I mean, allegedly, I’m pretty hard to deal with on a normal day.

 

“It’s Carine, Rose!” I explained, sounding a little like a whiny kid. “She invited me along to apologise for cutting our call short and I couldn’t say no to her. Just couldn’t. She did that puppy eyes thing.”

 

And yeah, she did.

 

Although, in fact, there was another reason for my eagerness.

 

Her European ass-wipe isn’t going to google-stalk himself (or maybe he is, narcissistic dick) and I need a little more to go on.

 

I hope that bonding over some agonising exercise might help me to…open her up a little.

 

Or perhaps I can convince her to ditch at the last minute and maybe we could go for coffee?

 

Ah fuck…except the last time we went for coffee, things did not go well.

 

And man oh man, why did I convince myself I was too grown up to take the stronger pain medication dose before I got in the car?

 

My uterus is punishing me for this.

 

In the background, I heard Emmett’s laugh down the phone.

 

He has the most amazing laugh on this planet (maybe excluding Carine, but I’m not entirely sure she is from this planet).

 

Apparently, the second of four times Emmett has ever seen Rose’s parents (there is a story there - apparently Mr and Mrs Hale are racist as all hell), a bird shat in her mom’s hair and he completely lost it (okay, maybe the racism thing isn’t the only issue with Emmett).

 

Rose once told me it was at that moment that she knew she wanted to marry him.

 

“Cullen better watch her back,” he spluttered, still fucking laughing. “Alien versus Predator versus Esme on her period.”

 

I scowled.

 

Seriously?

 

“My money’s not on poor Alien or Predator,” he finished with the perfect comedic timing that makes him so likeable.

 

“Excuse me, what the fuck was that, Emmett?” I asked. “Sorry, I didn’t quite hear you.”

 

He just carried on laughing.

 

Rose started laughing.

 

Fuck sake, I started laughing.

 

Damn Emmett!

 

How is it even possible to be cheered up by a joke at your own expense?

 

“Rose can you slap him for me?” I requested sweetly.

 

I heard a kiss.

 

“Don’t think that was a slap, Rose…” I sighed, but without feeling.

 

I couldn’t begrudge them their happiness.

 

“You’re reinforcing rude behaviour, Rosalie,” I scolded her. “That was rude.”

 

“But true,” she added.

 

“You, too, huh?” I muttered wryly, in fact knowing they had a point.

 

“Just don’t kill anyone, okay?” Emmett said. “I the kids have got a game later, I can’t be clearing up bodies tonight.”

 

By ‘the kids’, Emmett means his team.

 

The story is, Emmett used to play football.

 

Like, major league. He was amazing, and he’s quite famous actually.

 

He was known as ‘the grizzly’ because…well, he tackled like a freaking grizzly - but just before he met Rose, he got injured and now he’s a coach.

 

He loves coaching.

 

He actually volunteers at the college and there are often random kids just hanging out in Rose’s garden, grad students who were in the neighbourhood and just popped in to say hi.

 

Rose and Emmett get so many cards at Christmas. It’s adorable.

 

Growing up, I always wanted a sister to bitch with and a brother to beat the shit out of anyone who was mean to me.

 

In Rose and Emmett, (interchangeably) I have both.

 

Emmett is a big teddy bear and it’s totally not his fault that he is huge and looks hard as nails and like he could probably kill someone (Rose has never been catcalled with him walking next to her. Not once. Ever).

 

Or that Rose’s stuck-up parents are more frightened of Emmett because he’s black than of psycho-Royce who was a violent rapist who completely shattered their daughter’s trust in the world before the arrival of said teddy bear.

 

Riddle me that.

 

“Oh fuck, I just realised I actually have to do yoga,” I whimpered to Rose before psycho-Royce could lead my thoughts into a place I really didn’t need them to go right now. “It just dawned on me. Help! Have an emergency so I can turn around and go tend to you!”

 

“If it’s an emergency that I don’t have anything new to wear to Alice’s party and she always remembers if you’ve worn something before,” Rose said dryly. “Then please make a U-turn.”

 

“And that’s the next fucking thing!” I burst.

 

Alice’s party!

 

How could I forget!

 

Fuck!

 

Shit!

 

Do I have anything to wear?

 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stress you out,” Rose said.

 

She knows me too well. Probably visualising the steam coming out of my ears right now.

 

“Go have a nice relaxing time,” she laughed.

 

“…Fucking likely…” I muttered, pulling into the parking lot.

 

“Go get ‘em soldier!” Emmett called. “Take no prisoners!”

 

“Yup,” I huffed as I parked up. “I am gonna win at yoga.”

 

“See ya…” Rose sang, before hanging up and leaving me to my fate, who had already reverse-parked perfectly and was standing neatly with her yoga mat next to her car.

 

I am so about to embarrass myself.

Chapter 11: This is not okay.

Notes:

Hey guys.

Wow! Two updates in two days!

Rather unlike me...

Just make sure you haven't missed the previous chapter, otherwise the scene won't be set for this.

And, yes, the angst-fest continues, and I'm sorry, but try and enjoy it anyhow :)

Chapter Text

 

“Ready?” Carine asked, looking eager, as I staggered out of my vehicle.

 

She was, clearly. All glittery and spiritual, as per fucking usual.

 

(Fucking Carine!)

 

“Er…sure,” I said with an internal wince.

 

In less than only three hours, I would be back on my ass eating Lindt chocolate and bawling my eyes out at the ending of Titanic, so it’s not all bad.

 

It’s okay.

 

I’m gonna be okay.

 

I can get through a little exercise.

 

Actually, I’m misrepresenting myself. I do exercise just…not in front mirrors, and other women and…

 

…Carine…

 

“Let’s go,” I said and she answered with a sparkly smile.

 

I hope I didn’t sound as nervous as I felt, because I seriously was nervous.

 

I walked behind Carine, trying to shield myself a little from the curiosity of the rest of the women.

 

Oh, and men. There were three entire men there.

 

Great.

 

And…Oh fuck sake.

 

There are thirty-four thousand people in Beverly Hills and I can’t go to a yoga class without seeing-

 

“Hi Jess,” Carine said brightly.

 

“Carine! Esme!” Jessica Stanley said, peering at the two of us interestedly. “I didn’t know you were friends!”

 

There was a glint in her eye I didn’t like the look of.

 

“We are,” Carine said sagely, and shot me a smile.

 

My stomach quivered. She’d never actually said I was her friend before.

 

Jessica turned to me.

 

“And I didn’t expect to see you at a yoga class, Esme!” she continued, with an emphasis on ‘you’ that I wasn’t completely happy with.

 

That bitch…

 

Okay deep breath.

 

I promised Emmett I wouldn’t murder anyone…

 

“It’s…always good to try new things,” I said lamely.

 

Jessica’s eyes glinted as they flipped between Carine and myself with a humour I didn’t understand, like she was enjoying some kind of private joke.

 

“Yah,” she said slyly, again looking between the two of us pointedly. “I’ll bet!”

 

Without a word, Carine just walked off.

 

What the fuck?

 

Jessica looked extremely smug.

 

“Um…I’d better…” I trailed off, padding after Carine.

 

I have so just missed something.

 

“Everything okay?” I asked as I caught up with her.

 

“Absolutely,” she said with an exaggeratedly relaxed breath. “Just some people are, sadly, here for the wrong reasons.”

 

I squirmed.

 

I would take a guess that trying to snoop on Carine’s private life may count as a ‘wrong reason’.

 

“Two seconds, I’ll just get changed,” Carine continued, before vanishing and leaving me to the vipers.

 

With the exception of the incense that had started burning, this was all a little too reminiscent of gym class in middle school.

 

Except now, of course, we were adults and paid taxes so it didn’t matter in the slightest how big everyone else’s boobs were.

 

That being said, Jessica was whispering to a group of women I didn’t recognise and, as one, they all flipped me a glance.

 

Help me…

 

I ducked to re-tie my laces unnecessarily, waiting for Carine to come back.

 

Jeez, she was taking forev-

 

“Sorry I was a while!”

 

“No,” I replied automatically, as I looked up. “That’s alri…”

 

I sincerely hope my jaw didn’t hit the floor.

 

Holy hot…fuck woman.

 

Who knew that underneath Dr Cullen’s conservative, smart work clothes lay actual perfection.

 

Starting at her feet (bare, with red-painted toenails. Red!), my eyes took a long, and very painful journey skyward as I wobbled back upright.

 

I was in black jogging bottoms, no compromise, but Carine was wearing, very successfully wearing, a pair of grey leggings.

 

By God was she wearing those leggings.

 

Jesus, her legs went on and on.

 

Those would be her sculpted, slender, I’m-modelling-for-a-company-who’s-trying-to-sell-you-panties-and-bullshit-will-you-ever-look-like-me-because-I’ve-been-photoshopped-to-death legs.

 

She was in a strappy vest top, a fairly modest one, but her collarbones were peeping out in such an accidentally tantalising way, I was lost for words.

 

I didn’t want to linger any lower than the collarbones, but it’s not like her tits weren’t demanding attention.

 

Or that flat fucking stomach, shoot me.

 

Her hair was pulled back earnestly at the nape of her swan-like neck into the tiniest, eye-achingly-cutest, stumpy little ponytail you ever saw.

 

Golden radiance, she was smiling at me invitingly, unselfconsciously, and apparently unaware that she had probably the best body I have ever seen.

 

Ever.

 

She works long hours in a demanding job, and eats like a vegetarian tyrannosaurus with the munchies, so how…the fuck…

 

Next to her, I was pudgy, squat, red-faced and just generally unattractive.

 

And just like that, I was angry.

 

Fucking Carine!

 

My body was reacting viscerally to the very sight of her. Red hot rage down my spine, up my legs, across my stomach.

 

My chest burned. My skin ached.

 

How. Fucking. Dare. She?

 

This is not okay.

 

I am not feeling okay.

 

“This should be fun,” Carine beamed as the instructor, who I barely noticed, called everyone’s attention and introduced herself as the class found spaces on the floor.

 

The doctor kept smiling at me.

 

Nicely, and normally, not like she’d just performed an act of physiological violence upon me by looking like that.

 

I think I managed an answering grimace, trying to stop my blood boiling to vapour, as Carine neatly unwrapped her mat and lay herself down directly in front of me.

 

Oh suuuure.

 

Fucking perfect!

 

See, Carine’s butt has been a particular point of my envy for a while now.

 

I’m saying this as an artist: it’s kind of perfect. It fascinates me.

 

I mean…

 

No, that sounds weird.

 

Just…if I were a sweaty fifty-year-old man and I had to grab an ass in a yoga class, it would be that ass.

 

Shit! That came out sounding even worse.

 

I am not a misogynist! I’m just…jealous. Really jealous! 

 

In fact I am scorching from the inside out right now.

 

Am I having some kind of weird panic attack here? A complete and utter existential crisis?

 

Finally seeing that the impossible perfection society asks of me is in fact possible?

 

And I am up her ass here. And this routine is like a fucking twerk-off competition, I am not even exaggerating.

 

How long have I been here, now?

 

Twenty minutes? Twenty days? Twenty years?

 

I don’t think I can take too much more of this.

 

“Now…find a partner…” continued the class leader in what she probably deemed to be an etherial voice, as Carine’s smile filled my vision.

 

She was already rounding on me eagerly, reaching for my hands.

 

Partner? panicked my delirious mind. Carine isn’t my partner!

 

Ever so gently, Carine pressed her palms to mine, beaming benevolently like the angel she resembled.

 

I was feeling like a was losing control. I’m never in control when I’m with her.

 

“Close your eyes…relax…remember your breathing…”

 

Carine, who was totally into this took a luxuriously deep breath and tipped her head back.

 

I suppose I was supposed to be doing the same, but all I could do was stare at her.

 

Jaw…neck…

 

How did my life lead me here?

 

I mean, right here mushing my disgustingly sweaty palms into Carine’s.

 

And why is Carine interested in spending time with me? For real, though?

 

It’s not right. It goes against the natural order of things.

 

Beautiful, smart, kind, funny people like Carine live among other beautiful, smart, kind, funny people. That’s the rules.

 

I don’t think this whole thing is a cruel joke, so she must just feel sorry for me.

 

Compared to her, I’m practically a parasitic worm.

 

An extremely bad-tempered sea cucumber, maybe.

 

Or one of those blobby cream-coloured fish with the fucked up faces. Yeah, probably that.

 

Carine’s a swan, or a sea horse, or an otter.

 

Something nice.

 

Something beautiful.

 

“Ahhhh,” she breathed, lips parted just slightly, back arched in a stretch that I couldn’t manage, hands warm and strong in mine. Like summer.

 

And then I was on my feet.

 

Something just snapped, I don’t know.

 

Either way, fuck this. I’m going home.

 

“Esme! Is everything alright?” Carine gasped, hopping up too after I’d ripped my hands away.

 

Of course it’s not alright, you evil bitch!

 

Inviting me along just to admire your perfectly toned body!

 

Being better than me in every way!

 

Pitying me!

 

Being in fucking love!

 

Nothing was alright!

 

“Esme, please tell me what’s going on,” she pleaded quietly, in an attempt to keep her voice down, although the room had already turned to look at us. “I can help you.”

 

“HELP ME?”

 

I’m pretty sure that was the part I actually shrieked.

 

“YOU?”

 

The room gawped. I had definitely obliterated any chance of a zen atmosphere now.

 

“You think I’m psycho!” I shouted. “You’re…”

 

I was struck by horrible inspiration which, at the time, made perfect sense.

 

“You’re probably writing some kind of book on me and that’s why you need me around!” I continued, an octave higher than I intended. “I am not your specimen, Carine!”

 

At that, she physically flinched, but crept closer still.

 

“Firstly, Esme, you are not a psychopath,” she said evenly, of course taking things so fucking seriously and correcting me.

 

Was I not allowed to use incorrect terminology just once in my life?

 

“You are an extremely empathic person,” she continued. “So much so that I think it makes life harder for you.”

 

She looked at me with such compassion. It was like an arrow in the chest.

 

“And you aren’t my ‘specimen’,” she carried on bravely. “I just hoped that this class”

 

“Might calm me down?” I countered aggressively.

 

I don’t fucking have fucking anger issues, you stupid fucking bitch!

 

“Might help us to get to know each other better,” she whispered softly.

 

She shrugged.

 

“I think you’re a wonderful person,” she breathed.

 

“Really?” I scoffed incredulously.

 

So, turns out Carine does have a flaw after all: she’s a liar.

 

Because it’s impossible she can’t see that all I am is a useless piece of shit.

 

“I don’t ever want to see you again,” I choked, anger morphing into something way less empowering and mascara starting to streak in ugly lines down my cheeks. “You are no longer welcome on the Gala committee. Please respect that.”

 

She looked like she was deflating.

 

No…inflating.

 

She was drawing breath.

 

No, I could not hear another word out of her mouth, or I’d go really crazy.

 

“Esme,” she began solemnly. “I lo-”

 

“And stay the hell away from me…” I snarled before, blind with tears and rage, I stumbled out of the building.

 

…Aaaaand curtain!

 

I did warn you.

Chapter 12: Edward.

Notes:

So sorry for the long delay!

Things have been crazy!

I hope you're all doing well (and still following this!)

This chapter is basically Edward being a tea gremlin and a bit of an exploration into the relationship between Esme and Edward.

In canon, it it totally mother-son in my mind, wheres Esme and Rosalie is more like sisters (bitching partners, someone to steal clothes from etc.) so I wanted to bring that into this AU, too.

Also, just a mention, there is a brief throw-away comment that Edward makes about sepsis, which I am very cautiously trying to use borderline-humorously (in keeping with character).

I know it's a very serious thing, and if it bothers you, please know that I do understand this, and I'm really sorry.

As always, I do not aim to offend, rather entertain, but I don't want to end up sounding like fucking Borat, or something.

Forgive me, I have been locked inside for a long time now.

I may not be making sense.

Anyway...what was I saying?

Yes! The chapter! Please Enjoy!

Pippa :)

Chapter Text

 

“Tylenol,” I breathed. “Sweet, sweet nectar of the gods…”

 

I slid, like a stuffed toy, down the side of my fridge and on to the floor, clutching my hot water bottle. Without a case on because I’m just too desperate.

 

Maybe I’ll die here.

 

And maybe that would be a good thing, since I couldn’t embarrass myself anymore.

 

Or shout at Carine in a public place again which must be a one-way ticket to hell, if anything is.

 

If I died, maybe Carine would know just how sorry I was. I’m just always so sorry.

 

I traced the edge of one of the floor tiles. It’s familiar since I’ve spend a disturbing about of time on the floor in this kitchen.

 

For some reason Charles would never be violent in here, in the ‘woman’s place’. Probably some Freudian shit going on there. Carine would probably know.

 

In fact, the only place I feel as safe as I used to right here is, weirdly enough, with Carine.

 

Maybe I should call her and force her to come look after me.

 

That’s not actually a bad idea. We could watch Titanic together and-

 

My face seared as memory from earlier caught up with me: all those stares in that ridiculously hot airless room and the resolute look of dignity that Carine managed to hold after I’d yelled at her which I knew meant I’d really hurt her.

 

Fuck.

 

Fuck.

 

Why the hell did I do that?

 

And by asking her to respect me by staying away…of course she’s gonna stay away! She just is respect!

 

But all I want to do is spend time with her now! How is this fair?

 

I kind of wish Carine wouldn’t respect me at all and show up on the doorstep. Maybe do that thing where she texts me every day. Or possibly cook me a pizza at her place…

 

…Where she’s probably getting a sympathy-fuck from her suave prick-lick of a boyfriend right now.

 

Another cramp hit me and I just curled in on myself, planning his fucking murder.

 

God, I just hate his guts.

 

Aro.

 

What kind of a name is Aro?

 

One for a guy who needs his head kicked in by a menstruating Esme, that’s what.

 

Homicide. Rock on, let’s do it. I’m gonna claw his goddamn eyes-

 

Just then, the doorbell rang and my heart leapt out of my chest.

 

Wait…It couldn’t be…

 

Would she really still come and see me after all that?

 

It’s possible…

 

I felt the smile stretching across my face.

 

It’s Carine!

 

Carine came back!

 

With a strength I didn’t know I had, pain miraculously forgotten, I sprang, yes, sprang to my feet and skidded into the hall where-

 

“Esme?” called my visitor, hair-spikes appearing through the glass in the door.

 

I skidded to a halt.

