I'd be super forever grateful if you could leave me a note of what you thought of this chapter.

Thank youuuu!

'All better?' Edward asks, wondering with us back to the car. He's looking like he wants to complain as to why we took so long. The only reply I have to that is the body. Oh my God, Cullen's body.

'Hardly.' I mutter shyly because I have on the brain is dick jokes which isn't great as I've got to go babysit in an hour. 'Anyway, can we get Indian?'

Edward perks up. He shouldn't go anywhere near spicy food but whose cooking at eleven at night? No one. I'm hungry and Indian is the best.

'Please?' I'm asking the usual suspect because he's always the one who declines.

He grimaces though he hasn't eaten anything either. I grab his arm tenderly, testing out the firmness with over enthusiastic fingers and almost cheering when I realise he's actually real and so are the muscles underneath. Mmm. Jesus, how did I never see this before?

I mean he's always been attractive- hell, he's always been gorgeous. And incredibly smart... and thoughtful.

But an absolute panty-teaser?

'Please?!'

I see his bright blue eyes roll, those pretty serene lips pulling up into a smirk.

'Please!' I need to get him plump so I don't jump the poor guy.

'Fine!' He replies, laughing.

It's nice being the only girl in the house, you get spoilt when you're not one-hundred percent because no one wants to upset you and they'll do anything to avoid the crying fest.

I'm that shaken up with a concoction of dread, desire and damn-right amazement that the moment we arrive at the takeaway, I leave some money with the boys and pop in the Off-licence.

Now I don't smoke, not anymore. So why in the sane heck I do this is beyond me, but I buy a packet of cigarettes and because I know the boys will ask me what I bought, I buy a big bar of chocolate to cover up the original purchase, which I show them. To which they seem positively bored by so we drive home.

I claim the arm chair once we're through the doors and greedily open my dinner with such ravenous energy once everyone's sat down because it smells insanely gorgeous. But my energy lasts all of two seconds.

'So? How'd it go with Bella?' I ask, chewing slowly because what did taste so good now tastes so... empty. Edward's starving and starts stuffing it down till Carlisle warns him that it's not the greatest idea in the world. His shifty green eyes glare at me.

'Fine.' He says stiffly

'Go on…' I urge.

He huffs into his food. I'm pushing mine all into the center of the box. The first mouthful was lush but all I can think is seeing my fat thighs, pushing up against some old guy's junk. I feel a little sick.

'She seems cool.' He says with a shrug.

'That's not what you were saying last night.' Cullen teases, brows up with a playful glint in his eyes. Oh, I am all over this!

He puts his finger-tips to his mouth to hide his smile as he addresses the corner of the ceiling. 'Something along the lines of: 'Oh Bella, you're so pretty', 'Let me love you Bella!'

Edward's jaw drops and he juts out to elbow him while the two of us burst into laughter.

'I did not say that!'

Ooh grumpy. Good fun. hat means he likes her!

'Fine. You're right. I'm sorry…' Weirdly, Cullen's smirk is kinda hot, particularly when he faces me head on.… 'Maybe it was 'Oh Bella, I'd love to play for you!' He's referring to the piano in the corner coated with the shine of dust since Edward's too lazy to play recently.

His stony face changes from the entertained pretend anger to sheer surprise shaded with utter mortification. I graze the fork with my teeth but I don't really feel hungry anymore. Besides, it's more fun to get involved with Edward's night.

'Oh Bella, let's leave the night club!' I add, pouting in mockery. Carlisle gets my drift and follows it enthusiastically.

The copper kid is trying not to smile but his pink cheeks tell all.

'Bella, let's hang out!'

'Ooh Bella, Bella, let's talk about music!' I'm giggling.

'Bella, let's make music!' Carlisle corrects.

My chest expands in an exhaustive gruff, we're laughing that much.

'Are you quite finished?' Edward grumbles.

I look to Carlisle who smiles modestly, conceding. I've got nothing either. 'Yeah, we're done.' I sigh.

'Good. Now, may I just ask…?' He looks smugly from Carlisle and I. We're perfectly relaxed. I never get shy. there was nothing to get shy about. Take your pick, kid. Fight me.

'The lube from your room?' Edward asks, deliberately.

And with that one sentence, the asshole has won the evening.

'Pleading the fifth.' Our Saint mutters, quickly swallowing his mouthful.

