Sunday morning dawned bright and early. Bluebirds sang and butterflies flitted over the springtime flowers in my garden. I hummed a merry tune as I peeked out my bathroom window while I brushed my teeth. If I was going to get some more Bella kissing action, I needed to be minty fresh.
I flossed and flashed a million dollar smile at the mirror, pointed at myself and exclaimed, "You're a winner!" It's my bathroom and I can do whatever I want when nobody's looking.
I hopped in the shower and scrubbed all my nooks and crannies, not taking the time for a morning wank, because the sooner I got out of that shower, the sooner I got to see Bella. I marveled at my own restraint. Grabbing a razor, I shaved my face down to a smooth finish, because I'm considerate like that. No woman wants whisker burn all over their face after a lengthy make-out session. And yes, I may have been feeling a bit over-confident.
After getting buffed and polished and splashing a few drops of musky cologne on my body, I slipped into my dark denim jeans, comfy tennies, and black short-sleeved v-neck t-shirt and headed out the door. I left my hair slicked back and figured the breeze would do its magic on my unruly mane. Why fight it?
Looking in my garage, I debated whether I should take the car or the motorcycle. Some ladies were impressed by the purr of a motorcycle, others were scared to death that you'd splatter your brains all over the highway. I decided to err on the side of caution and take the car. Also, I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard to impress her. There is such a thing as overkill.
On the way to Bella's, I stopped by a roadside stand that was selling flowers. These were so much better than store bought flowers, because they were freshly picked that morning. The fragrant blooms scented my car and I couldn't wait to present her with the bouquet. It may have seemed cheesy, but I think simplicity is best. Girls loved flowers. I didn't know one who didn't. Unless they were allergic, of course. Oh crap, I hoped she wasn't allergic! Deep breaths, Edward. Deep, calming breaths.
At 11 a.m. on the dot, I walked up to Bella's front step and rang the doorbell.
Bella opened the door and I stood there with my mouth hanging open, dumbfounded. How could she have just woken up and look this stunning? Her hair was pulled up into a high and messy ponytail. She had a tiny bit of makeup on. I could tell because her lips weren't that glossy the last time I saw them...and tasted them. She wore a bright green and white snug-fitting concert tee that said "Kiss Me, I'm Punk" and a pair of white capri pants. Her feet were bare and I noticed her toenails were painted a vibrant purple. Interesting, Miss Corporate Office has an inner punk princess yearning to breathe free.
"Hi," I managed to croak out, in spite of my ogling.
"Hey Edward, come on in!" she smiled at me with a wide grin. I could smell maple syrup and warm blueberry pancakes as we entered the kitchen. My mouth watered to the point that I was afraid I was going to drool. I just wasn't sure if the drooling was because of the food or because of Bella. Probably both.
"I got these for you," I sheepishly offered, pulling the bouquet of flowers from behind my back and thrusting them at her.
She gasped as she took them from me, "Wow! They're beautiful! These smell SO good! Thank you!" Her nose dipped into the blooms and she inhaled deeply. Not allergic, then.
"I got you something else," I reminded her and handed her the plastic bag I had in the other hand.
"Oh, Edward you shouldn't have!" she teased, taking the bag of soiled clothing that I had brought from the office to the laundry area by the back door. "Go ahead and have a seat. Breakfast is nearly ready!"
It was fun to watch her get all excited about cooking. "I never get to use these serving plates for anything, so it's kind of nice to be able to use them for once!"
"What, no dinner parties every weekend?" I teased.
She laughed, "Sadly, no. The only friend I have, since I moved here, is your sister and if I cook she always insists on bringing something to go with it."
"I feel your pain," I acknowledged as I helped her bring the food to the dining table.
I knew what she was hinting at. My sister is the world's worst cook. If the Guinness Book of World Records could have a category for her, she'd hold the record. And no, I wasn't exaggerating in the least. She was also quite delusional about her cooking ability. In her mind, she was a culinary genius. Her boyfriend, Jasper, wouldn't tell her for all the money in the world that her food sucked. The boy had serious loyalty to my sister, or seriously dead taste buds. I wasn't sure which.
"So I hope you enjoy this," she replied with a smile, "and that I haven't kidded myself with my cooking skills."
I plated up a stack of pancakes and smothered it in warm syrup and Bella placed a few strips of bacon on the side. "Bella, if the smell is any indication, I'm sure it'll be delicious."
Cutting into the fluffy pancake with my fork, I speared it and swirled it in the warm maple syrup and placed it in my mouth. And then I held it there. I neither chewed, nor swallowed. I just left it there, marinating on my tongue.
"Sweet mother of..." I closed my eyes and let this heavenly confection melt over my taste buds and seep into my gums.
"Is it that bad?" Bella questioned, looking defeated.
Swallowing the pancake, I got up and put my napkin on my chair, then walked over to Bella and knelt in front of her. Grasping her face in my hands, she looked down at me with wide eyes.
"Marry me, Bella," my eyes bored into her, accentuating my point. "Marry me and make me these pancakes for me for the rest of my days. If you think I'm kidding, I will go out today and buy you a ring. Just promise me you will make these pancakes for me for the rest of my life on this earth."
She looked at me, dazed with lust-filled eyes. Slowly, her hands reached up and twined around my hands, bringing them off her face and down into her lap. Her stare was burning a hole into my eyes as she gradually brought her face closer to mine. Our eyes unlocked as she continued her languid path past my cheek, brushing her sweet and sticky lips along the corner of my mouth on the way, and dragging it across my cheek, settling them against my ear.
Whispering so softly that I could barely hear, she replied, "If you play your cards right, that just might happen someday."
Then she placed a feathery kiss on my earlobe and pulled away, leaving me sitting there gaping at her while she turned around and nonchalantly dug into her breakfast.
"It's getting cold, Edward. You better start eating," she replied, as if nothing had ever happened.
Mechanically, I got up and plopped down into the chair, scooping fork full after fork full of my breakfast into my mouth. Had I just proposed marriage to her? My god, what was I thinking? And over pancakes, no less? I couldn't worry myself about that right now, because of the food boner I was sporting. Seriously, if she was as good in bed as she was with her kissing and cooking, I saw many happy years ahead for us.