Word Prompt: Disruption
Dialogue Flex: "I've never tasted something as delicious as this."
Using the provided snippet of dialogue, explore what comes to mind, be it a scene, a thought, or something else.
not beta'd. Twilight and its characters belong to SM. thanks.
The flutter pulled me from sleep, a tickle on my hip.
I jerked awake with the immediacy of one who knows they fell asleep in the wrong place. And, thanks to the barely-there fire and the absence of blankets - the stranger had pulled them off, some thank you that was - I was cold. Even the heater had phased off, though I knew it would kick in momentarily.
His hand slid away as I sat up. Had he woken at all during the night? I pushed my hair back, annoyed I'd forgotten to brush my teeth or wash my face before passing out. I felt gross. Maybe not as gross as Cold Stranger, though. I poked his arm, touched the hand that had fluttered. He was warm now.
I didn't know if I should wake him up. I wanted to know how he was doing, but he needed rest, too. Wobbling to my feet, I grabbed my nearly-dead phone and texted Rose, letting her know the stranger had survived the night. She didn't respond, but I didn't expect her to. It was early, still dark out, and I should have been asleep just like she was.
Yawning, I stretched some of the kinks out and climbed the stairs. Uncle Phil's shower was one of the more luxurious upgrades the cabin had to offer and taking a scalding shower sounded divine. I took my time - shaving, and washing my hair - and pretending the half dead guy downstairs had nothing to do with anything.
Is he hot? Alice had asked. Maybe. Maybe. He had nice eyes.
Downstairs, there was a puddle of blankets by the fireplace. I stopped, looking around, ready to call for him when he reappeared, looking as surprised to see me as I was to see him.
"You're up," I said, heart speeding. Seeing him move about was weird, like he'd been reanimated. He still looked lethargic, but that was definitely to be expected.
"I..." He shook his head. He seemed confused, and maybe still exhausted. "Do you have my pants?
"Oh my God, I'm sorry!" I practically sprinted to the couch and flung the sweatpants his way. "They were wet so I...took. Them." I cleared my throat. "Off."
He was already slipping back into them. I looked away, twisting my hands together. "You should probably lie down. You can, um, lie on the couch if you want. I didn't know what to do last night."
"I think you did okay," he said, voice so husky it was hoarse, mouth curling just enough at one side for me to wonder if he'd been awake at all when I'd been...there. Or maybe it was just the fact I'd taken his pants off.
Face in full, red bloom, I turned and headed toward the door. "I'll be right back."
"Where're you going?"
"Just to grab some firewood."
"You shouldn't -"
"I'm ok; it's cut already. I'm just gathering some to bring inside."
He didn't say anything, but then, I didn't give him time to. Slipping into my boots, I stepped out into the frosty morning and headed toward the shed, where Uncle Phil kept piles of wood. Most of it was pre-bought from the store, but some he'd cut himself, no doubt in an effort to feel manly in the wilderness.
When I got back, the stranger was sitting on the couch, a blanket over his knees. I checked the heater, then tossed the wood into the fireplace, stoking it until it was roaring.
"Thanks," he said. I wondered if this was his normal voice or if his ordeal in the snow had left it that way.
"It's okay; I'm a little cold, too."
"For last night," he clarified.
I looked at him. His eyes - they shone in the dimness. He had an intense stare, bright. It was a little disconcerting and yet...I found myself wondering what he'd look like without that beard. Truthfully, he looked good with it.
I guess he's hot, I told imaginary Alice.
And you're pathetic, I told myself.
"You can take a shower, if you want," I offered, folding my arms. "To warm up. I would've - but I couldn't get you upstairs by myself last night."
He looked away finally - thankfully - and nodded.
"Come on."
He followed me upstairs, going slowly, but then, I was going slow too.
"I left towels on the counter," I said, pausing by the bathroom door.
"Thank you," he said, eyes searching my face. I didn't know what he was looking for, and I turned to go before he could find it.
But he touched my arm, fingers curling around it.
His touch startled me.
"I'm truly sorry about the disruption," he said.
"Don't be. I'm glad I was here." I turned and continued on, halfway down the stairs by the time I heard his
"So am I."
I couldn't cook. Well, breakfast - but anyone could make that. I loved breakfast and if I could've done it my way I'd have had it all day every day. With fruit because, you know - we all need fresh things. And fiber.
The kitchen was colder than other parts of the cabin, having lots of windows and little heating. It seemed, also, that we'd temporarily lost power during the night: the digital clocks on the appliances were all blinking. Shivering, I reset them all, glad that it had been short lived. The fireplace was good, but its warmth only reached so far.
And the lights. The thought of spending time here without light, especially at night, put a stone in my gut.
I'd managed toast and scrambled eggs by the time the stranger made it back.
"You know, there are clean clothes upstairs. I can get you something to wear -"
"I'm fine -"
"we can wash those -"
"It's okay -"
We both stopped abruptly.
"What happened to you?" I blurted. "Why were you out there?" I gestured. "Like that?"
"My car broke down," he said. "Was on my way to get supplies and it just...stopped."
"Why didn't you call 911?"
"My phone died. And then...it was just too cold. I waited, but no one passed by." He quieted then, looking past me to the window where snow still falls. It was a calm scene, beautiful. Deceptive.
I didn't know what to say. He'd been so close to dying, actually dying. He'd have frozen to death in a car with no heat, just more slowly. "Are you hungry?"
He nodded slowly, sinking into a chair.
Spooning eggs onto a plate, I tossed two pieces of toast and an apple on for good measure. I set it in front of him, with coffee and and silverware.
"What's your name?" he asked, picking up the fork.
I laughed quietly, not sure how I'd missed that. "Bella. What's yours?"
"Edward. And I can leave whenever you want me to."
"It's okay. It might be awhile. There's space here." I started filling a plate for myself. "We can call into town if we have to, get you a ride."
He didn't respond. I joined him, sitting across the little table, and we ate in silence for awhile.
"Is it okay?" I asked, finding his stoic expression impossible to read.
Edward's eyes flashed up to mine, and I swear they glittered. A beat passed, and then another. I looked down and frowned, pushing my eggs into a pile.
"I haven't eaten in over a day," he said, then. "I've never tasted something as delicious as this."
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