Prompt #28: Picture—Stack of Pancakes.

Title: Breakfast with Paul

Pairing: Paul/Bella

Genre: Romance-ish

Rating: M

Word count: 500

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks for taking the time to read.

Her bedroom door suddenly opened.

Paul. He was dressed in cutoffs and a T-shirt that molded to his broad shoulders and strong arms. Bella didn't know whether she was shocked or disappointed that he was actually wearing a shirt for a change. His impassive face gave nothing away—that is, until a muscle ticked in his jaw, giving away his mood.

Bella resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What reason did he have for being angry? He was the one who'd just barged into her room without permission—again. "We've been over this, Paul. It's called knocking. You should try it sometime."

He ignored her as if she hadn't even spoken. He rested his shoulder against the doorframe, crossed his arms. "You have two choices," he said with remarkable calm. "You can get out of bed and meet me downstairs on your own, or I'll carry you over my shoulder right now."

Bella's face flushed with anger, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. If the past few days had taught her anything, it was that Paul followed through on his threats, the bastard. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

Only after she heard his feet carry him downstairs did she get out of bed. She didn't bother getting dressed. Her long T-shirt covered more than enough of her skin, stopping just above her knees.

Several minutes later, when Bella rounded the corner into the kitchen, her stomach rumbled with a hunger she hadn't felt in weeks. She hadn't had much of an appetite after Edward and the rest of his family fled Forks.

Paul looked up when she entered the room and his jaw clenched, his eyes heating and tracking her every movement. When she took the empty seat beside him, he nodded toward a stack of pancakes that sat in the center of the table, waiting to be served. "Not much of a cook, but figured I'd give it a try."

Bella eyes widened when he pushed the entire plate toward her. "I hope you don't expect me to eat all of that."

His face softened, becoming tender. He reached out and gripped her chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Just eat what you can, babe."

Bella shook her head. She would never understand this man. She did as she was bidden and picked up her fork, but stopped with it halfway to her mouth, moved it back to her plate. "I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, you know."

He arched a brow as if to say, "Could've fooled me."

Bella finally asked the question that had plagued her for days. "Why do you care?" They barely knew one another, and yet, for reasons unknown, he'd taken charge of her life.

He shrugged. "Don't have a choice. I can't seem to help myself."

She gave a long-suffering sigh. Why must he be so frustrating? "Why are you doing this, Paul?"

His declaration, so simple, so heartfelt, robbed her of breath. "Because I'm yours."