On that note, I quickly stand up and leave the living room, too, throwing the majority of my food in the fridge with the chocolate. I'm about to reach in my pocket for the cigarettes when Carlisle comes into the kitchen, still looking pink in embarrassment. I've only got half an hour till I've got to go across the road and I don't want to go over there smelling like smoke so I'm awkwardly trying to fight my way upstairs without turning my back on him.

Ever since yesterday, he is unusually chatty.

'Why do you always do that?' he asks, troubled yet he seems curious. I'm wondering if he's spotted what's behind my back and wind both hands behind my back.

'Do what?' I ask nervously.

'You beg and beg and beg for us to order Take Out so we do and you barely eat a mouthful before you're done.'

Okay, this has thrown me? What?

'No I don't.' I reply, confused.

He's smiling. 'You so do. You've done it twice this week and did it last week too!'

'What are you, my dietitian?'

Though thinking back to the guy's body, and then to my own…if he was my dietitian I'd be hot as hell. Well…maybe not thinking to my huge thighs…Ay Jesus, I just need one goddamn smoke and I can forget about today.

'No, but the amount of money you're wasting on food. You've started to do it with all your dinners too.'

I watch him wash his plate in the sink and deliberately edge closer to the stairs out of his way. If he's going to be like this with food there's no way in hell I'm getting away with a little stick of nicotine.

'No I haven't.' I protest. I can't help frowning. He's confused when he looks up to find me further across the room than he expected but still entertained and somewhat cheeky-looking, too. Inviting perhaps?

What is today doing to me?

He opens the fridge door as an example; my leftovers from this week are sat there slowly rotting. It looks like a museum of cooking along with my takeaway box. Oops.

'I'll clear it out.' I say shrugging, foot on the step.

'You don't have to clear it out, please just eat your supper!'

Supper? Supper? What kind of 18th Century Englishman is this? Supper? God, he was just so... it's just so odd. Not even in a bad way. Just in the oddest way.

Besides, his concern is annoying me now which is good because it means we can go back to being flatmates and I can ignore how much of a good person he is and how gorgeous beneath his clothes.

'Alright, alright. Anyway, I've got to get ready for the Waldermans.'

He might be frowning at me but I make my escape while I can. I point up the stairs and run up them, feeling pretty pleased with myself. I get a bag packed first before curling up on the window edge and leaning out the open glass to light up.

The first drag chokes me but there's something familiar and comforting about it. It's so calming, I'm hardly worried about going back to work tomorrow.

The door opens and because I'm too busy bathing in my own happiness I barely notice the presence except when he snatches the thing from my teeth and crumbles it outside the window even though it must have hurt his hand a little because the end was definitely lit. Badass.

Particularly when he leans across me, shoulders and back tensed and curved with his pasty hand knowingly enticing. I groan at him because I fucking hate the fact that Edward ratted on me.

'Hand them over,' he commands smoothly, fidgeting his fingers as if to curl his hold inwards. He's annoyingly gentle.

I wanna throw a tantrum because the tone he's using and the stern refusal to back down is making this dangerous…And since seeing him undressed, I can't help but find any small act of his weirdly eye-catching.

He is weirdly eye-catching.

'I just want one!' I whine, hiding from his blue eyes. If I look at him anymore he'll convince me before the game has started.

'Nuh-huh. Hand them over.'

Urgh, gimme a break, Cullen!

'But I paid for them.' I sound incredibly petulant though I'm hoping in a good way. I could take the challenge. If I had to...

'You gave up.' He scolds, raising that curved eyebrow in a way that shows, if I'm not careful, I'm going to find myself laughing.

'I have. Let me just have one?' I plead.

I've still got the nine in the box. I know for a fact he's clearly thought about his moves because while cocky given that I'm in my room, he's in the way of the only exit. And I am not jumping from any kind of building let alone this one. A packet of cigarettes is not worth my life.

Or yours by the way…

'No.' He's smirking because he assumes he's winning.

I'm thinking I might be able to be allowed that one if I tell him the truth about what happened in the office but then I also know how much he'll pity me and no one wants that.

'I've got to leave in twenty minutes, you can't keep me here hostage!' Hostage in your own bedroom? Riiight, I forgot how much hell that was. Particularly with this prison guard!

'You're not my hostage?' He says smiling, it's a challenge.

Good, I like a challenge. So I go to leave my bedroom and he does exactly as I expect. He holds his hand out for the packet and blocks the door with less than a stance.

When I said I wanted his body this was not my thinking...

