By way of apology for my crappy up-keeping of time, I thought I'd upload another chapter. I love feedback and it would be awesome to hear it!

Thanks so much! Hope you enjoy. :)

'So?' He says slowly.

He pushes his empty plate closer to the middle of the table and watches me greedily consume the rest of mine, expression wreathed with something that might be misread as pride. Little does he know I'm only scoffing my face to avoid putting the images of him and sex together.

'So?' I repeat shyly, hiding my mouth. I'm conciously aware that his gaze hasn't shifted from my face in the last hour or so and it's making me a little nervous.

'We were talking about your parents?' He says encouragingly, leaning against his chair and propping up his elbow on the back to try look casual. He's bearing similarities to the highway billboards.

I almost frown at him before realising he's desperate for some conversation and I'm too eager to reply.

'Before the whole-?' I point to my head and make an expression of death. He nods his head slowly again before running rolling his eyes.

I should be super grateful he's got his eyes on me, I haven't stop shooting daggers at the waitress since we got here.

'I said that my dad died because he heard I was screwing his employee, right?'

Again another eye-roll but it's just as sweet as it was before.

'That's not what I meant. Were you close?'

The warm glow of this overheated restaurant is making his glow even more golden, his eyes more blue and those perfect muscles even more…enticing.

'Sure. I was his first born.' And technically last but let's ignore that petty bit of family drama.

'Though you have three older brothers?'

'From my mother's previous marriage,' I confirm, swallowing my mouthful. I should be impressed he's remembered them, it was very rare I talked about my family.

'Are you close with them too?' His face has changed from calculating to genuine interest which is almost weird. Without his realisation, he's bent forward towards me, both elbows now on the table with hand poised beneath the shadow of his chin.

'Sure. How could I not be? They're a hilarious bunch. Especially after a drink.' I laugh at the cheery Christmas memories, the times they'd secretly source themselves an old-aged gin before getting grounded from my mother. Times were different now, of course. I hadn't seen them in… well. Too long.

His mouth opens but while my fork and my mouth is free I quickly jump in.

'Before you ask, I don't mind the twins either. Even if they're spoilt.' Again, this isn't so much of a lie as… well, it was pretty close to a lie. I loved my younger brother and sister, of course I loved them but being the babies of the family and positively mothers favourite. They knew how to use their power.

'Why are they spoilt?'

I frown at him before raising an eyebrow. He really is foreign sometimes.

'Urm? I don't know because they haven't done anything to scold the family name yet?' Correction- haven't been caught scolding the family name.

He smiles along with my awkward laughter, returning back to his chair when the waitrss returns to take our empty plates.

But while obsessing in his eyeline, she 'offhandly' grasps my plate with a flawed hand and my own knife nearly stabs me in the leg. And she doesn't even look let alone apologise just stares at me before grabbing the thing off my leg.

Did she just give me the Stink-Eye?!

'Es?'

'Huh?'

'Can I interest you in dessert?'

Cullen, you could interest me in a colon examination...I hate the way my brain thinks sometimes.

I am not a dessert person. I wasn't a dinner person either and at the moment and I certaintly wasn't a whole 'fill your gut and scrounge from the guy whose paying' kind of person. But I begrudgingly tear my eyes from glaring at the waitress and return to his smiling face. That gorgeously, bright smiling- and suddenly I'm nodding.

'Dessert sounds good?' I say dubiously.

'What would you like?'

'You pick.' I say cleverly, leaning closer and fluttering my eyes a little again. It's pathetic how easy it is to fall into this act.

He raises an eyebrow again and shifts a quick glance to the slag shoving her chest in his face.

'I don't think I could manage a big one on my own?' I say playfully, winking just at the perfect time. He looks like he's about to argue, changes his mind and simply points to something on the menu that I can't see.

This time he knows not to comment on my performance and simply pushes my refilled glass of water towards me.

'You aren't close?'

'Who?'

He laughs a little. 'Your mother and you?'