 

Ugh, it’s Edward, probably in a full bio-hazard suit.

 

He’s not great with stomaching blood or vagina, so obviously Rose has bribed him big time to come check on me right now.

 

With the disappointment, pain came back with a vengeance so I just sat down where I was in the hallway. Despairing.

 

“If I’m crawling all the way down this hallway to open that fucking door, there had better be chocolate,” I shouted back to him, probably way more rudely than was warranted.

 

“Toblerone,” Edward countered.

 

Oh fuck, he’s got me.

 

“Alright, I’m coming,” I sighed, beginning my crawl across the wood.

 

And God, I hope I remembered to hide my mint tea. I don’t think I did.

 

Eddie steals my tea. And I don’t actually know why.

 

“Hey Edward, come in,” I said weakly as I finally got the door open.

 

“You look pale,” he commented by way of greeting.

 

Fucking bitch!

 

“You look pale,” I hissed and slammed the door behind him.

 

No shit I look pale! I’ve lost like all of my blood here!

 

Eddie squinted at me, concerned.

 

“Do I need to call anyone?” he asked, (and he had better be joking) “Gynaecologist? Priest? Exorcist?”

 

“No you’re just perfect, Edward, thank you,” I said tiredly.

 

I tried to zombie-shuffle Spikes into the living room but he veered off into the kitchen.

“I’m gonna pass out somewhere, but you can make yourself something if you want. There’s fudge in the fridge,” I said cunningly, hoping to lure him away from my cupboards.

 

“Thanks!” he said, brightening as he appraisingly scanned my counter tops as per fucking usual. “Oh! And you have mint tea!”

 

Fucking called it.

 

Why are my best friends such assholes? I wondered as Edward’s face (but not his hair) vanished behind Good Housekeeping as he made himself at home and started to nibble at the chocolate he’d brought me.

 

“Yeah…” I said, admitting defeat and picking out my third-best set of tea cups.

 

(Second-best for Christmas and birthdays. Best is for royal visits. Or Carine, if she ever speaks to me again.)

 

“You only ever come here to read my magazines and drink all my tea, I swear to God, Edward,” I said, making this goddamn tea. “Why do I spoil you?”

 

Actually why do I?

 

Maybe because he’s such a child. I think he’s always about three cocktails away from asking me to do his laundry for him and how to book an airline flight.

 

He smirked and tipped his teacup to me.

 

When I didn’t try and smack him right in his grinning face, he frowned.

 

“Are you, like, actually okay?” he asked, twigging finally that I might not be actually okay.

 

“No, Edward,” I sighed. “I feel like shit.”

 

He squinted at me like I’d just got a haircut.

 

“You don’t have, like, sepsis or something, do you?” he wondered.

 

“No, I don’t think so,” I said, with what Rose calls my evil genius laugh.

 

I guess I was feeling really crazy now.

 

“But thank you for coming, I’m sorry to snap at you,” I added, aware that I was being probably unnecessarily mean.

 

“You seem the same as normal,” Edward told me sagely.

 

“Fuck off.”

 

He smirked.

 

“And how much does Rose owe you since you agreed to come see me?” I continued since talking to Edward was actually easing some of the agony.

 

“Nothing,” he shrugged looking deep and Edward-ish.

 

That would be kind of angsty and misunderstood while he refuses to use his words or mumbles everything.

 

“I…wanted to ask you some advice, actually,” he mumbled.

 

I almost choked on my tea.

 

Advice? Now?

 

“About Jacob,” he clarified, like I was slow and that was the only thing in the world anyone would ever want to talk about.

 

Seriously?

 

My vagina is dying, Carine is not here and this bitch wants boyfriend advice? Can he not get a read, here?

 

“Edward, my relationship history is a warning to anyone,” I reminded him. “How am I in any way qualified to give you advice?”

 

He shrugged.

 

“You see the best in people and I…” he sniffed. “I’m just feeling a little…down. About me.”

 

Eddie looked really sad for a moment, like a little boy.

 

I swear to God this kid manipulates the shit out of me, but he knows I can’t be pissed with that face.

 

“Aww,” I said, reaching for his hand. “Was rehearsal bad?”

 

“No. It was good. I just…”

 

He looked despairingly into the distance. (Well, at my Micky Mouse clock he once threatened to smash with a hammer).

 

“Do you ever feel like you’ll never be good enough for anyone?” he said, at last, after he felt he’d held the suspense long enough and thought nasty things about my decor choices.

 

“Yeah. I get that,” I reassured him, then laughed. “I mean, watching Carine Cullen do yoga is good for no woman’s self-esteem…”

 

“…Which is why you cussed her out in the middle of the class?” Edward asked slyly.

 

“How did you-” I began, before realising that the chances of Edward not hearing about my outburst were slim to nil.

 

“Jess Stanley told Jacob’s sister, Rachel, who told Jacob who told me, so…” Edward tailed off, prompting me.

 

“Fuck sake!” I cried, slamming my hand on the table, harder than I intended.

 

Eddie spluttered with laughter.

 

“Well look who’s feeling restored…” I snarled as I nursed my poor fingers.

 

Look what he made me do!

 

“You know, I’m not great with women,” he chuckled. “But I think that’s a new low.”

 

“You don’t know what it was like in there!” I reminded him, trying to explain to us both what the fuck happened and vaguely why. “It was fucking intense! And Carine was like…mega…and…I dunno!”

 

“She was ‘mega’?” Edward snorted. “Esme Platt, Poet Laureate.”

 

“Well I’m sorry!” I snarled sarcastically.

 

“I don’t even know what you’re trying to say…”

 

“Edward, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say!” I said, finally breaking out laughing at what a ridiculous bitch I am. “I am so fucking crazy!”

 

“That’s why I love you, babe,” Edward said, spinning to his feet and folding up my magazine (creasing it vertically in that way I can’t stand).

 

Evidently Edward was calling time on our shrink session.

 

“Call Carine,” he then said, surprising me with his seriousness. “Talk about it. She must be a little messed up right now, given everything.”

 

“I dunno…” I sighed sadly.

 

I really would love to hear her voice after a whole ninety minutes without her.

 

“And, hey, she loves crazy people,” he added cheerily.

 

“You’re an asshole!” I laughed, punching him on the arm, but not hard enough to get him lecturing me about his imaginary anaemia again, thank God.

 

“Thanks!” he beamed. “And talking to you always makes me feel better about myself.”

 

Huh! The nerve!

 

“Well that is a lovely thing to say to anyone, Edward,” I said as sweetly as I could. “Thank you.”

 

Why do I even…

 

I didn’t even give him any goddamn advice in the end!

 

He grinned boyishly.

 

“And do you mind if I take some tea with me?” he added as an apparent afterthought.

 

I puffed out my cheeks, sensing either a long argument or no way out of this.

 

“Okay, fine,” I conceded, before the fight could begin, and handing him the entire box to get it over with quick. “But you do know you can just buy this stuff, right? And not from a tea-dealer in the depth of night, either. At a grocery store.”

 

“Meh,” he said, and took his prize with a ‘merci beaucoup’ before kissing my hand.

 

“We done here?” I asked him. “Your mood swings always give me whiplash, you know that?”

 

“Yup aaaand…yup!” Edward said sweeping his way towards the front door. “And, by the way, Jacob’s coming to the party tomorrow. I’d like you to meet him.”

 

“He sounds great, Edward,” I smiled, feeling a rush of affection for this guy I’d never met, but made Edward so deliriously happy he even questioned his own self-worth. “I’ll be nice, I promise.”

 

“Oh, and there’s something on your doorstep,” he called, as if he expected me to walk all the way over there just to see what it was.

 

“I feel like I’m about to give birth to a fucking alien squid,” I reminded him. “I am not bending down to get that…”

 

“Fiiiiine…” Edward huffed as he carried my abandoned yoga mat inside, at which point I burst into tears.

 

Real bad, uncontrollable, snotty tears.

 

Carine was here! On my doorstep! And I didn’t even know! We were so close to each other!

 

But she didn’t even talk to me!

 

But Carine always talks to me, right?

 

The particular panic on Edward’s face that appears anytime a woman starts crying would have been funny under any other circumstances but now his awkward, tip-of-the-fingers shoulder pat just made me cry harder.

 

“Um…o-okay…” Edward said, backing away slowly. “Er…tomorrow, then. Jacob will be there.”

 

I think I managed a nod.

 

“Sh…should I fetch Rose?” he wondered, looking terrified he was going to have to intervene personally.

 

“No, it’s okay Edward,” I sobbed. “I…I think I just need a little time to myself.”

 

With Carine. But now she’s gone. Forever.

 

“Great! Fantastic!” he said manically, all but running towards that little Volvo he drives much too fucking fast.

 

I’m dying. I’m actually dying. Like, for real this time.

 

I hurt everywhere.

 

“Oh and Alice says that the fancy dress thing for the party isn’t compulsory, just advised,” Eddie added airily just before he pulled away with a wave.

 

“Fancy dress?” I hiccuped to myself in disbelief at the utter unfairness of the universe after I finally processed what he’d said. “We’re doing freaking fancy dress now?”

Chapter 13: I'm the baaaaaaad guy...Duh!

Notes:

Thank you all for reading (or re-reading! I am am hugely flattered!) and for your lovely comments :)

Hopefully the updates will be more regular from now on!

I know I may have said that last time, but honestly I can't remember - proof of how shitty my updating has been!

Also! Fucking loving some new Carine/Esme works on here recently! Let's keep the trend going!

Peace and Love,

The Paprika :)

(So! Many! Exclamation! Marks! Today! What! Is! Going! On?(!))

Chapter Text

 

 

This might be a difficult night, I thought to myself.

 

“Yup,” Rose agreed tersely, puffing out a breath.

 

Oh.

 

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” I sighed.

 

Rose laughed.

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

“Well…shit!”

 

“Nice, Esme,” Rose chuckled darkly. “God, I can’t wait for this one. Hell’d better get ready, because here we come.”

 

She’s right. This is definitely going to be a difficult night.

 

But we promised Eddie we’d be here. And a promise is a promise.

 

God, that kid…

 

Alice’s entire driveway was lit up with lanterns and fairy lights and people fucked out of their minds on God knows what like we were all in college still.

 

I can’t deny she knows how to throw a party.

 

However, historically things have been known to get a little…out of hand where Alice is concerned and I was up most the night crying with loneliness, so I’m feeling a little too delicate to deal with her husband throwing anyone into a fucking piano and hospitalising them today.

 

(True story, by the way. Fuck these assholes I call acquaintances).

 

Rose parked up and made a beeline for Emmett, who was already there.

 

His football team won the game yesterday, so he’d been out celebrating and-

 

Wait…hang on…what the fuck is he wearing? Are those clothes pegs on his ears?

 

“ROSIE!” he bellowed, beaming his face off, like every time he sees her. “You look beautiful, babe!”

 

“Hey, honey,” she said giving him a quick kiss.

 

He turned.

 

“Esme!” he chortled happily, lumbering forwards to give me a big hug, which I ducked.

 

“Ew, Emmett, your gonna get green paint all over me!” I laughed, or more like giggled (Emmett just makes me giggle).

 

Yeah, he was covered in the stuff.

 

He exploded with laughter.

 

“Sorry, Es! I forgot!”

 

“Shreck, right?” I grinned.

 

He flung his arms towards me in triumph.

 

“See, Rosie?” he said smugly. “Esme knows who I am.”

 

“Everyone will think you’re the Hulk,” she tutted playfully. “I did.”

 

“No chance,” he scoffed in the same tone.

 

“Huh?”

 

“The Hulk doesn’t wear a shirt,” Emmett shared, knowledgeably. “And I’m wearing one, so…”

 

“Could you just have…painted your chest and been the Hulk?” Rose wondered. “For simplicity?”

 

“Well I ran out of paint, okay?” Emmett said with mock defensiveness. “And babe, think about it, if people see any normal skin, they’ll know I’m not actually green!”

 

Smirking, Rosalie smacked him on the arm.

 

“Rosalie, you’ve been out-logic-ed,” I informed her gravely. “Sorry,”

 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said to Emmett, looping her arms through both of ours. “Now, what will the drama be this time? House fire or someone drowned in the pool?”

 

“It’s not gonna beat the last party, that’s for sure,” Emmett laughed appreciatively. “Gotta hand it to Jasper, he sure does know how to beat the living shit out of someone.”

 

That someone happened to be Alice’s ex James, who tried to crash their “family-friendly” baseball party with his friends. Unsuccessfully.

 

What a night.

 

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, while trying to pull up the front of my dress to prevent a full cleavage explosion.

 

Why do I even have this dress?

 

It’s from a christening I went to when I was about eleven, I think.

 

Fuck, it is way to small for me.

 

“And, Esme, you look great!” Emmett beamed, sensing I probably needed all the fucking encouragement I could get to make it through my shit-hole of an evening.

 

“Mini Mouse?”

 

“Er…yeah,” I huffed, giving the neckline one last tug.

 

That should do it.

 

“Thanks, Emmett. It was a little eleventh-hour.”

 

I should totally scrap fancy dress altogether and do what Rose does. She comes in a normal dress and, when anybody asks her who she’s come as, she laughs charmingly and ignores the question, bare-faced bullshits or tells them to fuck off, depending on who’s asking.

 

I was actually going to come as Maleficent but I didn’t have time to make horns (yeah, since fancy dress was only mentioned at the last minute, thank you Edward).

 

You know, character portrayed as the villain for a few instances of asshole-ry but is actual a good person with a tragic backstory and in fact everyone should be fucking nice to them?

 

Since I didn’t have the time, I had to make do with some mouse ears, a couple of eyeliner-pencil whiskers and this fucking kids’ dress.

 

But hey, the way people were whispering about me, I might as well be a slut who can’t dress herself as well as the psycho who broke Dr Cullen’s nose in the middle of a ballet class (seriously, people?)

 

…Aaand that was the first stare and snigger of the night, thank you random bitch I don’t even know.

 

“Cunt,” Rosalie hissed not so discreetly as we passed her, my soldier to the end.

 

“That little shit!” Emmett added. “Don’t worry about it, Esme.”

 

“I don’t think I can do this, Rose,” I whispered, clutching her arm like a kid starting kindergarten.

 

Inside the house, the music was booming, the drinks were flowing, and I was starting to feel seriously anxious.

 

“Now,” Rose sniffed, getting right down to business and scanning the crowd. “Where’s Edward and his…”

 

She spotted them and burst out laughing.

 

“You’ve got to me shitting me,” she spluttered. “Doesn’t he own a fucking shirt?”

 

Jacob…(er…a very shirtless Thor?) loomed out of the darkness looking a little apprehensive, dragged along by an extremely determined bronze-haired Elvis Presley.

 

“Edward Mason,” I laughed. “The ladies’ man.”

 

“He actually came as Elvis,” Emmett sniggered. “He actually did it.”

 

“Hello everyone,” Edward said, with an infuriating half-smirk.

 

“Hey, Eddie,” I said.

 

“I would like you to meet Jacob Black,” he said with the Georgian-era formality he thought sounded dapper. “My boyfriend.”

 

“Uh…yeah. Hi,” Jacob said sheepishly with an apologetic purse-lipped smile.

 

We all made encouraging, friendly noises.

 

“Jacob,” Edward continued loftily, but with a glint of mischief in his eye. “These are my friends. Beauty…”

 

He flicked a careless hand towards Emmett.

 

“The Beast…”

 

(Rosalie).

 

“…And the little teapot that sings,” he finished, patting me on the head like a dog and leaving my ears askew.

 

“Bastard!” Rosalie gasped, while Emmett lunged forward to enact the inevitable headlock.

 

“EDWARDC’MERE!’

 

Jacob and I watched. He looked mildly puzzled.

 

“Should we, like…” Jacob started, gesturing to the fray.

 

“Intervene?” I finished. “No. No point. Best to stay out of it. Especially when there’s body paint involved.”

 

He chuckled obediently.

 

“So you’re Esme?” he asked softly.

 

“Yah,” I told him. “I don’t know why he called me a teapot. He has weirdly serious issues with tea. I asked his parents once and they have no idea what scarring childhood experience is responsible for this frenzy.”

 

“I’m not much of a tea drinker,” Jacob shrugged mildly.

 

“And now you never will be,” I told him. “Because there will be none left in your home.”

 

Jacob gave a wolf-like grin.

 

He’s a genuinely sweet guy. I like him already.

 

“Edward said he really likes you,” I told him conspiratorially.

 

Okay, he didn’t. But he should have done, and would have done if he weren’t such a little shit. He does really like him, I can tell.

 

“I like him,” Jacob grinned.

 

“I can see that,” I smiled. “I so happy for you both. Since he met you, he’s been so much more-”

 

“Hi Esme!” burst someone with no concept of what ‘interrupting’ might be.

 

I turned, and there was Tinkerbell in all her glittery glory.

 

(By Tinkerbell I mean Alice, but that’s literally her costume tonight, so it’s not mean to say).

 

She has this talent for knowing exactly where people will be at all times, particularly when they’re trying to avoid her, which is the state I’m normally in.

 

“Excuse me,” I said to Jacob, who smiled nicely, and was absorbed into the sibling-brawl still going on behind us.

 

I was peeved, wanting more of a chance to assess Jacob’s suitability for my Edward, but ignoring Alice would be kind of rude. In her own living room, and all.

 

“Hi, Alice,” I said pleasantly.

 

“Esme, I’m so glad you could make it!” she beamed with an over-lip-glossed smile that actually suited her.

 

Uh oh. That was a Comment.

 

“Well, I’d never miss one of your parties,” I chuckled politely.

 

She pulled that pouty frown of hers.

 

Oh.

 

…Maybe that sounded like I was one of those people who invite themselves to things? I was just trying to be nice.

 

“Well, thanks,” she said sweetly. “I just hope…er…there won’t be any…problems.”

 

Over Alice’s shoulder I could see the tall outline of Jasper, her husband.

 

As if on cue, he turned and waved, bearing, thankfully, no apparent ill-will toward me.

 

He’s one of those ultra-cool guys with swept-back long hair whose only worldly possessions despite the clothes on his back are a guitar, a hair comb, a beat-up wallet and a cigarette lighter and that is literally it.

 

He’s not wearing any kind of fancy dress, except a stetson, but I think that’s just his normal hat.

 

It was then that the solemn periwinkle-blue eyes of his conversation partner peeped around him and settled on me.

 

Oh perfect. How fucking…

 

Since when does Carine come to these things?

