HOT BLOODED | Soldier Boy

4. I NEED A (SUPER)HERO

We step out into the hallway, and I shiver as the cold air touches my skin. Ben falls into step beside me, his presence a looming shadow that threatens to swallow me whole.

We walk in silence for a few moments before I break the tension. "So, where are we going?" I ask, my voice betraying my unease.

"Your place," Ben responds, his gaze fixed straight ahead. His tone is nonchalant, as if spending the day with a near stranger is just another typical occurrence for him.

"Excuse me?" My heartbeat quickens at his words. Spending the day alone with him in my cramped apartment suddenly feels more intimate and dangerous.

"I said, we're going to your place," Ben repeats, casting a sidelong glance at me. "Do you have a problem with that?"

I pause, thinking of all the reasons why inviting him to my apartment is a very bad idea. But Arthur's threat hangs over my head like a guillotine, reminding me that I have little choice in the matter. "No," I respond finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "No problem."

The corner of Ben's mouth twitches into a slight smirk, like he can hear the doubt in my voice. But he says nothing, just continues walking beside me, his presence almost oppressive as we make our way down the street.

The walk to my apartment feels agonizingly long, the silence between us heavy with unspoken tension. I find myself sneaking glances at him, studying the angles of his face and the way his muscles move beneath his clothes.

When we finally reach my apartment building, Ben glances up at the shabby exterior, raising an eyebrow. "You live here?" he asks, his voice betraying a hint of judgment.

I bristle at his tone. "Yes, I live here," I respond, my hackles rising. "What, were you expecting a penthouse suite?"

"No, but I was expecting something a little...nicer," Ben says, his gaze sweeping over the dirty bricks and the few construction sites over the area. I resist the urge to smack him.

"Sorry to disappoint," I reply sarcastically, unlocking the front door. "Not all of us can afford to live in the lap of luxury."

We make our way up the creaky stairs to my unit, and I can feel Ben's eyes on me the entire time. I can practically feel his scrutiny, judging every aspect of my living situation.

I find myself looking at the ceiling as I unlocked my door as if I was attempting to see through the floor with some kind of x-ray vision and see if Trevor was around.

When I push open the door, the small apartment greets us, its modest furnishings a stark contrast to the wealth that Ben is no doubt used to. I can feel his gaze raking over my things, taking in the worn-out couch and the stack of bills on the coffee table.

"Make yourself comfortable," I say, gesturing to the couch. I turn away, heading to the kitchen to give myself a moment to compose myself.

Ben makes no move to sit down, instead choosing to wander around the small space, his eyes taking in every detail. I try to ignore him as I retrieve a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water, taking a long gulp to wet my suddenly dry throat.

When I turn back around, Ben is standing in front of a small bookshelf, his eyes scanning the titles of the few books I have. He picks one up, flipping through the pages before setting it down again, his expression unreadable.

"Impressed?" I ask, leaning against the countertop. "Or is my book collection too proletarian for you?"

"I'm just surprised you even have a book or two," Ben responds, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He continues walking, running a finger over the rim of a picture frame on the wall.