The Rise of Lydia Rowe ↠ Jasper Hale (ON HOLD)

[1.09] cold ones

WITH ROSALIE'S DRIVING, they made it to the Cullens' house in no time. She pulled into the driveway as Lydia marveled at the beautiful house in front of her. It was modern and huge, more of a mansion than a home. Lydia counted three stories, each proportioned nicely, with some walls made of glass and others made of a rich mahogany wood. It was the kind of house she would expect to see in those fancy real estate magazines, surrounded by similarly-gorgeous neighbors rather than isolated in the forest.

Rosalie got out of the driver's seat, coming around to Lydia's side. To Lydia's surprise, Rosalie easily picked her up bridal-style, not showing a hint of strain on her face. Rosalie looked like she was about Lydia's size, just with a bit more height—how could she lift her up with so much ease?

Rosalie carried her into the house, which was empty on the first—or maybe the second, given the amount of stairs leading up to the porch—floor. She went up the staircase, still acting as if Lydia was as light as a feather. Either Rosalie was secretly very into lifting weights, or she had some sort of superhuman strength.

She did crush that guy's arm, Lydia reminded herself. thinking back to the cry he'd let out and the sickening sound of his bones breaking.

When Rosalie finally stopped, she stood in front of an open door. "Carlisle," Rosalie said, stepping into the room. It looked like an office, with plaques and a number of certificates decorating the walls and large bookshelves taking up some of the wall space.

Sitting at the desk was another godlike beauty, which probably shouldn't have surprised Lydia, given whose house she was in. Carlisle, as Rosalie called him, looked like he was in his mid-twenties, with pale blond hair that just barely reached the collar of his button-up. His eyes were gentle and, like the rest of the Cullens, a beautiful gold color. He stood up as Rosalie and Lydia entered, giving Lydia a friendly smile.

Rosalie set Lydia down on the small couch against one of the walls in the office, lingering next to her.

"You must be Lydia Rowe," Carlisle said, offering her his hand to shake. "My children have told me much about you. I'm Carlisle Cullen."

"It's nice to meet you," Lydia said softly, shaking his hand. 

"Alice called and said to expect you," he said. He knelt down to examine her ankle. "She mentioned that you may have hurt your ankle?"

Lydia nodded. "Yeah, I think I might have twisted it."

Carlisle's hands were as cold as his adoptive children's as he assessed her ankle, pressing lightly on the skin around her ankle. "I think you may be right," he told her. "It doesn't appear swollen. Does it hurt when I press down?"

Lydia shook her head.

"Can you try to put some weight on it?" Carlisle asked. Lydia obliged, standing up on her good foot and carefully shifting some of her weight to her hurt foot. It hurt a little, but the pain was mild. She could easily walk on it, just not jump around or run.

"I don't think it's anything to worry about," Carlisle told her with a personable smile. "Just put some ice on it when you get home, and if it hurts, take two Ibuprofen to alleviate the pain. Try not to put too much strain on it for a while."

Lydia nodded at his instructions. "Thank you."

Carlisle gave her an award-winning smile. "Of course, Lydia."

Rosalie led her back downstairs, practically glued to her side. It seemed like the house was mostly empty, save for Rosalie and Carlisle. Lydia was curious about where the others were, but she figured they were just out doing whatever they liked to do in their spare time.