I'm baaack. Another short update but I'm doing what I can, I promise. Thank you everyone for being so supportive of To Destroy. I'm very happy to let everyone know that our beloved Destroyward finally got into the Top Six (not Five, thank you) over at The Lemonade Stand. Woo hoo! Anddd, if you noticed my beautiful banner with the equally beautiful (I'm making ugly noises when I think of Henry in The Man of Steel) banner made by the wonderful Mina, thank her as well. Blah, blah. I'll try to update more often. Thank you for sticking it out with me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

I was bored out of my mind.

So. Freaking. Bored.

After two days of travelling from one hotel to another, working from before eight in the morning until well into seven or eight at night...my brain and body were revolting. Stay the night in my hotel room, again?

No thank you.

The problem was that between myself and the two prized roosters in the rooms on either side of mine, we only had one car. One rental. One luxury sedan that I was stuck inside of, swarmed in awkwardness while I tried my best not to burst out laughing.

Just that morning, on the drive to our first signature supermarket visit, Mr. Cullen and Alec had gotten into a discussion—not an argument as my boss clearly clarified when I called him out on it two hours later when my replacement went to restroom—about talk radio.

I said it. Talk radio.

There was no way they saw the beauty in their relationship, but I did. And even though I was still feeling just a little bit of...weird...about leaving, I knew that I'd swayed Mr. Cullen correctly toward Alec. They were perfect for each other, but they would never know it. I might have gotten a bit of a thrill at that realization.

Yeah. The headaches to come for my boss were my farewell gift to the man that had given me ulcers for months. I kind of hoped he thought of me when he got annoyed in the future.

When Mr. Cullen had turned to look at me after Alec said something or another about "conservative Neo-Nazis" and asked me what I thought, I made a face and said, "I think you two should listen to FM when you're together."

Neither one of them said anything after that.

For an entire minute.

And then they started discussing something else regarding another subject that made me want to start snoring obnoxiously.

So, getting into the car with them again? Yeah, no.

What else did that leave me to do when I was feeling anxious?

The first idea that popped in my mind was kind of terrifying. Or at least just intimidating.

An hour later when I couldn't think of anything else, I took a deep breath, talked myself out of calling first, made sure I wasn't wearing anything that Angela would consider whorish, and snuck out of my room as quietly as possible.

Because I could only imagine what it would look like if the man on the other side of my hotel room he saw me.

I knocked. Two quick raps that made my throat itch.

I was in the middle of scratching it when the door slowly opened and dark green eyes peered at me from the crack for a moment. Just a moment, before it swung open quickly and he whooshed out, "Is everything okay?"

Ahh, hell. A sudden memory of crazy ass Kate hit me but I didn't let it settle and ruin my mood.

"Yeah, sorry." Why was I still scratching my throat? I dropped my hand and flashed a nervous smile. "I was bored..."

I should've just stayed in my room, I thought.

"Oh." He blinked, made a face that had me taking a step back so I could retreat. Gesturing in, he shook his head. "Come in, come in. I don't know what I was thinking, Bella, sorry."

Bella.

It hadn't escaped me that it was the first time he'd called me something other than Isabella since the gala. It didn't feel weird, or uncomfortable. It was natural. It came out of his mouth like he'd been calling me Bella for years.

I didn't think twice about coming into his room, appreciating for the first time that he had a room identical to mine. It wasn't some master suite or penthouse, it was just a standard room. Nothing fancy or pretentious. It was just like every other time we'd travelled somewhere together. Did our COO do the same? Doubt it.

Wiping my hands on my pants, I turned to look at him as we stood with his back to the door, hands on his hips.

Wait.

He was still in his suit pants, but his belt was off.

And so was his dress shirt. In only an undershirt that was a pristine white, it didn't change the fact that it was thin. Nearly see-through.

Jesus.

When the hell did he get time to exercise?

He wasn't big like my brother, but his body was lean and strong like the ballet dancers I saw at the Nutcracker every year. Or like a martial artist.

Was that a vein in his bicep?

What the fuck was I doing checking him out?

Dear God. I needed to masturbate soon if I was starting to get desperate.

But I glanced at the neat outline of his pectorals and for some messed up reason, thought to myself, well, maybe not desperate exactly. Stupid. I was getting stupid.

"Take a seat," Edward offered, waving me toward his neatly made bed. He flashed me his signature little smile as he took a seat on the edge of the mattress. "Did you have dinner already?" he asked.

We'd gotten back to the hotel almost two hours before but...

"I can eat again," I answered him, sliding my hip onto the side of the bed closest to the television.

He nodded and held out the room service menu to me. "I was planning on getting a roast beef ciabatta..." Edward trailed off.

I wasn't going to focus on the fact that he said the statement like he expected a certain answer from me. An answer he had good reason to wait for because he'd gotten to know me in his own Mr. Cullen-way.

So I said the words that cemented our weird friendship. "You know me too well."

That got me a grin that had him nodding. "Okay."

"Do you want me to call it in?" I asked him in second nature.

He looked at me with those cool eyes, normally so indifferent or aggravated. "I can do it," he said in a slightly lower voice, turning toward the phone on the nightstand next to him.

I took my time to look around his room while he spoke. His suitcase was neatly packed on the stand right by me at the foot of the bed. His suit jacket was hung in the tiny closet. And he was watching...

The Science Channel.

I pointed at the television and raised an eyebrow, "You like How It's Made, too?"

His nod was slow but enthusiastic as he talked into the phone.

And I could easily say that the smile I gave him was equally enthusiastic while I waited for him to hang up so I could talk to him. "I love this show."

"It's a new episode..."

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