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This is probably the bit where I confess all to having really hot dreams about girl's sleepovers. Or burly man orgies with me as the Keynote speaker. I'm just fooling, I can't remember what the heck I dreamt about all that I know is that when I wake up, I'm really confused.

My nightshirt has ridden up to the very top of my back, just beneath my shoulders revealing all that I left to reveal. My head is heavy as I pull it from in between the two pillows and I can feel that my wet hair from last night is more than just a mess. Its volcanic curls in the state of hate… Fun.

It's sunny around the room and I'm a little irked that he left the window open though it's not cold, that's a relief. It's more of a comfortable wind creeping from under the duvet and up my skin. After pondering the silence for a little too long, I finally stare reality in the face. Okay, I'm alone?

Hold on, it's Sunday?

Why the heck didn't Cullen wake me?!

I check the time and calm my mini heart attack. It's only eight. I've got an hour or so yet before work. Thank God. He's left me a cascade of pills including my contraceptive pill, my Plan B pill and two paracetamol for a hangover that has yet to appear. He's also included a tall glass of water and a note.

I take all four pills quickly, soothing what is threatening to be a headache before I even want to begin getting up. I'm embarrassed… though I'm more embarrassed about the Option B pill rather than his investigation of my lady parts. Thankfully the alcohol from last night has been nice enough to hide the hell of my shame there and I feel normal enough that I can be annoyed at him for not letting me sleep and then not waking me up, rather than the fact I kinda made him responsible for last night.

Yeah shy. Asshole wasn't shy come time to sleep, was he? He can be so complicated. Honestly, he's worse than all the girls I know, multiplied!

So, rather stupidly, I decide that I should confront him about it. Address the issue... But before I do I read the note. His handwriting is painfully neat for a doctor. It just shows the Saint really is a bloody Saint.

Take with water if you can, if you can't there's yogurt downstairs. Have fun at work! x

Sarcasm, how unlike him… I like it. Though the affection is considerably unusual. He must be in a humoured mood today.

I'm lacing up my trainers when I spot Edward in the kitchen. He's nursing a headache which has me laughing. I'm just glad to know he hasn't been sick in my room.

'Sure you have enough time for a run?' He comments, questioning both my hair and my sense of timing. We're a lot alike in the sense he's as much of a mess and I am and still he thinks he's above it all.

'I'm meeting, Cullen.' I say, quickly tying my hair into a ponytail, I'll have to deal with it later if I get time.

'More fool you.'

I roll my eyes. Yeah alright, so the guy is pretty much healthier and fitter than half the athletes you see on TV, but it's only a run? A mini run? Stupid Edward. I wouldn't be having to go demand confessions if he'd slept just slept in his own vomit!

Oh, wait… No actually I would be because St Peter still wouldn't have woken me. God what is with him this weekend?!

'Did he take the scenic route or routine?'

'It's Sunday, he took the routine.' He says obviously, making out I'm some dimwit or something.

I'm halfway out the door when he corrects himself. 'Oh wait. He did mention something about going scenic?'

Because of my long sleep, I'm feeling patient so I decide not to yell at him. Instead I slam the door, knowing that'll hurt his head just as much.

As the scenic route is gorgeous but incredibly long, I cut across town, barely warming up enough in the process. He's running along the canal, deep in thought, listening to his headphones. He's frowning but then according to where he's at he has been running for a good forty minutes at a really impressive pace.

I cut him off easily and because he's so deep in thought, he trips instantly and falls to his butt. When he looks to me, sun in his eyes, it looks like he's trying to catch his breath.

'Hi.' He greets, shy as normal, eyeing me carefully. I pull him up and though I smile, he knows I'm going to make some comment he doesn't like.

So he seats himself on the hill I've just run down in an attempt to catch what he lost. He's soaked in his own sweat but it's only really adding colour to his tshirt. There is no sour aroma to it...in fact, If I was being honest, I'd correct myself by saying that I could smell his usual minty pine kind of clean smell, the warm smell of stained oak vanish.

Mm.

He is weird.

Out of wonder, I place his earphone to my ear and cringe.

'Jesus Christ. Don't you ever stop?!'

He smiles sheepishly. He's listening to lecture notes, of course. Oof. Curse him all over, putting us all to shame the Nerd. He's too panicky for his own good.

