Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Edward
A little grunt swings my focus from my novel to the beautiful girl laying in my bed. Occasionally, she'll make a quiet noise, but it's hard to decipher their meanings. Especially when her face gives nothing away.
And yeah, I'm sitting in here and kinda watching over her. It's not weird. It's my room, after all. And Esme threatened to castrate me if she woke up alone after going through this.
It's not like I'm staring at her. Anymore. I stopped about two hours in, which was- well, that was only about twenty seven minutes ago, but still. It's the first time she hasn't been able to tell me to look away or pester me with a million questions. I quite enjoy looking at her lovely, delicate features.
I was almost disappointed that Carlisle didn't get quite the same inquisition as I did, but he did offer information more freely.
But Bella in my bed. I can't say I hate the sight. I would have to say the opposite; I love Bella in my bed (and not just in a perverted way). It's better than anything I've ever imagine in the past thirty three years (also not inappropriate). Of course, I was usually accompanying her in my bed during those imaginings, but I'm sure we'll get there one day.
Thirty three years is a long time to wait. I've had plenty of time between sleeping and working to imagine, and imagine I did. I won't go into detail for your sake (and I honestly don't feel like it right now).
There will be no pressure or expectations set upon her. That would be wrong and quite dishonorable of me to do so. I meant it when I said I'll be anything she needs me to be.
If she needs me to be her friend, then I will. If she wants me to hop on the next plane to Timbuktu, then I will. It would kill me, but I would for her.
And when she wakes up, I'll be whatever she needs and do whatever she wants then.
AN:
Hello! I just realized how long it's been. Wow, sorry.
I almost fell out my bed earlier. Which means I almost smashed my head against my night stand and gave myself a concussion. That's how I knew today- or uh, yesterday at this point- would be a good day. And it actually kinda was, mood-wise. So that means I'm writing.
I call myself a dumbass and a bitch too much. Without consulting my negative side, I decided to be more positive and nice to myself. I managed to call myself a bitch three more times (aloud), smack various body parts every time I did, call myself a bitch a few more times for doing that, and then give up. Yup.
-Cannibal