Thank you for all the lovely reviews! I hope you keep them coming :D

This chapter is a little heavy and involves the suggestion of some dark themes. Read at own risk.

It's pretty crappy not having my back-up crew to keep watch over me twenty-four-seven but then unlike somepeople, I actually don't mind putting in a bit of effort in order to get a paycheck so while the co-workers chill out, I busy myself in pointless jobs that don't really need doing. Tilly is still hanging around me like a lost pigeon (wonky eyes and all), and she has yet to apologise for scolding me. I use her shyness to my advantage and decide not to give her any sort of hint about the cup and the fact she graffitied it with her digits.

The Saint clearly didnt care anyway.

'They're very polite. Not a lot of guys like that around…' She says randomly, perched by the counter and looking wistfully off into the window like some sort of maiden potrait.

It's a roundabout way of saying I don't deserve to be living with them. Which is half true because when Carlisle cleans, the house is heaven, when Edward does it, he does it wrong and I lose my temper.

'Nope.' I mutter, taking over in the work she is neglecting.

'And so charming!' She sighs, practically grinding against the very counter top I have just disinfected.

'Yep.'

Pffft, 'charming' until one of them has to come get a prescription with you! Then he doesn't know what 'private' means. Stupid child pharmacist.

I'm cleaning the coffee machine when she starts up again, her teeth sinking into her lip and curling a finger through her hair as if she is flirting with his very apparition.

'He's so muscular... And so thoughtful, too- buying breakfast. A man with an appetite.'

He couldn't have an appetite if we starved him for days. Cullen ate what was good for him, he rarely relinquished that element of self-control. I've tried to copy in his Saint steps but it's hard. I like junk food.

'Uh-huh.'

In trying to shut her up with my clanging about, I accidently graze my welted arm on the machine and have to stop myself from crying out. She hasn't even noticed. Stupid limbs and piercings getting in the way of my happiness and my weekend.

'He's quite shy though. Isn't he? I mean, he hasn't even messaged me yet...'

See! I'm not an idiot! He is shy!

'Well…' I say with a thoughtful shrug. To be honest, I don't really like the idea of giving anything away, especially when my arm is inflammed to hell because of her and she hasn't even got the decency to bat her lashes in my direction.

'It's not like he's taken. You never see him with a girl, either….'

Finally, I stop what I'm doing to look at her. She's day dreaming, watching the light, thinking sweet thoughts and pouting. Ha.

'Oh, I don't know about that….' I sing playfully, shrugging slightly.

Careful, Esme...

She doesn't catch on just yet but that's fine. I'm enjoying my little daydream which admittedly, is not like me. I should be helping the guy out. He certainly helps me out enough….

...Ah, but he can do so much better than Tilly. Especially when he is so sweet. He deserves someone whose going go be as sensitive to him as he obviously will be.

Secondly, jailbait. He needs someone older.

'He looks so tired!' She sighs. 'They really do work them to death up there, don't they? God, who knew being a Doctor would be So time consuming?' She accuses, frowning as if I'm to blame for it all.

She's getting on my nerves. Sure, they're understaffed but come on! Work them to death? In a hospital? Of course, they prefer all their staff to be useless corpses! Fucking bimbo...

This time, I make sure she hears me because I'm failing to keep my voice quieter than the curses under my breath.

'Well,' I say with a deliberately teasing voice. 'He was up really late last night.'

It's hardly a lie and it catches her attention perfectly. In a flash, her innocent look of purity has turned to down-right jealousy and she's down on her knees in a second where I'm clearing out the cabinet.

'My Carlisle?'

Say what?!

'Surely not,' she corrects me, frowning.

Any information I give her, she hangs onto like a life source.

'Oh yeah, sounded like he had a girl in his room, too.' I say, still fiddling about with various tins of coffee. 'From what I heard, they were having quite the night.'

I sneak another look at her face. Hahahahahahhahahahaha, I'm a goddamn genius.

'What were they doing?!' she demands, gripping onto me and onto my burnt arm! Jesus Christ?! What is wrong with this sadist?! I unclasp her hand with one of mine, hide the growl and manipulate it into a sigh as I push her back. She's practically stealing my oxygen she's so close to my face.

Time to really piss her off.

'All I know is that she wasn't wearing a lot of clothes this morning. She pretty hot too, if you ask me…'

It's a real struggle not to self-five myself at the moment because despite the physical pain I'm in, this shit is hilarious.

'But…but he's so innocent! Why would he waste his time being interested in someone who isn't me?!'

Tell me about it, face full of vagina last night and was he interested? Was he heck!

But on a serious note, he would most certaintly never be interested in a mess like her. If he was really interested in those sorts of messes, he'd be so in love with Edward, he wouldnt give a shit about what genitals were attached.

