Thank you, to BK2U for editing this chapter.
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Eric's apartment is dimly lit and very clean.
There is almost no clutter and no color. Everything is dark and black, and the air is downright freezing. The space is nice; big and airy and definitely much more comfortable than the area the initiates sleep in. There are large dark bookshelves that line the walls, and a large dark couch with a very soft-looking grey blanket on it. On the coffee table are a laptop, a stack of files, and a book.
Everything is so organized it hurts.
His kitchen gleams at me, large and surprisingly modern. It looks as though Eric has never so much as opened a cabinet. My mother would kill to cook dinner in a kitchen like this. My chest tightens at the sudden thought of my mother.
"This way." His voice pulls me forward, and I wonder if he always sounds so coolly uninterested. He turns to me, stuck in between his living room and kitchen, and stares. "Are you lost?" One of his eyebrows is raised, and I shake my head.
"No. I like your kitchen." I glance back at it before taking a step towards him.
"Great." His answer is laced with sarcasm. "Maybe you can cook your way to the top of the rankings."
I ignore him.
He unceremoniously flings the door to a room open and steps aside. "This is where you'll stay while you train. Try to keep out of my way while you're here." With that he strides away, off to the other side of the apartment before I can utter a word of thanks. He throws another door open and steps inside without looking back. I can only assume it's his bedroom.
I glance around the room and want to laugh.
Everything is dark in here, too. The black wooden bed frame is large and rich looking; it's shoved against the wall opposite a wide window. Dark drapes cover the panes, and I wonder if the sun rises in this direction. I set my bag down on the bed; before he left, Max had graciously handed me a bag of the basic training gear I would need. There is some sort of tracksuit, dark leggings and a dark shirt, a tank top, and a pair of tennis shoes. I find myself wishing for a tiny bit of color, but that's laughable. Showing up to training with something bright on would make me an easy target.
I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do now. I remember Four explaining dinner was soon, but I have no idea if I've missed it or not. Asking Eric seems a tiny bit daunting, but my stomach protests and I realize it's better to find out now than to feel hungry all night.
I open the door and make my way past the couch before I realize he's in the kitchen. I freeze in my tracks, stopping to stare for a second.
He's taken off the Dauntless uniform jacket; dressed in a simple black t-shirt, it's obvious just how well-built he really is. His profile is focused on whatever he's plating, and it gives me another second of time. I notice the tattoos on his neck, thick blocks of black running down both sides into his collar. There are dark black gauges in his ear lobes, and I wonder if it hurts to stretch them out like that. His head suddenly jerks up and over to me, and I am trapped under his hard stare.
"You see something you like, little Amity?" His words have a dark mocking tone to them, and I can't find my voice for a moment.
"I wanted to know if I could go get dinner?" I feel stupid asking him. I haven't had to ask anyone for permission to do anything in a long time.
"Here." He crosses the room, shoving a plate at me. "We'll eat lunch with everyone else. I rarely eat dinner down there." His voice is low and slick, and I swallow nervously. He raises an eyebrow and holds the plate out again. "I promised Max I'd keep you alive, so you don't have to worry that I poisoned your food. At least not tonight." He smirks at me again, his eyes as intense as ever. He'd be handsome if he could learn to smile properly.
I reach my hand out hesitantly, and I take the plate. Chicken, vegetables, and some sort of dinner roll are neatly arranged on it. "Thank you." He nods in return, and I glance around the apartment for some sort of dinner table. There isn't one, so I awkwardly perch on the edge of the couch. Eric sits down in the general vicinity of me, and his gaze has returned to its normal glare.
"Eat. You won't make it through a day of training if you don't eat." He watches me as one would watch a small child, and he isn't satisfied until I lift a forkful of carrots into my mouth. I try to smile while chewing, a skill I apparently don't possess, because he only glares harder.
"Eat the chicken. You need the protein." He frowns now, his own fork still lying on his plate. "Don't tell me you're a vegetarian." The words are laced with disdain; the biggest insult to this hulk of a man would be that I prefer veggies over meat.
I shake my head at him and take a bite of chicken. It tastes surprisingly good, and normal. I watch him finally take a bite as well, and I'm relieved when he seems satisfied enough to leave me alone. We finish eating in silence, and I stand to walk my plate to the sink.
"Thank you for dinner." I try to be polite, but he just narrows his eyes and nods his head.
