I don't own anything… seriously, don't you think if I owned any of the Cullen men, the last thing I would be doing is sitting in front of my computer?
I have lied to her before.
I have lied to Bella Swan.
Holding her toiletry bag in her left hand, Bella headed towards her bedroom door. I tried to silence all the noise around me – the close ticking of the Swan's hall clock, the more distant rev a car's engine three blocks away, and an argument between the husband and wife who lived next door – to listen to Bella's every movement. The sound of her bare feet padding across the wooden floors had its own rhythm to it; I filed it away in my mind, hoping to replay it later.
Placing her hand lightly on the doorknob, she turned to look at me, a smile breaking out on her face at the thought of what she was about to say. I waited patiently to discover what it was; I both loved and resented the fact that she was the only person on Earth I could not hear.
"Stay," she whispered, using the tone one would exercise with a puppy. I couldn't help but smirk in recognition of her reference, the first night I had stayed with her, knowingly.
"Yes ma'am," I echoed.
And I had the intention of keeping true to my word, until the moment I didn't.
I played with the idea for a moment.
Charlie, I knew, had retired early in anticipation of rising before dawn tomorrow to cover for his deputy on vacation. I focused my attention on Charlie for a moment, making sure he really was asleep.
Through Charlie's thoughts, I was jolted into his dream that I was familiar with. I always found Charlie Swan's reoccurring dream to be peculiar, though it was true I had seen much stranger ones. It was surprisingly cognitive.
He had somehow inherited a large house, though it was a unique one architecturally. Charlie walked briskly through a long hall lined with doors and bedroom after bedroom. Opening each door, he would look around the room quickly assessing all that he would need to repair. A cracked pane, he noted in one. In another, damn door squeaks.As his mental catalogue of issues continued to grow, he went from room to room, more frantic, his list growing and his stress level skyrocketing. Eventually the dream gave way to the typical jumble of thoughts for every human's dream, though not one night had he ever finished evaluating the house, though the end of the hall was in sight.
Sure that Bella's father was sleeping deeply (cracked skirting board, thank God it's not an elaborate molding!), I was at Bella's bedroom door in one stride, allowing myself one opportunity to obey Bella's command and remain. My amount of self control continued to amaze me day by day as Bella and I continued to stumble down this forbidden path, though this animalistic desire I could not deny myself any longer.
After a second's hesitation, one moment where I was about to abandon the idea I had been unable to get out of my head for weeks, I turned the door knob and went forward.
I walked the short distance to the bathroom and allowed myself to lean up against the wall as close to the door as I dared, eventually sliding down, sitting on the floor.
The strength of her scent was exponentially greater, thanks to the vapors of the hot water. I listened closer, straining to hear every delicate sound. Pushing out the sound of each water droplet hit the porcelain, as well as Charlie's snores, I listened for Bella's movements. I heard the sound of the water hitting the bathtub muffled, I imagined her to now be standing directly under the shower head and heard her roll her head, her neck popping slightly. Sighing, I heard the click of a plastic bottle, presumably shampoo. I heard her step back, quickly rinsing it out and ringing her hair out before I heard the second click of a plastic container. Conditioner? A loud thunk! followed the closing of a plastic bottle. Damn it, Bella muttered, barely. I couldn't contain a smile. She had dropped the bar of soap. Checking on Charlie quickly, once more, I slowly crawled up to my feet and pressed myself as hard as I dared to the door, shutting my eyes, I tried to envision what was going on behind the door, past the shower curtain.
Suddenly, I felt nearly fly back to Bella's bedroom, throwing myself on the bed.
I was beyond disgusted with myself. When I had compared the addiction of Bella's scent to heroin, she had only fractionally comprehended the intensity I felt everyday. However, waiting in anticipation to hear her scrub her body down in the shower was comparable to the desperation of true drug addicts who mug an old woman, simply to get money for their next fix.
More time had passed than I realized when I realized the water had been shut off a long time ago and I heard the bathroom door open. The vapor, loaded with her scent, flew down the hall and assaulted me without warning.
"You stayed," she whispered, closing the door behind her.
"I told you I would."