The Leader

13

"Yes, ma'am."

***
Eric's apartment is neat. In the center of the living room is a black leather couch, a coffee table in front of it, and two black chairs. Along the left wall are a couple of bookshelves. And in the middle of the back wall is a dark blue sliding door, which must be to Eric's bedroom.

To the right is the kitchen with the island in the middle. Three black stools sit in front of it.

"You will sleep in my bed and I'll take the couch," Eric says, locking the front door behind him.

"I can take the couch," I say, making my way toward it. "I'll be fine."

His hand latches on my arm. "You're sleeping in my bed."

"I don't want to kick you out of your own bed."

"I'm sleeping on the couch," he says.

"You're a jerk." I elbow him in the stomach and he chuckles.

"I'm a jerk for insisting that I take the couch?" He raises a brow.

"Exactly," I say with a chuckle.

"Fine," he says with a smirk. "I am a jerk, but I'm a hot jerk."

"I'll admit, you are hot," I say, walking toward his bedroom door. "But you're not as hot as Four."

He growls and stomps after me. He grabs my arm, spins me around, and pins me against the wall.

"Four is not hotter than me," he says, his voice low and venomous. "Tell me I'm hotter than Four."

"Relax, Eric Mendel," I say with a smirk. "I was only teasing you. You're cute when you get jealous."

"I wasn't jealous." He steps back and crosses his arms across his chest. "I don't get jealous."

"Lies like that might make your pants catch fire," I say with a chuckle.

"I don't get jealous."

"Puh-lease," I say. "Remember when I talked to you about getting a tattoo?"

He nods.

"I told you my friend suggested a design and you got jealous and asked me which friend."

"That does not prove I was jealous," he says. "That shows I was curious as to which friend."

"Then I asked you if you were jealous and you glared at me and said that you don't get jealous," I say with a smirk, "when you clearly do."

"Shut up," he grumbles.

"Can I borrow some clothes?" I say. "I seriously need to shower."

"You definitely do," he says, pinching his nose. "Your stench is singeing my nose hairs."

"Ha ha ha," I say with a deadpan expression. "Very funny."

"The bathroom is in here." He slides his bedroom door open and leads me inside. "The shower is that door to the far right."

His room is as neat as the living room, which I did not expect. Dauntless are not usually clean freaks.

His bed, which has a black comforter to match the black pillow cases, sits in the far right corner. A table with a lamp stands next to it. On the far left is a black dresser. A dirty clothes basket sits next to it.

"Your clothes are in the bottom drawer," he says. He shuffles through the dresser and hands me a black t-shirt and sweatpants. "But these will be more comfortable than jeans."

"Thanks," I say. "I'll be out in a bit."

I lock the door behind me and set my clothes--well, Eric's clothes-- on the sink counter. I grab a towel from under the sink and my eyes catch my reflection in the mirror.

My jaw is a little discolored, but other than that, my face is clear. I lift up my shirt to look at my ribs. It looks fine, but I don't understand why it still hurts to breathe. She didn't even hit me that hard.

A knock sounds on the door. "Rori, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say. "I'm about to start the water."

I turn away from the mirror and undress. I step in the shower and start the water. I use his shampoo and wash my hair before using his body wash, which smells amazing.

I let the warm water run down my back for a few minutes before I shut the water off and step out. I grab the towel and step back in the shower to dry off. I step out and slip Eric's t-shirt on and then his sweatpants, which I have to roll up a little bit because they are a mile too long and a bit big.

I shut the light off and walk out of the bathroom. I stop in my tracks. Eric lies on the bed shirtless with his hands behind his head.

Oh. My. Goodness.

"Stop staring at me," he says, even though his eyes are closed.

I scoff. "I'm not staring."

"Careful," he says with a smirk. "A lie like that may make your pants catch fire."

"So, um, what are the sleeping arrangements?" I ask, standing next to the bed.

"You take my bed," he says, "and I'll take the couch."

"Oh, no," I say, rubbing my neck. "I can take the couch."

"You're injured." He sits up and stands up to face me. "My bed will be better for you."

"Are you sure?" I rub my neck. I really don't want to kick him out of his own bed.

"It's no problem." He stops in front of me and softly kisses my cheek. "Good night, Rori. Sweet dreams."

"Good night, Eric."

A/N: Hey, initiates! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did, please vote and comment!