'What's up?' He asks once he can breathe again.

There's definitely alcohol still in my system because when I look him, I feel a large sense of pity for the majority of single women including, oddly, myself. He's definitely well-toned and his shirt is fitting nicely, tight against his athletic chest and back, the grey turning black. He's wearing blue gym shorts that stop at the back if the knee, showing well-formed thick, powerful calves.

Weird.

'You didn't wake me.' I complain, tearing my gaze away from his thighs. He always wakes me on Sunday, mainly because I have to get to work before he starts his run.

'No, you're starting late today?' He says simply. He wipes his neck, finds it to be wet with sweat and wipes both hands on his shorts in distaste. Though it could also seem an attempt to avoid looking at me. 'Did you come all this way to tell me that?'

We're not that far from home though I know I have to get going by the end of the hour. I haven't even ironed my uniform yet.

'No.'

He wants to start running again but because I still haven't explained why I'm here he slows down to a joggers pace. That annoys me. We both know I run and I run well. The attempt to be nice is just patronising as hell.

'So, what's up?' He asks once we've turned the corner. He's running a little awkwardly. I'm starting to think he fell on his ankle obviously he powers through like usual, only grimacing here and there.

Unlike him, I'm not shy so I dive in the deep end.

'Okay, firstly. The heck was with last night?!'

'What?' He's red around the ears and breathless but that could be put down to the running.

Great, now he's going to make things good fun as I eek the confessions out of him like a game of Tug of War.

'One minute you were you, next minute you were…weird?'

In fact, you're still being super weird!

He's frowning or trying to but his shifty eyes are giving him away. It's like asking the fat kid who ate all the pies.

'Go on?'

'Well you're normally so shy and-'

'Hold on-' he suddenly stops running to stare at me. 'You think I'm shy?'

He's acting like it's a curse.

I can't tell if he's angry or not. He's never angry which suggests no but he looks really confused. Maybe embarrassed. Though the fact he thought he wasn't shy annoys me immensely. How much of an introvert can you be?

'You act shy!' I defend. 'Anyway, who was I to associate it to your sexuality?'

His disbelieving smile grows before falling dramatically.

'Wait, what?' He suddenly sounds offended.

Hold on. What is this unfamiliar territory? What's going on? Why is he being so defensive?

'After four years you didn't think to tell me?!' I accuse, really quite annoyed the more I think about it.

What kind of friend does that? I mean four years of living with the guy? That was almost longer than any of my relationships! Did he not think we could like buddy up or whatever? This is something we might've bonded over! It explains so much!

'Tell you what?'

His frown is so thick he doesn't look like himself anymore.

'That you were gay!' I hiss, frustrated.

We stare at each other for a few seconds before he speaks, at first looking like he's very calm but the squeak of his voice says something else. He opens his mouth and then quckly shuts it before trying once more.

'You think I'm gay?!'

I genuinely can't tell if he is mad. If he is, it's confused with entertainment. For sure, he's definitely embarrassed. He just stands there, gawking at me.

I'm slowly becoming aware that the assumptions I jumped to may not be the ones that are actually true… I mean... had I ever seen him give so much as a side eye to a hunk of male ass?

Is it too late to blame the heavy drinking?

'Well, you hardly look at anyone girl I've seen. And you reacted awfully when you went anywhere near my vag.'

Let me just shout vagina a little louder, the dog walkers didn't hear...It seems that they in fact had heard me judging by their look of disgust. Cullen's cheeks warm to a pink as he rubs the back of hair, visibly stuttering.

'You think because I don't gawk at your ass like Emmett does, or because I'm not boasting about being inside you that I'm gay?!'

Definitely mad. His sentence structure could've been nicer though. Now we really we're being stared at.

'Sorry… That was uncalled for…' He adds quickly, looking deeply apologetic and taking a step closer, scratching at his forehead. He is still hesistant.

'Fine, whatever you are, asexual or whatever, why didn't you just say?!'

He's glaring at me. It doesn't suit him.

'I'm not a-sexual!' He yells.

Inside I'm laughing because whatever he's just yelled makes him sound like a pervert but I'm thinking I shouldn't be laughing because he really is oddly mad.

It's almost way his nose scrunches up...

'I didn't say because there's nothing to tell. I'm straight? Completely straight!'

