a/n: dedicated to fifthelement- for the beautiful cover you see to the side :) she made another banner with Ben as well, and it's hella good too

Chapter 8: Sour as a Green Apple (Ben)

Yes, my friend Queenie was a six year old girl.

"Why does it take so long to pick out ice cream?" I grumbled, crossing my arms as I shook my head at the two girls who had their faces pressed against the glass.

Lottie glanced at me and smiled nicely. "It's a very important decision, Ben! Cookies and cream or cookie dough, that is the question."

"That is the question," Queenie repeated, giggling. Since she wasn't tall enough to see through the glass at the ice cream, she was perched on Lottie's hip.

"Alright, poppet, which one do you think looks good today?"

"They look the same every day!" I interjected, throwing my hands in the air. Jesus, it was just ice cream.

Lottie and Queenie glanced at each other and then looked at me with identical playfully pitiful expressions. "Oh man, he doesn't know the art of choosing the perfect ice cream, does he?" I heard Lottie whisper. I raised my eyebrows at her and.

"Benjy doesn't even like ice cream," Queenie replied in a tone that was just short of horror.

Lottie gave an exaggerated gasp and looked at me. "He doesn't?" she exclaimed.

I crossed my arms defensively. "Why is that so bad?Just pick already!" I groaned in annoyance. We'd been standing around for five minutes, and the lady at the cashier was staring at us.

"Hm...what'll you be having, princess?" Lottie asked Queenie, propping her more securely on her hip.

I noticed her arms shaking slightly from the weight of Queenie's body and I rolled my eyes. Jesus, was it that hard to ask me for help? I plucked Queenie from Lottie's grasp. Lottie stared at me, looking a little shocked. "Pick!" I demanded, holding Queenie away from my body and dangling her almost above the counter, trying to ignore Lottie's penetrating green gaze.

"Benjy, will you buy me a cho-co-lutt ice cream?" she pleaded, widening her cute little eyes at me.

I narrowed my gaze at her. She was already using these tactics to get what she wanted? I was almost impressed. "One chocolate on a cone, please," I told the worker, who nodded brightly. "Now what about you?" I added to Lottie.

She smiled at me and then turned to face the counter. "One cookie dough in a cup, if you please!" she chirped brightly, that constant smile of hers not wavering. "It was a cookie dough kind of day, you know?"

I couldn't meet her happy look. "I guess."

She laughed that tinkling laugh of hers, and I was so put off by the way the sound startled me that it took a minute to realise that she was paying for the ice cream.

"Hey!" I said quietly, my eyebrows furrowing crossly as she accepted the change from the cashier. "Who said you could pay?"

"You didn't want me to?" she asked in confusion, looking taken aback as though she didn't think it was morally right to allow me to pay.

"Of course I didn't want you to, what told you otherwise?" I replied. I watched her confused face and huffed. "Who's been making you pay for them?"

Lottie's green-eyed gaze softened and she shrugged. "Well, I've always been the one to pay, except around Ginny, and nobody's complained before."

I took in a sharp breath. Honestly, how'd she make it this far in life without accidentally selling off her soul in exchange to help a man cross the street?

"Why're you so mad?" she asked quietly, looking down at her feet.

I groaned softly. "Of course they never complained. They wanted to save their money because people are greedy assh-"

"How's the ice cream, Princess?" Lottie interrupted brightly, and I almost threw her ice cream at the wall before I realised she'd stopped me from cursing in front of a little kid.

I walked outside and gripped Queenie tightly, trying to exhaust some of the anger in my body. I wasn't sure what it was about her, but Charlotte Carter had shaken me up, and I wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad thing.

"Ben?"

I snapped my eyes to her, but she didn't seem scared in the slightest; in fact, she even seemed a bit amused. "Why are you calling me Ben?" I growled in frustration, not even sure why I was annoyed that she wasn't calling me by that repulsive nickname.

"Isn't that your name?" she teased lightly, smiling that smile of hers. I gave her a flat look to show her that I wasn't impressed. "Well, I figured since you didn't like it, I'd stop."

"When have you ever cared about what I do and don't like?" Because if she had, I wouldn't be forced to put up with her right now.

Lottie grinned brightly. "I do care about what you do and don't like."

I pointed at her. "And that's your problem!" I said. "You care too much! Have you ever cared about yourself before others?"

"Of course!" she replied immediately.

I glanced at Queenie. "Oh yeah?" I challenged. "When was the last time you did something for yourself without thinking of the benefit of others?"

Her eyes widened and a flicker of hurt passed through them, sending a strange shot of pain through my chest. What was going on with me? "I do respect myself," she argued weekly.

"Whatever," I said. "It doesn't matter because I don't care."

I turned to walk away and take Queenie home, but her next words froze me stiff.

"If you don't care as much as you say you don't, then why are you getting so angry with me?"

My eyes closed and my breathing grew raspier in irritation. She was right. Why was I getting so angry? I needed to get away from her.

I needed to stay away before she buried herself any deeper than she already had.

***

I ran my hand through my hair and glared at my carpeted floor.

Clark watched me, a sleeping Queenie stretched across his lap. "Why'd you call me over?" he asked, the mirth in his voice obvious.

I moved my scowl to him. "Why the fuck do you sound like that?"

Clark grinned widely, which only made my scowl deepen. "Well, Benny, it's just that I've never seen you so torn up about something before."

I pointed my finger at him. "Don't call me Benny!" I snapped, struggling to keep my voice low so as to not wake up Queenie.

He raised his hands in surrender, but that teasing glint was still in his eyes. "What, Charlie's allowed to, and I, your bestest friend in the entire world, isn't?"

"Who the hell is Charlie?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Clark smirked. "I meant Lottie."

My hands curled into fists at the sound of him calling her that, and I had no idea why. "Shut up," I said, turning away so that he wouldn't see the red on my face.

"What's she done, Ben? I've never seen you so on edge before." He dropped the cheeriness and sounded a bit worried. I breathed deeply. If there was anyone I could count on, it was Clark, no matter how annoying he got.

"Maybe I'm so on edge because I need to punch something." That was probably it. It explained the flush my face got around her and the way my muscles tensed whenever she smiled that smile that made it seem like she could fix the entire world.

"I don't think that's it," Clark mused, tapping his chin.

"Then what?" I growled. "I'm tired of being around her and getting like this every time!"

"Well, first of all, you need to calm the fuck down. It's not even her making you mad, is it?"

"It's her whole existence," I insisted. "She's so annoying, how do you like her? She lets people step all over her and then smiles that fucking smile like she doesn't even care! She wouldn't care if all of her limbs got taken away as long as some stupid oaf got a nice meal!"

Clark stared at me for a long time before he grinned this insanely creepy grin that made me scoot further away from him. "That fucking smile?" he repeated in a sing song voice.

"I didn't mean it like that, Jesus-"

"I see the problem," he injected confidently.

I crossed my arms, interested to know what exactly he'd come up with. "Oh yeah? And what is it?"

"You care about her because you're just a big ol' softie, aren't you?"

"Nope! There's no way I could care about some lass I've only known for a few days."

"We're not in fucking Egypt, Benjamin. Stop being in denial and is it even possible for you to not be so stubborn?"

I closed my eyes tightly. "Nah. There's no way I care."

"You obviously don't hate her if you're all torn up about what happened in the ice cream shop."

"I do," I replied instantly, but it sounded weak, even to my ears.

Clark threw his hands up in the air. "Whatever you say, Benny. There's no getting through your thick skull."

"Don't call me Benny!"

I don't care about her.