He knows we aren't close, he regularly has to listen to the screaming matches on the phone and the regular bitchy postcards through our door. I shake my head. We wouldn't be close if someone handcuffed us together and then sewed our sides up.

'I'm sorry. It can't be easy for you both.' He murmurs, sucking in a breath. I shrug with one shoulder. Which then has me thinking to his shoulder and then both shoulders and then both shoulders –naked, ugh.

Wait was I meant to say something? Was that a question?

'It's cool, she has five other children to uphold her honour. She's fine.'

'And you?' He persists. 'Are you fine?'

I am for you, Mister.

'Sure?'

'In all manners of speaking?' He persists, sincerely.

Is that a reference to my torn vagina or is he being nice again?

'I haven't exactly used it since your two week probation. How am I meant to know?' If this sounds bitchy it's because it is. It's not fair being on the edge of seat with an orgasm of the century just to have the giver of the orgasm be so…

Restrictive.

'No, no.' He corrects, his teeth almost catching the light. 'I meant about your boss?'

Oh.

Great.

'Of course'. I reply, but my tone is neutral verging on stone cold dead. Surprisingly, he detects that tone and lets the subject die while the slut of a waitress places dessert in front of him.

This guy is obsessed with health.

'Thanks,' he murmurs to the waitress in an attempt to dismiss her, and then pushes the full plate of strawberries to the very centre of our table.

'Your mother then?' I ask, circling the plate with my fingertip.

He laughs shortly before it falls into a breathless sigh. 'Now I really did kill her.'

Childbirth isn't murder, either drama-queen.

'Shut up, Cullen. You couldn't kill anything if you wanted to.' My reassurances are shit but I try to make it better by placing my hand on the top of his. He raises an eyebrow at it. Almost pouting and with the realisation that I'm crossing a boundary I pull my hand back.

'I know she was young, too young, when I was… conceived.' This isn't exactly correct dinner conversation but he's perked my interest and I just have to ask.

'How old?' I push.

'Fourteen.'

Ouch. Fourteen and pregnant? Daddy issues just developed into full-blown parental issues. All of which seems perfectly acceptable now. No wonder why he was so sour at the age my cherry got picked.

He moves a few strawberries around the plate almost splitting them equally between us as he destalks my half for me with perfect concentration. I pick one he's just destalked and bite a juicy chunk off to encourage him to fill the silence. He doesn't look up from the plate.

'I think she used to work in the church he worked at…But he doesn't like to tell me much.'

'You don't speak about her?'

'Never.' He says, those blue eyes finally lifting to connect with mine.

His angelic features seem worn with sadness. I think back to the image of his father on the television this morning. His hair must have belonged to his mother, both colour and thickness, even the pinkness of his thin lips.

Cute traits that certainly didn't belong to the Bible radicalist.

Wait- fourteen? Then she'd only be in her forties if she was alive? Cullen's father is way older than forty? He's goddamn ancient!

Oh my god, no wonder why he had such a saviour complex!

'Err?' I take a last gulp of the ice water to alleviate the burning gasp of my throat. 'How old was he?'

'Too old.' He answers quickly, picking off the inedible greenery from a perfectly red strawberry. 'Far too old. From what I can work out he was working as a pastor of the Catholic Church. So he's pretty done more than offend the rights of God, there.'

He sarcastically shows me a 'thumbs-up' and grins too-widely to be trusted but then lets it evolve into a laugh and silencing the laugh with the fruit of the table.

I cringe a little, unexpectedly and offer him an apologetic look when he catches me.

'I bet you look like her.' I say after a while, tilting my head a little to imagine his face less gorgeously masculine and more rounded.

'Why? Because I'm so innocent?' He complains, attempting a playful tease and sounding nothing except bitter. The closing of his right eye suggests it's not personal dig.

He leans over to me now, initially for the strawberries but once he's grabbed a small handful he doesn't move.

'Because you're approachable. You look nothing like him.'

'You flatter me, Miss Platt.'

Not as much as you flatter me, you sack of hormones!

