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This afternoon, it seems I am the luckiest person in the world because after a whole evening of tentative arguments...it's my boss's day off. Which means I can do my job and do it well without constantly looking over my shoulder. It also means my short shift shoots by.

In fact, I'm leaning on my knees, scrubbing the tiled floor when I get an unexpected visitor. Well. As unexpected as he can be.

'Hi?' I say questionably He's a little out of breath, his thick straw-like strands of light-gold are stuck up in weird angles from the wind. He is literally wind-swept. Bless.

'Hey, just thought I'd come get a coffee.'

He's a real shit liar.

'It's closing time…' I remind him, sinking my butt onto the heels of my trainers and pointing with a shabby bandaged hand to the clock on across the wall. The door literally says closed. He can read.

He knows this. He fidgets where he stands a little, rubbing a hand through his blonde hair in an attempt to flatten it. Shame really, I was liking the Elvis look. In fact I'm about to mention this when I change my mind and just appreciate the rise and fall of his chest as he tries to gather his breath. If it's closing time then he barely finished about 30 minutes ago. Blimey, somebody's keen.

'Oh really? Damn…What time do you finish?' His attempt to be nice is completely transparent. I see through his plan, especially when he scans the room eagerly looking for the person in question.

My heart builds a little. He's come to pick me up. He doesn't realise my boss isn't working. What a sweetheart.

'In five minutes.' I say, unable to hide my smile. But I'm only smiling because of his surprise later…AHAAHAHAA. Well, that and the fact he sprinted out of his way to meet me after work.

'Can I have a lift back home?' he asks, his voice a little husky where he ran so far in such a short space of time. He's lucky Tilly isn't working today, she'd be all over this situation. I am too.

'Sure.'

I tell him to go find a seat closest to the front door and try to avoid catching his eyes as I finish my task at hand. He's wearing his white shirt with longer tracksuit bottoms but he doesn't look sweaty and he's quickly regaining that lost breath. So stupidly, while he's out of sight I try to comb through parts of my fluffy hair to make it seem more presentable.

I leave a note for what needs to be done tomorrow in the back and lock up before leading Cullen to my crappy little car in the parking lot and asking about his day but he quickly interrupts.

'Can I take that for you?' he offers, holding his arm out for the bag with my uniform in.

'No…' I say but I'm sounding suspicious again.

He looks odd in my car but doesn't make any comment and in fact jumps out to open the door for me. I hang back to grab the stuff from the boot but they're concealed in a bag that he doesn't think twice to look at.

And now I know why he can't stop smiling at me. When I walk into the house, the whole living room is filled with shit loads of submission papers. I raise an eyebrow at him. I thought he was at WORK. Cheeky bastard.

'I've filled a lot of them out for you, you just need to sign them.' He says proudly, leading me in with a tentative step. He's nervous for my reply which he should be considering I refused to re-apply. But the number of papers, the mass of effort that has gone into such a bold and risky move...

I'm touched.

Annoyingly, this is how I spend my evening; filling in loads of forms, pretending as if I never had anything else planned when Edward comes downstairs in the search for food. We're too busy to acknowledge him and he's not interested. I'm just filling out the same form over and over again. Anything to keep Cullen happy. Especially considering he might not be very happy with me later on... Or actually, maybe he might be very happy with me.

Unlike Edward's fleeting appearance, Cullen sits with me the whole time, either placing the papers in envelopes and stamping them (which must have added up to a small fortune) or writing on the front of them for me.

'How many is that?' I ask eventually.

We've been writing for over 3 hours. My hands are killing me, I'm a little hungry but more than that I'm eager to put my plan in action…

Though I don't know why.

'One-o-four' He says smiling, he's flexing his writing hand like I was doing a second ago. My bra is fucking killing me but because I don't really know if he's going to play the crazy curious or the totally innocent, I don't take it off. Despite the fact he totally tried to strip in front of me earlier, I can't be arsed to play chicken.

'I think that's it for the night.' I say, licking the last envelope and folding it down. He yawns and stretches his arms out widely so that his shirt lifts slightly to show that little line of hair.

Mmm….

'Sure you're not hungry?' He asks, frowning.

'I might be later.' HAHAHAHAHA. 'Anyway, I kinda need your help with something?'

This seems to have the opposite effect. He's immediately panicky.

'Is everything okay?!' He's thinking the worst which makes me feel a little guilty but I don't adhere to it.

'Yeah, of course...it's just a delicate matter…' I point upstairs and stand up.

He sighs frustratingly, his warm breath hitting the skin inbewteen my shoulder blades. I shiver gleefully. Until I realise that he's thinking I'm about to ask him to check my vag. Nevertheless, he collects the paper into piles on the sofa and with a measured step follows me to his room.

