8
The Hunk
Edward decides to be selfish.
Bella told him it took a lot for her to text him, but he wants to see her. Needs to see her.
So he tells a little white lie.
Didn't you just go shopping?
Yes, but I forgot the main ingredient.
Meet me at my door in a second.
She opens the door slowly until it's wide open, and Edward gulps.
He knew she was beautiful before just by the quick glimpse of her face, but now that he's getting the full experience, he's caught off guard.
Bella is taller than average but still a tad bit shorter than him. She's a bigger girl with curves for days, and Edward's mouth waters just looking at her.
He notices that she's dressed in pajamas and smiles at the technicolor socks on her feet.
And then he realizes she's frowning and fidgeting, obviously uncomfortable with his blatant ogling.
"Sorry. Just, wow," he blurts out. "You're so beautiful."
She doesn't say anything for a moment.
"You don't have to say that. Here's your sugar and some soup I made today. It's cheddar broccoli," Bella whispers, a deep blush forming high on her cheeks.
She moves to pass the bowls over, and Edward notices that she doesn't move any closer to the threshold.
"I didn't really need the sugar. I just wanted to see you, Sugar."
"Oh."
Her frown deepens, and he feels like an asshole.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have had a hidden agenda. But I'm glad to finally see more than a pair of eyes," Edward admits, shuffling the bowls into one hand before extending the other toward her.
"It's nice to finally meet you officially."
Bella's eyes dart from the threshold to Edward's hand and then back again.
He makes a bold step and leans in farther until they're almost touching.
"Take my hand, Sugar."
She slides her hand into his.
Her palm is warm and soft.
Edward can't help but notice the small tremble.
"Hi, Sugar."
"Hi, Honey," Bella smiles, squeezing his fingers before letting go. "Thank you."
"For what? You gave me dinner and sugar that I don't need. I should be thanking you."
She laughs and shakes her head.
"You don't push, and you helped me with my homework."
"Homework? Are you in school?"
Edward doesn't understand how in the world he could have helped her.
Bella's blush returns.
"No. My psychiatrist gave me homework this week. She wanted me to open my door completely if you knocked. You didn't knock, but I think it still counts," she explains to the floor.
Edward isn't surprised to hear that Bella is in therapy. She's obviously got something going on. "I'm glad I was able to help. Feel free to use me anytime."
Bella points to the bowl. "You might want to eat that soon, seeing as your microwave died. If it gets cold it'll coagulate," she says.
Edward can tell she's reached her limit.
He thanks her for the soup and the sugar and watches her close the door, not leaving until he hears the locks engage.
Edward doesn't even bother with a spoon. He sits at his kitchen table, sips straight from the bowl, and reaches for his phone.
You are a goddess. This soup is just what I needed. Thank you.
You're welcome. It's my gran's recipe.
Well, thank you, Bella's gran. Hey, Sugar?
Sup, Honey?
I know you're not ready to talk about everything with me, but I want you to know a couple of things. You are worth the effort, and I'm willing to put in my all. I understand what a big deal tonight was for you.
Good night, Edward.
Edward frowns.
She didn't call him Honey.
She didn't acknowledge his words.
He calls Rosalie and relays the entire night's events.
"Well, it's pretty obvious, ass hat," she tells him when he's finished.
"What's obvious?"
"You're such an idiot. It's obvious that she doesn't believe you. She thinks you're lying. Also, what in the world made you think it was okay to come up with a nickname before you even saw her? Emmett wants to know if she's hot."
"How do I get her to believe me? The nickname thing just happened, and tell your husband to shut the fuck up."
"I contemplate covering his mouth with duct tape daily, but you know how he is. With my luck, he'd hyperventilate, pass out, and hit his head on the coffee table. I'm too young to be a widow."
"Goodnight, Rosalie."
"Wait! I have an idea. It's crazy, but it just might work. We'll talk about it tomorrow." There are distinct slapping sounds on the other end of the phone. "Emmett, if you don't stop grabbing my tit, I'm going to push you down the stairs. I'm talking to my brother. That's all kinds of twisted."
"Goodnight, Rosalie," Edward says again, hanging up before he witnesses a murder.
He composes a text message and hits send before stomping up the stairs and falling into bed fully clothed.
I'm so sorry, Sugar. I never want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. Please don't shut me out. I'm worth it. I promise.