 

I felt my stomach cramp with anxiety.

 

…Okay. Yes. There might be a problem.

 

“Yeah,” Alice said, eyes narrowing just a fraction. “You may not know, but Carine is a very good friend of ours and with what she’s going through…

 

She folded her sparkling arms and manoeuvred her tiny frame into a position that somehow blocked my entire view, despite the fact she’s smaller than even I am.

 

“I am astounded you have the nerve to show your face today after what you said to her.”

 

“Go-going…through…?” I repeated slowly, dread settling on me as I braced myself to discover the depth of my social faux pas.

 

This sounds like it’s going to be bad.

 

“Her dad has just died!” Alice hissed, eyes alight with drama.

 

“What?” I gaped. “Oh…shit!”

 

Yup. Bad. Verrrrrry bad.

 

“You didn’t know?” Alice asked, whether more incredulous or more sceptical I didn’t know.

 

“Er, no!” I squeaked.

 

Oh Carine! Oh Carine! No! You poor thing!

 

“W-when did he…”

 

“Last week,” Alice informed me with the smugness of someone walking over another person toward moral high ground. In heels.

 

My heart sank. I was almost crying for Carine.

 

I am the worse person in the universe. God help me.

 

“I di…I didn’t…”

 

“Excuse me,” Alice said pleasantly, before I could splutter any other incomprehensible things, and flitted off to be the perfect hostess.

 

Leaving me absolutely reeling.

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

 

How do I even deal with this?

 

The idea of a grieving Carine, like, twelve feet away from me is making me feel a little panic-attack-y.

 

Oh shit.

 

Oh my God.

 

Where’s Rose?

 

Like some kind of nightmare, the others had managed to vanish, leaving me alone in the crowd of people who were all much happier than me.

 

Except for the bereaved Carine, for fuck’s sake.

 

I turned back to where she was standing, Jasper now replaced by two people dressed as those Star Wars soldier guys.

 

As I looked, her eyes snapped immediately away from me, and she tried to duck out of my eyeshot behind the two soldiers.

 

(Storm Troopers! I remember what they’re called now!)

 

Sadly, Carine was just too tall and was still visible, so in a flash ducked to tie what I imagine was an invisible shoelace.

 

Her panic would have been funny, had I not been about to cry on her behalf.

 

And if it wasn’t me she was trying to avoid.

 

I felt my eyes begin to sting, and grabbed a napkin from a nearby table to stop any tears from making a mess of my makeup (again). I was pretty surprised I had any tears left after yesterday, but apparently I can always be counted upon to surprise myself in unpleasant ways.

 

Leaving Carine looking a little too nonchalantly at the wall, the Storm Troopers suddenly broke ranks and began to march towards me.

 

“Hi, Esme, right?” said one of them in a muffled voice, as he yanked off his helmet to reveal a very earnest face.

 

“…Yeah, hi…” I said, trying not to look too suspicious. “Um, sorry. Do I…know you?”

 

A trick question. I don’t.

 

But I feel like I’m definitely about to.

 

“Ah, no. But I’m Eric. Yorkie,” said the guy, eagerly sticking his hand out for me to shake and nodding his head to the other Storm Trooper. “This is Angela.”

 

Angela’s long hair was making taking her helmet off a little trickier.

 

“H…hey,” she said, scrabbling with the plastic. “Nice to meet you.”

 

I pursed my lips.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude,” I said slowly. “But did…did Carine Cullen ask you to come talk to me?”

 

“Er…no,” Eric stumbled. “Well…kind of…yeah.”

 

He blushed a little, obviously being one of those people who Cannot Lie.

 

“We’re ComicCon friends,” he added as some kind of explanation.

 

“You’re ComicCon friends?,” I repeated.

 

That is so…Carine.

 

“Yeah and, um, she…wanted to give this back to you,” Angela said, gently pushing something into my hand.

 

I could feel my stomach plummeting.

 

“Her, um, her Gala ticket,” she explained, needlessly.

 

“She’s not coming?” I spluttered in horror.

 

This can’t be happening!

 

I felt the rusty cogs moving in my brain.

 

Wait a minute! I’m an assertive human person.

 

This is not happening.

Chapter 14: Doctor...who...?

Notes:

Hey, hope you're doing well and having a good day :)

Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter Text

 

Rudely, I shoved myself between Eric and Angela to get a straight shot at the doctor.

 

“Carine,” I said as I arrived, businesslike, in front of her.

 

“Yes, hello Esme,” she replied, so formally it broke my heart.

 

For the first time ever, she didn’t seek out my eye-contact.

 

Carine was Upset.

 

I took a breath, knowing that I might have one shot, and one shot only, at fixing the horrible mess I’d made between us.

 

“I want to apologise for what I did and said yesterday,” I told her, begging her with my eyes to see how much I meant it.

 

The dark circles under them, impervious to any amount of concealer, may have given her a clue.

 

Now, she was Listening, in the way that Carine listened more than anyone I’d ever met.

 

Go on, her gaze seemed to say.

 

“…For embarrassing you like that,” I stumbled. “And…”

 

Here goes the really sticky part.

 

“And I was sorry to hear about your dad. I didn’t know…”

 

(In fairness, though, she didn’t actually tell me…)

 

“…And it wasn’t fair to put you under extra strain, so…” I floundered with my words. “…Just…just if there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

 

I huffed hopelessly.

 

“I mean…I don’t know what I could do…but…”

 

Carine looked at me with a visible tightness to her throat.

 

“Thank you, Esme,” she whispered, meaning ‘goodbye’.

 

She’s waking away! Shit!

 

“I bake a wicked cherry pie,” I burst, way too loud.

 

Some people near us even turned to look. Funny thing is, I couldn’t care less.

 

“Would you like one?” I continued, just as wildly. “I…I could make one!”

 

That was just panic. An onset of separation anxiety. A cheap food-bribe.

 

But fuck me, it worked.

 

“Right now?” Carine looked amused, but no less sidled back to where I was rooted to the floor.

 

“Well…n-no,” I stammered. “…But…”

 

My cheeks were burning.

 

I felt like I was fourteen again.

 

“Oh, Esme! I’m teasing!” Carine laughed kindly. “But…that does sound good.”

 

She looked down sadly at her gala ticket, clutched much too tightly in my hand.

 

“Are you not able to come?” I asked her softly. “We could move it to another night.”

 

Carine’s perfect eyebrows shot up.

 

“Move the gala date?” she marvelled. “It’s in two days…”

 

“If you…wanted to come,” I said, deadly fucking serious.

 

Reorganising a gala I’ve been planning for months and inconveniencing, like, a zillion people is nothing of what I would be prepared to do for Carine.

 

“I…didn’t know if you wanted me there,” she admitted very, very quietly, eyeing me with care.

 

Not wanted?

 

Carine not wanted?

 

“What?…No you have to come!” I gasped, then remembered the situation and blushed. “If…if you don’t have…family stuff…”

 

I kicked myself again for the insensitivity.

 

I am on a fucking roll tonight.

 

“Esme,” Carine said gently, in her ‘I’m-hugging-you-with-my-voice’ voice, which I appreciated. “I’ll be alright. My father and I didn’t have a good relationship.”

 

And they didn’t even get along? Fuck me with a cactus, that’s even more goddamn sad! Anything else I should know about?

 

Carine’s jaw actually dropped, before her hands flew to her mouth in shock.

 

She gasped, looking awestruck and was somehow jolted into better humour, laughing incredulously.

 

My stomach plummeted.

 

“And, I fucking said that out loud, didn’t I?” I said hollowly, to Carine, or the fucking universe. “I am so sorry! I…I didn’t sleep well last night! And…”

 

I shrugged hopelessly.

 

I don’t even know anymore.

 

Carine was really laughing now, almost bent double.

 

“Esme…I…” she sniffed, trying to catch her breath again. “I can’t even…”

 

She wiped tears from her eyes.

 

“Thank you,” she wept, choking on giggles. “I didn’t know it, but I needed that.”

 

Sensing my window of opportunity (and why had she not slapped me and walked away yet?), I held out the gala ticket.

 

“Would you come?” I pleaded. “I know I’m a lunatic, but please come to my gala!”

 

“Esme, of course,” Carine said softly, giving me one of her arm-squeezes. “I would love to come to your gala.”

 

“I’m really, really sorry about what I said at the yoga class,” I told her. “And, like, now also. I really don’t know what that was. I’m really ashamed. I’m just weirder and more offensive with you than anyone else.”

 

That in itself came out weird and offensive

 

Carine gave me a brave smile, eyes glittering like sapphires. Just so goddamn pretty.

 

“No problem,” she said, in that way she says words with the careful pronunciation of all the consonants that sounds so cute and intelligent.

 

And sincere.

 

“Are we…” I gazed at her lips, thankfully still curving upwards, cringing at the childishness of what I was about to say. “Can we still be friends?”

 

“Of course!” Carine burst excitedly

 

(Excitedly?)

 

“If that’s alright?”

 

“Alright?” I repeated incredulously, wondering what the hell went on in that brain of hers and whether I’d ever truly find out “…It’s perfect! Carine, you’re the best!”

 

Carine beamed.

 

It was honestly alarming. Like watching a lightbulb during a power surge.

 

Jesus she is so beautiful.

 

I feel like I die a little every second she’s not smiling like that.

 

“Here! Let’s have a mini quiche!” she said in a celebratory way. “I can see the nibbles!”

 

I followed a bubbling Carine to the food, feeling so relieved, I can’t even describe it.

 

Apparently sharing my sentiments, she bit into her quiche with relish like she hadn’t eaten all day.

 

“Oh, thanks,” I said, suddenly feeling a little shy, as she very sweetly and carefully handed me one of my own on a plate.

 

Then, Carine giggled and nudged me, eyes flitting to the macarons and I felt my lips quirk up in amusement.

 

I think I’m about to find out what a sugar-high Carine is like and I think it will be terrifying. And probably absolutely adorable.

 

“So, who have you come as?” I asked her, finally getting to give her my customary up-and-down glance to admire her as she perused the snacks scientifically.

 

“Mmm,” Carine said, trying to chew and swallow her food quicker to answer me. “Doctor Who”

 

“Doctor….who?” I repeated, feeling nervous.

 

“That’s right,” she nodded.

 

“…Who?”

 

Carine’s eyes twinkled slyly.

 

Is this a joke?

 

Oh fuck, she’s trying to do a joke.

 

“Carine…” I began apologetically. “If you’re making a joke…I’m sorry but I really don’t…unders-”

 

“Oh!” She laughed. “No, it’s not my joke.”

 

She took a breath and began to explain.

 

“It’s, like…I say…‘I’m the doctor’…and you say…‘doctor who?’ And I say ‘that’s right!’”

 

“But…you actually are a doctor in real life…” I said, squinting.

 

My brain…

 

I am not getting this.

 

“Yeah! Exactly!” Carine said. “That makes it work even better, actually.”

 

“Wha…?”

 

“It’s a British TV show about an alien with a time-machine,” Carine explained, with the dangerous wind of enthusiasm starting to blow.

 

Uh oh.

 

“Called ‘Doctor’?” I winced, bravely.

 

Uh oh.

 

“Called ‘Dr Who!’” Carine said, gesturing to herself. “I’m wearing the scarf.”

 

“You always wear a scarf,” I laughed.

 

“Yes but this is the scarf from the show,” she emphasised. “From back when they were a man. They’re a woman now.”

 

“So, wait, you’re a gender fluid alien who travels through space?”

 

“And time,” Carine corrected me sheepishly. “But yes.”

 

I am honestly lost.

 

I am confused as shit.

 

What, Carine? What?

 

“And I came as a slutty Mini-Mouse…” I chuckled. “That’s just typical.”

 

“Aww, Esme, no!” Carine laughed, giving my puffed sleeve a little tweak. “You look…fantastic! The little heart on your nose is just lovely!”

 

I felt a blush in my cheeks. Carine Cullen said I looked fantastic. And my eyeliner love-heart nose was lovely!

 

She was probably just being nice, but still…

 

Just then she turned, and I was suddenly extremely pissed off with whoever was interrupting.

 

If it is Alice again, I swear to God…

 

“You like Dr Who?” Eric said hopefully, now back inside his helmet.

 

I think we’d somehow managed to summon him with nerdy energy (I mean that affectionately, by the way. Anything Carine likes is automatically awesome).

 

I relaxed a little, and realised I should probably apologise for shoving past him.

 

“Sorry, I’ve never seen it,” I said. “And I wasn’t trying to be rude when I-”

 

Angela appeared just in time to shrug.

 

“S’cool,” she said.

 

Funnily enough, I believed her.

 

God, it’s refreshing to find people who’s hobbies include cosplay rather than holding grudges.

 

“And, Esme, you’re the artist, right?” Eric asked excitedly.

 

“Ah…artist?” I asked quizzically, flicking a look at Carine who looked guilty.

 

“Carine keeps saying you’re crazy good at art,” Eric explained.

 

“Oh…” I said as I thought of something to say to that. “I…”

 

“I wasn’t trying to be rude by talking behind your back,” Carine cut in gently, but quickly.

 

“Well…I’m…I’m flattered,” I stuttered, seriously flattered.

 

“I meant it,” she admitted quietly. “You are very good.”

 

“Th-thanks,” I said, still kinda dumbstruck.

 

“We think it’s awesome,” Angela said warmly, and slightly apologetically as she spotted my embarrassment for being complimented.

 

Carine talks about my art to her friends? My art, of all things?

 

Wow. I mean…wow…

 

That’s really…

 

“S’cuse me, bro,” came Emmett’s rumble from somewhere behind me and then he was towering above the little circle we’d made.

 

“The Hulk!” Eric squeaked in excitement. “Can we grab a selfie?”

 

“The Hulk?” Emmett repeated, looking amazed. “You fucking kidding me? Not one single person in this room…Fuck me…”

 

“Er…don’t mind him,” I cringed, patting Eric softly on the arm to reassure him that Emmett wasn’t really angry.

 

“Sorry bro,” Emmett laughed. “Fault’s probably on my end. Sure you can get a picture.”

 

“Shreck, yes?” Carine asked with her typical precision after a second of consideration.

 

“Thank you! Finally!” Emmett breathed theatrically as Eric put his phone away again (God knows where. I don't think his suit has pockets). “I’m Emmett, Rose’s man. And you must be Carine.”

 

“Yes I am. Hello,” Carine said giving him a hand to shake.

 

She’s a handshaker. I absolutely love that.

 

And I’m so glad they’re finally meeting!

 

I think I must have cartoon love-hearts in my eyes looking at my friend meeting my other friend and being friends.

 

Some people say I’m a simple person.

 

“Well I’ve heard a…lot about you,” Emmett laughed to Carine, eyeing me with a twinkle as he wrung her hand. “Sorry about the green…”

 

“S’okay…”

 

“Well…you’ve not heard that much,” I interjected before Carine could get the wrong idea and think I was obsessed with her or something.

 

“I didn’t say from you, Esme,” Emmett grinned.

 

“Well now you just fucking did!” I huffed, blushing.

 

Fucksake.

 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Carine smiled, eyes flicking to me curiously for just a moment. “And…hello Rosalie.”

 

“Hey,” Rose said dismissively as she appeared next to Emmett in a wind of perfume and purpose.

 

“Who have you come as?” Carine continued with a brave friendliness.

 

“Batman. Emmett we need to go,” Rose said tightly. “She really isn’t well.”

 

“What’s up?” I asked her.

 

“Leah has really bad abdominal cramps,” she rushed. “The sitter wants us to come home. Might be appendix.”

 

I gasped.

 

Not little Leah!

 

“Oh my God, Rose,” I breathed. “You gotta get out of here!”

 

“Where are the cramps, exactly?” demanded Carine, suddenly very present.

 

I was a little shocked when Rose turned to fix the doctor with her I-will-torch-your-eyes-out look.

 

“Er…stay out of this, maybe?” she snarled.

 

“Esme, do you want to stay here?” Emmett asked me as Rose glared daggers at poor Carine. “Edward and Jacob have gone home to fuck, so we’re your ride.”

 

“I can drop her home,” Carine suggested helpfully.

 

“Can you, now?” Rose bit.

 

What the hell is going on between these two?

 

“Rose, babe, c’mon,” Emmett said placatingly. “Esme can go home with Carine if she wants.”

 

Doesn’t sound like a bad deal from my end.

 

“Go to Leah, Rose,” I begged her, knowing she was just really worried about her little girl and needed to be with her. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“Esme, I’ll call you,” Rose said in way of agreement, but not taking her eyes of Carine for a second.

 

Was that a warning to her?

 

Carine isn’t going to murder me.

 

“Sure, Rose,” I nodded, squeezing her into a tight, reassuring hug. “Go get your baby.”

 

As Rose left my arms, another pair caught her by the shoulders, as if to steady her.

 

“Whoa there, gorgeous,” the guy chuckled. “Careful!”

 

…I…do not think we know this guy. Or like him. At all.

 

I felt myself stepping forward protectively.

 

“I’m Paul Lahote,” he continued, like I wasn’t about to break his nose.

 

Or try, at least.

 

“But you can call me Paul.”

 

“I’m worried mother, and you can call me not interested,” hissed Rose to the guy and his leering crony. “Get the hell out of my way. I have an emergency.”

 

“Okay, what’s all this?” asked a very interested Emmett who had reappeared, spinning a pair of car keys like they could take someone’s head off.

 

In his hands, they probably could.

 

“Dude!” laughed asshole number two after a moment, probably realising why the huge green guy seemed familiar. “That’s Emmett McCarthy!”

 

He screamed with slightly drunken laughter.

 

“You just hit on Emmett McCarthy’s girl!”

 

Asshole number one laughed.

 

“Man, can I get an autograph?” he asked, brightening. “Or a selfie?”

 

“You want my autograph?” Emmett asked with the kind of sarcastic twist that meant he was feeling dangerous.

 

Carine sensed this too.

 

“Alright,” she said, stepping between them with a forcefulness which surprised me (and her Jedi voice). “Their kid needs to go to the ER. Let them go.”

 

Call-me-Paul chuckled incredulously and got right in her face.

 

To my astonishment, I actually felt myself trembling.

 

I’m gonna kill him.

 

If he lays a finger on Carine I. Will. Kill. Him.

 

“And what are you going to do?” he whispered, somehow louder than most people talked normally. “You fucking dyke.”

 

“Hey, how dare you!” burst a furious Alice (who had obviously come to watch), tiny hands balled into tiny fists.