It looks the same as I left it. The covers, for once, are where I left them, curled to the top of the bed, the pillow still holding the indent of my awkward position. To the right of the bed the desk is against the wall. He has more medical journals poured on top of it, laying half open, littered with pens and paper. The box of gloves has been put away as has the numerous tubs. Hilarious.

'I can get you more Lidocaine if you need it?' he offers, looking a little confused, waiting for me to turn on the light. I think for now I prefer to leave him in the dark.

'That would be helpful.' I say, playing along, fluttering my eyelashes heavily. 'For now, just stay here, I'll be right back…'

He's completely confused and falls to sit his butt on the mattress.

When I return, bag of supplies in-tow, he's leaning against the headboard, neck resting on the leather, eyes heavy with sleep but still curious and his spine curved towards me. He taken off his shoes, pretty much settled down ready to collapse in his sheer exhaustion. I should just let him sleep...

It's too late out back out now.

'What are you up to?' he murmurs, raising one eyebrow as he studies both the jutting out of my hips and the bag I'm holding. Whatever he's thinking, he's not close. The look on his face suggests he thinks we're about to watch a film of some kind. Ha, he is.

I can't help but adopt a more playful part of myself when I go to sit to the left of his oustretched legs, perched on the edge of the bed ready to pounce. This is sexy Esme, and why the hell she's rearing her head at the moment I'll never know but I let her stay. He watches me in silence, his mouth curved as he tries to put his attention to what is in the bag but rather curiously... he can't seem to bring himself to tear his eyes away... from me. Blimey, maybe Sexy-Esme is better than she looks.

Or maybe he's just frightened, hurry up and get out of there, Platt.

With a teasingly light touch I trace his left hand with my tips of my fingers, leaving a trail of goosebumps along him arms. He doesn't say anything and doesn't move so while I have him exactly where I want him, I act quickly and clip his wrist against the railing of his bed faster than Roadrunner would run.

'Kinky?' He whispers to himself in a chuckle and my heart nearly comes falling out my ass.

KINKY?! KINKY?! From Carlisle Cullen?! What the heck?! WHERE THE HECK DID THAT COME FROM?! He so knows I heard him, mainly because my jaw is on the floor and the skin around his cheeks are painted with an obscene pink.

'What on earth are you up to?' He asks in an attempt to distract us both from the fact he's just said the word KINKY. WHAT THE FUCK.

When I grin at him, playfully throwing in a shrug he seems to foolishly accept this as an answer and despite the bright red fluffy handcuffs locking his arm away, he settles down into the bed as if he's about to sleep. What the heck does he think I'm doing? Offering a massage?! Who is this guy?!

I pull his legs, with struggle, closer to the opposite side of the bed, and place the laptop in front of him, close to his hip but just out of reach. The screen is all black, I have yet to press play. He still looks charmingly interested. That guy has faaar too much faith in me.

'Give me your hand.' My voice is huskier than planned and I fight to clear it.

He rattles the chain playfully before, with a weary grin, giving me his right hand, I'm fighting my laughter and because he's so focused on me, he doesn't see me place an open jar on the table closest to him.

It's genuine surprise. Not once has he questioned my intentions or what the fuck is going on.

'What the?!'

Until now. Better be quick.

So I coat his hand in the viscous fluid (which is a bit of a turn on). My touch threads the silky liquid through his fingers, soft and wet to the flat space of his palm, massaging every inch of his whole hand in the lube.

He's beginning to become suspcious. He's frowning, his eyes watching me with alarming curiosity. Yet his mouth stays closed.

'There's a few films on the side if you don't enjoy this one…' I inform him, nodding my head to the bed side table. He doesn't give them a proper look despite the fact I've angled the titles so he can read them.

'What are you doing?' He sounds untrusting now though still very amused. I can pretty much hear his heart beating away, his breath thinning out. Or is that me?

'And if you get anything on this laptop…I'll kill you.' I place baby wipes and tissue near to his chained hand and a towel by my feet. He'll be able to grab them if he tries but for now he's too stunned to put the puzzle together.

'What are you on about?'

Oh yeah, now he asks the questions.

I crawl onto the bed so that I'm sitting between the space of his legs. He looks nervous, his lips slightly parted with his face turned upwards, closer to mine. He doesn't shift his warming eyes when I press play on the laptop. He's only looking at me.

'What is going on?' He whispers, his smirk faltering slightly in a way that makes him unbearingly sexy.

'I'm helping you out.' Comes the reply once I've finally recovered my lost confidence. 'I'm helping you stray away from that façade of innocence and letting you be a real hormonal young adult.'

