Disclaimer – Original characters belong to Stephenie Meyer, plot lines and characterisations all belong to Aurora18, copyright January 2016.

So I had a really bad day today and just needed to write, hope y'all like this.

Chapter 6

EPOV

I rub my hands over my face for what seems like the hundredth time already this morning.

How is this my life?

Honestly waking up in Isabella's apartment yesterday had me more shocked than becoming homeless did. What the hell am I even doing here anyway?

Sure, I'm just sitting around in what is probably one of the fanciest apartments in the city let alone any place I've ever been in before. I'm drinking coffee that probably cost more per bag than what I'd usually make in a day, before I lost my job and became homeless that is.

But fuck, if it's a hundred times more expensive than the shit I usually drink that's because it's a hundred times better, at least.

So far everything I've tried here at Isabella HQ is better than anything I've ever had before.

Apparently pyjamas are not just pyjamas, or maybe these ones are something else but I know that one day I gotta thank this Calvin Klein guy for making the softest joggers ever, and they're lined, with fucking wool or something.

I've got sweaters that swamp me right now because apparently being sick and homeless is not a good combination for having anything that resembles a manly physique. I'd never really thought a whole lot about my body, just that I'm tall which means that everything is usually short on me.

That all changed this morning.

There I go to the bathroom to take a leak, I get one good look at myself in the mirror and cringe because a chick's gotta be pretty desperate if she gets excited over the look of my scrawny ass. But it doesn't stop there, oh no. I take a walk to the kitchen sans shirt because it's roasting like an oven in this place (God bless under floor heating) and I'm stopped in my tracks by Isabella doing some stretching right in the living room.

I mean, how dare she right? In her own fucking living room of all places.

Now two things happen at once, well maybe three. First I see Isabella doing all her weird stretching, which I soon realise is actually ridiculously hot as she gets all bendy and twisty and I get a real good 360 view of her butt. Second, I register that if I walk out there right now she's going to see just how much I appreciate what she's working with and also that I look more like a twelve year old boy than a twenty four year old man.

Third, it has been a really long time for me. I'm pretty sure my balls have actually gone and retreated back up inside me because there's been no action whatsoever, none.

She walks in the door just as I'm slicing some of the lamb that she cooked last night, lamb; I'm eating lamb for breakfast. She's going to think I'm twisted as well as being useless and pathetic. The fact that I'm now in the situation I was trying to avoid earlier really doesn't help.

I used to think that sweaty chicks were kind of gross, but this sweaty chick…damn.

"Edward are you going to eat that lamb all by itself?" She's barely inside but she's already stripped off her top layer leaving her in some kind of sexy half top bra while she pulls her shoes off.

Did I mention that she's sweaty and out of breath?

"Yeah, I well, I didn't know what time you'd be back and I was hungry so, yeah." She looks like she can't decide between looking disdainfully, or maybe that's just normal, at me or the chunk of meat (not mine, sadly).

"Move, get cleaned up in the shower and I'll fix this."

"But don't you have to shower and go to work? You're all…sweaty." She turns away like I've just insulted her. I didn't want to come across as pervy by revealing just how appetising I find her all sweaty but now she just looks sad.

"Look I didn't mean..-"

"Just get in the shower."

After what might be the best shower experience anyone has ever had, this thing has jets ok and more warm water than I know what to do with, I come out in another pair of the softy soft Calvin Klein's (yes, they're clean) and see that she's fashioned some sort of club lamb sandwich extravaganza. She even put mint sauce in there; I mean seriously who the hell just has mint sauce lying around?

I hesitate a moment before my stomach violently reminds me that we've been starving hungry for weeks and to turn down food like this, no matter where it comes from, would be the epitome of fucking stupid.

My angry angel emerges from her shower much quicker than I did mine but obviously I've already eaten the sandwich, I probably still have traces of it left all over my face and beard but I don't care, it'll be a great surprise for later.

She's walking towards me in a pink silky nightgown and I'm turned on. I mean, it's not meant to be sexy but it is because she's wearing it. It's the moment that she whips out a cutthroat razor that I almost piss myself right there.

The dream is over, she's brought me back to her lair to kill me.

In reality I know that this isn't true but seeing anyone holding that kind of weapon walking towards you is some crazy shit.

"I don't like beards, it's unhygienic so you need to shave."

"Ok, but do I have to use that?"

"Well, I can do it, I mean, if you want." She's definitely planning on slitting my throat now.

"Wha-, really?"

"Yeah, I used to for-, well I've done it before, lots of times. You won't feel a thing."

"Ok."

Death by sexy, angry angel, there are definitely worse ways to go.

Kind fluffy, bit of a filler but also some good interaction.

Let me know what you think dear readers!

Happy Thursday!

-Aurora