 

Losing patience, and probably not realising who she was, Call-me-Paul swatted the pixie carelessly away.

 

The room braced itself knowing what would inevitably follow.

 

“JASPAH! DON’T!”

 

I guess I won’t be the one killing him.

 

Chapter 15: A Friend

Notes:

The beginning of the (major) feels!

This chapter ended up as being quite long and it's very dialogue-heavy, but I hope you love reading it as much as I loved writing it :)

I know this has been super slow-burn, but it will be burning a little quicker from now on!

Enjoy...

Chapter Text

 

It had started raining while Carine was talking to the cops.

 

A brawl at Alice’s place is always an Event, so there were a few of them here.

 

I really hope Carine comes back soon - my breathing is running away from me again and my body starting to rush like I’m falling.

 

This is honestly the worst feeling…

 

Oh! Here she comes! Thank fuck!

 

The door of the car opened and then Carine was there.

 

My beautiful angel.

 

“Hey,” she breathed, bopping me on the nose exceedingly gently with the pad of her thumb. “Feeling any better, there?”

 

I don’t honestly remember much of what happened between some guy barrelling into me, presumably by accident, and then Carine steering me outside before very professionally refusing the cops’ offer to call me an ambulance.

 

I guess I had a pretty impressive panic attack after the fight broke out.

 

And I guess it was still kind of going.

 

“Ah…a little?” I stammered, and then started to cry at how afraid I was, how pathetic I sounded and how amazing she was.

 

“Awww,” Carine said sympathetically and started rubbing my back like I was a little girl.

 

I started to cry harder.

 

We stayed there long after all the other cars had gone - until the world felt a little more real and a little more manageable again.

 

When we did finally set off, Carine drove smoothly and I barely realised we had been moving anywhere until I saw the familiar prickling of my neighbour’s (frankly fucking annoying and tasteless) garden fairy lights.

 

“Okay, then,” Carine said after she had pulled up neatly outside my house. “This is you.”

 

I didn’t move.

 

This is pathetic and selfish, but I really couldn’t let her leave me. Not yet.

 

“Would you like me to come in with you?” Carine asked, probably knowing full well what I was thinking.

 

“Yeah, don’t go!” I whispered urgently, even though any normal adult would thank her for her extreme kindness and let her get home finally. “Please.”

 

“Okay,” Carine smiled, hiding her ire extremely well and unclipping her seatbelt. “Shall we?”

 

I staggered up my steps and let us in to my cavernous hallway.

 

I hate this fucking hallway.

 

I turned to Carine to ask if I could get her anything, but stopped, seeing the deep frown on her face.

 

I guess she also hates my fucking hallway for…some…reason…

 

“You still live in the house,” she stated, rather than asked, but there was a request for an explanation in her voice.

 

She stared around the place, eyes narrowed.

 

“What?” I stumbled, caught completely off-guard.

 

“I didn’t know you still lived in the house you lived in with Charles,” she said, turning to me harshly.

 

This time it sounded like an accusation.

 

How the hell could she tell he used to live here? None of his stuff is still around.

 

“It’s my house,” I responded, rising to what I saw as a challenge of ownership.

 

“Is it?” Carine asked in a whisper.

 

I suddenly felt like she was trying to be deep.

 

But I am feeling super literal right now, and not in a place where I can translate from “Enlightened” to “Normal Human”.

 

“Er, yes it is, thanks,” I snapped.

 

Fucking Carine.

 

“You are not staying here,” she decided.

 

My eyebrows flew up in shock.

 

“Excuse me?” I spluttered, seeing Carine’s face flat and determined.

 

“I don’t think you should be here tonight,” she said, a little softer, obviously realising I’m about to go nuts.

 

“Why not?” I demanded.

 

“There’s rather a…” she weighed her words. “Strong male presence here, don’t you think?”

 

“Well that might be because I have a boyfriend!” I countered.

 

Carine stopped dead, shocked. Like I just slapped her full in the face.

 

Huh! The nerve!

 

I’m not that un-datable, thanks! This shouldn’t be an impossible concept!

 

“You’re…seeing someone?” she breathed, eyes like a drenched kitten’s.

 

“Well, no,” I admitted.

 

That’s not the point.

 

“But I could have been…”

 

“That’s true,” Carine allowed, collecting herself again. “Very true.”

 

She took a deep breath.

 

“I just think the vibe here is not good for you after what’s happened tonight,” she told me. “…Staying where you were…”

 

“You get a bad vibe from my house?” I said shrilly, voice rising with every word. “And now I’m not allowed to live here anymore?”

 

“…Abused.”

 

There was a beat of silence.

 

I pretty long, heavy beat.

 

Like the heart of an enormous dinosaur. You know, the type that ate fucking rocks.

 

“Pack a bag, Esme,” Carine said slowly. “Pack a bag for tonight, and I’ll take you to Edward’s place.”

 

“Ew, no thanks,” I whined, like a kid, to disguise my growing rage. “I think he’s probably busy for the foreseeable future.”

 

“Rose’s then?”

 

“Her kid is at the hospital!” I hissed.

 

Poor Rose! That’s another thing to think about.

 

“That’s the last thing she needs!”

 

“Esme, you are still sick,” Carine said emphatically. “And this is the last thing you need.”

 

I can’t believe she said that.

 

After all this time, she finally fucking said it.

 

“That settles it,” I snarled, in the best impression of Rosalie I could manage, hurting. “Then I guess we’re going back to your place.”

 

“Fine,” Carine said mildly, holding her hands up as if to placate me. “Suits me.”

 

Throwing her a seething look, I turned and stormed upstairs to my bedroom.

 

As quietly as a ghost, Carine came too.

 

“Are you going to stand there like a mule or are you going to help me pack?” I spat as she stood in the hallway outside my room.

 

She gave me one of those shrugs that requires all of your arms, a gesture that looked so stereotypically Italian, it made my blood boil.

 

“Maybe I’ll bring my swimsuit,” I hissed, throwing a bag on my bed and balling random items of clothing into it. “I think I’ll need it. Oh! And some earmuffs. It might get cold.”

 

“It could.”

 

“And pyjamas,” I growled, grabbing flip-flops instead.

 

“That could help.”

 

I stomped out of the room.

 

“And a toothbrush!” I called from my bathroom. “Aaaand these!”

 

I rounded the corner at speed and pelted Carine with a handful of tampons.

 

“Esme!” Carine burst, losing her temper at fucking last. “Would you stop throwing tampons at me!”

 

I did stop, but had another handful ready to go if necessary, which it may become, since she’s about to speak again.

 

“Can we not do this again?” she pleaded, back at her normal volume and looking impossibly sad. “It breaks my heart to see you like this.”

 

“Then don’t see me like this,” I snapped, turning away so she wouldn’t notice I was crying again.

 

Does she even know how much it breaks my heart to break her heart?

 

“Why do you not go?” I said thickly, after a pause.

 

I stared at my blank wall as I waited for a reply. It stared blankly back at me.

 

“What do you mean?” Carine asked quietly.

 

“When I treat you like shit all the time, you just stay,” I whispered. “You never hit back, you never tell me to fuck off, you just take it…”

 

Angrily, I wrenched the zip closed on my bag full of nonsense-clothes.

 

“And I’m so angry with you for doing that to yourself!” I cried, getting really emotional now. “I can see it when I hurt your feelings. I do realise you have them.”

 

I spun to face Carine, then jumped. Completely silently, she had crept right up to me.

 

And like normal, she looked nothing but compassionate.

 

“And then we make up again because by some miracle you forgive me,” I choked. “And then I fuck up and then…It’s just a circle of awfulness!”

 

“I like spending time with you,” Carine said in a small voice.

 

I snorted.

 

“Do you hell…”

 

“For me, at least, it isn’t awful,” she whispered, dipping her head. “I hope it isn’t awful for you.”

 

Then, she looked back at me, tears in her own eyes, which took me aback.

 

“But you know,” she breathed shakily. “I can’t take it one second longer in this room. So I am going to wait in the car. And if you come, you come. And if you don’t…”

 

She threw her hands up in a kind of dignified hopelessness and, like every time she walks away from me, I panicked.

 

“Carine…” I breathed as she left me alone in this domestic hell.

 

Oh fuck. Oh…fuck!

 

“Wait, Carine! I am coming!” I shouted, tearing down the stairs as quickly and as sensibly as I could given my ridiculous choice of footwear. “Hey, hey, hey!”

 

She wasn’t stopping. I was losing her.

 

“Carine!”

 

I huffed as she closed the front door behind her, remembering that I would have to set my alarm before I left.

 

“Just set already!” I snarled at the keypad, jabbing it with venom.

 

Fucking thing!

 

I fumbled with my keys, somehow managing to lock the door in some kind of passable way, and headed straight for Carine, standing forlornly by her car.

 

In the rain.

 

As I reached her, she gave me a lukewarm smile and gently tugged the bag out of my trembling hand and put it in the trunk.

 

We got back in the Mercedes.

 

“I…should be kissing your feet…for everything you’ve done for me,” I told her truthfully, after she had belted up very slowly. “Thank you. Really…thank you.”

 

She is looking so sad now.

 

“But why have you done it?” I whispered.

 

“Because I really like you!” Carine insisted.

 

“I fucking hate it when you do that…” I interrupted horsely.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Lie.”

 

“What do you mean?” she wondered wildly.

 

“Look at me,” I said, inflection heavy in my voice.

 

I am a fucking loser, and that should be plain by now.

 

“I am looking at you!” Carine cried, naturally catching on to my meaning. “Am I disgusted? Do I think you’re…what?…Annoying, stupid…No! Of course I don’t!”

 

“You probably wouldn’t say if you did!” I reminded her.

 

I huffed, mashing the heal of my hand into my head.

 

What a mess.

 

“And now look at this!” I said bitterly. “You’re having to look after me in the middle of the fucking night! You probably have a million other things to do.”

 

“Like what?” Carine shot straight back.

 

“That’s not the point,” I groaned.

 

“Then what is the point?”

 

“I fucking hate myself!” I shouted and she flinched. “I hate myself more that I can imagine hating anyone else! I shouldn’t even be alive!”

 

There. I said it.

 

Happy now?

 

I was breathing hard after my outburst, looking at Carine as she pressed a hand to her mouth and chewed her thumb for a moment, watching the rain flowing in a sheet down the driver side window.

 

She was quiet for a few seconds.

 

“I despise Charles,” she muttered through her knuckles. “And your parents. For making you believe that about yourself.”

 

“Are you here because of that?” I asked her. “Because I discharged myself before you could cure me? You know that goes way beyond professional integrity and-”

 

“I don’t…Consider you…A patient,” she said ardently.

 

“Then what?” I asked with a huff. “You trying to convert me?”

 

Now, I’m definitely the blusher out of the two of us but, to my astonishment, Carine’s face went beet red when I said that. All the way to the tips of her lovely ears.

 

“Wh-what?” she stuttered. “Y-you mean…”

 

Her face cleared suddenly.

 

“Oh, to Christianity, you mean?” she laughed, apparently relieved. “No, no!”

 

“What did you think I meant?” I asked, intrigued, but apparently I was not going to find out because Carine had gone all serious again.

 

“It’s…” she sighed. “…Believe me it’s not that kind of thing at all. In fact…”

 

She shuffled round to face me in her seat. I did the same.

 

“Esme, you have quite a wide social life and you have a lot of friends,” she began. “And Edward and Rose…I believe you’re very close to?”

 

“Yes,” I said. “Where is this going?”

 

“I know I’m not yours,” she said, eyes bright and fixed unblinkingly on mine. “But…Esme, I would consider you to be my closest friend.”

 

What…the hell?

 

“Wow, then you…must have a shitty group of friends,” I joked lamely, buying myself time to think about what she just said.

 

Her closest friend?

 

Um, well…no?

 

I can’t be! It’s not possible!

 

“I can go…from zero to a hundred just by seeing you happy,” she confessed ruefully. “And that’s why I…”

 

Carine looked away.

 

“…Keep trying to make you happy,” she mumbled, shrugging. “So…”

 

“Oh…” I said, before I had decided what to say. “…I…oh…”

 

I still don’t know what to say.

 

“I’m sorry,” she rushed. “That was said too bluntly.”

 

She looked at me with concern.

 

“Esme?"

 

“I’m just processing,” I nodded, vaguely.

 

“I understand.”

 

As I processed, I felt like I needed to help her see that this would never be a good deal. For her, at least.

 

“I just feel that…” I breathed. “That you’re not going to get as much out of me as you deserve. I don’t think I’m the kind of friend you should have.”

 

“Esme, do you like me?” Carine asked, changing tactic and going in direct.

 

“I don’t deserve you,” I reminded her.

 

“This is not about deserving,” she declared. “Do you like me?”

 

When I didn’t answer straight away, she smiled sadly.

 

“Honestly. It’s okay if you don’t really,” she said, real quiet. “But I’d rather hear it now, because I cannot do another night like last night.”

 

I remembered, with terror, that horrible ache in my chest thinking that we were never going to speak again.

 

“Me neither,” I whispered. “But Carine, if I actually say I like you a lot, I feel like you’ll feel obliged to spend time with me. And I couldn’t bear it if you just hang out with me because you feel you have to.”

 

My statement didn’t have the effect that I anticipated.

 

A cheeky, almost imp-like grin was spreading across Carine’s face. It wasn’t stopping.

 

“So…you like me a lot?” she asked, eyes dancing.

 

…And…yeah, I guess this is what I just said.

 

I sighed, and couldn’t help but smile too.

 

“Yeah,” I admitted. “…And I think you’re the most amazing and beautiful and talented person I have ever met.”

 

It felt strangely freeing to finally tell her that.

 

My amazing Carine. My fucking idol.

 

“Then, I think…” Carine said slowly, smiling so much it could have overflowed her lovely face. “You’re exactly the kind of friend I should have…”

 

She let out a beautiful, giddy laugh. So pure.

 

Oh, and she looks so excited to have a friend and that is giving me so many feelings, I can’t even deal with it.

 

“If my ego doesn’t…” she giggled. “…Explode because of-”

 

“Carinecomehere!” I rushed, suddenly feeling desperate to have her close.

 

I undid my seatbelt and frantically pulled her into my arms.

 

She felt like home. A proper home.

 

Finally…

 

After she had gasped in surprise and had a second to think about the whole thing, Carine dipped her face into my hair, which is exactly what I was hoping she would do (but, then again, she is smart like that).

 

I grinned, resting my chin on her scarf.

 

“Let's go get some food!” I suggested slyly, working my audience.

 

My stomach flipped as I felt Carine’s warm smile pressing into my neck.

 

“My!” she chuckled. “Ms Platt that is an…excellent idea…”

 

 

Chapter 16: Harry Potter and the Genius Weasel

Notes:

We're getting close, folks!

Hang in there!

Chapter Text

 

“Seriously Carine, I can pay,” I insisted as the clerk rang up the enormous basket of food we’d manage to accumulate from our circuit around the store.

 

We had gone a little overboard. Maybe.

 

(Okay, there is like a week’s worth of food here!)

 

“It’s the least I can do after pretty much inviting myself round.”

 

To my delight, Carine did not insist upon paying and just shot me an elvish look.

 

“Well…in that case…” she said slyly, vanishing for a moment and returning with a bottle of wine which she dumped on the counter with the rest of the groceries.

 

“Hey, cheeky!” I said in mock outrage, my smile ruining the severity somewhat.

 

Carine was looking like a naughty kid. Just so pleased with herself.

 

“Grab me some white, will ya?” I added as an afterthought.

 

It wasn’t far to Carine’s place and she chattered all the way about random Cariney things, totally hyped and not missing a beat when she reverse parked perfectly into her spot.

 

“Whoa!” I said. “Hey, do that again!”

 

“Am I not in the space?” Carine wondered, opening her door a fraction to check.

 

“You are. You just did that in one manoeuvre in, like, three seconds!” I spluttered

 

“Yeah…?” Carine said, bewildered.

 

“Nobody can do that!” I laughed. “Why are you so good at stuff?”

 

“Oh, I’m not even!” she said, chuckling happily. “I just do this every day!”

 

We staggered inside, convinced that we would be able to carry all the shopping and my overnight bag inside and up the stairs to her floor in a single trip.

 

And hey, we basically managed it…

 

“This…is m’living room,” Carine said once we had unpacked, giving me a tour of her tiny place.

 

We sipped at our wine like we were at some sophisticated gallery or something.

 

“Excuse all my things…”

 

She grimaced at me apologetically.

 

Carine, I noticed, was exceptionally, almost obsessively clean. Like in my own home, there wasn’t a speck of dust to be found, but she had so much stuff.

 

So many books and so much paper, I can’t even tell you.

 

And boxes and boxes full of yet more of the above.

 

She needs a bigger apartment, like, immediately.

 

“Aaaaand, m’bathroom…” she continued as we moseyed further.

 

“Your toilet reading?” I snorted playfully, picking up ‘Knitting For Kids’, and gesturing to the pile of magazines below it. “Or just storage?”

 

“Ah…I would say storage,” Carine nodded, giving my question undue thought. “And then I just get interested, so…perhaps both?”

 

I burst out laughing and jabbed a giggling Carine in the tummy.

 

“A…fine selection, if I do say so myself…” I drawled in my Edward voice.

 

“Why, thank you, madam…” she responded in the same tone.

 

Okay, we’re just being stupid now.

 

We circled back round to the kitchen and after a quick-fire round of ‘what foods do we both love?’ we began to cook.

 

Carine, in her infinite and totally non-ironic wisdom, was starting a guacamole omelette with cheese and peppers. It smelled insanely good already.

 

I was on dessert, rolling out pastry on her pristine counter tops. (Turns out Carine was prepared to call my bluff on the cherry pie).

 

I had to move a few of those really heavy Russian classics and a bilingual dictionary out of the way in order to have enough space.

 

Peeking inside the books like a nosy bitch, I saw a few of Carine’s iconic yellow note cards tucked away, marking where she’d wanted to double-check a translation.

 

She’s so intelligent, it’s un-freaking-real. I’m serious.

 

From the books, my eyes couldn’t help drifting to the wall on the hallway, where The Painting, locked in its protective glass frame-palace, was leering at me.

 

I felt it like an itch.

 

For a woman who had not managed to put up any other art whatsoever, Carine’s effort on the matter Meant Something.