This is only made worse when he takes the strawberry in hand, bites off half and returns the rest to me. I keep my unblinking eyes on him when I slowly place my fingers in mouth and drop the fruit on my tongue. He shivers but says nothing.

Now more than ever, I want to return to the dangerous side of his curiosity

'Did you want to borrow the book from this morning? Just to finish it.' I mention after a moments pause. I'm only half joking. I know he doesn't want to read the rest but he's come so far- to give up now would be unexplainably frustrating and I'm desperate to know his opinion.

He wrinkles his nose.

'You can't get twenty chapters in and give up! That's infuriating!' I chide.

His laugh is gentle, his hand flat against his stomach like a painting. 'I'll think about it.'

'Why do you have to think about everything?!' I complain. 'Just act. Read the damn book!'

He chuckles properly now, letting his mouth take up the majority of his face as he voices the sound.

'Why do I need to? I know what's going to happen?'

'Sure you do.' I'm meant to be saying this to myself but it's a bit loud.

'Either he's going to give in and be all romantic or she's going to give in and he's going to get his way and it's going to end badly.' It sounds like a complaint. It should be a complaint, the book was insanely predictable.

My silence confirms his suspicions but he's nice enough not to make a big bravado of it.

'Why are you so obsessed with me reading or watching porn?!' He asks eventually, laughing more to distract from the colour in his cheeks.

Well shit.

Now I look bad.

I need you to look at porn so you're prepared if I jump you in the near future- isn't the kind of thing that I think will win me favours.

I need you to watch porn because you're sexually frustrating me and my co-workers- doesn't sound great either.

'Now you're blushing, Miss Platt.'

'I am not!' I say defensively, leaning across to hit him with the back of my hand. He laughs more.

'Sometimes I would love to be able to read your mind!' He sighs, cocking his head at me like I was an animal in a zoo.

Yeah? Well tough luck pretty boy, you wouldn't survive a day!

'I wouldn't wanna read yours.' I tease back. 'It would just be really boring anecdotes on your after school chess club.'

He snorts with laughter and still looks attractive.

'You're not even close.'

Say fuck one more time and I'll show you how close I am.

'Alright, concerns about whose going to do the late shift at the hospital, then?'

He nods in a lazy fashion. 'You're getting warmer.'

'How you're going to explain to Tilly that at twenty-five, you have no sexual experience?'

He laughs really loud this time. 'Oooh, right where it hurts!'

'It should hurt!' I retort with a smirk, trying to hold my lip from laughing, too. 'It should be aching with desire.'

I know I bloody am and it's only been a few days.

He takes a long drink of his water, eyes on the white table cloth, thinking. He rolls his shoulders back and uses his left hand to hide his smirk.

'This really bugs you, doesn't it?' He's still playful but also a little intrigued.

'You don't know what you're missing,' I sigh. And that's what pisses me off. He has no idea how panty warming he is. It's really fucking rude. Share the love. Just come on some poor woman already.

'I'm sure I'll find out eventually…' He says with a grin.

'Maybe, if you haven't put people off by then.'

He laughs again and it's a nice sound in the quiet dark of the evening.

We've stayed a little longer than we'd planned to and yet I still don't want to leave. How many more hours of the guy could I pack in? I already live with him? I guess there could always be adjustments. The shower for example, let's save water and shower together?

'Have you seriously never even been close with a girl?!' I complain, irritated.

I don't know why I complain, it makes him endearingly sweet on one hand and frustratingly innocent on the other. I should appreciate he's not being a disrespectful piece of-. As a matter of fact, him being a disrespectful ass would make my life ten times easier. Starting with the bug eyed waitress.

'I was once...' He says quietly.

My shock is evident and my jaw pretty much hits the table.

'You were?! What happened?!'

How much experience? Did he love her? Did he touch her? Are they still in contact?!

He snatches the last strawberry out of my hand again, takes another big slice out of it with his perfect teeth and then hands it back to me. The pink juice is slipping down the corner of his mouth and he uses a moist tongue to capture it. Thus adding more inspiration to my painting plans.