I wash my plate quickly, and set it to the side to dry. I notice there is nothing else in his sink, and almost nothing on his counter except for a few letters with an Erudite logo on the top of them. I slink my way back to the bedroom, and quietly shut the door.
Sleep doesn't come easily, but eventually it does come.
Five am is much earlier than expected. Eric wakes me up by snarling my name and sullenly telling me that I have half an hour to get ready.
"After today I won't be your alarm clock."
His voice washes over me, and I struggle to sit up and squint at him. In the dark of the morning there is no natural sunlight, and I can barely make him out. I wonder if I'm dreaming.
"Any day now, Amity." When he yanks the covers off of me, I know I'm not.
"I'm up. Thank you, Eric." I try to sound sincere, but I feel as though I just fell asleep. My feet hit the soft carpet and I try not to yawn. I can see him better now. He's already dressed, and annoyance radiates from him.
"Didn't you have to be up early to work on the farm?" His eyes look me up and down, and I realize I have no pants on. My shirt is long enough that it comes to my knees, but I might as well be naked in front of him. His gaze unabashedly finds mine.
"Sometimes," I tell him. "I guess I should get dressed."
He shrugs, then turns and is out the door without another word.
"This should be tons of fun," I mumble to no one.
The training room is deserted, because no one in their right mind would willingly start this early. Except for Eric.
He stands in front of me and crosses his arms. His scowl has returned, but he somehow manages to look bored as well.
"Start running," he instructs. "Keep going until I tell you to stop."
I nod at him, and take off.
The first few miles are easy, and I keep a pretty decent pace. Amity has lots of large open fields, and I've been chasing after my brothers and sisters for years now. My older brother and I used to race up and down the orchards after dark just to see who was the fastest. I keep going, lap after lap, until I realize Eric is beside me.
"This way."
He increases the pace, and I try to keep up. We run through the compound, soft pink light bursting at us as we head outside. I follow him the best I can; he's not even remotely out of breath, and he looks almost graceful as we make our way through the city. It isn't until we begin a gradual ascent to a broken down structure that my lungs begin to burn.
"Faster." His voice snarls at me, and I try to breathe deeply as we climb higher. By the time we reach the top, I feel like my lungs might explode. He comes to a halt at the edge of the building, and I try hard not to collapse next to him. He gives me some sort of side eye before stretching his arms lazily over his head.
"Ready to head back?" It's less of a question and more of a command, but I nod anyway. I take one final, wistful look at the sunrise, its pinks slowly drifting into reds and yellows, before I turn and realize Eric is glaring at me.
"Are you done?" His words are cold, and I take off almost instantly in response. I slip past him, grateful for the break of the downhill descent. By the time I reach the bottom he's even with me, and then he's easily ahead of me. I try to keep up, but this might as well be a skip in the park for him. I push myself, my legs now aching and my side beginning to burn terribly, but I make my way back into the compound and come to a stop in front of him.
He doesn't look like someone who just ran for miles, but I can hardly say the same for myself. I am sticky and sweaty, and I shove my hair out of my eyes.
"Go get a drink, then meet me back here. We'll start on the bags." He doesn't look at me and I quickly make my way to get a drink. I adjust my hair, pulling it up into a bun on top of my head and out of my face. I can only imagine what he's got in store for me now.
Apparently, Eric intends that I should barely be able to move my arms by the time we break for lunch.
He watches me like a hawk, his eyes fixated on my every move.
"You're not good. But you're not completely hopeless." His low voice growls into my ear, making me jump slightly. He almost smiles at this, and I nearly jump again when his hands are suddenly on mine. He positions himself behind me, and pushes my stance forward.
"Like this." He demonstrates several times before he lets go of me. I mimic what he showed me, and he nods in what I assume is some sort of minor approval. "You do a lot of fighting back in Amity? Is that why you're here? You get kicked out?" His voice has a hint of curiosity, and I want to smirk at him for a change.
But I also want to make it through initiation, so I don't. Instead I just shrug at him, and resume punching at the bag. I can tell he's irritated at my lack of response, and when I feel him come up right behind me I freeze.
"I asked you a question, Amity." He's close to my ear, and I try to ignore the feeling of him behind me. I finally relent.
"My brother showed me a few things," I mumble. I push a stray piece of hair out of my eyes and turn as he takes a step back. "I've wanted out of Amity for a while now. He offered to help."