I could just shut the door and smoke them all now but I'm not crazy and I want to win.

'You'll have to let me through eventually.' I argue.

'Will I?'

Please don't judge when I say that this is also sounds hella sexy coming from his smart-mouth.

The cigarettes are in my back pocket tight against my ass. We're testing each other. He won't go anywhere near my ass let alone without permission and I can't get through unless I give him the packet…

'Just let me smoke one!'

He's fighting the smile. 'Nope.'

So I push against the thick leg on the door frame. It doesn't budge so I lean onto that gorgeous muscular arm and that doesn't move either. Hmm. I try to clamber through the space but he very gently pushes me to the floor.

So I squash the cigarettes. GREAT!

'Oh this is so War, Mister!'

We keep at it for a good several minutes, me throwing myself at that tank of a stance and he, stoic and as I noted earlier, he's far stronger than me and I'm laughing too much I'm not getting anywhere.

I'm pushing as hard as I can on his right leg, shifting all my weight, my feet sliding against the carpet. He hasn't shifted a toe out of line. He's comfortable with his usual smirk, his relaxed posture. He doesn't even look that strong and here I am using all my effort.

'Ten minutes…' he warns. I've still got to get changed yet and grab a few last bits.

With a huff, I push harder on his leg, not actually hurting him just trying to shift him out of the way. I lean backwards into his arm and leg. It feels safer than steel and isn't when I try to use my elbows and my spine to push him out the way, it doesn't get very far. One minute I'm curving against the washboard of abs and the next, he's managed to slowly sink me to the floor.

With my knees and palms on the carpet, I throw my head over my shoulder and growl.

'May I take the cigarettes?' He asks, his voice unsteady but only because he's laughing. I'm losing my breath and my ability to speak over here.

'No!' I say through my teeth.

'Okay.' He says with a shrug. I push on him again, no movement. 'Seven minutes…' He sighs.

'I have to get changed!'

It doesn't faze me to get changed in front of him but that's hardly going to happen. He's seen enough of me naked that stripping to nothing will achieve nothing. There's no surprises left. Goddamn it, why can't he just let me win!

'May I please have the cigarettes?' he asks again.

I grumble at him, still pushing on his legs when I yell back;

'Fine! Take them!'

He's still very professional and stays well away from touching anything except the packet and then relents his right side. I'm still pushing and should go flying about thirty feet into the wall. He catches me easily before letting me go like I was some sort of delicate bird or something.

'Thank you.' He says, counting the sticks. He's halfway down the stairs when he gently asks;

'Lighter?'

So I throw that at his back, slam the door like a stroppy teen and before changing into PJs and crossing the road.

Ass.

The kids are in bed when I take over from senior Mrs Walderman which is kinda nice because it means that for now, I don't have to do anything except make a bed on the sofa. I've turned on the TV but I'm not watching it. I'm lying on my side, facing the blur of colours without registering them.

My leg hurts, my wrist hurts, my vagina hurts. I don't know what to feel. In regards to the office... shame maybe? In regards to my Flatmate's weird behaviour- utter confusion?

What about his wife and kids? Is there anyway I could survive without the job? I know Cullen would cover me financially for a few months if I asked, definitely if needed, just like he did with my car… I don't want to do that. I want to be independent and not have some weirdo-boss obsessed with me…

My thoughts drift and I'm happy to let them. Now I'm half stuck on how sweet it is that my flatmate knew me…even when filling out my chart he could write my height without consulting me about it.

Then in the locker rooms.

Did he always look that way? How many times had I shared a bed with him and not noticed? At what point did he suddenly turn into a Greek God? Every inch of his body, all over, captivating, mouth-watering, smooth and comfortable with hardly any imperfections bar a few freckles here and there and those imperfections became his perfections.

The slam of the door above followed by crying has me jumping away from my daydream. Without pause, I rush up the stairs into the youngest's bedroom.

He's a year and three months and is wobbling about in his cot on his feet when he sees me, reaching his arm out for a cuddle. His face is streaked with tears and snot and because now he's awake, I have to comfort him. So I pull him onto my hip, silencing the stuttering and smoothing his light hair. Together we follow the other hysterical crying into Serena's room.

She's not in her bed. I almost start to freak out when I look closer, cover thrown back to see the mattress stained with blood.

Oh please not tonight. Though it had to be didn't it. When was I ever going to get an easy life? So I follow the awkward sounds of strained sobs till I'm outside the bathroom door.