Who knew strawberries could be sexy?

I automatically move toward him to wipe the remaining juice away with the back of my hand but again the movement is normal…awkwardly normal. His dark eyes investigate my expression.

'One minute we were studying, I left thr room for a bit, I don't remember why and she'd disappeared. Like an idiot, I went searching…and there we are…'

'She just went missing?!' I sound like I don't believe him, which is accurate. I don't believe him.

'No, of course not. I found her in my father's room…legs locked around him…' His eyes widen when he says 'legs-locked' like it's all a big joke. A joke which I'm not finding funny?

What the fuck….

'That's part of the reason I moved country.' He states factually.

Is this happening? Did he actually say those words?! His father is freaking ugly though?! What is this world?!

'And you never sought anyone after it?' I ask, amazed and voice squeakily irritating. Listening to his life story is sadder than an elegy.

'Nah, course not. He's never far behind, like some kind of crazy person.' He has that grumble of irritation again. I feel like patting his shoulder (because they're fucking nice) or maybe comforting him with words but everything is a bit of a shock.

'Did you ever talk about it?' I ask, still unable to control the shock of my tone. I would've killed the guy. Well, alright I wouldn't of but I'd be beyond pissed. More pissed then he seems?

'Sort of. He told me that as a child of God, I was meant to be pure...I don't know why that excluded everyone else in that title but there we are.' He makes little inverted commas with both index fingers then smiles at himself. He's still playing the light-hearted flatmate which is doubly impressive.

'How did you not screw anyone out of frustration?!' I demand, sounding myself just as frustrated. He shrugs.

'I guess I was worried the same thing would happen…?'

I pause and let him take a drink.

'Do you still worry about that?' I'm aware that the string of conversation keeps getting longer and longer, it's already late evening.

'Not worry per se. I still think about it from time to time but I'm not worried. I wouldn't be surprised in all honesty.'

'He's an old man Carlisle. No one would give him a second look with you in their arms.'

Err. Did I mention I'm too impulsive?! Fuck.

He looks at me, silently at first before his face evolves in both laughter and confusion.

'Thank you?'

'I only mean because necrophilia isn't the done thing. Most girls prefer their partners to be alive!' I add in a rush. He laughs even more.

'That was a good save. Well done.'

'Thank you,' I murmur shyly.

'But-'

'But what?' I demand.

'You're blushing again…'

His fingertips on my cheeks are surprisingly light but most definitely unexpected. I nearly fall into his hands before (thank fuck) my brain kicks in.

'Time to head home, don't you think?' I say, pulling myself away from that gorgeous mouth.

If I stay there any longer, I'm going to kiss him, then I'm going to fuck him, then I'm going to make things awkward… If that was even possible?

He grins once again and nods, raising his hand to ask for the cheque before I even have time to blink.

'I think she likes you.' He says after a while.

Our slow walk from earlier is nothing compared to now. With full stomachs and aching legs, the movement of our feet closer towards home seems to be pretty much non-existent but the complaints aren't necessary. All the while he's silent, I can fool myself into thinking it was a date and not a concern for my lack of eating habits.

'Who?'

I love how he only ever rolls his eyes to me. It's annoying and ten-thousand percent cheeky but I guess it meant he was comfortable around me. Comfortable enough to criticise at least.

'The waitress.'

The sound of my guffaw echoes into the street.

'She left her number on the receipt.' He says with a grin. He has his hands in his pockets which is making his biceps strain against his t-shirt and me drool endlessly. I wonder if he's cold having stolen his jacket but with even my legs warm enough in the brittle air, I'm sure Radiator-man is doing just fine.

'You are such a dumbass, Cullen. She was flirting with you!' Again the tone of my voice is weird and I cough to fix it. 'Besides, I wish you would've at least let me contribute to dinner. I feel like such a sterotype.'

'You can get the next one.' He promises, hand digging into his pocket to find the paper. It's a long list and though I reach on my tiptoes to see the numbers, he quickly hides it and tears off the note to give to me.