 

…I mean, even if the painting was sold for more than this apartment was probably worth…

 

I looked back at the pastry, which was getting rolled a little harder now, since in my head it now resembled the handsome face of the dip-shit Carine was somehow in love with.

 

The guy who had the nerve, and presumably the permission, to buy her nice things.

 

I would totally buy Carine nice things if she’d let me!

 

“Er…here,” she said quickly, snapping me out of it.

 

I hadn’t realised she’d been looking at me.

 

Oopsie! I hope the murder wasn’t too obvious on my face, though I have a horrible feeling that it was.

 

I unclenched my fists and my jaw, which cracked.

 

If that doesn’t make me seem stressed out…

 

“Shall I put some music on?” Carine suggested, clearly a little concerned.

 

“Sure,” I said, more frostily than I intended.

 

Pursing her lips in thought, Carine put on her eighties playlist for us to dance to.

 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said quietly once the music had started and I gasped as, quite unexpectedly, she folded me into an affectionate embrace.

 

Cariney cuddles have their own specific feeling, I’m starting to learn.

 

A bit like burying warm and safe into a cosy nest of blankets mixed with falling upwards into a very blue sky. Potentially containing Katy Perry clouds made of cotton candy.

 

I fucking love it. I think I’m addicted, not gonna lie.

 

“Nice to be here, too,” I muttered into her ear, holding tight to make sure I didn’t waste any of the hit.

 

Or her beautiful smell, or her beautiful breathing.

 

We swayed for a little while, and I felt the weight that had just fallen on to my chest lift again.

 

Carine wants me here.

 

She’s not with him tonight, she’s with me.

 

I sighed happily into her shoulder.

 

It was so nice just to touch someone for extended period of time. It sounds weird, but I’ve lived alone for a few years now, and I’ve missed it. Really missed it.

 

Sure, the alternative to my solitude was undoubtedly worse, but this…

 

We feel so together right now, it’s making me feel…

 

Real. Just real.

 

“Ahhhh…I…smell…burning,” Carine laughed, ducking away from me to stir the food.

 

I felt lonely again, but still the kitchen was tiny and we kept bumping into each other while we worked and danced around, and that seemed to be enough for now.

 

It was just nice to be close to Carine like this, and to feed each other sweet little strawberries from the punnet we were sharing.

 

(Okay, we were getting perhaps a little tipsy by this point).

 

“I had my first kiss to this song,” I told her conversationally, as I slid the pie into the oven.

 

“Any good?” she asked eating ketchup off a butter knife in a strangely ladylike way.

 

Off a knife, Carine? Not even a spoon?

 

Fuck, even doing borderline gross things, she’s beyond adorable.

 

“Ah…nope,” I answered, then chuckled ruefully. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

 

Carine was looking at me, wide-eyed and interested, swaying slowly, but out of time to the music.

 

She’s killing me here.

 

“What about you?” I asked after the power of speech returned.

 

“Wha?” she mumbled, mouth full of ketchup.

 

“Your first kiss?”

 

“Mine…”

 

She smiled thoughtfully.

 

“College,” she told me after a second. “A guy called Ernest. Another exchange student.”

 

“What was he like?” I wondered.

 

Probably a douchebag. I think I hate him.

 

“He was…” she giggled with anticipation. “Earnest.”

 

I collapsed laughing. Carine jokes are so good when you’ve had a bit to drink.

 

“It didn’t work out,” Carine said wryly.

 

“Good,” I said with finality.

 

“Good?” she laughed incredulously. “That’s not what you’re meant to say!”

 

“He wasn’t good enough for you,” I decided, indignant.

 

“He was a lovely guy, actually,” she admitted.

 

“Still…not…go-od…enough!” I said in a childish sing-song voice.

 

I didn’t want to talk about Carine’s boyfriends anymore.

 

They’re assholes.

 

Carine opened her mouth to reply, but I cut her off.

 

“Which college did you go to?” I asked as a semi-natural subject change.

 

“Um, well I went to Stanford,” she said quietly. “But studied abroad for a bit. As you know.”

 

“Fucking knew it, Stanford!” I chuckled. “I bet you graduated top of your class.”

 

Carine shrugged.

 

“Oh, you did? You weasel!” I exclaimed, so proud of her. “That makes you an actual genius, you…do realise this?”

 

“Weasel?” she smirked. “I don’t ever recall being called a weasel. Is that a midwest thing?”

 

“How…how did you know I was from the midwest?” I asked suspiciously.

 

She raised a mischievous eyebrow.

 

Oh, Carine, it’s on!

 

“You can. Fuck. Off. Carine,” I laughed, swatting her with a damp tea towel.

 

In response, she squealed so satisfyingly, I felt it in my belly.

 

“Sorry I curse a lot,” I said after a second, suddenly realising what a totally gorgeous, perfect princess Carine is, and that, compared to her, I must sound rough. “Does it bother you?”

 

“Not really,” she said, fiddling absently with the towel she’d pinched back from me.

 

“Not like having a sailor in the house?” I asked.

 

“No!” she insisted loudly. “More like a…lovely…mermaid…”

 

She knew that sounded weird, and blushed.

 

Not wanting Carine to feel awkward around me for even a second, I humoured her and sang a line of the new song’s chorus.

 

She fumbled with the towel and dropped it.

 

“You’re such a good singer!” she gasped as she popped back up from her brave retrieval, eyes bulging prettily. “Do it again!”

 

“No, I can’t,” I breathed, remembering myself and not quite drunk enough for that yet. “I’ve gone shy!”

 

“Then I will sing,” Dr Cullen declared bravely. “And that is a threat.”

 

“Go on, then,” I challenged her.

 

Obediently, she took a breath.

 

And then she did.

 

For the record, Carine’s singing is beautiful and adorable and I love it just because it comes from her.

 

…Buuuut, objectively…

 

“Carine…”

 

“Go on,” she grinned. “You can say it.”

 

“I don’t want to be mean!” I cringed.

 

She raised an eyebrow and I felt my mouth open of its own accord.

 

“I can’t si-”

 

“-You can’t sing-” I finished.

 

We both snorted with laughter.

 

“The neighbours probably want to lynch us,” Carine sighed happily, dumping, what looked to me, like way too much cumin into the food, but she knows what she’s doing.

 

“Hey! Hey, Carine!” I said excitedly.

 

“Yah?”

 

“Check it out! ‘Harry Potter and the Genius Weasel’ and ‘Harry Potter and the Lovely Mermaid,” I said, waiting for her agreement that I was practically Einstein here. “Books nine and ten.”

 

I furrowed my brow absently.

 

“Wait…how many books are there already…?”

 

“Art,” Carine pronounced regally, tipping her glass to me. “Why were they never written…?”

 

Playfully, I nudged her, and she was hit with a bolt of inspiration.

 

“Come and see my movie collection!” she enthused, grabbing me tentatively by the hand and leading me back to the living room.

 

My fingers tingled like magic. All of me tingled like magic.

 

I guess she is magic, after all.

 

I gave her warm hand a friendly squeeze to show her that I appreciated her superpowers.

 

“Wow…” I said, tracing my free hand along the spines of the DVD boxes once we reached our first actual set of shelves of the night.

 

They were all lined up in perfect order, of course.

 

“Oh, Game of Thrones, season one is still at my place,” I apologised, as I reached the ostentatious gap in her collection with my finger. “Sorry, I…er…forgot to pack it…”

 

Along with most of the things I would need to stay over. Oops.

 

Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.

 

“Have you had time to watch it?” Carine asked me hopefully.

 

“No,” I admitted. “But we could watch it together!”

 

She nodded, pleased.

 

“Oh!” I cried, as I noticed where my hand had stopped. “This is Dr Who!”

 

“We could watch an episode while we eat,” Carine suggested, untangling our hands so she could shoot back to the kitchen and plate up the eggs. “Choose one, if you like!”

 

My hand fell lamely back to my side, feeling like an idiot for being alone again.

 

But the food did smell good, so I guess I can forgive the gap between us. For now.

 

“Oooh, what’s a weeping angel?” I called out to Carine as she carried in our omelettes, the cherry pie and, encouragingly, a huge tub of vanilla ice cream to the sofa table on a tray.

 

She is my kind of gal.

 

“Too scary,” Carine declared. “I…wouldn’t recommend starting on that one.”

 

“Carine, this is for kids, right?” I said, rattling the disks in the box. “I can totally take it.”

 

“If…you’re sure? Carine said, looking unsure.

 

I was, so, grabbing my plate, I cuddled up with (and kind of on) Carine to watch.

 

 

Chapter 17: That Super Scary Aztec Thingy Carine Insists On Having In Her Goddamn Living Room

Notes:

And now...the scaries...

Thank you guys for continuing to read and comment - I just absolutely love y'all!

I hope you're all having a great day!

Now enjoy...A SHARED BED!!!!!!

Chapter Text

 

Has the dark always been this dark?

 

And what was that? That noise?

 

Was that a … a Thing over there?

 

Okay.

 

So…Carine’s living room is, like, the best living room there ever was, simply because it’s hers, but, full disclosure, I am not feeling entirely safe right now.

 

Let me explain.

 

After we had finished our food, Carine loaned me some pyjamas and we got ready to sleep.

 

(It was only when I was in her bathroom brushing my teeth and taking my makeup off that I remembered that through all the events of the evening, I had a mouse-face and ears on. Well, you know. Fuck it. Dignity is overrated).

 

She tucked me in carefully on her couch after I flatly refused to steal her bed for the night and padded off to her room leaving me alone.

 

In the dark.

 

…Crucially, a sitting duck for alien statues intent upon murdering me in my sleep or any moment I happen to even blink.

 

Carine was correct about Dr Who.

 

And I am fucking terrified, because evil alien statues seem entirely plausible right now and-

 

Wait…

 

You hear that?

 

What the fuck was that?

 

I turned on the lamp and jumped when I saw Carine’s Aztec-looking table decoration not on the table, rather on the window-sill next to me.

 

Has that thing always been there?

 

I swear I…

 

Oh fuck! No that was over there a minute ago!

 

Oh my God, oh my God!

 

That thing was freaky to start with!

 

I leapt off the sofa and ran for my life to Carine’s room.

 

“Carine?” I hissed around the doorframe, since her light was still on. “Feel free to tell me to get lost. But…um…do you mind if I came in with you?”

 

Silence.

 

I cringed.

 

“Er…wha…what?” came the eventual reply.

 

Shame-faced, I trudged into the room and saw Carine peering owlishly at me over the top of a very thick book which I could sense was full of that ridiculously minuscule old-fashioned print.

 

“I’m not having a deep regression to childhood,” I explained. “I just…really don't want to be alone. Is that okay?”

 

Carine slowly put the book back on her nightstand and, at the same pace, pulled her duvet up tight to her chest like a little girl.

 

She looked completely terrified by my request.

 

Maybe she thought I really was crazy and I’d slit her throat as she slept?

 

“A-Are you sure?” she choked.

 

Oh. Maybe not, then. I can’t gauge if I’m completely overstepping anymore.

 

I…may have just completely overstepped.

 

“The thing on your table just moved. Towards me,” I explained breathlessly. “I swear to God.”

 

Carine brightened and started to laugh.

 

I followed the path of the duvet back down her chest, as if mesmerised.

 

I was weirdly annoyed at how hidden she still was.

 

Fucking duvet!

 

“I told you we should have watched the Van Gogh one…” she chuckled, but eyed me with sympathy.

 

I must have looked really pathetic standing there staring, because, after a few moments of deliberation, she relented.

 

“Yep, okay. Hop in,” she said, shuffling over.

 

I got in the bed and was immediately engulfed by her lovely, lovely Cariney scent.

 

And her warmth.

 

She is honestly the warmest human. Must be that goddamn metabolism I’ve heard so much about.

 

The pillows smell of intellectual slumber and Carine’s lavender shampoo. It’s so soothing, I can’t explain it.

 

This is nice.

 

Really, really nice.

 

The best, actually.

 

Comfy, and totally safe from extraterrestrial attack, I sighed contentedly and stretched out my toes.

 

Carine would obviously just outsmart the fuckers anyway.

 

The aliens that is, not my toes.

 

In my peripheral I saw her smiling one of her accidental smiles.

 

“What porn are you reading?” I asked, picking up her book, not wanting to miss an opportunity to be obnoxious.

 

“Dostoyevsky,” Carine answered sleepily, but affectionately.

 

“Filthy,” I said, disappointed, and threw it back on the stand, accompanied by her dignified laughter.

 

God, she’s so…

 

I looked at Carine and she looked at me. And I considered her.

 

You see, something’s been playing on my mind all evening, and I need to know what’s up, or I won’t sleep.

 

As far as I can tell, Carine lives alone.

 

So…what’s with that?

 

But I’m going to be sneaky about my questioning. I don’t want her to think I want her boyfriend’s head on a spike, however true that may be.

 

“Carine?” I murmured.

 

“Yup?” she said amicably.

 

“That painting in the kitchen…” I whispered. “That mean a lot to you?”

 

Carine’s smile died, almost imperceptibly, and I probably wouldn’t have caught it had I not been so practiced at trying to read her.

 

“It’s late,” she sighed. “I have work tomorrow.”

 

That would be “fuck off, Esme”.

 

“Of course,” I rushed, backtracking quickly. “Sorry.”

 

We lay in silence for a few moments.

 

I was wishing that I hadn’t even spoken when, to my surprise, Carine did answer me.

 

“Yes. It does,” she said tightly, perhaps thoughtfully. “But it’s a conversation for another time, I think.”

 

Fucking knew it.

 

They are fucking after all.

 

Oh, and it’s complicated.

 

“Is this Aro’s side of the bed?” I said, simultaneously trying to cut to the chase and stir shit.

 

“What?” Carine spluttered right after, sitting bolt upright and looking frankly terrified. “Aro what?”

 

“Your…boyfriend?” I prompted, confused by her response.

 

“Boyfriend?” Carine scoffed. “I don’t have a boyfriend!”

 

I almost grinned. I’d never heard a girl older than about ten deny that so vehemently.

 

...Wait…she...doesn’t have a boyfriend?

 

“You don’t have a boyfriend? You’re single?” I spluttered.

 

What in the fuck?

 

“I…” Carine began, brow furrowed. “Yes, I’m single.”

 

But how?

 

“How?” I demanded.

 

“…Because…” she looked at me with a cunning glint in her eye and her cheeky smile. “I’m…not in…a…relationship with anyone…?”

 

“Yeah, I got that part,” I tutted with an eye roll, smacking her on the arm half-heartedly.

 

I pretty much handed that one to her. I know what she’s like.

 

“But you’re just a total catch, Carine!” I complained. “I dunno how any man could resist you!”

 

She didn’t respond straight away, rather stopped to weigh her words.

 

“What if I’m not interested in them?” she posed at last.

 

“Oh…then…”

 

Shit.

 

I’m not in a position to give romantic advice of this nature.

 

Just…don’t whatever you do marry someone who will make it their project to find out how much they can wound you before you actually die from it?

 

Like hell am I going to say that.

 

“I guess you’ll meet someone someday?” I tried, wincing at my over-cheerful tone. “Patience is the answer?”

 

“Yeah,” Carine nodded, eyes far away. “Patience.”

 

There was quiet.

 

“I thought Aro was your boyfriend!” I hissed, but trying not to sound too accusing.

 

She needn't find out the worry the whole thing has caused me.

 

“Aro is really Arianna,” Carine explained. “It’s a nickname. She’s a woman.”

 

A woman?

 

I had not considered this.

 

So…they are just friends after all! All that panic for nothing!

 

Just friends.

 

Just…friends...

 

I don’t know how I feel about that, actually.

 

“A college friend bought you a Monet paining?” I said sounding more suspicious than I meant to.

 

“She’s a good friend,” Carine shrugged. “And we didn’t go to college together. I just met her at that…time.”

 

I frowned.

 

Wait…so how does this work?

 

“So you met Aro how exactly?” I demanded.

 

To my joy, Carine started to shake with laughter.

 

“Esme! Seriously!” she giggled. “You’re like a reversed alarm clock. Somehow I’m only allowed to get to sleep at a predetermined time!”

 

“Well so-rry if you’re the only one who can eat ten eggs just before bed!” I shot back, digging her in the very warm ribs.

 

My fingers tingled.

 

“I have a fast metabolism!” Carine insisted.

 

“Or a tapeworm…” I muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.

 

Carine nudged me playfully.

 

“I do not have a tapeworm,” she responded. “I checked.”

 

“You checked?”

 

Carine tipped her head back and laughed even harder. This time, there was nothing I could do to stop myself joining in.

 

“With a blood test, Esme! I didn’t stick my entire arm in my butt! What were you picturing?”

 

To be honest, pretty much exactly that, but I wasn’t planning on admitting it.

 

“Okay, a blood test,” I grumbled. “I get it. Sorry for talking…”

 

“S’okay,” Carine said smiling.

 

I hope the smile was as fond as it looked.

 

“Talk tomorrow.”

 

“Night Cariney-Bean,” I said, reaching out to give her hand a last squeeze.

 

She squeezed back.

 

“Sweet dreams Essie-Bear,” she said so carefully, she almost didn’t make a sound.

 

My breath hitched.

 

We’ve both given each other a cute nickname. I am too happy right now.

 

I turned away onto my side but didn’t get to sleep for a while.

 

I was trying to digest the enormous plate (and second plate) of food that had been too delicious to refuse.

 

The entire evening for that matter.

 

I couldn’t help but smile against my- Carine’s - pillow.

 

Fuck you Not-College-Friend Aro. She’s my best friend now...

 

Chapter 18: The Bombshell

Notes:

Ooookay.

Big Chapter.

Because today is the day Esme FINALLY finds out that Carine loves puss- *hep hem*

Ahem...er finds out something about her...ah...friend.

And you can image how THAT goes down...

Chapter Text

 

When I woke, I felt impossibly blissful, like in a commercial, and the sun was streaming through the window.

 

But…whose…

 

Oh Carine’s! I’m at Carine’s place!

 

Mmmmm…

 

I sighed with happiness and ran my hand luxuriously over her soft sheets, enjoying the memory of Carine as it sent up clouds of her scent.

 

Oh I love smelling her.

 

We’d fallen asleep together, Carine’s breath increasingly hot on my neck as we’d moved closer and closer together.

 

Unlike normal, I’d dropped off to sleep quick, but woke with a jolt a little later, remembering to text Rosalie.

 

The sight of Carine sleeping made my heart lurch. She was so curled up so tiny, like a squirrel when they hug their own tail.