English apparently becomes a foreign language to him. It takes a while for his brain to translate this into rational actions.

'A hormonal wha?' He questions, staring at me with complete perplexity written on every inch of his rapidly-colouring face. 'But I'm not innocent?!'

'I know you're not. Not really. So, you're welcome.'

A hungry moan and flash of bare flesh from the laptop eventually catches his attention and those dark midnight orbs flash to look before widening to extreme measures. And just like that, every inch of pale skin slowly starts to turn red in a hot flush of...well what I think is embarrassment but who can be sure?

'Oh God.'

He goes to throw his only free hand over his eyes but for the first time realises it's coated in some sort of slippery stuff. He looks a little mad, not as mad as he was yesterday when we were arguing but almost mad at himself? He's basically panicking because he doesn't understand what the fuck is going on.

To be fair, I don't either and while I'm still a little detatched from the scene as he is, I hover close above, as if I'm about to make a move. His gaze returns to only my face despite the fact he would probably be able to see my chest if he looked down. His whole focus, breathing shallow, frown heavy, lips parted, is all on me. He's distracted. So while he's distracted, I gently put my hands very close to his hips and tear off both trousers and underwear in a magician's flourish.

'Jesus Christ, Esme!'

It's a fucking surprise I manage both not to faint and not to look because if I was to look, I would've fainted. The fact a body as beautiful as that is kinda naked on that bed is just…you know… thrilling.

He scrambles up and crosses his legs over so I can't see anything which is fine because I can't see anything anyway.

'You'll get the key back in an while.' I say grinning.

'Key?!' He hisses, forcing an unfamiliar tone to his voice. He doesn't sound angry though, not even slightly. Maybe a little embarrasssed but more...aghast.

He's red all over (well I'm not sure about there) glaring to the corner of his bedroom walls trying not to either look at me or the screen let alone even think about what's happening right now.

'Don't you dare!' He warns, watching my cautious feet glide away from him and toward the door.

'Oh loosen up Cullen. Masturbating is fun!'

I'm almost certain that I hear him gasp when I slam his door shut. But I ignore that and head to my bedroom where I deliberately play my music a little louder to give him the privacy he needs. I could hear him yelling and cursing me but now the music's on, it's almost silent.

This situation would've been a whole lot easier to deal with had I not been turned on, too.

When I knock on the door a good two hours later, there's no reply…uh oh…He must be pissed off which immediately makes me feel like some insanely disgustingly vile creature, humilated in my own act of help.

Even if I didn't see anything.

I knock again and hear the slightest whine but not much else. So I tentatively push the door. The towel that I'd placed on the floor is covering his bottom half, half coated in the lube from his hand. His t-shirted chest billows out, the muscles almost on display as he takes a heavy breath. He's asleep?

Oh. Now I feel like I've been incredibly sinister.

With great amounts of shame, I move the already closed laptop from the bed and place it on the floor beside me. Then I remove the other profanities from the bed so I can pull the duvet over him in an act of concealment. Using one of the baby wipes, I awkwardly wipe the dried lube from his hand and place it on his chest (the arm obviously, not the wipe, I'm not evil).

Reaching for the key in his drawer, I lean over and unlock his sore wrist from the bedpost. Then gently I place that to his side, too, being careful not to apply pressure to the area of skin that the metal braclet eroded. The breathing is lighter now and he looks surprisingly peaceful which I don't deserve. I didn't even think about the fact he's been up late for the past two nights, worked really early this morning and today then stayed up to help me sign the submission forms.

Goddammit Esme. Why'd you have to such an arshole? Especially when he looks so sweet and so peaceful and so…innocent. My stomach feels like I'm holding acid so I silently turn the lights off and grab my laptop to leave him in peace.

'Esme?'

The sound is barely above a whisper and when I stand on my tiptoes to peek a look at him, I see his eyes are still closed.

'Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.' There's a lot of emphasis on the first word in anattempt to soothe my bad life choices.

'Esme?' He repeats, slightly heavier but still no louder than a whisper. I should be saying sorry again…sorry for being a totally shit flatmate and a worse friend and kinda forcing him into a tensely arousing scenario….

'Yeah?' My voice is shaking in apprehension but it shouldn't be because when I sqit to look at his face it looks like he's smirking?!

'I use my left hand…'

…

Urgh… With that, I slam the door shut.

The next day goes okay-ish. After posting over half of my applications and physically handing in the rest of the them at the student office I'm told I have to create and submit a canvas piece before they even consider me.