I'm glaring, glaring even more when my eyes scan over the curvy scribble tacked on the bottom. I've never seen such a perfect ass. Give me a call sometime, followed by a number. My eyes are going to burn a hole through this bastard piece off-Your man wasn't too ugly either.

'Told you.' He sings smugly, watching the uncomfortable twist of my face.

'B-ut! She was flirting with you!' I accuse, both glaring and looking blankly at the reciept.

'Or rather- you were flirting with her.' He corrects playfully. The blonde arch of his eyebrow suggests that he doesn't believe my innocence.

'Flirting?!' I half shriek.

'Es, chill out. You don't have to phone her.' He is so laughing at me right now.

'In what way?!' I demand, still half gaping at him. He looks at me as if it was obvious.

'You know, that whole...seduction thing you had going on there-'

I literally make a teenage noise of revolution.

'You couldn't take your eyes off her.' He says, sounding both like he's joking and that he's not. I feel my whole sense of worth crack.

Okay, let me clear a few things up. As a self-professed party girl and one that distinctly dislikes any demands on convention, I have been known to spread the love with the girls. Here meaning that on the rare times we've had parties, on two seperate occaisions I attempted to partake in a little girl-on-girl action. Which ended horrifically, with me wanting dick and leaving half way through the act to get it. There was also that time that I got really drunk and kissed Alice. But that hardly counts because I vomited straight after.

Point meaning: though I am in full support of funking up the jam with some lucious lady, in no utter universe was I looking at her for flirting. And it fucking sucked that all of todays attempts were flooding down the drain.

'Ugh, that is not true! She was practically exposing herself to you-'

The raised eyebrow silences my half rant. It's pretty hard to get terriotorial on someones manners when you literally blackmailed your handsome sexy doctor friend to examine the very intimate area of your body.

'I was not flirting...with her?' I emphasise, making an utter fool out of myself as I half confess my behaviour.

'So you say.' He sings, avoiding my face in order to stick out that big head of his.

I'm still gawking more he doesn't believe me. Hence when my paitience breaks.

'You are such a-'

'A?'

Like an utter twit I just stop and stutter for a full three minutes.

He hasn't intended to wind me up but then he's not over-apologising like he usually would either, so with the pent up frustration of a furious Spanish bull, we speed up in the walk to our house. So much so that I realise after a few minutes that I'm literally stomping.

'Aw, come on Es. I didn't mean it. Please don't be angry.'

'I'm not.' I growl, walking a little bit of a step infront so I don't have to be seduced by that winning face of his.

'What did I do?' He asks, catching up with me with no issue. He's smirking, I can hear it in his voice. My furious fast paced walking doesn't get very far. The edges of my shorts are also rubbing against the bandage of my thigh and it isn't long till I have to stop and rearrange it.

'Did you need me to look at anything?' He offers politely, fondly looking at me as though I were...a sibling or something?! It was disgusting and completely demoralising.

'I'm fine.'

'You don't look fine.'

'HA!' I declare bitterly. He frowns and waits for me to start up walking again before following.

'Aw come on, what is it? What have I said to annoy you?'

'I'm not annoyed.' I say sternly.

'Tell your face.'

Again my said face, falls open and I glare at him.

We're not far from home now and it's Wednesday. Wednesday night is the night for Murder Files. It's the rules, all three of us have to watch it together and I'm just so-. Gah.

Without realising, I half race him up our porch-steps towards the front door but he gently touches my shoulder.

'Just tell me?' He begs, but the smile on his face conflicts the sincerity of his enticing appearance.

'I've got a headache.' I mutter quickly. It's true, I do have a headache, I hit my head today. But looking at the bruises of purple under his eyes it would be fair to suggest that Cullen had a far worse headache than I did and his was from something as simple as sleep deprivation.

'Please just tell me.'

'Thank you for dinner.' I say dismissively, my hand poised ready on the door. The window is open and I can hear Edward watching TV, waiting for us.

