4

Cullen and I walk back into the room together, standing in our same spots. The chairs are set up again in rows.

I feel dazed from our kiss and from his hands on me. I don't know how the hell I'm going to focus on the rest of this training.

"Okay! It's time to test everyone on what we learned today," Peter announces. "I'm going to observe each couple, one at a time. You'll execute each de-escalation technique, but I'm going to call them out at random. Just act quickly and calmly, as if there were a real crisis. Talk with your partners for a moment about who will be on the defense first, and then we'll get started."

"I think you need to be the one who comes first," Cullen says seriously.

I might be blushing. "What?"

He looks at me strangely, maybe even a little amused. "I said I want you to come at me first."

Clearly, I have selective hearing.

"Why?" I ask, and he gives me a pointed look. I think I know why, but I'm mean, so I kind of want to hear it. "Why do I have to be the first one to pretend to attack you?"

"Because I'm not about to pop another fucking boner in here, especially with everyone watching," he says through gritted teeth.

My eyes instinctively dart toward the waistband of his sweatpants. Obviously, no one else can tell what's under there, but I know. Oh, I know.

"What do you mean another? You still have the same bon—"

"Bella?" He sounds desperate. "Not helping."

I fight a smile. "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

Peter claps in a pattern, gaining our attention. "Okay, everyone! Please take a seat, and we will get started with our first couple, Ben and Angela."

We all sit, giving them space. Jessica and Eric are next, then Emmett and Rosalie. When it's time for Cullen and me to go, I smile innocently at him, and he keeps his face neutral.

"Please get into your supportive stances," Peter instructs us.

We step apart and face each other. Peter begins calling out the different disengagements, and I move quickly, not overthinking it.

I pretend to bite Cullen, and he pulls me off.

I bring my hands up to his neck to strangle him, and he successfully releases my grip.

When I come at him from behind, he's able to remove himself from my hold.

But when I go to strike him, he doesn't move away in time, and I punch him square in the nose.

"Fuck!" we blurt at the same time, both wincing in pain. He covers his face. I hold my hand.

I guess that the boxing class Rose and I took paid off.

"Nice hit!" Emmett calls out, and Rose shushes him.

"I'm so sorry!" I apologize, moving closer to inspect the damage, my knuckles throbbing. "Cullen, let me see."

He drops his palms for a second, revealing a bloody nose.

"Shit," he mutters, pinching the bridge and keeping his other hand under his nostrils.

"Everyone take five!" Peter calls out to the group before making his way toward us with a small white kit. Everyone ignores him and stays seated, still watching.

"Unfortunately, accidents happen. Fortunately, I am certified in first-aid," Peter says proudly.

"It's just a bloody nose. I'm fine," Cullen mutters.

Peter ignores him and puts on gloves, hands Cullen some gauze, and takes a look.

"It's not broken," he confirms. "But there is a fair amount of blood."

Cullen's white T-shirt is spotted and stained with blood. The floor, too. I watch him clench his eyes closed in discomfort.

Peter looks to Aro. "Can you call someone to come clean this up?"

Aro nods and disappears.

"I don't feel so hot," Cullen suddenly blurts, blinking rapidly.

I'm about to disagree and say that he is still just as attractive with a bloodied shirt as he is with a clean one when I realize he looks like he's about to vomit.

He rushes out of the conference room for the second time today, and I follow behind him. He doesn't make it to the bathroom before he leans over a garbage can in the hallway and vomits.

Instead of standing idly by and watching him puke, I go into the bathroom for some paper towels. When I come back out, he's drinking from the water fountain, swishing the liquid in his mouth and then spitting it into the drain.

"Are you okay?" I ask, feeling terrible.

"I'm fine. Just not good with blood," he admits, looking pale and a little vulnerable.

"Here." I take the gauze from him, tossing it in the trash can and handing him the paper towels.

"Thanks."

With his nostrils still covered, Cullen shuffles outside, and I sit next to him on a bench, waiting for the bleeding to stop. After a couple of minutes or so, it does.

"I'm sorry," I murmur again.

"It's karma. I deserved getting clocked in the face for being a perv earlier," he mutters, squinting at the sun. "I got carried away. Being close with you like that, I guess I wasn't thinking with the right… head."

"I'm gonna clock you again for being so stupid." I sigh. "I already told you; it's okay."

"I know you did. But I'm still sorry," he says sincerely. "I don't want you to think I don't respect you. Because I really fucking do."

I stare at my hands. "Yeah."

"Kissing you last weekend was just another example of me getting carried away with you."

Even though my eyes are tempted to bounce toward his crotch, I stare at his face. "I guess I didn't know the effect I have on you."

"I did," he says honestly while holding my gaze and cracking a smile. "Want to get out of here?"

"There's still an hour left."

"It's a Saturday. I just got hit in the face and publicly humiliated. I think I'll be excused from leaving a little early," he points out.

"Okay, sure, but what about me?"

He grins. "Easy. You have to drive me home. I'm feeling a little dizzy."

"Doubtful."

"You're right. I'm good."

I bet he is. In more ways than one.