'Well, what did they say about it?' Edward asks once I cross the threshold of our welcome mat. I didn't see Carlisle this morning, he started really early and he's got a very long shift so I probably won't see him after work either…I'm starting to question whether I want to see him. I crossed a line yesterday. A line which he didn't seem too pissed at me for crossing. But still a line.

Fuck.

And I don't know when I've got to return those DVDs.

'They said I should create something individual of my other pieces. 'Dont just paint what I see'…whatever that means.' I grumble, throwing the phone to him so he can read over the same email. He sighs before taking a mouthful of cereal and shrugging.

I hate it when he eats at the piano. Either play it or don't, don't use it as a fucking table.

'So they're saying to add a bit of fantasy to your paintings…I think?'

'So paint what I see but don't paint what I see?' I might aswell play the monke scratching my forehead.

'No, it's just a case of painting what you see but changing things. Make the flowers bluer and brighter, make the castle gloomier and darker, make the sky lighter and bolder-'

'I get the picture.' I sigh. Ironically, I don't.

'Don't be nervous. Whatever you do willl be fine.' He tries to reassure, smiling crookedly through the spoon in his gob.

'I don't want it fine, I want it phenomenal' I complain, flicking through the channels on the TV. I'm ready for work, waiting at the mercy of the teenager to leave. Edward has offered me a lift seeing as my car is currently sitting at Rose's home.

That makes me nervous.

Although I haven't spoken to him, Carlisle left another note to say he's going to get my exhaust sorted for me... by the stranger girl who hates my guts…or everyone's guts, whatever.

All in all, it's not the worst day in the world but it's not great either. I'm working with Tilly today, my boss is back and even though he doesn't do a lot (apart from pinch my ass every two seconds and wink at me), I can feel him watching me. Especially when Edward picks me up come-6 O'clock despite home being within walking distance.

Unfortunately for me, because of Cullen's (granted; sweet) interference, my boss has become unusually suspicious. And from there, my strangely erotic evening from yesterday is washed away with the concerns and fears of this weird job.

I go for a bit of a run when we get home, try to get something out of my system but does it help? Does it heck! And next thing I know is that I'm curled up in bed with a shitty film on, consuming more antibotics for the sake of my burns and trying to create something.

The door goes about eleven thirty in the evening and I resist the temptation to go downstairs and see him…to see what last night has done to him. What my 'over-stepping-the-boundaries' has done to the dynamic of our 'friendship'.

About 20 minutes later, there's a tentative knock at my door.

'It's open.' I sigh, throwing the stupid sketch book across the room.

Carlisle flinches when it bounces of the wall noisily…I often forget I'm living in his home and not just some rented place.

'Sorry…' I mutter, pulling at the cover so that he can sit on the bed. He's holding a bowl of food, smiling, surprisingly comforting and surprisingly normal…or as normal as you can get with the two of us nowadays.

'Edward said you haven't eaten.'

Of course he did. I take the bowl from him gratefully and automatically eat. I shouldn't complain too much, his food is good.

'Thanks.'

He stays quiet, quieter than the last few days but I think that's because I'm such a cold hearted bitch today when he was expecting my tongue in cheek teasing. I'm not in the mood…not particularly out of the mood either, just somewhere in a weird mood purgatory.

Whatever the heck that means.

'How'd work go?' His voice is gentle and his eyes are on my laptop screen where I'm watching some shitty horror film. Typical him with his timing, he's walked in and he clearly thinks I'm watching porn till I pause it for him and the original title page comes up. Now he smirks at himself. I'm still grumpy about my pervy boss.

'Fine.' I mutter quickly and out of no where, the words come tumbling from under my breath; 'Should be grateful, he only grabbed my ass today.'

However, I often forget about the Saint's impeccable hearing.

'What?' His frown is on me in a second. His blue eyes are concerned, his tone direct… he sounds frightened.

FUCK.…I forgot I hadn't mentioned the thigh thing properly.

'Never mind…shit joke.' I say.

It's clearly not. He's quiet…thinking to himself, over thinking, over calculating and literally looking like he's about to vomit panicked accusations at me. I can't bear the silence.

'Since he looked at my thigh on Sunday, he's been a lil'friendly, that's all...' I sigh trying to play it off. I have to look away from him.

'What did he do?!' The words are acidic and his posture matches. He doesn't know where to stand, where to put his arms so he deals with leaning away from me with his fists curled.

'It doesn't matter.' I tell him, not able to face those furious blue eyes. I've never seen the guy look so enraged.

'He touched your -?!'

'Not exactly-' I lie, buting in. STUPID FUCKING MOTOR MOUTH. Exactly that…His thick hands and the long fingernails playing with the exposed sore skin…and now I can't eat.