I try to ignore this pretty-ass-clit irratator but he gently turns my chin towards him with a finger so I'm forced to face him. I was so obvious today, I gave it everything, how the fuck did he think I was flirting with some tramp?!

'Es?'

'Alright, fine!' I hiss. 'It pisses me off something-chronic that you can be so amazingly and wonderfully interested. So passionate and so intrigued and confident and damn-right sexy-' I make sure to emphasise every word so that they come hurtling at him like wild fire. He simply raises his eyebrows.

'-And yet so fucking Naive!' I conclude, semi loudly, glaring once more at that crooked smile.

'But I wasn't-' He comes closer, and the nearer he is the more I see the vulnerability in that perfectly crooked smile. The shyness and the over-confidence and the sweetness and a simple brilliant mouth of what could be the most immeasurable amount of passion-

'For fuck sake, Cullen!' I groan, throwing my head-back in exasperation. 'No experience with a girl, huh?!'

Taking his stooping figure to my advantages, I half throw my mouth onto his in an attempt to clasp that unyielding desire- And it turns out to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life up till now.

Under my very shaky skin, not just his mouth but his whole posture, all of him goes rigid in a sense of utter deniability. He feels hard, cold almost and completely distant. Here meaning completely un-Cullen like. And the longer I stay, the tenser he grows untill finally, I admit defeat and pull away, numbed with rejection.

Considering I'm inconcievably disappointed, I'm surprised I'm not furious. He straightens up beside me, his eyes still closed and that already crooked mouth seems to become even more wrought with indecision.

He's certainly not smiling anymore.

'Well...' I look apologetically to him and grin awkwardly, my voice shaking. 'Now you're not completely without experience?' Everything I say from here on out, I deliberetely twist to sound like a favour to him. 'You're welcome.'

He opens his eyes, his cheeks enflamed in pure fire and his expression almost disgusted. Which for my ego isn't great but I guess for my sense of reasoning, it helps. He's not interested, I feel very stupid, now we can move on and I can fuck who I like.

Great. That's just wonderful.

Once more I almost foolishly hoped he would... that doesnt matter anymore.

'Ugh. Ye.' He swallows hard and looks to the floor in embarrassment, mumbling a silent 'Thank you.'

'I'll see you inside.' I say with a smirk, an untimed one but this was good. It was a restoring of the normal and throwing our front door open, I happily greet Edward as I pass. If not a bit over-enthusiastically.

I'm certain Cullen spends about twenty minutes outside, simply sitting down on the steps contemplating death. I can see him outside my bedroom window as I'm getting changed, hand over his mouth like I violated him or something. Which to be honest, I did. I was just desperate not to think on it. He's completely blank just staring at the road while he thinks for stupid amount of time. I'd almost say he was lonely but then- well, maybe he's prefer that.

Hmm. I better explain myself. So finding a piece of paper, I scrawl the lie; 'I'm sorry for what I did. I felt sorry for you and wanted to help. Hope I didnt cross a line.' and leave it on his pillow before joyously skipping down stairs.

Sounds warped doesn't it but let me explain. Though admittedly, Cullen is always going to be at that standard of undeniably attractive and I will no longer be able to ignore it, all the while he's not interested means I'm completely sane. Man, to think I tried to snog the guy?! How warped can I be?!

Guys like Carlisle were of two people. Either fuck (frat) boys like Emmett. Or the kind that wouldn't dare disgrace themself with the common whore, like Jasper. I being that common whore could respect the reinstitution of the social hierachy.

And at the very least, thank fuck he wasnt a Fuck Boy.

So I was finally free to be completely immoral once again and I could forget about whatever was going on in the Saint's head. We could agree to just be normal?

This goes out the window somewhat however when I see him silently sat in the corner of the sofa, seeming startled, emotionally numb yet still a symbol of pure beauty. But I guess his revolution just shows he wasn't ready. He really is a pure guy. I could live with that. It was far easier than accidentallly sleeping with him, that's for sure.