Sorry it's taken so long for me to update - my internet's been down for a few days or this would've been up sooner. thanks again for reading!
I stared at him for as long as was allowed by social convention… oh, hell, who am I kidding? I stared longer than that. After the song had ended and he was putting up his guitar, I was still staring. As he picked up the guitar case and made his way over to Alice, I was still staring. When he sat down and sipped at a glass of water, I was still staring.
I didn't stop staring until two beautiful, giggling women approached his table. No, that's a lie – I stared until he smiled back up at them. Then I fled back to the main dining room and hid behind the counter like I always do.
Time passed (thank fuck), and before I realized it, it was time to close. Angela checked the back room and brought all of the dishes to the kitchen. Leah chased away the lingering patrons and swept each room. When the dishes were finished and the chairs were on top of the tables, I thanked the girls and told them they could leave.
This time I was very careful to lock both the front and back doors before I went to the counter and turned up my music. Why was I in such a maudlin mood? I needed some music to fit my mood, since I still had to prep for the next morning. I glanced at my watch – it was nearing 12:30. If I wanted to get to bed and get a decent amount of sleep, I needed to get going.
I flipped through the CDs that were under the counter, even though I knew by heart what was there, and finally decided on one after staring at it for a minute. I slipped it in and pressed play, then pressed repeat. Oh yeah, I was gonna wallow for a while.
The music started, and I started to wipe down the counter when I realized that I would much rather sit down and wallow over a cup of coffee and a really, really calorie-laden dessert. Or else I needed a beer. Or several.
Since I am lazy at heart, I chose to stay in the café and make a calorie-laden drink to go with my calorie-laden dessert – which just so happened to be a thicker than usual slice of cheesecake. Leah had gone to Lentini's with Jake for a late lunch before she'd come to work, and she'd brought it to me as a peace offering from him (since he had promised to bring me lunch after my foray into the bar with Edward and hadn't done it). I made a mocha and sat it aside. Then I dropped a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream into a tall glass and poured the mocha over it. I took it all and sat down at a table.
Since I met you
I can't forget you
Oh, what am I gonna do?
"Fuck, this is some depressing shit, Bella!" I started choking on my milkshake, and he rushed to smack my back.
"How the hell did you get in here?" I managed when I could finally breathe again. "I locked both doors!"
"Alice's keys," he said, righting another chair at my table and dropping down into it. He frowned. "You locked the doors? Were you trying to keep me out?"
"I was trying to keep everyone out, since I'm closed," I snapped, playing with my straw. I refused to make eye contact with him – suddenly the condensation on the side of my glass was fascinating. There was complete silence for a moment, and then the song began again.
"Did I do something wrong?" he asked quietly. "Because if you're upset over lunch, I wasn't making fun of you, or anything. I just-"
"I'm not mad at you," I sighed.
"Then what's wrong?"
"What makes you think that something is wrong?" I challenged.
"Oh, I don't know – let's see. You locked me out, you won't look at me, and you're playing your sad bastard music. All of that kind of leads me to believe that something is wrong. The fact that you haven't looked at me since I walked in makes me feel like you're upset with me. So what did I do?"
"Nothing," I said honestly, glancing up quickly. Because really, he hadn't done anything wrong. We weren't dating, we weren't fucking – I barely knew him well enough to call him a friend. He could smile at whomever he wanted to. He was staring intently at me, those green eyes of his almost burning a hole through me. "I guess I'm just suffering from PMS or something." I was sure as shit not going to tell him that I was jealous, and come off as a clingy girlfriend when I hadn't even known him for a full week.
"Okay," he said slowly, looking pointedly down at my half-eaten cheesecake. What? I hadn't had time to go out and get dinner. I usually didn't on Friday and Saturday nights. "So what's this?"
"Dinner," I said, and to emphasize my point, I shoved a forkful of the cheesecake into my mouth.
"A piece of cheesecake and a milkshake are not dinner, Bella."
"They are for me." He eyed my milkshake, and I pushed it towards him. "Try it."
"What the hell is it?" he reached for the glass, then yanked his hand back. His eyes widened in surprise. "The top is cold, but the bottom is hot!"
"Yeah – it's a mocha shake." I shrugged. I watched as his eyes darted behind me, and I frowned. "What?"
"It's not on the menu."
"I only make it for myself." He took a tentative sip. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he licked a tiny drop of liquid off of his bottom lip. I ogled him shamelessly until his eyes opened – and I quickly dropped my stare to the table top.
"This should be on the menu, post haste," he informed me, taking another (longer) drink. I smiled despite myself, and got up to turn the music off. I replaced the CD in its case, hung up the apron I hadn't realized I'd still been wearing, and returned to the table. I felt my jaw drop – he'd already sucked down more than half of the shake! He gave me an unapologetic shrug and grinned before finishing it off. "I won't apologize. Instead I'll just demand that you make me one every day."
