Locked up with the Badboy.

I take a seat on the floor in front of him, "What?"

He combs a hand through his dark hair and sighs, "This is a maximum security prison, the people here have killed babies, shot up schools , killed multiple partners and run crime rings and you, are saying that I'm mean? "

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7. Little Yellow...

 

“Ever thought about escaping?” I say as I dangle my legs over the edge of my bed.

Ben blinks, surprise illuminating his face, “Yeah, of course.” Then gives a nervous laugh, “Who hasn’t?” a hand scratches the back of his head in a way that screams suspicious.

“What is it?”

“What is what?” He’s sitting on the bench and squirms a fraction.

“You seem a little… nervous.” I raise an eyebrow in what I hope is a terrorizing fashion. It only makes him laugh, “Are you trying to be that prison guard?”

“Oh my gosh you saw him too?”

Ben waves his hand, “He’s done that every single time.”

“It’s sexy though.”

Our conversation misses a beat, then another. I realise what I just said and burst out with an explanation, “No not sexy, I didn’t mean sexy. I meant effective.”

Ben throws his head back and laughs, “You’re totally infatuated.”

“You’re weird,”  I blush and swing one of my legs half-heartedly at him. He catches it just around the ankle and holds my leg for just a moment. We both stare at eachother until almost tenderly he lets go. Good boy. I think to myself.

 

****

“Read me a novel?” I ask as he pushes our breakfast tray through the door.

“Which one?”

I look under his bed and found a weird book with a little yellow fish on the cover. The hitchhikers guide to the galaxy is it’s name, “Here you go.” I say holding it out to him.

Ben smiles at the cover, “Apparently this one is a classic, are you sure you want me to read it? I have a terrible voice.”

“Liar,” I said with a smile that suppresses a giggle and taking a seat on his bed.

“Okay…” sitting down he flips through to the first page and begins reciting, “The house stood on a slight rise on the edge of the village. It stood on it’s own and looked out over a broad spread of west country farmland. Not a remarkable house by any means…

Reading was an almost perfect opportunity for me to watch him and not feel like a stalker. Listening to the story the whole time I marvel at his now bright green eyes and the way they sweep across the pages.

 I feel a strange curiosity at his smile, and the way it wasn’t over friendly and fake like others. More reserved and genuine, like you can trust that when he smiles he means it.

 Perhaps most of all the sheer humanness of him is what I’m attracted to. A little part of me thinks that I’m becoming deluded, and craving chocolate after being locked up for so long. But I tell it to shut up and let me enjoy what my senses are feeding to me as Ben reads to his audience of one.

****

The Hitch-hikers guide:

Zaphod leapt out of his seat.

“Then what’s happened to the missiles?” he said…

“They would appear,” said Ford doubtfully, to have turned into a bowl…

Dinner arrives, and Ben coughs, breaking my trance and ending our intense reading session. “Well, there goes my voice,” he croaks.

“Uh-ha,” I reply still low-key checking him out.

He picks up our trays, “tomato soup or tomato soup?”

“Hmm,” I stroke my chin, “Definitely the tomato soup.”

****

As we’re eating I can’t help but watch the way he eats which I totally regret when he begins to give me funny glances, “Is there something on my face?” he says wiping at his nose.

“Nope,” I say grinning.

“Then why are you staring at me like that?”

“Oh,” I pinch myself, successfully managing to avoid the dreaded blush. I didn’t even know I’d been staring at him.

Biting my lip at how the room appears silent, I look for an escape, “Top right of your forehead, you’ve got a little bit of tomato soup.”

He wipes at the non-existent soup, confused, “Have I got it?”

I bend closer and gently wipe off nothing, “There you go.”

“Thanks.”

Our eyes meet and I bite my lip, “You’re welcome.” My throat makes a little weird noise as I realize how cute wiping food off his face is- Before I can do anything else stupid I change the topic, “So escape? What do you think?”

He freezes just a little, “I don’t really know, this place is meant to be impossible to escape from.”

Now that the spotlight is no longer on me I feel better, “But just for arguments sake, how would you escape?”

He pauses for a moment, weirdly uncomfortable. “Look around you, what do you see?”

I turn my head; other then four walls of solid white there’s the T.V, the wardrobe, the food slot, the door; “I dunno, a cell?”

He nods, taking more interest, “And exactly how many entrances are there in that cell?”

I take another reconnaissance, just to make sure I haven’t missed some massive open window or chimney place, I haven’t; “There’s only one, the door.”

“Right,” he stands up and moves closer to me, “So you need to get through that door, it’s bullet proof glass and Titanium reinforced steel so it won’t shatter. Your best option is the guards.” Visibly excited he jumps up on the bunk next to me, dangerously close.

Leaning in Ben takes my hand and holds it up, “So you either bribe them..” at the same time he mimics sliding fake coins into my hands and pushing down my small fingers with his rough skin.

“Or…” he leans in close, so close that his cheek is merely a fraction of an inch away from mine, “You seduce them..” The sound of his voice carries into my ear. It’s raw from hours of reading, the sound of it creates sending shivers and shocks through my nervous system. My lungs either stop working or I can’t breathe.

Smiling his devilish smile and flaunting the scar above his eye Ben leans back, like he’s observing me.

Woefully aware that my mouth still hangs open, I try to force a sentence, “ttha’s how wree getting out is it?”

He leans back so his head rests on my pillow, then lifts his legs to rest them on my thighs, “You mumbled there a little.”

Rolling my eyes, and trying to snap myself out of him I take a minutes pause to get my crazythoughts in order, “Is that how we’re getting out?”

My words must be stupid, or my tone or just me because he sighs, sits up and jumps off the bunk. I can sense he’s not playful anymore and when he looks up his eyes, as delectable as they are appear clouded, “Clara…” He chews the inside of his cheek as both his hands fall to his sides, “Just don’t ask okay, don’t ask me how to escape.

Then he sits back down on his bunk, picks up a book and shuts me out.

What the heck? I think as I stare down at him, what did I say? Suddenly the amazing turns to awfulness. I know that I’m going to spend the rest of the night thinking about what I did that made him suddenly lose all interest in me. It’s awful, hurting me more then it should.

 Why do you even care? The rational-independent part of me screams, What does his opinion even matter, he was practically murdering you a week ago?

But in my heart of hearts, and beyond my consciousness I begin to realize why I care about him and his damn stupid feelings so very much.

 

**** ****

 

A/N: I'm so happy right now, I decided that I wasn't going to finish this chapter today and was working on something else when I accidentally logged into Movellas. I had a message from a fellow Movellian saying that they really liked this story and hoped that I'd continue. It made me so happy and surprised I ran to my keyboard and smashed this one out. 

taylor.fan.girl465 this chapter is dedicated to you for being my favourite type of reader.

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