There seems to be an emphasis there that I'm not understanding…. In my defence, him yelling this sort of thing doesn't sound convincing.

'Well, why have I never seen you with anyone then?!' I say smugly, folding my arms across my chest like I'm the petulant girl in front of my older brothers, thinking (perhaps falsely) that I know better…

In four fucking years, he's never so much as looked at another girl. In fact, he straight up avoided them. What the hell is going on in his head?!

I shit you not, he firstly, stepped away and secondly started to stutter. Stepped away? Like he was afraid of me? What a pussy!

'Because!'

Why he thought this was an answer is completely beyond me but then I don't really know why I'd been so irritated by the fact he hadn't told me. Sure, sure he was and had been my flatmate and longest friend for the past three to four years but that didn't really mean we spoke a lot. Not so much anymore at least. He was shy. And a workaholic. And a nerd. And I? I was just... we just didn't need to speak a lot.

Whatever trouble I managed to find myself in seemed to reach him before it even reached me anyway.

'Because what?' I persist.

'Because I've been busy. What are you, my parents?!'

This is how I know I have struck the nerve. His mother died in childbirth and his father and him didn't get along. From what I gather, a scary guy. Really bloody scary…and a bit nuts too...

I'm not usually wrong so imagine how hard it is to scurry back into my hole once I realised I was burning in the sunlight of shame.

'I didn't-' Err? - 'I'm sorry it's just…well you're usually so consistent and last night you were all over the place!'

'Can you blame me?' He asks, relaxing now even if his colour doesnt agree. He gives a disbelieving yet humoured smile. 'I didn't exactly plan my Saturday evening giving my roommate an oral exam?'

It's a dumb sentence. I crack a smile. He laughs before I do but then I had that kind of face. No one ever really stayed angry at me for long.

'Doesn't exactly explain your evening hyperactivity?' I tease, folding my hands to my waist.

'Blame the apple juice.' He says with a smirk.

I roll my eyes and hit him lightly in the chest. This may be the first time he's ever put up some sort of defence. I'm both shocked and a little proud. Finally Cullen is progresssing. We're actually getting somewhere.

'So...definitely not gay, huh?'

He rolls his eyes and in a stiff kind of manner, moves his head from left to right.

'I've got to get ready,' I say, checking my watch though its batteries ran out about six months ago and I still haven't changed it…It's a nice piece of jewellery. I was technically already running late considering how long it usually took me to get ready. 'I'll see you later.'

'Mines a double expresso!' He calls, replacing the headphones back in his ears. I knew what that meant, it meant he was working tonight, too. Ahh well then, back to reality.

What really sucks is that work is busy today so not only do I have to go in early but for as many people there are, there's about four coffees to each and my boss is pissing me right off.

He's a large man and that's putting it lightly, or err, heavily… anyway the cash front is a very small area. I hesitate when putting the cups away because there is no way in hell I'm squeezing my tiny ass into that area just to go get touched up by his sweaty frame.

'Don't just stand there, if you're coming in, come in.' He orders, glaring at me, or my tits, whatever his eyes falls on first.

I have to bite my tongue. I look at him and squeeze beside the lad of lard, trying not to freak out when his sweaty body pushes deliberately against mine. It's at this point, I start to hate my life. Especially because I'm still in a little pain from last night. But with the thought on last night, my mind quickly wonders to the Saint instead.

Sex and sexuality is often presumed to go hand in hand but it doesn't always. People love to put a label on things. (Don't now go kill yourself out of guilt, everyone does it, I do it too). You snog the person of the same sex and they all immediately jump the gun and call you gay. It doesn't have to be. Have sex with who you want and don't let your likes and dislikes dictate who you are. Unless you want that of course. I'm no prude.

Thinking Cullen is/was gay was a genuine mistake but you can't blame me. I have no qualms about him loosening up a little with either sex, it's just annoying he didn't tell me. I'm a great wingwoman.

Oh right, yeah. Not gay. Not A-sexual either..

Well what is his problem, then? I've seen plenty of girls fall for him, ass over tit and he doesn't give them a second look –

'Oh God!' she cries.

Holy shit.

'Tilly!' I whine, grabbing a towel and holding it to my arm. The total idiot she is has dropped boiling hot coffee on my wrist and it is burning through multiple layers of skin as well as the top of my thigh!

