LISTEN TO ME, BEN PARISH ( 2 )

PROLOGUE

"You know," Zombie's voice comes from behind me, "You smell really good."

      I turn back to him with a cocked brow. "What?"

      "You smell really good," he repeats, like it's the most simple thing in the world-- and definitely not the weirdest. "And it really doesn't make any sense, because all we do is sweat and bleed. But you still smell really good."

      I walk across the room and press the back of my hand against his forehead, concern swimming in my stomach. He smiles up at me, and then grabs my hand in his own. I shake my head and step away from him. "I'm gonna go get Dumbo."

       "No." His grip on my hand tightens and he stares at me with those stupid brown eyes of his. "I'm fine, Ghost. Really. Just... stay, okay?"

      My heart squeezes in my chest. "Okay." I glance at the window across the room. I'm supposed to be on watch, but Zombie was here in pain and somehow that was more important. "Are you okay, Ben?"

      He smiles. "Yeah, Sofia. I'm okay."

      I squeeze his hand gently and sit on the edge of the bed, keeping my eyes on the floor. Ben continues to stare at me, his lips curled up at the sides. I glance at him, my cheeks turning red. "What is it now, Ben? Does my pale skin and lack of sleep turn you on?"

       "Oh, yeah. Hottest thing about you."

       "Really? Well you should definitely see my infected gunshot wound. That'll really get you going."

      Zombie chuckles. It's raspy and rough and my thoughts go back to how bad he's been doing. He must see the fear in my eyes because he leans forward and presses his lips against my own. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

      I pull my hand from his and stand up, sighing in irritation. Why does he have to promise things he has no control over? Private Oompa, you do not have permission to die, understood? I'm coming. I promise.

      "Fuck you."

      He blinks in surprise. "What?"

       "You're an asshole," I say simply. "You just throw promises around without having a clear understanding about what they do to the people who hear them. They get hurt when you can't go through with them, Zombie. Don't you understand that?"

      He sends me a glare. "You of all people know just how much I understand that."

      He's right. I said it to hurt him because I'm scared I'm going to lose him. His wound is infected and he looks like he's going to drop dead at any moment. And he just told me I smell good. He's clearly delirious.

      Change the subject. "You should get some sleep."

      He stares at me for a long moment, probably trying to figure out why I'm such a bitch. Why do I say mean things and then act like I said nothing at all? Why do I continue to push him away when all he does is shows that he can be trusted?

      I'm scared. That's why. What if he dies after he promises he won't, like he just did? A promise can't keep you from death but it can make you have faith in the fact that someone won't die, and that's worse.

       "Lay with me?"

      Yes, please. "I'm on watch."

      He cocks a brow. My cheeks tinge a light pink and I glance away. "You're not, really... because you're standing here."

       "Which is why I should get back to it."

       "Well, I'm in charge and I say it's fine."

       "Oh, really? Is that how it works now?"

       "That's how it's always worked."

      He smiles at me and my heart breaks in two. That beautiful smile on that broken face. God, this guy deserved so much more than what he got.

      He should've grown up with his little sister, and kicked any guys ass that touched her. And he should have had that stupidly pretty girlfriend that he'd start dating in college, the best college in the world for the smartest people and he'd get in without having to pay because he got a football scholarship.

And he'd have three kids. Two girls and a little boy. And he'd have a great job, probably a doctor or something, where he'd be able to help people because that's the kind of guy he is. That's the world he deserved. Not this one.

He frowns. "What just happened?"

I look away. "Nothing."

"You know," he starts, poking my skinny jean clad thigh with a tender finger. I root my feet to the floor and keep myself from moving away. Zombie was never going to stop touching me, so I'd have to get used to it. And besides, it wasn't like I wanted him to stop. "I'm always here to talk, if you ever need it. Especially about why you look like you're about to cry because I smiled at you."

"I just went to a dark place," I say. "It's not a big deal. It's not like it's the first time and it probably won't be the last."

       "Sofia, you're supposed to talk to me about these things," Zombie says, sighing. "I tell you about things-- you've even seen me cry!"

       "Well, you like talking about these things," I say, knowing it will start an argument. I don't really care, though. We're changing the subject from the Dark Place. "I don't. Kind of hate it, actually."

      He sighs again. "Babe, come on. It's hard, but it helps."

      My heart flutters in my chest. Babe. "Ben, never call me that again."

      He grins. "You love it." He pats the bed beside him. "Now come snuggle and we can talk about the Dark Place."

      My cheeks flush but I don't argue with him any more. I just climb into the bed, being careful of his wound and mine, and press my cheek against his chest. He places a kiss on my forehead, his arm wrapped around my waist and fingers running up and down my thigh. My face burns. He has a thing about my thighs, he once told me. They'd be nice to grab and kiss and lick-- you get the idea.

       "I still don't wanna talk about it."

      A sigh. "I know, Sof." Sof. "We can talk when you're ready, okay?"

      I bite back a smile. "Okay."