"So, we'd go to your place?" I wonder, heart racing.

"Yeah, if you want. It's up to you. My roommate works on Saturdays, so…"

"What would we do?" I ask, softly, thrill and anticipation and lust coursing through me.

His gaze grows serious and darkens with desire. "Talk."

"Talk," I echo. I look away. I have to. Because otherwise I'll drop to my knees right here on this fucking bench and take him into my mouth. "Cullen…"

"What?"

"I don't know."

He sighs, staring out at the parking lot. "Am I off base here?"

"With what?"

"Us."

I wait for him to look back over at me before I speak.

"Look, I know we both got carried away today. I take responsibility, too. I was willing, and I made it easy for you—"

"If anything, I'd say you made it hard," he snarks.

I smile softly. "But I would hate myself if I was the kind of person who would go to someone's place to… talk when they have a girlfriend," I say honestly.

I like the fact he doesn't look surprised by this. Like he knows I'm not that shitty of a person to abandon all self-respect because the guy I've been into for quite some time might finally want me.

"I broke up with her, Bella."

This does surprise me. "What?"

"I broke up with her the day after I kissed you."

I blink.

I'm stunned.

"I would've broken up with her that night, but I was kind of drunk and thought it might be a bad look, but yeah. It's done," he admits.

"Why did you wait a week to tell me?" I ask, playfully shoving him.

"Because I was trying to be respectful or some shit. I don't know. It sounds stupid now, but after you told me last weekend that nothing more could happen between us because you respect yourself and me, I guess I figured if I told you I broke up with her right away that you'd think I was just trying to get into your pants."

"Are you not trying to get into my pants?" I taunt.

His eyes are on my legs. "I mean… yeah, but those aren't really considered pants, are they?"

I laugh a little, growing warm from his hot gaze.

"So you broke up with her for me?" Part of me hates that I need this confirmation because I don't know if I want him to say yes or no.

"What kind of work husband would I be if I didn't break up with my girlfriend for my work wife?" he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

I cover my face. "Shut up. You know about that?"

He laughs, but it's sweet. "I just heard about it last week."

"It's stupid."

"I don't know. I kind of like it."

"Rose made it up," I tell him, my embarrassment easing up, my curiosity still piqued. "Does Charlotte know about… me? Or that we kissed?"

"Yes and no." He stretches his arm along the back of the bench. "When I finally ended it she kept insisting I was just confused. So I told her I was sorry but that I have feelings for someone else. I didn't say who. She guessed you, anyway. The few times she saw you and me together… yeah, she knew how I felt."

"Oh. Should I feel bad?" Because I don't.

"No. Regardless of you, Charlotte and I weren't going to last much longer anyway."

"Why not?" I ask, pushing to know everything.

"She started talking about the future a few weeks ago, even though we were less than three months in. I told her I'm only twenty-four and thought it was definitely too soon to even think about that shit," he says candidly. "She said if I didn't know by now that I wanted to marry her, then dating was pointless. I tried to end it right then but she suggested we get some space for me to 'really think about it.'"

I can't lie that I'm glad to hear they were sort of on a break when we kissed. "So, what then? Do you just want to be a fuckboi? No strings attached kind of relationships?" I need to know what I'm getting myself into here.

His face falls, his fingers brushing my arm. "What? No. How did you get that from what I said?" I shrug, and he laughs humorlessly. "Bella, I like you. I like you and even the person I was dating saw it."

"Okay. Exactly. You have feelings for me, but you were dating someone else." I might be a little sour about it. "How does that work out?"

"Because she made it clear she liked me," he says simply. "I don't know. There wasn't much thought behind it."

I want to roll my eyes but he's being honest I guess. He's an idiot and a little oblivious but in spite of all of that… I have feelings for him, too. Real, butterfly-inducing, all-inhibitions-abandoned feelings.

"Look." He pauses, looking kind of nervous which is so unlike him. "I always kind of thought you and I… I don't know. You never really hinted at there being an us, and I didn't want to make shit weird at work by assuming. Yeah, we flirt and tease, but nothing like today."

"Yeah, today was like flirting on steroids," I agree, and he laughs softly.

"I know there's a fraternization policy in place, and even if there's a way around it, I figured you might not want to deal with all of that."

I regard him, reveling in how open he's being. "Yeah."

"But then last weekend, I decided… fuck it. Maybe it makes me an ass, but you were looking at me all fucking… sexy," he says, kind of exasperated, "and I got the vibe that maybe our flirting wasn't just flirting. That's why I kissed you, as shitty as it was that I was technically still with Charlotte."

"I kissed you back," I point out.

"Yeah. I was pleasantly fucking surprised." He leans over, mouth tickling my ear when he whispers, "Bella, when you and I kissed, and I knew it was over with her."

My stomach flips.

"From just a kiss?" I nervously ask.

"Yeah. Hell yeah. You know that wasn't just a kiss," he murmurs, eyes bouncing to my lips.

I stare at his mouth, too. "So, now what? We spend the rest of the afternoon giving in to what we both want?"

He grins. "Yeah?"

I stand up and take his hand. "Are we taking your car or mine?"