"Ahhh." Eric cocks his head and his lips curl into some half-smile. "I see. Trying to get a leg up on the competition. I hear Amity has a great training program."
It's my turn to glare at him, and it happens before I can realize it shouldn't. "Funny," I snap. Fighting in Amity isn't unheard of, it just isn't acceptable.
Before Eric can say anything else, Four's class bursts through the doors, loudly talking and chatting away. I'm surprised to find it's after eight already. They quiet down as they walk past Eric and me, their stares curious. Eric gives them the same dark look he gave me in the control room, and most of them shrink away. I can hear their low murmurs of his name and mine.
"This way, Amity." Eric's icy voice breaks my concentration, and I obediently follow him out of the room. We make our way through the hallway, and I realize we're heading back outside. Eric comes to a stop in front of the train tracks.
"Same route."
With that he's off, and I try not to die as I follow after him.
I sit at the table by myself and do my best to eat.
I can't help but feel a little exhausted and a lot hopeless. It's obvious Eric isn't going to make anything easy for me, and even though I know I can do it, it feels overwhelming. Eating alone doesn't make me feel all that great, either. It would be laughable to attempt to sit with anyone from Four's class, so instead I try to pretend like I really enjoy the solitude my table offers me. I stab aimlessly at my turkey and move it around my plate.
I glance around the room quickly, and wish there were anyone familiar here.
There isn't. I don't even recognize Four's class of initiates in their dark clothing, and everyone else is engrossed in their own conversations. I'm about to throw my lunch out and just go wait in the training room when someone slides into the seat next to mine.
I try to ignore the sense of dread I feel when I realize it's Eric.
"Eat," he barks at me, his eyes landing on my plate. "What did I tell you last night?"
"I am," I protest. I take a bite of turkey, and Eric is unimpressed. I want to tell him to scoot over, that he's too close and too big and too intense to be at my table. But he's glaring at me, and all I can do is try to eat a few more bites before I excuse myself.
"You won't make it through this afternoon if you don't eat. But suit yourself." He shrugs and continues to alternate between eating and glaring, then sometimes glaring while eating. Those around us watch us curiously, but they quickly look away when Eric's unfriendly eyes find them.
"What are we doing this afternoon?" I ask him in an effort to make polite conversation. His eyes meet mine, and then he looks away.
"Training," he says shortly.
I sigh next to him. I force myself to take a few more halfhearted bites of my green beans and turkey before I stand up to put my tray away.
"Sit down," Eric snaps at me, and I obediently resume sitting. His gaze is back on me now, and his stare is cold and unamused. "Finish your lunch. We have a lot to do this afternoon and passing out from hunger isn't on the list."
"Fine."
We eat the rest of the meal in silence. When he's finished eating, he stands, nods at me, and wordlessly makes his way out of the hall. I follow him, my heart in my throat, hoping the rest of the afternoon goes smoothly.
I'm jealous of Four's class.
Not because they are all in it together as some sort of brotherly clan; in fact, they seem to rabidly hate each other, and not because they have Four as a trainer. Mostly it's because at the end of the day, they get a break from their training.
I don't.
After Eric is done making me demonstrate every form of cardio and strength training he can think of, he informs me we will head back to the apartment. My heart leaps at this opportunity. Not only is Four's class still plodding along next to us, most of them clumsily punching at the bags and generally messing around and calling each other out, but it's still early in the afternoon. Perhaps training with Eric has its perks.
I should have known better.
The apartment is dark and cool, and I would skip into the bathroom if my legs could handle it.
The shower might just be the best part of the day. I say a small word of thanks that I can shower privately without other initiates next to me, but I'm brought back to reality by Eric's voice. I wrap myself in the large bath towel on the rack and step into my bedroom. "Just a minute," I start to yell out. I almost jump out of my skin when I realize Eric is standing in my room, holding a stack of books.
"What are those?" I manage to ask. I pull the towel tighter around me, and try to ignore Eric's lingering gaze on me. His grey eyes seem to burn with some sort of amusement. I shift awkwardly; I can feel water dripping onto my neck and down my shoulders.
"Books," Eric answers dryly. "You read them."
"Ok, great. Thank you. Can I get dressed now?" He doesn't appear to be in any hurry to leave, and I give him the dirtiest look I dare. He merely smirks in return, and sets the books on my dresser. "If you have to."
With that, he saunters out of the bedroom, and I'm left standing there staring at the pile of books.
I bet Four's class doesn't have homework.
