la belle dame sans merci | carlisle cullen

Eighty-Six

Note: How about a short, goofy, feel-good chapter after all that?

Now, Minerva wouldn't call their footing even. Never that, but how in awe she was to come out the other side of everything with her friend still her friend. He knew— he stayed. It felt like a very deep, very old wound finally scabbed over somewhere in her soul— if she had one, anyway.

Any residual wariness from their falling out, discomfort from their fight, it all seemed to evaporate: Evaporated and left things feeling like they had a year ago, things felt normal again. Better than normal, really.

Minerva looked up from a book when the bell jingled over the door of the shop to find an absolutely Giddy looking Carlisle Cullen. "You look jolly." She pointed out, a smile blossoming on her face.

"I'm always jolly." Carlisle replied, leaning on the counter before her, "You willing to play hooky?"

The book very slowly closed in her lap, "I never took you for a bad influence." She accused with raised eyebrows.

"I have my moments." He replied, "Please?" She broke almost immediately.

"What the hell, why not?" Minerva shrugged, "Let me lock up. What do you have in mind?"

Carlisle met her as she came around the counter and smiled like it was his birthday as he placed a hat on her head. She had to tilt her head up to see him over the brim. "We're gonna play baseball."

She frowned up at him but his eyes only glittered, "How do you figure that's gonna work, speedy?"

Carlisle shrugged, "I'm like.. well, we'll see. Alice says the storms gonna start in an hour. So.. chop-chop?"

"I have so many questions." Minerva breathed with an exasperated laugh. God, it was nice to see him smile like that. She made quick work of locking up while Carlisle practically bounced on his feet. "Have I ever seen you this excited about anything?"

"Probably not." Carlisle admitted as he followed her out, she locked the door and rifled for her car keys. "I'm driving." He informed before turning his back to her and crouching down.

Minerva blinked at him and he looked over her shoulder.

"What?"

"I get motion sick." Minerva reminded.

"I think those were extenuating circumstances."

"What about I hate it?"

"I'll go slow."

"No, you won't."

"It'll take too long to drive—"

"You drive like a demon."

"It's a twisty route."

"You're indestructible."

"My porche isn't and neither are you."

Minerva grumbled as she placed her hands on his shoulders and hopped, hat tucked into her bag, "Nice of you to worry about your Porsche before me."

"She's vintage." Carlisle amended.

"Yeah? So am I."

With that, Carlisle took off like the bullet out of a gun. Had he been mortal, Minerva would have choked him out by now. Her arms were a vice around his neck, legs secured around his waist, face tucked into his neck and her arm. "I knew you wouldn't go slow!"

"I'm done with going slow!" Carlisle yelled over the wind.

By the time Carlisle came to a stop, Minerva had grown so acquainted with the feeling that she didn't realize right away. It felt like they were still running. He tapped her arm, "We're done running." He said softly, face turned slightly to the side to meet her eye when she peeked over her elbow.