Like he said, he was straight. Not fucking desperate.

It's weird that I'm now starting to sound like I was dissatisfied with his service. Which I'm not. I'm super relieved he was in Doctor Mode last night…it would've been weird if not…

'Well he used to be innocent... After last night...'

'Whose innocent?'

The change in voice makes us both jump, mainly because I'm trying to eradicate the weird argument I'm having with myself. Now peering over the side I realise Cullen is leaning over the very counter Tilly was grinding against (gross), watching me throw crap back into the shelves beneath where I've just hit my head. Luckily, I've managed to escape unscathed. For once.

I try to smile despite my blush of very nearly being caught.

He's laughing joyously and for some weird reason, I feel myself grow even more colourful all over. I work in a coffee shop… it's got to be the heat?

'Err,' I say, looking at Tilly who is frozen with a besotted grin on her face. Oh go shoot yourself. 'You…' I confess.

He lifts a blonde eyebrow intrigued. Clearly, he thinks I'm joking.

'I've got your cardigan.' He says, holding it up as an indication.

We meet behind the back of the cash machineso I can put it on followed by the apron which he remembered and I didn't. See what I mean? Sickly sweet sometimes. He tightens the strings at my waist And follows up by holding out the arms of the cardigan for me so I can slip into it.

'All better?' I ask, smoothing out the sides. Stupid, tight fitting top loosing me my dignity.

He knows what I'm on about and politely nods though he's barely given them a glance or if he has, I haven't spotted it. For fuck sake, they're just boobs, they're not going to hurt him.

Tilly is staring at me, green with envy before taking a careful step forward so that our double act becomes an awkward three. It's only a good three when Edward's the third and he's not vomiting.

'Thank you for the cup.' He remembers, a gentle smile on his lip as he addresses her. She jumps to conclusions and doesn't spot him wringing his hands behind his back. He's totally thinking of a nice way to let her down.

'I wasn't sure if you got my other note… It's almost like you've been ignoring me.' She says shyly, making her eyes wider so that she looks like a freak. She looks like a freak anyway. It's impossible not to laugh at her. What a tool.

But because I'm not needed, I leave him to flounder and return to work, making sure I'm still in earshot of the entertainment.

'I was thinking we could met up? Get to know each other more maybe?' She says, trying to make her voice all seductive too. Ha.

You've got no hope!

'That would be….' He begins delicately. Don't say nice, I warn him…but he's not telepathic…and neither am I...

It's easy to picture his cheeks colouring at the very thought, panicked ocean eyes on my back as he desperately wishes I'd rescue him. Haha, not tonight my friend.

'Good.' He says awkwardly. Good?! Did he realise what he was saying?! 'But…err…'

Panic over, I thought he actually meant it then.

'I'm not worried about the girl you were with last night,' she says abruptly, panicking and offering any kind of words as sacrifice for his attention.

Fuck, thanks Tilly.

But I decide I can't help but watch him now. He's so red in the face and the neck and the ears, it is adorable… Err, as in adorable to watch him look like such a freak!

'What?' He asks. I know he's glaring at me, panicking about what I could've said to her.

Goddamn it Tilly, leave me out of it!

'Esme told me about the girl in your bed this morning.' She sounds like a child; confessing her sins as easy as if she was vomiting. 'Don't worry, I'm not jealous or anything...'

I let my shoulders fall. At least it was fun while it lasted.

'Did she, now?' At least he sounds more humoured than annoyed. His voice is challenging, I kinda like it.

Wait, what? Not like 'like', as in I'm proud he's becoming less of a pussy, I didn't mean I found it arousing or anything?! Okay, ew. Why the heck did I just put arousing and Cullen in the same sentence together? Ew- no! Just… Just shut up, serve the people, make the coffee…Stop talking to yourself...

'Well, I'm assuming that's quite over with now…' He says gently, hooded blue eyes downcast to his trainers, a delicate side smile on his lip.

Assuming, huh?

Wait! Is this a threat to say I can't stay in his bed anymore? Surely not? He's most probably just trying to wind me up. He's attempting to play the same game I've played with him for years… Or tried to play. You can't play a game when your only opponent is the pearly gates of heaven.

'Oh? Really?' Oh shut up Tilly, you're ruining the fun.

Fucking really, Cullen?

'Are you free Friday?' he asks, leaning against the till door like some kinda cool bad boy, hands in his pockets.

Oh, Excuse me?!- What the fuck?!

In four years, four years, he says nothing remotely suggestive to a girl, I say one tiny thing about being gay and all of the sudden he's discovered his libido.

What?!

I'm meant to be ignoring him and letting him have his fun but I just have to see what he's thinking. He's got the usual smile on his face though as he turns to look at me, he winks. I don't really know what to do. This is so un-Cullen like. Even worse than yesterday.