I just stared.
At that moment, my stomach decided that the slice of cheesecake that I'd consumed was less than satisfactory, and it growled. Loudly. I could always just show up earlier than usual tomorrow morning and do my prep work. I sighed and motioned towards the door.
"I know you're enjoying yourself, Cullen, but I would like to go home at some point." I frowned. I realized that I hadn't even questioned his appearance here after closing. "What exactly are you doing here, anyway? Weren't you going to go out with your family-" or two blonde bimbos – "or something?"
He shook his head and watched as I grabbed my hoodie and pulled it on. We headed for the door, and I shut the lights off. "I came back to see if you wanted to go grab something to eat." I turned the key in the lock and sighed, remembering my earlier conversation with Alice about having eaten with him last night.
"No, I really just want to get home. I'm really tired." I turned just in time to see his face fall before he forced a smile. Shit.
"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, then." He turned to walk away, but I reached out and grabbed a fist full of his leather jacket.
"Wait. You're welcome to come with me, if you'd like. I'm just going to make grilled cheese." His eyes lit up like I'd just offered him a new car or something.
"Really? I'd love to! I haven't had grilled cheese in a long time – probably since I was about fifteen." He followed me the six feet over to my door and watched as I opened it. I motioned for him to go in first, but he shook his head and motioned me forward instead. I sighed again and trudged tiredly up the stairs. When we reached the top, I gestured towards the living room.
"There's a TV and DVD player in there. The remote should be sitting on the couch – feel free to watch whatever you want to. I'm going to change, and then I'll fix our sandwiches." I turned and left him standing there, and went into my bedroom. I pulled a pair of worn cotton shorts off of the floor where I'd left them this morning, shrugged off my jeans, and pulled them on. Then I pulled my shirt off and unhooked my bra, throwing them both in the corner of the room where my laundry basket was, and I tugged on my wifebeater. I went back into the kitchen and opened the fridge, looking for the Velveeta slices that I always kept.
Once I'd gotten the sandwiches into the pan, I opened a cabinet and pulled out a can of tomato soup. I could not eat a grilled cheese sandwich without tomato soup – it was a physical impossibility. I opened the can and dumped the contents into a pan, and then added some cream. When I did comfort food, I did it right.
"Something smells really…" I turned to see Edward's mouth wide open. I frowned – something I was doing around him a lot tonight – he was staring at me.
"What?" He cleared his throat and shook his head.
"Nothing… I was just saying that something smells really good." He came all the way into the kitchen and stood behind me to see what I was doing. Tired though I was, my entire body tensed. My nerves were over-alert… I was on edge. He was so close that I could smell him – he still smelled like cinnamon. My weakness… and suddenly I was so hyper alert that I wasn't tired anymore. Fuck.
"Tomato soup, too?" I had to smile. He sounded so delighted.
"Edward, everyone knows you can't eat grilled cheese without tomato soup."
"Only the most awesome people know that, apparently," he replied, shrugging and turning his eyes back to the now bubbling soup. "My brother and sister wouldn't touch tomato soup with a ten foot pole." I snorted.
"You are invading my personal space bubble," I pointed out, waving the spatula in the air before I flipped the sandwiches. "It's hard for me to cook like this."
"No, this is invading your personal space bubble." He pressed his chest to my back, and I swear I felt my eyes cross from the contact. His hands flew to my hips and gripped me tightly before pulling me back against him. I gasped, and his fingers tightened reflexively against my hips. The spatula I'd been holding clattered to the ground.
"Edward," I managed to breathe, hating the way my voice wavered.
"Bella," he answered, his breath hot on my ear. I shivered.
"The sandwiches are going to burn," I said quietly. I heard him mutter something and then his hands were gone, and my back was cold. I bent down and picked the spatula up, rinsed it off in the sink, and somehow managed to flip the sandwiches onto plates. I retrieved some bowls from the cabinet and ladled soup into them, grabbed some silverware, and took everything to the breakfast bar where Edward was sitting. I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and put them on the bar before I chose my stool. I was too unnerved to look at his face, so I just began eating. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he dipped a corner of his sandwich into the steaming soup and raised it to his mouth. I pushed down the heat that tried to flood through me when I saw his tongue dart out and catch a drop of soup that had fallen on his lips.
"Jesus," he moaned. I finally looked over at him. I couldn't help but feel smug satisfaction when I saw the way he was looking at his soup.
"You're kind of freaking me out," I told him, not bothering to hide the amusement in my voice. "You look like you want to do bad things to the soup."
"Or maybe to the person who made the soup," he shot back, an eyebrow arching. I choked on my mouthful of sandwich, and he laughed. "Seriously, what did you put in this?"
"Cream."
"Cream?" he repeated, his brow furrowing.