 

Except that tail was me after I shuffled back into the bed and into her warm arms.

 

The memory was making me tingle.

 

Through groggy, half-open eyes I saw a glint of gold twinkling above me and felt my stomach flutter.

 

“Carine?” I whispered reverently.

 

Carine harrumphed in a very non-Cariney way.

 

“‘Fraid not,” she said in Rosalie’s voice.

 

I opened my eyes properly, since there was in fact a Social Interaction going on and I hadn’t even realised.

 

“Wakey wakey, crazy!”

 

“Rose!…Where’s…Carine?” I burst, sounding like a bewildered, disappointed kid.

 

“Work,” she replied, kinda too harshly for this time in the morning.

 

Wait…what time is it?

 

“She asked me to be here when you woke up. And those are not your normal pyjamas,” Rose said flatly in one breath.

 

Her frown deepened…

 

“No, they’re Carine’s,” I told her, stretching my arms and yawning.

 

The frown deepened again.

 

“How’s Leah?” I breathed, suddenly remembering the most important thing I needed to think about. “What did the doctors say?”

 

“What did they say?” Rose said, giving a twisted smile. “Oh, they just gave me a few nuggets of parenting advice like…don’t let your kid stockpile six months’ worth of her candy, and her brother’s, and eat it all in one night under her bed while watching The Simpsons.”

 

“Oh…shit…” I breathed.

 

Poor Rose.

 

Rosalie gave a tinkling, though rather sarcastic, laugh.

 

“She’s half me, half Emmett, what the hell did I expect?” she huffed. “The doctors probably think…I don’t know.”

 

She rubbed her temples.

 

“And the fact Emmett rocked up to the ER as Shreck didn’t exactly help matters either. You know…serious parenting, and all.”

 

“He’s just a fun dad,” I reassured her, clasping both her hands in sympathy. “…And I’m so glad she’s okay!”

 

“God, so am I,” Rose breathed. “But, are you alright, Esme?”

 

She fixed me with quite an urgent, searching look.

 

“What happened after we left last night?”

 

“Oh, the panic attack?” I said, unconcerned.

 

That felt like weeks ago.

 

“It was okay. Carine totally-”

 

“I meant being here!” Rose hissed. “Why the hell did she bring you here? I didn’t know where you were!”

 

With Rose’s voltage, I started to feel not so great.

 

My head hurt a bit now.

 

Oh, now a bit more.

 

“I’m…sorry what…what time is it?” I muddled.

 

Rosalie froze.

 

“Were you drinking last night?” she asked me, eyes narrowed to slits.

 

“A…bit,” I admitted, though it was totally worth it.

 

“You don’t drink,” Rose reminded me.

 

“Well, Carine got a bottle or two when we-”

 

“So she got you drunk?” Rose said quietly, rage in her eyes.

 

The pressure on my fingers increased as she clenched her hands.

 

“I got me drunk,” I corrected her with a smile at how amazing the whole evening was. “And it was fun, actually.”

 

Rose’s face shut down into Action Mode.

 

“Esme. I do not like this whole thing,” she told me, no nonsense. “She took you back to her place, got you drunk in her pyjamas and you went to bed together?”

 

Ughghhghughhghhuughughguhh…huuuuhhh…Rosalieeeeeeeee…

 

I’ll confess. This Important Conversation is straining my attention a little.

 

I want Carine to come and hold me, not Rose to come and fucking…shout at me about it and try and ruin what I think was probably the best night of my life.

 

She’s probably just jealous.

 

“What time is it?” I repeated.

 

(…If…I had already said that. I can’t remember).

 

“Ten forty-five…” Rose snapped.

 

“Oh shit! “ I laughed as I rolled out of bed. “That late…!”

 

Oof, my head is spinning.

 

Shouldn’t have done that so fast.

 

“I’m hosting hungover brunch today, don’t worry,” Rose said tiredly as I noticed what was on the nightstand for me and squealed like a little girl.

 

“Aww! Carine left me aspirin…” I sighed.

 

Darling Carine!

 

She’d even put out water and the right number of pills, something I now saw as an act of care, rather an insinuation about me.

 

“Oh, she’s amazing!” I breathed.

 

“Don’t take it,” Rose said seriously.

 

“You are fucking with me?” I laughed, worried by how not fucking with me she was looking. “She’s a doctor.”

 

“Fucking…Harold Shipman was a doctor!” Rose snapped, storming out of the room and towards the kitchen as I went ahead and took the fucking pills already. “Oh look and she made you breakfast too. Huh, jeez…”

 

“Oh, Carine…” I smiled to myself, feeling warm all over again.

 

I padded into the kitchen to see, to my horror, Rose tipping the food into the trash.

 

“Rose! What the fuck!” I shouted.

 

“I’m getting you out of here,” she replied. “Get your stuff!”

 

“I need to write her a note at least!” I snarled in reply.

 

How…dare she?

 

Taking a yellow notecard aggressively off the pad, I thanked Carine for the aspirin, the breakfast, and the best evening of my entire existence and signed it with lots of kisses so Rose might get my fucking point that Carine was exquisite.

 

She did not seem to.

 

So, predictably, the drive back to Rose’s place was fraught.

 

However, I, for once, was feeling…at peace.

 

The fact that I was wearing the hideously small Minnie-Mouse dress in the light of day did not even bother me, nor the fact that, as usual, Rose was driving slightly too fast.

 

And the hangover…I was cool with it.

 

It’s all part of the universe, man.

 

Wow, I’ve not felt calm like this for years.

 

This is incredible.

 

Maybe I have found God?

 

But who knew God was a beautiful blonde with a huge heart, amazing cooking skills, a stunning mind, stunning body and the most perfectly…horrible singing voice you ever heard.

 

Angel of a woman.

 

I have to tell her that, I think.

 

Oh, and I’m her Best Friend. I don’t know if I mentioned…

 

I guess I was smiling like a moron, since Rose was looking seriously concerned.

 

Even to the point where she helped me out of the car and into her kitchen when we arrived at her place, pity replacing anger.

 

“Mom, can we have chocolate chips in the pancakes?” Seth lisped hopefully as I ruffled his hair.

 

“Nope. Thanks to your sister we are all going to be having Healthy Breakfasts,” Rose snapped. “For a long time.”

 

She glared at Leah who shot an absolutely identical glare back.

 

I had to hide my smile as Rose then stormed out of the room in search of more candy stashes.

 

After finding three bags of Reece’s Pieces wedged under her bath last night, she realised she would have to check the entire house.

 

Leah is indeed her child.

 

“Esme!” An over-cheerful voice greeted me as Edward breezed in, shattering the serenity in an instant. “You look like shit!”

 

Ugh, he’s so loved up this morning. And so loud.

 

“Thanks, Edward,” I muttered, trying to fish my shades out of my handbag at the same time as helping Seth start his non-chocolate pancakes. “You look lovely.”

 

And he does. Happy, with his grinning Jacob in tow.

 

“Ooooh, last night’s dress,” Jake chortled. “Big night, I bet!”

 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” I said, halting my rummage.

 

“You and Carine Cullen going back to her place together…” Edward said expectantly, gesturing to me like I was extremely slow. “Like…no homo, Esme…”

 

He leant back handsomely against the counter, dropping handfuls of blueberries into his mouth and looking extremely pleased with himself.

 

“I don’t get it,” I sighed, fucked off with this conversation already.

 

“You know…Carine…Cullen,” Jacob prompted, gently but with heavy inflection.

 

“Er…Carine…?”

 

I windmilled my hand to request elaboration.

 

“She’s gay,” Edward threw out carelessly, staring at his phone like this was the most casual conversation in the world.

 

Which it is now not.

 

It must be the hangover, but it felt like a fucking quarry detonation just happened in my brain.

 

“Who?” I gasped. “Carine?”

 

I felt whatever I was holding slip through my fingers.

 

“Mom!” Leah yelled triumphantly, hoping somebody else might be about to get in trouble too. “Aunt Esme just dropped an egg!”

 

“Uncle Edward just dropped a bombshell,” I hissed, rounding of the guy, snarling almost like a dog and brandishing a wooden spoon like it was a steak knife. “Some answers, please!”

 

Edward frowned in mock concentration.

 

“Yes…no…” he began infuriatingly. “To get to the other side. One-point-seven-seven-two-four-”

 

“I do not want to know what the square root of pi is!” I screeched.

 

“You knew that?” Eddie spluttered, looking absolutely gobsmacked.

 

Jacob, seeing that I was about to Lose It, decided to throw me a bone.

 

“Carine’s ah…quite well known for her seminars and research on…um…conversion therapy and, like, how it affects people in the rest of their life…” he told me slowly, eyeing the kids in the room and wondering how much he could say. “Like, she’s totally Anti. It’s something that she went through herself.”

 

“Wow, really?” I said, desperately needing to process this.

 

“Yes,” Edward answered. “Crucially, she was, and remains to this day, a huge lesbian.”

 

“Whoa, okay,” I whispered faintly.

 

The world around me was spinning.

 

“Esme, how do you not find any of this stuff out?” Edward huffed, ruffling his hair up.

 

“That…I would very much like to know…” I choked.

 

C-Carine is…sh-she’s…

 

B-But…sh-she…

 

H-How did I not…

 

(Brain exploding, brain exploding, brain exploding).

 

“Also, ah…it’s rumoured that…” Jacob began carefully.

 

“What?” I cried.

 

“No, sorry, I never should have spoken…” he tailed off.

 

“WHAT?”

 

“Really want me to tell you?” he said slyly.

 

“I…yes!” I spluttered. “Edward, make him tell me! Jeez Lou-ise he’s worse than you!”

 

“Okay, Dr Cullen is single,” Jake whispered conspiratorially. “And has fallen seriously hard for someone in your Gala committee!”

 

“In the…Oh my God!” I breathed, bracing myself against the counter for support. “Wait…Oh my…who?”

 

“I wouldn’t like to speculate,” Jake said coyly. “But whoever she is, for Carine, it’s…serious.”

 

“Like, The One, serious,” Edward added, looking unimpressed with me for reasons I couldn’t fathom.

 

Obviously my lack of all knowledge of all things gossip.

 

“Oh no!” I breathed, realising what I had done to her. “And I banned her from the committee!”

 

Oh, Carine! No!

 

“Oh no, I take it all back! She can come back!” I half-sobbed.

 

The thought of Carine curled up alone with her boxsets pining over some stupid, underserving, extremely lucky but utterly clueless woman made me want to weep for her.

 

If only I’d know as soon as I-

 

Hang on a moment…

 

“Wait…have you always known this?” I demanded of Edward.

 

“What?”

 

…Huh! What?…

 

“Carine!” I exploded. “Carine being gay!”

 

What the fuck else could I have meant, Edward?

 

“Well…yah…” he said, absently swinging his phone between his fingertips.

 

Huh! Obviously someone’s world isn’t imploding…

 

“And you didn’t think at any point to tell me?” I stormed.

 

“S’not relevant,” he shrugged.

 

“Not relev…”

 

I don’t believe this.

 

“Says you!” I roared. “You tell people you’re into guys before you even tell them your name!”

 

Edward gave a bark of laughter.

 

“Hah! Classical Esme-exaggeration,” he said, oozing contempt. “But, fine.”

 

“A classical what?” I snarled.

 

“Why do you care about all of this so much?” Edward asked me, something akin to pity on his youthful face.

 

“Why do I care?” I repeated incredulously. “Because it’s important.”

 

“Because suddenly you realise why you hated her so much,” Edward sneered, changing tone. “Must be all that disgusting lesbian energy.”

 

“Edward you know I don’t feel like that…” I huffed, mostly to reassure Jacob who was looking a little alarmed at the turn of events at ‘quiet breakfast’.

 

“Don’t flounce off, Edward!” I shouted as he began to walk away. “Hey! I am not done talking to you!”

 

“Well I am done talking to you,” Edward sniffed. “So I guess I’ll just flounce away with my faggot ass and…”

 

“I did not mean that!” I called as he made for the door. “Don’t you dare twist my words!”

 

“Come on Jacob, we’re leaving,” Edward added loftily.

 

“Please thank Rosalie for having me over,” Jake whispered as, apologetically, he complied.

 

“Seriously?” I muttered to myself as the front door slammed. “Un-fucking-believable…”

 

There was a giggle from my elbow.

 

“Hey, and don’t you laugh, missy!” I said, bopping Leah on the pigtail as I tried to regain some kind of composure. “I heard all about yesterday…”

 

“Where’s Edward and Jacob?” asked Rose, returning downstairs empty-handed.

 

“They…” I cringed, noticing Child and Safety Hazard. “Oh, here, Seth, I’ll do the pan for you. It’s too hot, sweetie.”

 

I gave a crazy evil-witch cackle, waving the frying pan in the air.

 

“Edward ran off.”

 

“Christ, what did he say to you, Esme?” Rose pleaded, looking appropriately sorry for me.

 

Thank God for Rose knowing it’s usually Edward to blame for most conflict.

 

“I…”

 

I actually couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before.

 

I must be in Shock.

 

Exciting.

 

“I’ll make us some tea,” Rose said gravely. “I think we all need a detox. And a talk.”

 

Hair shimmering, she stalked to the doorway.

 

“Emmett, honey?” she yelled out to the living room. “Where did I leave the chamomile?”

 

“Wasn't Edward here?” came Emmett’s rumble over the baseball on TV.

 

Rose grunted in frustration.

 

“You have got to be…”

 

She slammed the cupboard door closed to relieve some of her feelings.

 

“That. Little. Bastard!”

 

Chapter 19: Dangerous Woman

Notes:

Guess who's back

Guess who's back

Guess who's back

Guess who's back

da-na-na

Hey everyone!

Hope ya'll have had a nice six months while I haven't updated this.

I have nothing to say beyond...please forgive me! And keep reading!

:)

Chapter Text

While I went through the rather interesting process of completely losing my mind, Rose had headed out to run some unspecified errands which I really hoped involved walking over Edward’s cold corpse to bring the tea back.

 

How dare he even…

 

I knew one day he’d destroy what was actually left of my sanity.

 

Well today was the day. He told me Carine was gay.

 

Oh! And that rhymed!

 

Sitting on Rose’s toilet where I’d run to cry my eyes out after she left, I let my head fall into my hands.

 

Trying to deal with some kind of feeling that I don’t understand.

 

It really doesn’t bother me if Carine’s gay or not. It really doesn’t bother me.

 

So why the fuck is it bothering me so much?

 

Is it because she’s not the person I thought she was?

 

I stared at the wall waiting passively for the answer to come to me and, eventually, it did.

 

No, I could never see her with a guy.

 

In fact, she’s even more of the person I thought she was.

 

Now I think about it, it’s so obvious Carine would love women.

 

I felt heat under my skin and a sob build in my chest.

 

Oh my God. It’s so right.

 

But…no…

 

With dull horror, I could feel realisation ooze towards me like sludge.

 

Arianna.

 

Is a girl.

 

And Carine.

 

Likes girls.

 

Oh-ho-no you don’t…

 

Guess my first instinct may have been correct.

 

It’s not too much of a long shot, I thought fugitively. There must be a picture of the two of them somewhere on Instagram or whatever.

 

I slipped my phone out from between my bra and this tiny fucking dress which I am still somehow wearing.

 

Carine Cullen Arianna, I googled, with no small degree of pain.

 

And then, strangely prominently, there they were.

 

Except…

 

What the fuck, Carine!

 

I gawped at the screen. Literally gawped.

 

My hands were shaking.

 

Okay, so I am not stupid enough to think that everyone named Arianna looks like Arianna Grande, but that is kind of what I had in mind.

 

…Perhaps she was working as a barista in a trendy coffee place and Carine used to come in there to study…

 

…Maybe they had a cute romance based on writing each other little notes on napkins, giggling a lot and zipping around Italy in one of those tiny Fiat cars you can get in pink, bought by Arianna’s rich dad…

 

Kind of…you know…where a ‘dangerous woman’ is a cute twenty-something in rabbit ears.

 

And not someone who will send men.

 

To your home.

 

In a black SUV.

 

To break your legs and set your pets on fire because of ‘nothing personal - it’s just business’, which is what I’m looking at now.

 

“Ho-ly shit.”

 

I laughed. Actually laughed at loud.

 

“Carine…” I whispered weakly. “This…? Why…though?”

 

I don’t believe this. I don’t…be-lieve this…

 

“Arianna di Volturi,” I breathed slowly. “You…”

 

I tried to think of something to say to adequately communicate my feelings to the world-famous politician I had zero interest in until right now.

 

Now she’s ruining my life.

 

“You…slut,” I spat at her distinguished, olive-toned face, before laughing at myself and the unsuitability of this entire situation. “You fucking…little slut, Aro!”

 

She’s impeccably dressed. Dark-haired and striking. Powerful.

 

And probably the reason behind Carine’s rather uncharacteristic love of shiny black cars.

 

In the photo, Aro and her cute entourage are standing on a flag-flanked balcony for photos for some EU meeting shit. She’s smiling at the sea of journalists down below in a strangely non-mammalian way, probably wondering if they’re even worth her while devouring.

 

And off to the side, looking inconspicuous, but still present (and captioned), is my Carine.

 

Baby, college Carine.

 

Look at her long hair! Awww!

 

I couldn’t resist just a tiny screenshot. Of Carine. Not the…others.

 

…Like Aro’s smirk as she receives one of Carine’s precious Intense Looks.

 

Bitch.

 

“Uh,” I huffed, thinking.

 

How is Carine there? What is she doing?

 

And Aro…

 

There is definitely something there between them.

 

So, okay, we’re not even going to talk about why Aro would want Carine, that’s obvious. She’s the most beautiful woman ever. And smart. And lovely.

 

But Carine’s thing for Arianna

 

I mean…dorkiness aside, Carine is…she is a powerful person.

 

And…like attracts like?

 

I need to get off this toilet.

 

Emmett will know immediately.

 

“Emmett…can I borrow your superpower a sec?” I said breathlessly as I, back downstairs at long last, thrust my phone in his face.

 

“Sure, Es,” he said amicably, muting the game.

 

“These women,” I said, pointing towards lovely Cariney and…and Her. “Are they…?”

 

Emmett looked at me expectantly.

 

“Sleeping together?” I just about managed to choke out.

 

“The blonde chick and…uh…serious lady?” he asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

Emmett considered for a moment.