I hold it under the sink for a few minutes, trying not to get angry at her because she is fairly new but then she's also been here long enough not to be an idiot. That and her name sounds weird in my accent.

She's hanging around me not really knowing what to do, panicking slightly. She's pink in the face, her long blonde hair curled and in the way of anything she touches. It's annoying as hell that she's the only one that gets away with having her hair down but then she's fuck ugly so it's quite nice not to look at her whole face.

She's still hanging around me as the water stings my wrist. Not offering any help while I try not to whimper in pain.

'What?' I ask, trying not to be rude which is hard for me. Plus my arm is stinging like hell...

Bloody hell girl, leave me be.

'Your friends are here…' She sounds nervous, clearly focused on drooling at them.

Ass over tit exhibit A.

I roll my eyes. She's always like this when Cullen comes in. She half tramples over him and he barely lifts his eyes when he thanks her, without any irony, for fucking up his order. For now, I'm silently wishing he'd fuck off.

She watches me concerned, not over my wrist or my thigh where the remaining coffee has burnt but over what she needs to do or what she thinks she needs to do. What she should say, what does he want? Does she look okay?

Should I care?

'And?' I say, trying not to let my thigh bother me more than my arm.

Ow, ow ow, fucking ow! Stupid water, stupid Tilly with the dumb-ass name meant for three year olds.

'What do I do?' she asks nervously, gazing at him like he's some kind of advert.

To be honest, she isn't half off, I can't judge her here. He can, at times, look unnaturally beautiful.

Wait, what does she mean she doesn't know what to do? She works in a coffee shop? How about stop playing with your hair like a useless lump of meat and serve them?

'You could always get them a drink?' I say, extenuating the fact she's acting like she's too stupid to be let into the backwards asylum and focusing instead on letting the cold water numb my burning limbs. If momentarily.

Either that. Or she can tell them to go away if they're going to have this kind of effect in my work place.

'But I don't know what they drink!'

How about a coffee?!

I have to fight the urge to slap her with my welted hand.

She should know what they drink. Cullen orders the same thing every day I'm working and Edward clearly isn't going to drink anything because he looks like the definition of regret.

She's gawking at them, desperately, so with a grumble, I turn off the tap, grab a takeaway cup from the coffee machine (and a water because whether he wants it or not, Ed needs it) and then do my job.

Carlisle's smiling again, dressed in cleaner track suits and a white top. He's planning to run to work then too, goddamn him being so healthy.

'Busy, huh?'

Is he flexing his biceps or is he usually this toned? Why does he look so... good?

'It's not too bad, anymore,' I admit. 'You hungry?'

He doesn't always eat here but I like it when he does because it means I get to sit down for three minutes. Tilly's standing around looking like a useless tea bag, gawking at him. Not that he's noticed, of course. But then he never does. See? He's not busy now and he hasn't noticed her! Blahh blahh blah 'I don't have hormones because I'm such an introvert', stupid Flatmates….

He looks like he's about to decline though quickly sees me nodding at him and changes his mind.

'Sure? Err. What do you recommend?'

He normally goes for a granola bar but because he hasn't had the five minute decision time, he's thrown.

'If you buy cake then I'll get to steal some.' This can also translate to please buy me some cake, becayse I hurt myself and I'm wallowing in self pity.

I grin widely as a persuasion. Clearly he doesn't need persuading because he's already agreeing that this sounds like an appealing idea. He looks to Edward who violently shakes his head in decline, he can't stomach anything yet then. Good. Serves him right for vomiting everywhere.

'What do I owe you?' he asks, pulling out the brown leather wallet.

I put in the staff discount, not giving a shit if my boss is watching me like he's been doing since this morning.

'A year's tuition and the rent?'

'Short again are we?'

He doesn't look at me when he smiles. However he's seen the number on the till and is already pulling out the appropriate notes and then some for the Tip Jar. I know we're overpriced, he knows we're overpriced, we both know it makes no sense for him to buy coffee here, especially when he never drinks all of it, yet here we are.

'No more than usual.' I sigh, handing him his change. 'I'll bring it over in a sec.'

He smiles, passes Edward his water and takes a seat near the open window, hidden away from my boss's view. Thank fuck.

