Chapter Four

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##---Danial's POV--##

I'm a superhero not a billionaire. Ironic as it is I make a living cleaning the streets at night as Danial, not Golden Flame. I end up getting little sleep, but I still function, maybe thats one of my superpowers. Because my superhero personna trashed the streets with my archnemisis, my human one was made to clean it up. And it took forever.

I throw the apartment manual on the floor, frustrated with my choices. All of them are either out of my budget or a wreck. I can't get what I want, but it doesn't matter, tomorrow I have to be out. My rent will be up.

I stand up, stretching my legs. The cereal bowl that I had balanced on my laps falls to the ground in a puddle of milk. This angers me more than it should so I end up lighting the milk on fire. Yes, I put the laws of physics to shame, I light liquid on fire. I put the now empty bowl in the sink and clean up my mess before reapplying my still damp coat. There's an open house in ten minutes for a gorgeous apartment, and by gorgeous I mean less ugly than the rest.

I check my watch and grumble inadubily to myself, the drive is atleast fifteen. Guess I'll need to do some flying behind the scenes.


-//-Jason's POV--//

In my hand I have a wad of cash, in my pocket I have two more. I couldn't get away with much, I was surprised how well security was prepared for a super break in. However, I can mind read, so of course, I was always one step ahead.

Shivers tackle me as I pace an overly busy street, overhearing of an open house in the area. The words describing it weren't the finest, mostly cheap and rundown, but a house is still a house, making much better than rain painted skies.

I arrive at a door right next to a flower store, on it is reads apartment 06 open house please enter and follow arrows. I yank open the discreetly hid apartment complex door to meet a series of halls and a stairwell. It's carpeted a yucky oarnge that almost matches the lighting. One light, in the middle of the hall, flickers on and off, as if it's about to die. A red, construction paper arrow is taped to the side of the muticoloured stairwell.

I make my way up two steps to turn around. The door I entered has slammed. Standing below me is a rain drenched man, huffing out of breath. Now, by below me I don't mean by much, he's a tower of a person wih six feet and then some. Our eyes meet, his a lovely hazel, and then he lets his eyes drift over me shamelessly. A blush tints my cheeks which contours boldly against my ghostly perplextion. He grins.

"Here for he open house?" He asks.

"Yeah," to produce words takes an effort.

My eyes get lost on his body, he has shrugged off his jacket, revealing skin surfaced with muscles and rough edges. A tan tones and contours his body to a point thats absoloutley mouthwatering. He wears a grey t-shirt skin tight and tanned skinny jeans that highlight parts that I won't mention. His hair is duie and sticks to his face, his jaw line is sharp and prominent. He has lips hat are crisom and full and a chest that could be made out of stone, rising and falling with large breaths.

He whistles a sing-song, "Eyes up here, honey."

I blink and bring my blue eyes to his, he's grinning proudly as if he's achieved something. So irritating. I end up blushing three shades darker and mutter something that sounds remotely like sorry. He doesn't seem grossed out that a man looked at him so intently, in fact he moves on, ushering me up the stairs.

"Let's go," he says,"Were already five minutes late."


At the top there's a wooden door left open a crack, on it reads the number 6. He peeks in cheerily, smiling brighter than anyone should, no matter the occasion.

"Hey, we're here for the open house. Is anyone here?"

A pretty woman with pastel lips pulls it open further,"Yes, please come in."

He struts in and then turns to offer me a hand. Who does he think he is? I can make it up a flight of stairs by myself thank you very much. I roll my eyes and saunter up the two stairs, ignoring his offer. He shrugs and somehow this incorporates to the growth of his indecent smile.

The woman starts touring us around the place. It isn't bad for the price asked, it has only one bathroom and bedroom. Theres a decent sized kitchen and living room and one petite office. It's modernized with over half of the walls being windows, the furnishing included. The lighting is ten times better than the hallway lights, white instead of oarnge.

When we're finished she brings us to sit on the living room couch. Mr. Hazel eyes decides he can sit a few inches away, his arm sprawling on the back of the couch behind me. If I tell him to move I'll look paranoid, but he's still past the boundaries a normal person would venture. If only he knew I could move his arm for him. But I won't.

It's almost impossible to get a read on his mind. Some people hide their thoughts if they fear them. Most, however forget, scattering them out in the open for all who have the power to view.

"So," the woman says, smackig her lips,"the price you guys probably saw for the place was five hundred a month, but you see, there were lots of offers. The price has now changed to seven hundred."

Gravity pulls my lips down, the man beside me mimicks my expression.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Positive, sorry."

He stands up thanks the woman, shakes her hand and let's himself out. I just give the woman a dirty look and exit slamming the door. What a waste of time.

Hazel eyes inspects me curiously from the bottom of the stairwell, his eyes swirling with some unknown emotion.

"What?" I ask.

"So I really need a place," he starts,"and I know it's a long shot, but you seemed really intrigued with the place too. Maybe would you like to share?"

His voice ending high pitched as if nervous.

"Like roommates?"


I'm about to let the word no escape me with full force, but then I resist. I'm in a desperate state, now is not the time to be picky.


He smiles his abnoctious, full blown smile.

"Thanks man," he says.

"Don't thank me yet, I can be irritating and you might get tired of me."

"Please, how can I get tired of that face?"

He pinches my cheek witch is an illegal shade of red. This makes me extremely angry. I go to swat at his hand, but he swiftly pulls it a way. Which leaves me to spin on my heel and fall backwards. I yelp childishly and prepare to fly, but then I stop the reflex. If I fly I wreck my chance with him. I brace myself to hit the carpeted cement ground, my muscle tight, my body tucked inwards.

Instead I fall into a firm chest that smells like berries, blackberrys in particular. Yet somehow it's still a masculine scent. Two large, firm hands cradle my back for a moment in a quick petting motion. Obviously I'm not thinking again, still shocked from the fall, why else would I let a man hold me? He laughs low and deep before reaching under my arms to lift me to my feet.

"Carefull there, puppy." And there's that grin again.

"I hate dogs," I growl, putting more space between us.

"Pity, cuz I love them."

He waves and steps out into the wet world,"See you tomorrow, puppy."

I don't have time to protest, because he shuts the door. It's gonna be a big surprise when he sees my cat tomorrow.

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