Winking?!

Huh? Maybe my vagina was just so delightful he's super excited to go meet girls! I gave him the gift of arousal!

…That's a weird thing to think….

'Yes!' She breathes quite literally all over him but he keeps a decent amount of space there.

'Cool, we could all do something. What do you think, Es?'

Holy shit, Nerd-Boy. I can't believe he did that. He actually made me think... I thought I was going mad! Panic is over. He's not flirting, he's being nice…

'I'll see if Alice is free!' I say, grinning.

'Oh? Yeah- yeah that sounds good.' Tilly says, frowning but when he looks at her she turns to smiling again, drinking him all in.

He's partly watching me maybe trying to read what I'm thinking but I'm not thinking about much. I wrap the cardigan around me that little tighter for something to do. It smells like our washing powder and his cologne. Familiar, comforting and warm.

With a cough to announce his entrance, I realise my boss is hanging around again.

'Okay, now you've gotta leave before you get me fired…' I mutter to Cullen, kicking him out of the back, with a playful kind of reproach.

He pokes out a pink tongue, tightens the bag on his shoulder and salutes me off, his blonde hair gleaming in the crappy lighting of the shop. Even I'm thrown for the minute. He's acting so weird?! Being so... pretty and all?

Huh, strange the things you notice.

'Cullen!' I yell, as he reaches the door. He turns and mid-air grasps the water bottle I throw at him. He catches it easily without needing to watch his movement and flashes those perfect teeth in thanks before waving goodbye. Huh, cute...

Things calm a little once he's gone. Tilly leaves me alone, possibly to wank over my Flatmate. My arm hurts and I have no food but with what little change is in my purse, I pay for the bottle of water I chucked at him then it's back to rushing around on my feet again.

My boss calls me into his office at the end of the day. I panic. He says I look stressed. Let me tell you this; oh shit. I know where this is going, id been in a similar albeit wanted situation before and I know it's not simple to get out of it. Fuck my fucking flawless body...Well, it's not flawless, but fuck it anyway. Maybe not literally. Definitely not if you've got a piercing. No. No, no, no. You can do one in that case…never again...

Anyway, he offers me his number in case I 'need someone to talk to'. I try to refuse it, he insists. He instructs me closer and because the money in this place is really really good, I follow. He hands me the piece of paper.

'Thanks,' I'm trying not to sound rude but fucking hell. Really?! Just leave me alone!

'Even if you're lonely.' He says, smiling. He smells like cigarettes and disappointment. He's not even slightly hot, he wouldn't be if I was blind.

I'm not really the chatty type but I don't want to lose my job.

'Thanks.' I repeat.

'Anytime.' He emphasises every syllable… And then he lets his flipper fall on my thigh.

I'm momentarily grateful I've had a shit weekend and have been burnt. But like I say…momentarily….in which this case means for a second before I feel the weight of his hand linger on the pain.

Cursing, I jump away from him at speed and grab my pained leg. He looks a little angry, like he is going to fire me….

'Tilly spilt coffee on me!' I whine, in attempt to save my job and me. The guy is more bipolar than the word itself.

…Oh shit. Either I definitely drank too much alcohol yesterday that I'm still really inebriated or I'm a complete twit because I'm suddenly aware that he's the only one present that's first aid trained….

I throw my hand to the door knob and open it slightly. He's standing up now. Looking large…too large. There's no way I can take him on...

'That's not good…' Says the sweating-mess, fighting a grin.

Not good. Really not good. Nothing about this situation is good.

'No, it's not…' I agree.

'I could take a look at it if you want?' He offers.

So now my brain is thinking. I'm thinking fuck. But I'm also thinking that, if I'm quick enough, if he comes near me, I could maybe fight him off…but there's a really big problem with that.

When I say the job is good money, I'm not flouncing about being an idiot. I mean that out of all the jobs I do, if I lose this one, the other few can't support me. I will be forever poor. Poorer than I am now and right out of college, again…alone… and in loads of debt…left to die….shit.

His sweaty face lights up a little when I don't move because he can take this as confirmation. And because I'm really fucking stupid, my brain starts thinking again: Maybe I was too harsh on him earlier…?

Sure. He is overweight. But maybe he was once quite handsome. His hair is greying but there's still quite a bit there. He's in his 50's but maybe if you squint, he can look a little younger. Not a vile face. Foul sure, but a capable kind of foul.

The fact he is married is making me feel sick though it's hardly a high ground I can take given my past choices. I am so dependent on this shitty little coffee shop...

'It's fine. I'll get someone to look at it later.' I say awkwardly, the words quiet enough that he could probably pretend to ignore them and get away with it. He pauses.

'Your gentleman friend? The doctor?' He's making his voice quiet, whispering softly like a threat. It is successful in creeping me out.

