Disclaimer – Original characters belong to Stephenie Meyer, plot lines and characterisations all belong to Aurora18, copyright February 2018.
Guess who's back? I want to update this regularly so let's get rolling with the feedback and see where these two end up.
Chapter 7
BPOV
After demolishing another lamb flatbread sandwich, we make our way to the main bathroom so I can shave off the monstrosity on his face. I take a tentative look and despite eating three portions worth of meat he doesn't appear to have misplaced any in his facial jungle which is a relief at least.
It brings me an enormous sense of satisfaction just thinking about doing this for him. He's homeless so he'd have no way to do this for himself, he needs me. Part of me knows I shouldn't be so delighted to have another human being so dependent on me but the larger, much more dominant part revels in knowing how integral I will soon be in his life.
He takes a seat on the stool I've placed by the sink and I wordlessly move around the room, collecting shaving foam, toners and moisturizers, things I'd bought as gifts for him but that he'd obviously never used. It's hard to take advantage of gifts you're bought if you're out fucking around with other women.
He looks nervous suddenly and I'm not sure if I like the slightly helpless look on his face or prefer the cockiness from before. Either way I like having him here already, much more than I should and delight in the obvious change in the room his presence causes. Sharing my excessive space with another is heart warming beyond belief, I can't move around as I usually do because he's in the way, it's a feeling I fear myself getting accustomed to far too quickly.
I move in front of him and gaze into his cautious eyes before speaking softly.
"Edward are you ok? Are you still hungry?"
"I think I could eat a whole flock of those sandwiches but if I do then I might be sick."
"Quite, yes then we'd better not. That sort of thing is awfully messy. I don't like mess."
"Is that why the beard has to go?"
"The beard has to go because I find facial hair unbecoming, Edward. You don't mind, do you?" As if I'd give him a choice.
"No, no it's fine."
"Good boy." I stand behind him as I praise him softly and surprise even myself with the words that come out. I feel no sense of motherly care for this man, after all I'm not that much older than him but a sense of protectiveness that feels natural but also foreign.
Well, it's not as if this sort of situation is in any way familiar.
I smile softly as I hear him let out a shaky breath as I rub my hands over his face, spreading the foam carefully to avoid any cuts and sensitive areas. Despite finding it completely unacceptable myself, I allow my hands to roam his neck and take a deep delight in the racing pulse I feel beneath my fingertips.
I take out the clean blade and work my way around him methodically, lost in a trance listening to the blade slipping through foam and hair and watching clumps fall to the towel beneath us and the apron I've wrapped around him. His face reveals itself to me as the minutes tick by and I am conscious that his breathing has evened out and he seems totally relaxed below me. The thought makes me pause for a second, this young man, while he must feel comforted to an extent by the care I have shown him, is extremely trusting. It gives me pause to wonder whether he would be this trusting of anyone or whether it has anything at all to do with me.
I find it unpleasant to think about him being so pliant in anyone else's hands and try to rid my mind of the thought before he notices my change in behavior. Unfortunately, I am not so lucky.
"You know you frown a lot when you're concentrating."
"Well that's because I'm doing precisely that Mr Cullen, concentrating. You don't want me to slip do you?" My words come out entirely more harshly than I had meant but my abrasive attitude isn't a defense mechanism for nothing.
"I didn't mean it like that, you just look like you're thinking really hard about something, I wonder what's going on in that pretty head of yours." My jaw tightens at his platitude and I scoff as I rub a warm flannel over his face, catching the last strays and admire my handiwork. I may be a little out of practice, but I've done a fine job here. He is utterly transformed before me, a new man.
"Indeed. You're too thin, but you seem to like my cooking so far so I'm sure we can change that soon enough." His eyes are downcast at my words but perk up as soon as I start gently rubbing moisturizer into his skin and ointment into the remnants of old scratches.
"Bella I'd be crazy to not like your food, your husband's a lucky guy." The end of his sentence snaps me from my reverie and I don't bother to hide my sneer, or to answer his implied question. As if I would have another man in my home while Edward was here. Infidelity, to any degree and of any kind was up there with the very worst kind of behavior in my mind.
"There, you look much better. How do you feel?" I use a fresh towel to catch any water and dry him off, on my knees in front of him so I can get the full view of his face to admire my work. I can tell at one time, perhaps when he was healthier he would have been breathtakingly handsome, but in his diminished state he is rather boyish looking with his overgrown hair and too thin face. I have the unfortunate feeling that this man would haunt me no matter what he looked like.
"Like the luckiest guy in the world to have you find me."
I daresay I've fallen in love with these two again, tell me your thoughts below.
-A