'Serena?'

The screams are because eleven years olds can be incredibly hysterical.

'Serena?!' I repeat, fighting the exhaustion. Her brother is attacking my neck, dribbling.

There's another cry followed by the words: 'I'm dying'.

Why me.

'You're not dying, Sweet. You've just got your period…' I tell the door, trying to keep the youngest quiet by making amused faces. He's smiling which isn't good because he needs to be sleeping.

'It hurts!' she whimpers.

I try to open the door but it doesn't budge despite my hefty pull. She's locked it.

'It does hurt sometimes…' I say, kicking my sense of timing and her parent's, too. 'Come on now, open the door.'

She's going a little crazy, screaming and howling. I don't blame her, periods suck.

'I can't…'

'Why not?' I ask, trying to keep my voice sweet, it's crazy difficult because of how emotionally exhausted I already am.

'It's locked…' she sniffles.

Hahahaha. Children.

'Well, unlock it?' I encourage through gritted teeth.

She cries more. 'I'm going to bleed out.'

I don't need this shit.

'You're not going to bleed out, I promise. Please just open the door.'

'It's stuck!' she screams, choked by tears.

The kid on my lap looks like he's about to join in the bravado of tears… I don't need this at One in the morning. I've got class in nine hours.

'Okay, okay. Don't panic. Just wait there.'

I pull my phone and press the speed dial.

'What's up?' It sounds like he's eating again.

'I need you to go in the bathroom and tell me whether I've got tampons or sanitary towels on the side.'

He almost shrieks. 'Hell no!'

'Edward!' I seethe. 'This is an emergency! Just go tell me what's in there!'

'No. Way!'

I hear him drop, or rather, throw the phone or something like that until there's a change of tone.

'All okay?' Carlisle asks, clearly baffled. Oh grow up Edward.

'Yeah, I need you to go tell me if I've got sanitary towels or tampons in the bathroom?'

I know he's looking confused, I also know he's probably doing his best to stay out of it, well tough shit. I'm waiting impatiently, Johnathan on my lap gurgling for attention.

'Both.' He says eventually.

'Fantastic, could you bring over the pads and a tool box?'

This seems to gather alarm

'Of course... Is everything alright?' he asks, probably using his writing hand to cover his mouth like he always does when he's worried. Or confused

'Just hurry up, would you?'

I close the phone and try and calm down Serena though the words are pointless when they're muffled by the door.

When Carlisle knocks, I simply tear the items from his hand and drop the kid into his arms. He panics a little (or a lot) and I'm suddenly aware that I've never really seen him around children.

'Entertain him for a bit, eh?' I say running up the landing and fiddling through the right tools to fit the screws.

'Es? Er...What on earth?' He follows me up the stairs as I route around a little deeper into the bag until finally- Aha, found it. Good, this won't take long.

'Do you need any help?'

The toddler is watching him carefully, mirroring his concern, any second he's going to cry. The kid I mean. Though Cullen isn't necessarily that far behind. I don't particularly want either of them around when I open up the door to what could be a horrendous sight so I do my best to look persuasive.

'If you could just take him downstairs that'd be fantastic…?'

He watches me carefully before reluctantly doing as I ask. Once the lock is unscrewed, I can finally open the blasted door.

She's crying her eyes out but hasn't moved from the toilet.

'Oh, Sweet…' I sigh and smooth her hair, she's clenching her stomach whimpering, more out of general shame than actual pain I would assume. 'Come on, let's get you cleaned up…'

After all that, including the washing of both blood and bed with the brief conversation about sanitary products, she's still very confused and very tired. She follows me downstairs as I fix a drink, silently cursing her lack of education under my breath. How on earth am I meant to explain that from here on out, her life sucks?

Cullen, however, is on the sofa, singing to the giggling child.

'And the leg bone's connected to the…knee bone and the knee bones connected to the...'

He looks up to see us both watching him, I'm smirking now. He doesn't really listen to a lot of music so to hear him sing (even if it's something daft) is incredibly cute. It's like another shy barrier broken.

'That's not exactly how it goes…' I chide lovingly.

He's blushing. He doesn't really know what to do these days other than blush but it's still sweet.

'All okay?' he asks shyly, looking more to the young girl than to me. He's got a concerned 'Doctor's' expression on his face... Wait, Doctor.

