You Can't Hurry Love

Chapter Twenty-Two

'Oh my God! Oh my GOD! What the hell is HAPPENING?!'

Ben has grabbed me by the arm and is already halfway to dragging me across the room as our front door smashes against the wall behind it, bringing with it a fired-up Lincoln who was rubbing his arm gingerly and scanning the room like a wildcat. When he spots us cowering against the opposite wall he stops moving and stares at us with slight disorientation, dropping his hands to his sides warily.

'Ben?' Lincoln asks, shooting me a quick glance before turning back to face him, his eyes widening in shock. 'What are you doing here?'

'What am I doing here?'

In one swift motion, Ben has let go of my arm and has taken a threatening step forward and I have to jump after him to grab him by the jumper. Not that I fear Ben would actually start something with Lincoln, but from the stunned expression he was carrying on his face, I couldn't be too sure.

'I happen to LIVE here, thank you very much. Would you care to let me know why you've nearly blown my front door off its hinges?'

'I came to check on Dorothy. She said there was a burglar in the flat and I thought she was in danger.'

Ben immediately swivels around to face me and his jumper is pulled from my grasp, leaving me standing there defenceless as he towers over me and I look up at him with apprehension, trying my best to look as confused as he did. I must have failed though because he narrows his eyes and glares at me, and I'm convinced he can see right into my head.

Just when I think he might confront me on my illicit thoughts he turns back to Lincoln and I release a shaky breath, trying to catch his eye myself to tell him not to reveal anything incriminating. Spending those brief moments of time together may have been completely virtuous on his part, but Ben won't see it that way.

'Well,' Ben carries on where he left off, throwing his arms around him sardonically. 'It was me in here and I am happy to report that if I was planning on robbing someone it wouldn't be a bunch of broke arse-'

But he stops talking. And then his head tilts slowly to the side and I can feel the heat radiating from his body as he analyses Lincoln, and suddenly the cold hard pavement seems like a much more viable option than standing here trapped behind him.

'Wait a minute. Why did Dorothy call you?'

I'm sure I can make that jump. . .

'If there was a robber in the flat . . . why would she call you of all people?'

Maybe if I threw my mattress out first.

'Dot?'

Even though he was addressing me Ben still doesn't take his eyes off of Lincoln and I don't bother moving. I'd rather avoid having to see the stony expression that I was sure he was wearing if I could help it.

'Yes, Ben?'

'Why did you call Lincoln?'

'Er,' I falter, trying to think of anything that would get me out of this situation, but my mind remains blank.

'If you seriously thought that there was a burglar in our flat, why not phone the police?'

'Well . . .' I wipe my lip surreptitiously and my finger makes contact with the moisture that had started gathering there.

I risk a glimpse at Lincoln who was looking back at me thoughtfully. Maybe he was secretly asking himself the same thing.

And that's when I think to myself, why did I call Lincoln? Was it really because I didn't want to be a nuisance to the police or was it that I simply wanted an excuse to see him again.