"Heavy whipping cream," I specified, shrugging. "It makes the soup creamier and a little sweeter. It's a lot more fattening, but grilled cheese isn't exactly diet food, either. It tastes better than milk."
"My mom always used water," he mused, spooning more soup into his mouth. He was silent for a moment before turning to me. "This would be a good, simple menu item for the café." I rolled my eyes.
"Why do you and your sister keep bringing this up? The café is doing fine without the addition of food, and if I decided to serve food, I'd need more employees to help." He cleared his throat.
"I could – I could help you." I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head and continued before I could utter a syllable. "I don't have a job yet, and I believe in this." He gestured to the food in front of him. "I believe you have a gift – you are an amazing cook. Whether it's pastries, or comfort food, or even your coffee drinks, you have a talent for just knowing what tastes good. I believe – no, I know – that whatever you serve would sell like crazy, and I want to be a part of it."
I'm sure I could have easily caught flies, my mouth was so wide open.
"It's just a can of condensed soup, Edward," I managed finally.
"It's not just anything," he insisted. "Look, you're my friend, and friends listen to each other, right?" I nodded hesitantly. "You need to serve lunch in the café. You could make a lot more money with hardly any more effort, and it would help to balance out the down time in the middle of the day. I am offering my help because I want to be a part of it. Please at least consider it?" My mouth had gone dry. I forced myself to nod, and he turned back to his food. He took another bite of his soup-dipped sandwich, and another moan – this one louder than the one before – escaped him.
"I can't serve food," I sighed. He frowned at me, but didn't say anything because he was busy chewing. "The customers would all choke when they hear the porno moans that you and your sister make while eating." He started coughing and reached for his water. I arched an eyebrow at him and tried to keep the smirk off of my face. Obviously it didn't work, because he narrowed his eyes at me. "Does Emmett do that, too?" I asked innocently.
"There's nothing wrong with enjoying flavors that explode on your tongue," he countered, his eyes leaving mine and traveling downward slowly. I bit down on my lower lip, knowing that my face was probably bright red at this point. "And I relish every flavor you've allowed me to taste so far."
Holy shit. Was it hot in here, or was it just him?
"Um," was the most intelligent thing I could muster. It was his turn to smirk. I rolled my eyes and finished my food in record time – it felt dangerous to have him here alone in my home… I wanted to show him the bedroom. Or lock him in it. You know, they're both pretty much the same. I stood and took my dirty dishes to the kitchen. Once they were in the sink, I picked up the bottle of Advil that I kept nearby and shook two of the pills into my hand before swallowing them. My head had really begun to ache. I supposed it had a lot to do with Edward, but it probably also had something to do with my hair still being tightly confined in its bun. I sighed and rubbed my temples.
"Are you okay?" he asked, moving past me and putting his dishes in the sink. He turned and leaned back against the counter, his arms folded across his chest and his ankles crossed. No, I was so far from okay, it wasn't even funny. I wanted to do seriously bad, naughty things with the gorgeous man who was in my kitchen. I was going to lock him up here and chain him to the bed, and only release him to bathe, at which point I'd take him in the shower, and- "Bella?"
"What? Oh, sorry," I lied. I was so not sorry. I would entertain dirty sexual thoughts about him any time I damn well pleased. And I did damn well please right the hell now. "I just have a headache."
"Stress?" He looked sympathetic. Stuff that shit – I didn't want his sympathy, I wanted his – "I can help with that." I was startled right out of my dirty thoughts. Holy fuck, he wasn't a mind reader, was he? Because that shit would be so embarrassing…
"What do you mean?" I asked, hating the way my voice sounded all breathless. "Besides, it's just my hair. Sometimes I pull it back so tightly, it gives me headaches." He stared at me for a minute.
"Why don't you just leave it down?" Was it my imagination, or had his eyes gotten darker?
"You've seen how long my hair is." He gave a jerky nod. "It's heavy, and when it's down it gives me headaches, too. I don't mind it at home, but in the café, I keep it up because I don't want it to get into the coffee. I just need to take it down." I reached up, but he shocked the shit out of me by catapulting himself across the space and stilling my hands with his own.
"That's okay – I'll do it," he offered. "I mean, if you don't mind?"
"Um, I guess not," I acquiesced, my heart pounding suddenly.
"If you – if you have a brush and you don't mind, I could brush it for you, too," he said hesitantly. "I used to brush Alice's hair when we were little, and I kind of miss it." I ignored the butterflies that were flying around kamikaze-style in my stomach, and forced a smile.
"I can't imagine Alice having more hair than she does now," I admitted. "I think it would be nice." If he noticed how shy I suddenly felt, he didn't say anything. I went into my bedroom and retrieved my hairbrush, taking a second to take a deep, calming breath.
That shit never works.
I walked back to the kitchen, but he was gone. I found him in the living room, sitting on my couch. He looked up and gave me a weird smile, then spread his legs and patted in between them.