 

“No…”

 

“Good,” I breathed, feeling my knees weak with relief. “Because otherwise I’d fucking fr-”

 

“But they’re totally about to,” he laughed.

 

“GODDAMMIT!” I screamed, making Emmett jump.

 

A look of horror slowly slid onto his face.

 

“Oh shit, that’s your doc, isn’t it?” he cringed. “Oh, Esme, I’m sorry.”

 

I could tell he was on damage control now.

 

“Esme, hey, this is old shit,” he said, quickly getting up to give me the hug I needed. “You know, forget that hag.”

 

He gently prised the phone out of my hand and put beautiful, famous Aro down on the table.

 

“You don’t have to worry about her.”

 

But I do have to worry about her. Carine likes her.

 

There was a weird Edward-like moment while he seemed to read my mind.

 

“Cullen’s got her eye on someone new,” Emmett said, then tried to nudge some cheer into me with his elbow. “Huh?”

 

I sighed, utterly forlorn.

 

“Yeah,” I managed dolefully. “But who on the Committee is really…I mean they’re all bored, self-obsessed housewives. Married housewives. Married to men…I don’t know who Carine could possibly…”

 

I stopped. Emmett was looking very shifty.

 

“Emmett…you are looking very shifty,” I told him.

 

“Me…no…no…I…”

 

He shrugged.

 

“And you are sounding very shifty…”

 

I looked around for Rose to agree with me, then remembered she wasn’t there.

 

“And…where’s Rose? Do think she’d like us to make some lunch for the kids?”

 

Emmett shook his head. He looked like he was physically trying to stop himself from saying something. His face looked strained.

 

“No…Rose was getting takeout,” he said measuredly.

 

“Well…she’s been gone a long time,” I mentioned. “So…”

 

“She also…had an appointment,” Emmett…improvised?

 

Oh lies, is it?

 

“What kind of appointment?” I asked, suspicious. “Was it the doctor? Is she okay?”

 

Emmett nodded. The strained look was getting worse. I was worried he might burst.

 

“Won’t you just tell me?” I pleaded, for his sake as well as mine.

 

“ShewenttomeetCarine,” he said as one word.

 

“Rose is meeting her now?” I spluttered. “And neither of them invited me?”

 

I hate not being invited to stuff.

 

And ugh, especially when it’s my two best friends!

 

That hurt.

 

“Rose is just vetting her,” Emmett told me carefully. “…Alone…”

 

“Alone? Why?”

 

“Independently…of…you…” he said slowly, windmilling his hands and eyeing me meaningfully, like I had any hope of catching on to what he meant.

 

“Why?” I demanded.

 

He gave a moment of pause to think about the most tactful way to answer my question and settled on:

 

“Esme. The chick’s trying to fuck you.”

 

“No she’s not,” I laughed.

 

Oh…Emmett…

 

He looked sceptical about my scepticism.

 

“She’s trying to get to know me so that I can introduce her to this mystery woman on the Gala Committee,” I corrected him. “Which is, you know, fine. Happy to…I’m happy to be of…be of help.”

 

He raised an enormous eyebrow, still showing traces of green paint.

 

“I’m fine with being just someone she needs a favour from, and not…”

 

“Esme?”

 

“I’m fine with it!” I snapped as the front door opened.

 

The hallway filled with the sound of heels and the smell of takeout.

 

And deceit.

 

“Hey Rose,” I smiled, betrayed but brave.

 

She was obviously not fooled by my nonchalance. Her face fell immediately.

 

“Jeez, nice Emmett,” she sighed, dumping the bag of food on the table.

 

He shrugged.

 

“Rosie, I said we shouldn’t go behind her back,” he said, fair. “She got it out of me and you knew she would.”

 

“Rose?” I asked in a small voice.

 

Explain, please?

 

“I arranged to meet her this morning because I’m not happy with what went down last night,” Rose said.

 

“Just because she’s gay doesn’t make her a…guy, you know?” I told her.

 

“I know that,” sighed, strangely gently.

 

“And plus,” I laughed, handing Rose my phone.

 

“Plus?” she asked.

 

Plus it’s not like I would have a chance.

 

“So, Carine is a…is a…lesbian,” I began, if Carine’s sexual preference are even something you can begin to talk about. “Have you noticed how there are literally hundreds of gorgeous women walking around this neighbourhood?”

 

“Gorgeous women?” Rose laughed.

 

“I mean, they’re like, beautiful,” I continued.

 

“Um, I’ve not really noticed,” Rose said with a teasing tone I’m not sure I’m happy about. “But…I guess so…? Emmett?”

 

“Hundreds?” he laughed.

 

The two of them shared a grin. I think at my expense, which is not very nice at all.

 

“Well there are,” I snapped. “But you know what Carine does?”

 

“I-” Rose began.

 

“You know what she does?” I repeated, an octave higher as the whole thing came crashing down on me. “She…bangs the megalomaniac who runs Europe!”

 

Jaw set determinedly, I gave a sharp nod slapped my hand on the table.

 

BOOM.

 

I mean really…

 

I mean who would ever…?

 

This whole thing is so Carine, I can’t even…

 

“It’s okay to have a relationship with an older woman,” Rose shrugged ‘reasonably’. “If she-”

 

“Yeah, if she wasn’t politically active during the fucking Cold War!” I rushed, practically snarling. “Carine was, like, eighteen! And Aro’s…what? Sixty now? Older even?”

 

“Esme, it’s really not like-”

 

“How the hell did they even meet?”

 

“At a church,” Rosalie said calmly.

 

They talked about it?

 

And wait…a church?

 

“Well that’s just…”

 

I cackled.

 

“Esme…” Rose started, but I cut her off.

 

“Look at the picture!” I exclaimed, which is worrying (it’s only ever Edward who ‘exclaims’ stuff). “Either Carine was a sugar baby or a secret agent.”

 

I laughed.

 

“And I genuinely don’t know which.”

 

“She’s a woman,” Rose said softly. “Who’s in love with another woman. And struggling with it.”

 

“And since when are you on Carine’s side?” I wondered and I do have a point.

 

Earlier Rose was ready to claw Cariney’s lovely eyes out.

 

“Since about forty minutes ago,” Rose informed me. "I don’t…particularly like Carine…”

 

She gave a tinkling laugh, then sighed.

 

“But I…get where she’s coming from,” she continued. “And it looks like she’s gonna be around for a while. Because this…for her, it’s not going to go away.”

 

“This the Gala Committee…thing?” I asked, chewing my thumb thoughtfully.

 

“Yah,” Rose nodded.

 

I paused.

 

Carine unhappy simply cannot happen. That’s it.

 

We have to help Carine, in whatever way possible.

 

She needs to be with this woman.

 

Carine needs to be loved.

 

“So…” I began slowly, as the mist of an idea solidified in my head. “I have a plan.”

 

When I was done explaining, both Emmett and Rose looked blown away.

 

Presumably by my brilliance.

 

 

Chapter 20: A genius, genius Plan

Notes:

Well, it has been fucking AGES, so we're probably due another chapter.

I should put that in the summary - 'Chapter updates every fucking ages!'

Honestly, this bitch...

In any case, I hope you like this.

And NEXT CHAPTER THEY WILL GO ON A DATE FINALLY YES THAT IS A PROMISE IT'S EVEN KINDA WRITTEN SO I KNOW!

;)

Chapter Text

 

 

It was kind of thrilling to think about.

 

Carine in love. With a woman.

 

Not a man, a woman.

 

Like she is.

 

I could hardly bear the thought of those soft sheets of hers with the lavender smell and Carine tossing and turning between them, thinking of her love.

 

Does she dream about her?

 

Does she wake up in the middle of the night, flushed?

 

Wanting her?

 

Does she pretend she’s there?

 

Does the ghost of the woman’s hand lace with Carine’s.

 

Gently, lovingly.

 

And guide it down…and down…and-

 

No! No!

 

Bad Esme!

 

Bad. Esme.

 

I should not be thinking about…that. That is not okay to think about.

 

Carine is my friend.

 

My friend who needs my help.

 

And I most certainly should not be thinking about what it would be like to receive one of Carine’s piercing looks up close.

 

The ones like she can see inside you.

 

Imagine that just inches away.

 

Above you.

 

You could feel the warmth of her, smell her.

 

See all the different blues in her eyes.

 

Every tiny eyelash.

 

So close, just inches…

 

Imagine her meaning that just for you.

 

…Because she wants nothing better than to take hold of you and just-

 

“Um…Esme?”

 

“Huh?” I wondered, breathless.

 

I think I just missed what Rosalie said.

 

She chuckled and shook her head.

 

“I have the page up,” Rose repeated, brandishing her phone.

 

“O-okay. Hit me,” I said, trying to clear my head of…what…whatever the hell that was so I could focus on the Current Threat.

 

Always better to know the enemy.

 

“So…she’s had a very long and successful career in international politics,” Rose told me, scrolling absently through Wikipedia while I started rummaged for a clean towel for the shower I so desperately needed. “She’s been President of the European Commission for six years…”

 

I huffed, unimpressed.

 

“Her husband is-”

 

“Husband?” I huffed. “Huh!”

 

“Yuh huh,” Rose confirmed. “Her husband is an arms dealer.”

 

“An arms dealer?”

 

“Art dealer, I said,” she corrected me.

 

“I don’t think you did,” I said, suspicious. “Although…that would explain the painting, I guess.”

 

I scowled.

 

“He’s called…”

 

Rose chuckled.

 

“Oh my God…he’s actually called Vladimir.”

 

“Okay, continue…” I nodded, laser-focused but totally not emotionally invested in any of this information.

 

“Net worth…” Rose began as she found the next section. “Verrrry vague…”

 

She snorted.

 

“Although Segnora di Volturi is apparently a great lover of art and old artefacts,” she recited. “And a generous benefactor.”

 

“And a bastard. And a piece of shit,” I continued in the same sweet tone.

 

Rose chucked her iPad onto my bed.

 

“They’re not a thing, Esme,” she sighed. “How many times?”

 

“I can’t be-lieve Carine told you so much she hasn’t told me!” I fumed. “Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

 

“Hmm, I know….weird….” Rose wondered with a quirked eyebrow. “Why would she treat us differently?”

 

I don’t know either.

 

Probably because Rosalie’s prettier than me.

 

Fucking Rosalie!

 

Rose laughed wryly as she continued to read.

 

“Oh…You’ll love this,” she snickered. “Di Volturi has also made it her mission to ‘draw more young women towards politics’”

 

“I bet she fucking has!” I exploded.

 

The nerve!

 

“Un. Real…” Rose grinned.

 

“So…you’re telling me sexual predation on foreign college students is not on her resumé?” I asked her, my sarcasm, I hope, biting.

 

“Nothing I can see…” Rose told me, squinting at the screen.

 

“Well I’m stunned that didn’t make it into the bio…”

 

My God…

 

Livid, and more determined to help Carine than ever, I rummaged deeper in my closet and considered my options.

 

“So…” Rose began flatly as I returned with an armful of clothes. “You’re still planning to…”

 

“The bar two blocks from Mike’s” I confirmed with a resolute nod. “With the purple sign.”

 

I chuckled.

 

“I think I’ll be the first straight woman to ever set foot in there.”

 

Rose laughed in return.

 

“I…doubt that, Esme.”

 

She looked me up and down.

 

“…Aaaand when poor Carine agreed to go…” Rose continued, sceptical. “…Did she know you were going to play mind games with her?”

 

“I’m not…”

 

Ugh! Rosalie!

 

“I am not playing mind games,” I corrected her. “I’m just gonna…”

 

“…Say that you are also lesbian to create an air of trust…” Rose laughed, without humour. “…Which you will then use to extort the name of Carine’s obsession from her…”

 

She eyed me meaningfully.

 

“…So that you are able to manipulate the two of them into a relationship for your own self-fulfilment,” she finished with a flourish, giving me the stink-eye.

 

Er…no…

 

“Okay, those were quite nasty words that you used,” I huffed. “Where were…best friend and selfless and doing her a favour amongst all that?”

 

Rose blew out a long breath, flopping back on the bed.

 

“Esme, am I the only one who has heard the words ‘Carine’ and ‘conversion therapy’ in the same sentence?” she spluttered.

 

She looked at me like I was being insane.

 

“Most likely her sexuality is a delicate thing, here,” she continued, somehow incredulous with me. “I wouldn’t fuck with her like this.”

 

Rosalie is clearly not understanding this plan.

 

“What do lesbians wear?” I inquired on a more constructive topic. “Like smart-casual lesbian?”

 

“Not what you are wearing,” Rose bit. “No human wears that. And certainly not for a whole twenty-four hours. You have a disease.”

 

“Hey!” I cried, indignant. “Emmett liked it!”

 

I looked down at the horrible dress.

 

I guess I am wearing it, still.

 

“And Edward fucked me with the fancy dress thing,” I reminded her. “I wasn’t feeling well. I couldn’t prep!”

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“Rosalie!” I prompted. “Gay woman! Wardrobe!”

 

“I dunno,” she shrugged, sounding so much like Emmett that I smiled despite myself. “Flannel shirts?”

 

“That is not smart casual, Rose!” I huffed, exasperated. “I really need to earn her trust here!”

 

“And what then?” Rose asked, unimpressed. “You force this woman to date her?”

 

“No, just…”

 

I had a delicious vision of Carine’s beautiful smile as I deliver her the woman of her dreams. And I, Esme Platt, am promoted to Best Friend Ever.

 

I’m talking chief bridesmaid here.

 

I bet Beanie would look stunning in her wedding dress, my God. I think my eyes would actually melt.

 

This chick better watch out or I’ll marry Carine.

 

“…Encourage it,” I finished delicately.

 

Beside a gawping Rose, a vision of Carine’s beautiful ghost, all in white, spread herself out on the bed, giving me a thoughtful look.

 

“Esme, you have considered that it might be you she likes, right?” Rose asked.

 

The lovely dream vanished leaving behind only a pissed-off looking Rosalie.

 

It can’t be me.

 

“It can’t be me…” I whispered.

 

“Why…not…?”

 

I shrugged.

 

The movement detached one of Minnie Mouse’s bows on the sleeve of this ugly dress which is now hanging limply down my arm, completing the truly pathetic picture which was one Esme Anne Platt.

 

You know why, Rose…

 

“God…you know…” Rosalie laughed, almost hysterically. “I wish Charles was still alive so I could kill him.”

 

She got up to take me gently by the shoulders. The bow fell on the floor.

 

Carine would never love me.

 

“You are worth it, Esme!” she cried. “You must see…”

 

“Carine’s my friend,” I said more robotically than I meant to. “And that’s why I have to help her…”

 

“Help her…date some bitch you probably hate?” Rose finished.

 

I pouted.

 

Goddammit, she’s probably right and, on that train of thought, I was struck with a horrible inspiration.

 

“It’s Jessica,” I said hollowly, horror closing in on all sides. “Rose…is it Jessica?”

 

“Stanley?” Rose spluttered, laughing.

 

“Yes, the recently divorced Jessica Stanley,” I reminded her.

 

Shit, that almost made sense.

 

No, no, no, no, no, no, n-

 

“Um…didn’t you hear?” Rosalie told me eagerly. “Last night Carine almost challenged her to a fucking joust to defend you honour.”

 

“What now?” I demanded.

 

“Jessica made some shitty comment about your panic attack,” Rose told me. “And then whoosh…”

 

She brandished am invisible sword to make her point.

 

“Really?” I breathed. “Carine did?”

 

Aww Carine! My darling! Finally telling that little piece of grubby-

 

Wait! That bitch!

 

“Hold up!” I squeaked, interrupting my own thoughts. “What the fuck did Jessica say?”

 

“Oh, usual shit,” Rose said with an eye roll, waving a dismissive hand.

 

I grunted my understanding.

 

Some women in this town are just so fucking boring about stuff.

 

In fact, Jessica’s basically the anti-Carine. No class at all.

 

I mean, like me, but that’s different.

 

It is honestly so attractive when people have the self-confidence not to put other people down.

 

Like, Carine looks like an angel and acts like it too, which, logically, makes her an actual angel.

 

I don’t know how she can exist on the same mortal plane as everyone else, especially me, but I’m her best friend, so obviously-

 

“Um…Earth to Esme! Hello!”

 

“What?” I said, bewildered.

 

Rose shook her head affectionately.

 

“You have your Team Carine face on again,” she laughed. “Penny for keeping your thoughts to yourself.”

 

“My Team Carine face?” I spluttered.

 

“The look you get before, in any given conversation, you treat us all to an educational talk on lovely Carine’s various skills, attributes and achievements,” Rose quipped.

 

I bristled.

 

“Alright then, Edward,” I snapped.

 

Rose looked apologetic.

 

“Sorry, that was a bit far.”

 

“Damn right!” I huffed, although my brain was whirring.

 

Maybe my friends have heard a little about Cariney recently.

 

Or a medium amount.

 

Okay, possibly quite a lot.

 

“Esme”, Rose said after a moment of quiet, uncharacteristically softly.

 

“Mmm?”

 

Rose’s face was kind. She really means what she’s about to say.

 

“You know…we’re all supportive of this.”

 

“This?” I demanded.

 

“Caresme,” she laughed gently.

 

I felt a sudden stabbing in my stomach, like I was going to start crying.

 

I had to look away.

 

“Well, I don’t really know what you mean because there’s nothing between us,” I muttered, scowling like a kid. “She really doesn’t feel that way about me.”

 

“Oh…my…God…” Rose said, eyes wide with incredulity. “I found you in her bed this morning wearing her clothes.”

 

“Um, Emmett has found you in my bed,” I reminded her. “Wearing my clothes, more than once and he doesn’t freak out!”

 

“That’s because it’s a little different,” Rose continued animatedly. “She’s like that that Thing out of Lord of the Rings, you know? With the ring, like, obsessing over you and wrapping you up in her clothes and burying you under her bedsheets so nobody can come and steal you. You’re like the fucking precious.”

 

After her speech, Rose wrinkled her nose. I think she’d managed to gross herself out.

 

“Hmmm, that is an Image,” I cringed. “Not flattering.”

 

“We didn’t settle all our differences earlier, lets put it that way,” Rose breezed coolly. “However…”

 

The degree of pity in the look that she levelled me with was a little insulting.

 

“Esme, please forget this plan and just talk to her honestly,” she rushed. “This is like watching a road crash.”

 

“I just feel like I have to,” I said, tears starting to burn my eyes.

 

“You’re willing to ruin your friendship in order to set her up on a date?” Rose asked aggressively.