'Urm, yeah maybe…' Although he's definitely seen enough of my body than necessary. I didn't want to kill the poor guy.

My boss narrows his expression and like a puppet on a piece of string, I move.

'Or not, he's working.' I add. Why do I add that?! It's only going to screw me over.

The doctor title is there for a reason, Esme. Worst case scenario, if it is bad, I just go to the hospital… he wouldn't mind? He probably recommend it. I take a look at my wrist. It's blistered, and very pink…I could probably get away with not going to the hospital. It would only freak him out.

My boss holds his hand out to me to place my leg into it. It's a weird move but judging by his temper I don't want to not follow his instructions…. He flexes his fingers impatiently so I drop my leg into it, holding my breath.

His hands are sweaty and warm on the back of my thigh and I can feel the tips of his fingers moving closer to my intimately sore area. Even inspite of the clothes.

Now I know I started this saying that sex is great and so far everything that's happened has shat on that theory meaning you shouldn't listen to me… but let me just say this as a bit of advice; please don't be like me.

So he brings my knee up to rest against his crotch, hand against the slack material, squeezing the back of it as if judging the weight. It's almost like the end of a tango but my head and neck are obviously not thrown back in an image of pure ecstasy. I'm still holding my breath.

This is the part where I advise; follow my words notmy example.

'I can't help you if I can't see anything….' He grins, coming closer so that my knee is now not just resting against his area but actively held under it as if to tease himself.

Now a shiver runs from the top of my head right into the bones of my ankles. I don't move. He's already got my leg.

And because your brain does stupid things when you're panicking, the only I can think, even when his slick fingers break open the button at my waist and slowly pull the leg down, is that my thigh is really chunky. Really unsexily chunky, like so un-Cullen kind of chunky and it makes me feel sick.

Sicker than before…sicker than the gold wedding band on his finger reminding me I'm a shitty person, sicker than his sweaty face.

His breathing gets louder, too obnoxious, and as he tightens the grip on my thigh, I notice he's very obviously excited.

All I can feel is dread.

Now, you may remember me running cold water over my wrist and that's still come up in blisters on top of blisters. I physically couldn't do the same to my thigh and so the burn there is horrific and I mean horrific. I take one look at it and the breath I've been holding falls out in a panic.

I gag from the sheer sight of it and the pain, the pain, is on a whole incomprehensible level.

And the award for the biggest regret of the weekend goes to my choice of underwear. The uniform is tight and because it's tight in both shirt and slacks, the pants pinch at your ass making it impossible to wear anything comfortable. So I don't go for comfort because I'm a fool, I go for racy and lacy.

I hate myself.

He looks like he's about to dribble, he's ignoring my marked skin and focusing on the red G string, eating it all up with his eyes, getting fatter with lust.

Shit.

By the grace of God, (as Carlisle would say) or the skin of my teeth or every lucky star that exists, my phone rings loudly, freezing both of us until I snap out of my secondary panic of panic , pinch it from my back pocket and hold it to my ear.

This gives me my biggest and best chance. I strike while the iron is hot which means, I speedily turn away and fix my bottoms as quick as possible with no complaint of the wounds I've been exhibiting since lunch.

'Hiya Babe. We need to ask a huge favour!'

It's Mrs Walderman from across the road and even though I'm 23 years of age, to hear the voice of an adult adult is every bit of heaven to my hell.

'Is everything alright?' It's funny how when you're the one who's frightened, all you do is ask the questions that you need people to ask you.

'Of course, Hon. We were just wondering if you'd maybe be able to watch the kids tonight? We're late back from the airport and mother has got other commitments.'

I check my watch. It's late. Very late, I've been working for 12+ hours. Their youngest will be in bed already.

'As in stay over?' I've done it before, but usually I didn't have class the next day.

'If that's okay? We'll be back by 6am?'

I suddenly decide that I need the money, (in case in a turn of events the man in front fires my ass) and that I will do anything to leave at the moment.

'Yeah, yeah, that's no problem. When do you need me by?'

'Well, mother can stay for another hour or so, as long as you're there before twelve really. It's just to make sure someone's there if they wake up.'

I turn away from my boss, whose looking amused at me, rush to the staff room and grab my bag as if the call I'm taking is incredibly urgent. I'm a good enough actor that this doesn't need questioning. Besides, he can't hear what they answer.

'Bye my little Brown-eyes!' He says when I point to the car lot as if to show that I need to leave. His voice is sickly.

I hate pet names.

'That's no problem!' I answer to the Waldermans, jumping in the car and locking all the doors twice over.

I know for a fact that whatever I did, it was the wrong move and it'll land me in more crap at some other point. Yet I have never been more relieved to be on my way home, even if it means late night baby-sitting.