Oh mother of all that is holy, I was going to be between his legs. This was going to end disastrously, I could tell. I was not going to escape this without some kind of embarrassing word vomit. I hoped he didn't notice the way my hands were shaking as I handed him the brush and flopped to the floor in front of him. His denim-clad legs were on either side of me now, and I was suddenly enveloped in his scent. My eyes drifted closed, and I felt his fingers freeing my hair from its constraints. When it was totally down, he sifted his fingers through it, gently scratching my scalp with his fingernails. I couldn't stop the moan that escaped – it felt so good.
"Jesus," I thought I heard him whisper, but I wasn't sure. I was too focused on how good it felt to have him playing with my hair like he was. After a few minutes of him rubbing my scalp with his fingers, I felt him drag the brush lightly through my hair. I shivered when he did something that I love – at the end of my hair, he dragged the brush lightly against my back. I felt the goosebumps erupt all over, and my nipples tightened. Shit – this was rapidly entering dangerous territory.
But fuck me if I was going to stop him. This shit felt too good.
He dragged the brush gently through my hair again, and when I felt it on my back all the way down, I couldn't help myself – my back arched. He sucked in a sharp breath.
"Bella – fuck," he whispered. Yes, Bella would like to fuck. Right now, please and thank you. I waited for him to begin again, and when he didn't I turned and looked at him, confused. His eyes were hooded and his chest was rising and falling with rapid breaths. He was gripping the brush so hard, his knuckles were white.
"What? Are you okay?"
"You just said you wanted to fuck," he blurted, his voice barely above a whisper. I felt the blood drain from my face.
"I did? I didn't think I said it out loud," I said, closing my eyes in embarrassment.
"You were thinking about it?" I barely opened one eye and peeked at him. He hadn't moved at all.
"I'm usually better at keeping my thoughts contained – except around you," I said, my voice full of accusation.
"Were you thinking about fucking anyone in particular?" He asked, placing the brush beside him on the couch and flexing his fingers.
"Um," I hedged, my eyes darting around. Was there a way to avoid this question without outright lying?
"Bella?" he prodded. He scooted forward until my face was almost in his crotch. Jesusfuck, was he trying to kill me? "What? Why would I try to kill you?"
Damn it! My mouth needed to stop blurting out every damn thought I had, as I had it!
"I think you're hearing things," I said, scooting away from him a little. I needed to clear my head. The distance wasn't helping like it should have. Why did he cloud all of my senses and make me feel so out of control? "I need to… I need to go to bed. I have to get up early tomorrow and prep, since I didn't do it tonight."
I watched as his face fell, and after a minute, I saw him yawn. My nervousness melted away a little bit, and I contemplated whether or not what I was about to do was kind, or monumentally stupid on my part.
"If you want to-" I hesitated and met his eyes as he looked up. Was it my imagination, or did he look hopeful? "If you want to, you can spend the night. There's a bedroom upstairs, and another living room. You're welcome to play games or watch TV or whatever – there's a bathroom up there, too."
"You have another apartment upstairs?" he asked, glancing up. I shrugged.
"Not really. The only kitchen is here. Upstairs there's two more bedrooms, but one of them is only used for storage. I hardly ever go up there, so you'd have privacy."
"I'd love to stay, if you're sure it's okay."
"Absolutely. I'd feel better about it – at least you won't be driving home in this weather," I said, gesturing to the windows. He looked outside, and seemed startled to find that it was pouring down rain. I began walking towards the stairs and gestured for him to follow me. When we reached the third floor, I pointed out the bathroom, the storage room, and where he'd be sleeping. He looked inside the bedroom and frowned a little. "What?"
"It looks like a man's bedroom," he said, taking in the gray comforter and black furniture. "Did you – do you have men over a lot?" I bristled at his question. He thought I was a whore?
"No, it's where my Dad stays when he comes to visit me," I informed him. "I'm not going to ask my dad to sleep on a couch. Since he's the only person who stays with me on a regular basis, I have the room decorated for him. Okay, well not really for him, since he'd probably want animals mounted on the walls, but still." I looked up and saw that he was grinning that crooked grin at me, and my heart stuttered.
"Calm down, Bella," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't mean anything by it. By the way, has anyone ever told you how incredibly cute you are when you're flustered?"
"Right," I scoffed. Inside I think I died a little. What woman wants a gorgeous man to think she's "cute?" Fuck. If I hadn't known before that he wasn't interested in me at all, I knew it now. "I'm going to head down to bed now. You can just let yourself out in the morning." I turned without waiting for an answer and practically ran down the stairs, taking two at a time. I turned off all the lights on my way to my room, and flopped down face-first on my bed when I got there. After a minute, I switched off the light that sat on my night stand, and the room was submersed into darkness. I crawled under the comforter, and faded blissfully into sleep.