'Look, I don't really want to think about it- just leave it?' I beg, not looking at him still. Even after yesterday, I don't want him to think badly of me.

Yesterday pfft. How quickly moods change.

'He touched you without your permission?' He sounds like a judge. If that judge had just found out he was facing the murderers of his family.

'Carlisle-'

'Did he?' He interrupts me, scarily calm that all I can think is that he is so furious that he's crossing over into the insane-territory.

I sneak a look at him and wish that I hadn't. His expression is stone cold, the opposite of earlier and even if I wanted to, I couldn't decipher the things running through his head. I'm thinking about ignoring him but that's not going to work.

'Technically.' I say quietly.

He stands up immediately, already heading out my door before I frantically pull him back by his sleeve, one handed, my panic racing out my skull. I've never seen him so uncharacteristically pissed. He wasn't even like this when I called him gay. He's tense and shaking up from some strange fury so I don't release his shirt from my grip just yet.

'You didn't exactly give me your permission yesterday.' I remind him, gently. I don't want to put the two situations together but I can't see him listening to anything else.

'That was completely different.' He argues sounding alarmed. 'I didn't know what you were going to do!'

'Exactly. I didn't know what he was doing either.'

Still don't.

'But you didn't act on your own sexual gratification!' He groans,

Nope, I acted on yours. Well…

I don't want to tell him that he's wrong. Not only did I sleep incredibly well last night but ever since he said those words, my insides have been bubbling just thinking of him.

'We've already had this argument!' I complain, pulling him back down to the bed and taking my hand back to use as a cover for my mouth. I'm worried what else will escape. He complies but is still coiled. I want to smooth the harsh lines of anger away, it doesn't suit his face. I don't move.

'No we haven't! I thought you were fed-up not that you'd been assaulted!' His voice is loud and part of me panics about Edward overhearing.

But I still can't help but scoff. 'It's hardly assault. We both know how open I am about sex.'

He looks like he's about to explode on the spot. He's so over-dramatic.

'That does not give anybody the right to touch you without your permission!'

I can't say anything. What would I say anyway? I just look away from his concern and keep my nose pointing towards my bedding.

'You're getting out of there.' He vows, a dark tone to his voice as he tries to regain composure. But he's shaking his head in disgust.

'I'm trying!' I mutter defensively. I nod my head to the multiple balls of screwed up paper on the floor 'But I can't think of anything to submit!'

Judging by his expression, he's already spoken to Edward about this. He forces himself to soften up and goes to put a hand on my shoulder before changing his mind. He's clearly relieved by the change in conversation but his whole posture is still forced. If I wasn't sat next to Cullen, I'd say he look like he wanted to go commit some kind of physical assault, himself.

But to accuse the Saint of such a thing was beyond absurd.

'You'll find something…' he promises. 'And when you do, the scholarship will be yours.'

I do something that even I find surprising. I lay my head against his bicep, not deliberately, just emotionally. Unconsciously, he opens up his position so I move to bury myself in the chest of his shirt instead, hiding my tired eyes and my utter desolation. My nose instantly recognises the smell of surgical disinfectant, a sweet kind of aftershave and a familar warmth. He doesn't move for a few seconds then slowly, as if not to frighten me, wraps an arm around my back and strokes his palm along my spine in a slow and calming manner…a move very unlike him.

And yet it feels kinda natural to be there.

'Don't go into work tomorrow…' He whispers to my hair.

'I have to.'

I'm incredibly lucky he's wearing a t-shirt so I don't intoxicate myself in just enjoying the boundaries of this new friendship. How hard could you push a friendship until it broke? What am I even saying?

'Say you're ill. Spend the day with me and we'll find something for you to submit.'

I laugh gently before pulling away to look at him, my eyes undoubtedly sore with the threat of unjust tears. He's never like this. Not even slightly. And neither am I. I've wasted four years of my life not really knowing him at all. It's embarrassing.

'You know I can't do that…' I sigh, smoothing my fringe down again. Grumpy or not, I don't want to look a freak next to Adonis over here.

'Why not? Everyone gets ill. Phone now.'

Is this really happening?! Is Cullen persuading me not to go into work?! Like I need persuading!

'I'll think about it,' I sigh.

He reaches behind to place the rest of dinner into my hands.

'Eat something, first.' He encourages before standing up. 'I'm going to study for a little bit.'

Why does he always leave too soon?

I wave him out of my room before immediately phoning the Coffee-House and making up some bullshit about being ill and won't be able to make it in tomorrow. So much for thinking about it. Finally, I eat what I can of dinner, which isn't really much, before curling up and watching the rest of the film to eventually fall asleep.