Click click. I hear two knocks on my window. I smile to myself as I unlock and slide it open. "hey." She says, making her way past me and sitting on the bed.

"Go ahead, Tris." I laugh, "Make yourself at home." She knows I'm joking though, because she punches me in the arm. "How was it tonight?" I go serious, sitting down beside her.

She stiffens, biting her lip. "It wasn't that bad." Her voice is rough, distant. It always does when she talks about her father. "He didn't use the belt. How about you?"

I shake my head, "I beat Marcus home. I've been in my room since four. But no beating."

"Tobias." She whispers, her blue gray eyes meeting mine, "you haven't eaten anything since four? What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Hey," I place my hand on hers, and the same warming sensation goes through me that always does when I touch her, "I'm fine."

I've known Tris forever, since I was six and she was four. I'm her best friend. But one thing brings us together that most friends can't even compare to. Both of our mothers are dead, and our fathers abuse us.

She gives me a glare and leans her head onto my shoulder, "school starts tomorrow."

"I know."

"Maybe we don't have to go?" she asks. I know she's kidding, but the sound of staying home with her seems so appealing that I close my eyes. "Maybe we can stay here and watch like a whole season of something on Netflix?"

"I wish." I say, and I mean it. But the thought of Marcus finding out about me skipping… or Andrew Tris. I shiver. "But we can't."

"I know." She says, tightening her grip on my hand.

One thing is different about our feelings for each other though. To her, I am like a brother. She trust me and she loves me like best friends should. But me? I am totally, and completely, downright in love with her. And she has no idea.

"Tobias," she says, snapping me out of my gaze, "I should go. It's two o' clock.

"Alright," I stand, pulling her up with me. "You need me to pick you up?"

"please." She says, holding her hand out. I grin.

"Wear something pretty." She rolls her eyes. I smile again and put mine out as well. We shake each other's hand, and then I spin her around. She crashes into me, stifling a laugh.

"We haven't done that in forever!" she exclaims. And she is right. We made a handshake in third grade, and we probably haven't done it in three years. Since her mom died.

"I was just hoping you didn't forget it." I say, bringing her in for a hug.

She wraps her arms around me and squeezes. I feel my whole body heat up, starting where her hands are placed on the small of my back. "What kind of person do you think I am? I would never forget it."

"That is very encouraging." I say, combing her hair with my fingers.

She smiles and pulls away, "I'll see you tomorrow. Love you." and climbs back out of the window. Hopping off my roof and onto hers.

"I love you." I whisper, laying down on my bed. Slowly falling asleep, trying to imagine what it would feel like if she just added the I. I love you. Tris, there is a difference.

R&R&R&R

-riley