Tilly is hanging around still and because my arm, my thigh and my vagina hurt (even though the last isn't her fault) I decide to say fuck her and take the order over myself, normally something I get her to do. Her obsessive eyes are annoying me.

Goddamn the Saint.

'How's the hangover?' I ask Edward as I take the seat nearest him. He smiles weakly before giving me a false thumbs up and then replacing his head against the table with a thump.

I immediately start to pick apart Cullen's food and eat it. I'm hungry and so fed up of working with eyes constantly on me that I'm wondering why on earth I didn't just apply to work in an office full time? The answer is college and as always, the money…

'Who's wound you up this time?' The Saint asks watching me curiously. I like how he's keeping me hidden from view without even thinking about it. His posture is natural.

'Everybody.' I say with a grin. He smirks and takes a sip of his drink before frowning.

'It's mint, I thought you'd like it.'

Edward's the one I normally experiment with because Carlisle is so straightforward but after yesterday, I'm starting to think I've judged him too quickly. Everything about him is gleamingly pure so a shot of peppermint in his coffee only ties in his whole look. Alice would be proud.

'Yeah. Yeah it's great, thank you.' He twists his hand around so I can see Tilly's handwriting on the cup.

Oh grow up!

'Sorry, she's new.' Why am I defending her? The bitch technically burnt me?!

'No, no. Her numbers changed. Last time it ended in oh-four now it's eight,eight.' He shakes the thought away and takes another gulp from the cup. He seems to be liking it. But then I am a coffee genius.

Wait, what did he just say?!

'You have her number?' I don't recognise the tone in my voice. I'm channelling confusion but that's not what I can hear.

'Well, no but I remember it from last time,' he says shrugging, blowing delicately so the steam of his drink floats my way. Mmm…

'And the time before that, and the time before that and the-'

'Alright Edward, we get the picture….' Why do I sound so weird? If Tilly is asking for his number then it's giving him a chance to man up and fuck up. In the right manner, of course. As in get laid. Good for him!

Yay?

'She's pretty innocent…' I say, chewing on a bit of his flapjack. 'Your type,' I add with a grin. A pretend grin. Fuck her.

He playfully throws a bit of food at me, laughing. Edward is taking a thoughtful sip of his water, agreeing with my comment though clever in not letting Carlisle see.

Absently, I scratch the burn on my leg reminding myself to take my trousers off and check it later because it's bugging me. Fatso is also watching me and I can't sink any lower in my seat. He's going to come over in a moment so quickly pretend to be gathering the empty cups on a tray.

'I'm not finished with that!' Carlisle says with a testing smile. I return his drink back to him, sticking my tongue out before sighing.

'Is he staring at me?' I ask tentatively. It's nicer to have my back to the till, it means I can ignore my job for the moment.

'He was staring at your chest, earlier.' Edward says shrugging.

I groan because that fucking sucks, especially when confirmed by someone else. The Saint doesn't comment though his face changes into an unfamiliar look.

'Can you see my bra?' I ask with a grimace.

Edward turns his head towards me, debating, Carlisle has done the opposite and turned further away from me. I'm guessing the underwear thing scarred him a little.

'Not unless you're really staring.' Edward confirms.

Well why the fuck is my boss looking at me then? Leave me alone!

'Well, your cardigan is only at home, I'll drop it off before work if you want?' Carlisle offers, always the gentleman though I'm definitely no Lady.

Both I and Edward are extreme luckily that he's so observant. He's genuinely too nice to us.

'Would you mind?' I ask, gratefully. I'm vaguely aware he's starting to sound like my bitch. Maybe that might be his kink?

All out leather.

He smiles but the smile drops when he sees something I don't want to acknowledge. I can feel the walrus behind me before it wails, I didn't need their warning looks….

'Esme, don't you think you should be getting back to work? Leave these gentleman alone.'

Edward laughs under his breath but the jokes on him because at least I don't look like shit.

'Yes, sir!' I cheer enthusiastically. Edward laughs more, Carlisle gulps like he's the other side of my conscience.

He's standing far too close to me when I walk back to the counter to help serve and I'm unnaturally aware of the curse of a big chest. So I reluctantly go back to work and luckily, it's too busy for me to engage in awkward conversation with my stalker/ employer.