 

“I just want her to be happy,” I whispered, so quietly I’m surprised Rose caught what I said.

 

“More than you want you to be happy?” she spluttered.

 

I nodded fiercely. If Carine’s happy, I’m happy.

 

“Fuck’s sake, you’re like a toddler!” Rose cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I cannot reason with you.”

 

I was actually crying now.

 

“Don’t do it, Esme. Don’t do it,” she pleaded. “Carine is not in a place where you can get cozy with her and then take it all back.”

 

I fixed Rosalie with my scariest glare.

 

I have. To help. Carine.

 

How does she not see this?

 

“Esme if you do do this,” Rose snapped, rising to her perfect feet. “I will not respond to anything you say during the pleading call you’ll make, asking me how the hell to fix the mess. I mean that.”

 

Rose was already striding out of the room as I held the glare.

 

“And please put on some other clothes,” she sighed angrily. “You look fucking ridiculous.”

 

I was standing very still, feeling hotter and hotter and more and more trapped in my own skin.

 

As soon as I heard my front door slam, I released the pressure as a scream of frustration.

 

Suddenly frantic, I ripped my childhood dress off over my head and, holding it against the floor with my foot, pulled it upwards with all my might, tearing it into two ugly, stupid, shallow, boring, neurotic, naïve, fat, greedy, gold-digging, rude, lonely, undeserving, depressive, delusional, childless pieces that would never ever be loved.

 

And then my phone rang.

 

Chapter 21: The Restaurant

Notes:

I'm back!

Hello!

And, um, yeah. Here we go.

Esme's doing her Plan, Rose is doing radio silence and Carine is doing...Cariney stuff.

Thank you for your comments on the last chapter and I hope you like this - I really liked writing it.

It's short but sweet. The second half of the scene is basically written and will be up soon :)

Paprika xx

Chapter Text

 

 

It was Carine. Naturally.

 

“Hello Esme,” she said nicely, after I had lunged for the phone like a maniac and frantically answered her call. “You forgot your ears.”

 

“Hey Carine!” I gushed, so happy to hear her voice after hours without her. “Err, my…what?”

 

“Your ears?” Carine repeated. “Your mouse ones? They’re still at my place.”

 

“Oh…those…”

 

“I could drop them round if you’d like,” Carine suggested brightly. “Or if you’d like to come and collect them, I’m in…”

 

“Actually…” I said thoughtfully.

 

This is perfect.

 

(The Plan, the Plan!)

 

“Carine, I fancy going out for a drink if you want to come with,” I blurted before I could come to my senses.

 

There was a short pause.

 

Carine was Thinking about this.

 

“Esme, I’d love to,” she said softly when she answered at last.

 

Success.

 

But here’s the thing.

 

The problem is Carine has an Assertive Personality and so all of a sudden we had upgraded to dinner, her treat. And the place is fancy.

 

I don’t quite know how her Jedi powers can work over the phone as well as in person, but I do know that the Plan will be more difficult now.

 

And I realised I actually had to make an Effort.

 

I mean, this could be the day I prove to Carine I can dress like an actual human sometimes.

 

I showered, washed my hair, shaved my legs, the works.

 

I picked out my favourite ruffled lilac shirt and a black mid calf-length skirt. It’s kind of fifties-ish, maybe.

 

I thought I’d wear it with low heels.

 

I curled my hair, which I’m pleased to report worked out really well today.

 

Before I walked out of the door, I looked at my reflection and forced a smile.

 

I looked nervous, but, dare I say, kind of…okay.

 

I grabbed my stuff and got a cab to the restaurant, grateful that I'd dressed formally, seeing what everyone else was wearing.

 

The attendant led me upstairs to where Carine was already waiting.

 

It was a really plush place and much quieter upstairs. Private.

 

I might have even said…intimate?

 

Okay, the lighting was designed to make things cozy, let’s say.

 

To pick her out, I looked for Carine’s characteristic gold sparkle.

 

And…

 

….Found…it…

 

And froze.

 

I think I’ve gone into shock.

 

Oh dear Lord .

 

Okay.

 

Okay, okay, okay.

 

Just one second, here.

 

I know Carine.

 

I know the Carine who is a hero and saves people’s actual lives, though her singing could kill you.

 

And the Carine who is a dork and loves ComicCon but has emotional meltdowns in churches.

 

I know the Carine who is super zen and cannot paint.

 

She’s sweet to kids and simply the loveliest friend in the world.

 

However, this, right here, is a different Carine entirely.

 

This is the Carine who goes to bed with billionaires.

 

I mean, the one who paints her toenails red.

 

The one who takes women to expensive hotels in beautiful European cities.

 

Who gets them on their backs.

 

And gives them. The orgasm. Of their lives.

 

Because she enjoys it.

 

Oh. My God.

 

She’s wearing my favourite burgundy turtleneck, but with a fucking pant suit.

 

It’s dark grey with big checks and it was tailored by a genius.

 

Her hair is curled up immaculately around her face. She’s wearing a pair of big gold stud earrings.

 

Her eyes are smouldering, cheekbones doing their thing.

 

She looks stunning.

 

And she’s wearing lipstick.

 

Carine doesn’t wear lipstick.

 

So why is she wearing lipstick?

 

Dark. Red. Lipstick.

 

She waved.

 

I felt my stomach backflip.

 

I can’t be here. I can’t do this.

 

I am Losing It.

 

Jesus Christ, Carine’s just beaming at me.

 

“Esme,” she said softly as she stood up to greet me after my shaking legs had (barely) made it over to the corner of the room she was commanding.

 

She pulled out my chair for me and kindly took my jacket.

 

She gave me a kiss on both cheeks and I got a hit of her beautiful Cariney smell.

 

I can’t speak.

 

I can’t breathe.

 

“H…Hey,” I responded with the last of my air, quiet as a mouse, as if I’d turned into one of those kids who can only whisper to grown-ups they don’t know.

 

Except I am not a kid. And I do know this grown-up.

 

This is Carine.

 

My best friend.

 

And I should pull myself together.

 

“You look gorgeous,” Carine told me softly, admiring me (admiring me?) with a fond smile.

 

I took a shuddering breath.

 

Unfortunately pulling myself together will not be possible at this time.

 

“Um…thanks…” I mumbled.

 

Ugh, Esme! Great time to go shy! Fucksake!

 

“So do you,” I whispered, giving the understatement of the century, glad that my curls hid my face if I ducked my head.

 

“I ordered us some wine,” Carine said, smiling pleasantly to the approaching server who had presumably bolted to go get her order.

 

He looked like he was having a nervous breakdown as well. Probably desperately trying to remember which Hollywood blockbuster he’d seen her in.

 

“Thank you,” she told him.

 

I am going to die at this table.

 

Then Beanie smiled her more human smile, her normal one, at me.

 

“How’s it going, Essie Bear?” she asked me sweetly.

 

“Good,” I breathed, ducking behind my menu to hide my…

 

My…

 

…Thingy that’s happening to me right now.

 

This was just like the dreaded yoga class, but worse.

 

Or maybe better, because I don’t think I’m going to be able to move. Or talk.

 

Embarrassment may be minimal. Possibly.

 

“Would you like some?” she asked, brandishing the bottle.

 

“Yes please,” I whispered.

 

Carine smiled at me affectionately, head tilted slightly.

 

“You’re very inscrutable today, Miss Platt,” she remarked as she poured my wine, Jedi eyes trying to nudge me towards speech, which of course worked.

 

“I…uh…”

 

I risked a peep at her through my hair.

 

I felt my face flare pink.

 

“I…feel a little…underdressed…” I rushed, which was the closest I thought I should get to ‘how the hell do you look so good?’

 

“No, Esme, you’re perfect,” Carine decided solemnly.

 

Esme, you’re perfect.

 

Esme, you’re perfect.

 

Esme, you’re perfect.

 

I don’t think I’m ever going to forget the way she said that.

 

“Oh, um, good,” was my lame response.

 

The Plan is really not going well at this point.

 

In fact the Plan was never going to go well.

 

This woman does not need any help getting laid. Sorry, I had to say it.

 

“Apologies for the change of venue,” Carine said quietly. “It’s just I’ve been wanting to bring you here for absolutely ages.”

 

Her eyes darted appreciatively around the opulent room.

 

And landed on me.

 

I swallowed heavily.

 

I’m going to do this.

 

“It’s really great here,” I said breathily. “But…”

 

Oh Jesus, I am going to do this.

 

“But the…the bar is a…better place to pick up girls.”

 

Chapter 22: Love.

Notes:

Here we go.

Without further ado, finally: Love.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

After I had spoken, Carine’s perfect eyebrow quirked just a little.

 

“I’m actually more into women, which, you figured out, I suppose,” I hurried, face burning.

 

“I wasn’t sure,” Carine mused, delicately leaning forward on her interlaced fingers to study me better.

 

“And it’s so annoying,” I continued, throwing everything to the wind. “Because there’s this one…erm…chick…?”

 

Was that the correct gay terminology?

 

“Ah…that I really like,” I stumbled. “B-But…then I think it’s kinda unrequited, so…yeah. Have you ever had that?”

 

“Had what?” Carine asked lightly.

 

I can’t read her expression without looking at her. And if I look at her, I’ll forget English, so I’ll have to fly blind.

 

“Like…ah…had a crush on a…or like loved a…someone,” I finished lamely.

 

“What are you saying?” she asked, interested.

 

“Look, I heard you were into girls,” I sighed, biting the bullet and looking her in the eye at last.

 

She looked quizzical.

 

“Who told you that?” she wondered.

 

She didn’t look too freaked out.

 

This is a good sign.

 

“Someone I was…talking to,” I hurried. “And h-they said that you liked someone on the Gala Committee and I was wondering who it was…”

 

The eyebrow twitched again, requesting more information.

 

“You know,” I prompted hopefully. “Like, just…gossip in the…not straight community.”

 

“You’re messing with me,” Carine frowned.

 

“No!” I insisted. “I just thought…y’know…who better for romantic advice than someone who…knows…about…stuff…”

 

I looked at her sheepishly.

 

“Who is it that you love?” Carine asked me slowly, with Serious Eyes.

 

Oh. Good point.

 

See! Carine’s so smart! Such a critical thinker!

 

Not great right now, though.

 

Ugh, Carine, you weasel. How will I ever outsmart you?

 

Er…

 

Shit…

 

“She’s…cute and…nice,” I improvised, badly. “And she…works as a…”

 

I cringed.

 

“…Life…guard…?”

 

Jeez Esme.

 

I just had to go there, didn’t I?

 

Why oh why the Pamela Anderson thing now?

 

“Then there’s no point in my answering you,” Carine smiled tautly, swinging herself to her feet. “Excuse me, I’ll be back.”

 

Suddenly, all six-foot-something of stilettos and extremely elegant posture had purposefully set off towards the ladies’ room.

 

There was a beat of stillness while I tried to come to terms with what the hell I’d just done.

 

Failing to do so, I scrabbled in my bag for my phone like a madwoman.

 

“Shit! Rose! I have entered into the most awkward conversation of my life,” I jabbered after she had picked up on the very first ring. “This is going so badly, I need you to help me.”

 

I squeezed my fist to my forehead.

 

“We’re at dinner, and I was doing the Plan,” I explained. “But now Carine just went to the ladies room, and…and…but before that she started pulling some really formal grammar on me and I don’t know what it all means.”

 

Silence.

 

“She’s dressed like America’s Next Top Model, cast as the President in a Transformers movie,” I hissed desperately into the phone. “What does that mean?”

 

Still nothing.

 

“Do you think she’s going to cry?” I wondered wildly. “Or punch me in the face?”

 

Or even leave?

 

I pulled my phone away from my ear to glare at it.

 

The phone sighed.

 

“Oh screw you, Rose!” I huffed, incredulous at her heartlessness in the face of this Utter Emergency.

 

Then again, one of the wonderful but infuriating things about Rosalie is that she always keeps her promises.

 

I will not get one word out of her.

 

Others, however…

 

“Hey is Edward there?” I asked, frowning.

 

You know what, he is there. I can hear him talking somewhere behind Rosalie.

 

“Rosalie McCarthy,” I began, fuming. “When you are talking to me again, we are going to have a talk about this!”

 

This Blatant Treachery!

 

Before she could not respond, I had jabbed my phone to end the fucking call.

 

God! These fucking…gah!

 

What am I going to do?

 

When the clopping of heels announced Carine’s return, my heart stated pounding even harder but she looked thankfully dry-eyed.

 

And, oddly enough, heartbreakingly sympathetic.

 

“I…just had rather an interesting conversation with Edward,” she said by way of explanation, waving her phone.

 

Ohhhh those conspiring assholes…

 

But, really, this mess is my fault, not theirs.

 

And my cover was blown.

 

I am soooooooo busted…

 

“And…I…wonder…” Carine began, looking fairly and justifiably confused.

 

She glanced at me hopefully.

 

Would you please be able to explain, Esme?

 

“Okay, um, Carine,” I said, as apologetically as I could. “I…feel like I’ve kinda fucked this up, haven’t I?”

 

“Well…” she began, wearing her interested meerkat look. “To answer that I’d need to know what exactly ‘this’ is…”

 

“Honestly?” I laughed. “I don’t even know.”

 

I threw my hands up.

 

“You were right all along!” I cried. “I’m a fucking crazy person!”

 

I felt the tears begin to burn.

 

“And I’ve…I’ve lost all my friends,” I choked, thinking about Edward and Rose meeting up together specifically without me and feeling my heart break.

 

“Hey…” Carine said, face crumpling in sympathy. “Esme, I’m your friend and you’ll never lose me, huh?”

 

“I don’t know why I can’t just be normal around you,” I sniffled. “I swear I’m not really as psychotic as you must think I am. Or as cruel.”

 

Carine reached for my hands and took them.

 

“I was voted Nicest Girl in high school y’know,” I whispered pathetically, as if that has any bearing on absolutely anything.

 

Beanie smiled.

 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she chuckled quietly. “You are so kind.”

 

“N-Not an-anymore,” I sobbed. “Rose and E-Edward th-think I’m a sadist and my whole Gala committee talks shit about me and my little baby died. And you hate me.”

 

“Esme, I can’t hate you,” Carine said, shaking her head ruefully. “I don’t think I’m capable of it. It just won’t happen.”

 

“W-Why?” I garbled.

 

“Because…”

 

Carine paused, weighing her words.

 

I seized up, totally alert, somehow sensing the enormity of what she was about to say.

 

“I feel like…we’re halves of the same whole,” she told me slowly, carefully. “I…knew it immediately. And…I think…maybe you did too.”

 

I looked away, as if stung, thinking hard about the shock of seeing her for the first time. The absolute fear of it. The entire Earth tilting on its axis.

 

Scary shit.

 

“I will always be there for you, no matter what,” Carine told me thickly. “We’re a team and I…”

 

She laughed softly.

 

“…I really can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.”

 

Her hands were unusually clammy around mine. They were actually shaking.

 

She burrowed her thumbs into the centre of my palms.

 

It felt invasive, amazing.

 

“And I wouldn’t want to,” she finished resolutely.

 

Her gaze dragged mine upwards to meet hers, like a magnet.

 

It was searing.

 

I never imagined anyone could look at another person like that. Like a blind person seeing colour for the first time.

 

Her eyes, the most perfect sky blue, were bright with tears.

 

But she was smiling.

 

She was happy.

 

Happy here with me.

 

And then something occurred to me.

 

No, this really was Something.

 

It was me who was blind.

 

Completely and utterly blind.

 

Oh fuck…

 

Oh…fuck!

 

See that’s another annoying thing about Rosalie: she’s usually right.

 

Carine laced her fingers through mine. She was giving me the Intense Look.

 

I now realise what that had always meant:

 

I’m yours if you want me.

 

Which…

 

Which…

 

Which…I mean, oh my God, of course I do! Are you kidding?

 

The warmth spread all the way through me, all the way to my fingers and toes.

 

I felt too tender and too weepy to be in a public place. But so giddy too.

 

I felt like I wanted to scream and scream.

 

I have never felt like this. Ever.

 

I have never been so in love with anyone as I am with Carine Cullen.

 

Well…

 

Well…

 

My…apologies to Lauren Mallory…I guess…

 

A gave a little squeak (bearing in mind, I am no longer in control of, or responsible for, my actions at this point) and my hands flew to my mouth.

 

“You…you…Carine…” I spluttered. “You…really?”

 

I was crying and laughing now.

 

To my joy, so was she.

 

“You too?” she breathed, voice rising with excitement. “I mean, we are?”

 

My heart was pounding. I couldn’t believe this.

 

“If you’re sure, Carine, I…”

 

“I am!” she burst, ecstatic. “If you want to I-”

 

“Y-Yes!” I stuttered. “Carine, yes!…”

 

“Esme!”

 

“Beanie!”

 

Carine, and all of her long legs, launched themselves out of her chair towards me.

 

Propriety be damned, she took my grinning face between her palms and pressed tiny kisses all over it.

 

“Carine!” I laughed. “Oh my goodness.”

 

This is crazy. This is everything.

 

“You really want this?”

 

“Yes! Carine!” I sobbed. “A million times yes!”

 

I was so happy. So happy.

 

And it was real.

 

When Carine finally sat back down, we looked at each other. Really looked.

 

Stared, gawped.

 

Ogled each other.

 

Until the server arrived, and Caresme’s calibration time was over, and we were ready to function as a single unit. For real.

 

And guess what?

 

We had a normal dinner.

 

Like a normal couple.

 

I didn’t freak out. There were no panic attacks, furious outbursts, questions about the Nature of God, nothing like that.

 

We just ate our meal (well, okay, it is Us, so we both ate half of one another’s meal, stealthily swapping plates so as not to ruin the class of the restaurant, and boy did we do dessert, but anyway).

 

After we had finished, Carine paid the bill to the poor kid, who still looked like he thought he was dreaming, and we got up.

 

Carine handed me my bag and my jacket and I fixed her collar.

 

She swooped me a look as we meandered down the street to her car.

 

“I really love you, Esme Platt,” she said airily, content.

 

I squeezed her hand.

 

Her hand. Carine’s actual hand.

 

Our communal hand.

 

“Well that’s mighty convenient, Carine,” I chuckled, bashful. “Because I love you too.”

 

 

 

Notes:

(I hope that was sufficient to excuse over three years of slow buildup. I really tried, guys, I really did.)

Notes:

Yay! You made it!

Please keep reading!