'Well I'm not dying.' Serena mutters, sniffling. Cullen watches curiously, most probably coming to the correct conclusion before looking to me for confirmation.

'I was actually hoping you could explain the whole uterus thing to her while I go fix a drink for the Kid?'

He gawks at me looking like he's going to freak. I like dropping him in the deep-end up with the kids, so far, it's worked out well.

'Isn't that something more appropriate for the babysitter?' He asks desperately, his voice a little higher than usual.

I roll my eyes. 'In this case, a doctor is better. Just do a diagram. You know.' I wave my hand dismissively to express how little of an issue it is. He's looking like he wants to scream but while he's here, I'm going to make use of him.

Johnathan, of who is far too excited, is crying out to me once he's heard the fatal lines of a bottle and I take him rather sternly from Cullen's arms. He's lost his security net. Teenagers are a whole other kettle of hormonal, stroppy, infuriatingly petulant fish. Not my problem at the moment as with eyes as heavy as the whole WWE network, I force myself to warm up this drink.

When we return, and I pass out warm drink to both Serena and the worker bee, Cullen's drawn a diagram on a sheet of paper, surprisingly neat and quite simple. Serena is listening to what he's saying, nodding with great understanding as if she really were an expert in the whole 'enjoy your week of agony' stuff.

'It's happens to all women.' He reassures, locking me in place with his eyes once he spots me leaning on the sofa near him.

She smiles slightly and yawns. I'm glad he took the explanation. All I wanted to mutter was that she was going to bleed and that sooner or later she would have to get over it. I'm not normally a bitch. I love children but there was no easy way to cover such an event and today is just not the right day…. She yawns again and with next to no arguments, she returns to bed easily.

Following at my heels in desperation to help, Carlisle is suddenly in the kitchen, trying to make sense of the various bottles that are on display, reminding me of the forgotten task at hand. It has me smiling. He grabs the milk from the jug it was sitting in and tries to pass it to me but I make sure I've got my arms full. Johnathan is giggling in my ear, reaching out to the milk.

'Test it first.' I encourage, smiling.

He offers me the strangest look before taking the lid off and sniffing the foreign stuff. Because I'm a bitch, I watch him do it, and I think I'm actually going to let him drink it before something makes me change my mind.

'I meant the temperature!' I say quickly. He sighs before offering me a glare. I should be nicer to him but there's just something I love about teasing him. He's back to frowning at the bottle looking for a sign. Jesus, you would've thought he'd know the basics? Apparently not.

'Just tip it on your wrist and tell me what you think.'

He does so though it's completely alien for him and grimaces. 'I guess it's a little warm?'

I offer my wrist which he douses in the stuff, Johnathan is getting impatient as he wriggles about in my arms. It's a good temperature.

'Yeah that's fine.' I encourage holding the kid to the floor until he finds his balance and toddles back into the living room. Carlisle is watching, drink raised in hand, still waiting for that instruction.

It's nice to see whose really in charge around here.

'Well go give it to him then?' I say blatantly, laughing while I begin to dismantle the bleeding sterilizer and start it up again. He looks at me and then quickly runs after the little one.

Not that he'd ever admit it but he's enjoying himself. You can see it in his panicked smile. It's sweet. He's so concerned and willing to learn. He'd make a great parent one day, particularly given how well he does with Edward.

As I walk back into the living room, I see he's holding the bottle to the kid's mouth whose eyes are drooping heavily with the demand to sleep.

'You don't have to do that.' I whisper, nudging his arm. I'm not the only one whose getting tired, my co-partner in crime is finding the warmth of a child in your arms somewhat comforting and he's fighting the urge to get nestle in my make shift bed and sleep too.

'He can hold it himself…' I explain, smiling.

'Oh?' He goes to let his grasp drop but the kid whines so he keeps it there.

'Spoilt.' I tease, nudging the leg of the child's baby grow. Johnathan obviously doesn't understand but I have to say it nevertheless.

While he's watching him, I quickly check my phone to make sure I transfer the rent from my account to Carlisle. There's an email followed with another payslip which is weird because pay day is another week away.

This was not what I was expecting….oh not good…

He spots my expression. 'Are you okay?'

'I've been given a pay rise….' I murmur, not good, reaaaally not good.

Johnathan is asleep in his arms now so with great theatrics, I focus more on how we should tuck the poor soul into bed. He knows something isn't right. As if I was an open book, he could read all my secrets with little more than a curved eyebrow. I just can't stand lying to him.