This chapter has been flawlessly edited by BK2U!
His hands are warm and the tiniest bit familiar now.
"Aim a little more to the left, and fire."
They cover mine for the most part; I'm trapped between his arms and against his chest. I try to focus my aim on the target.
"Any day now, Amity." His voice is low and all too close to my ear, so I fire the gun. I'm not prepared for the kickback, but he is. He stays solid behind me, and I find myself pushed back into him with surprising force.
"Again," Eric drawls.
I aim the gun again, his hands still on mine, and this time it hits the target dead center. I'm still thrown back a step, but this time I'm a little more prepared.
"Again."
It goes on for hours. He eventually lets go of me, and I manage to keep hitting the target. He seems pleased, but he also seems exasperated, so I focus on the gun in my hand. It's cold and heavy, and between the punching and the gun training, my arms are close to falling off.
"Take a break," he yells out, his eyes fixed on the tablet in his hand. He types something into it, for once paying no attention to me.
I gratefully set the gun down, making sure the safety is on, and I sit down on the ledge and take a sip of the water I've brought with me. The sun is high in the sky, and even though it's warm now, there's a slight coolness to the breeze that blows. I take a second to stretch out, enjoying the feeling of my muscles relaxing.
Eric's training is tough, much tougher than what the other classes are enduring. I've seen some of the Dauntless-born a few times, mostly when Eric and I are on our way back from our morning runs. Lauren seems to have them starting around seven, and they usually look half-asleep. Some of them scowl as we run by, but a few stare with what seems to be envy. Training with one of the leaders of Dauntless isn't an everyday occurrence. Especially training with Eric.
Four's class seems to be all over the place. While some seem like decent competition, they all seem at odds with each other. If I listen hard enough, I can hear the constant snapping and tearing at each other. Some of them seem to spend a good deal of time trying to find out what I'm doing. Nothing is more pleasing to me than when Eric spies one of them watching us. His glare is usually enough to send them scampering off, heads down.
He's still typing away, and it gives me a chance to watch him for a change. I'm pleased with my progress, but I have no idea if he is. During our runs I can keep up with him almost the entire time, and I can see the definition in my arms from the hours logged on the punching bags. I feel strong here. I find myself liking it despite my intense training conditions. I turn my focus back to Eric. He frowns for a moment, and then his eyes meet mine.
I'm busted, but Eric doesn't seem to be bothered by anyone's stares, let alone mine.
"Time to head inside. We've got a few things to do before lunch." He stalks off ahead of me, knowing full well I will follow behind him.
"Next week we'll start the fights. You'll be ranked on your performance in them." Eric's words are serious, and his expression is even more severe. "Because I am training you, it's expected that you will do well."
His eyes look me up and down, and he lets out a small sigh.
"Let's get started."
He shows me some of the more basic fighting moves, and when I've mastered those, he pushes me forward to a more advanced set. He helps position my arms and legs, and by now I've grown accustomed to his methods. I don't flinch when he shoves my legs further apart with one of his own, and I don't bat an eye when he places his hands on my hips. I listen to him, trying to absorb every word he says. My brother knew some of the basic concepts of how to fight, but this is a whole different level.
I don't notice we've worked our way through our normal lunch break until Four's class starts to filter into the training room. Eric looks up, mild surprise crossing his face.
"Guess we lost track of time." I watch them file by, and they almost all glare at me. I resist the surprising urge to take a step closer to Eric; how delightful I'm sure they would find it if I allowed myself to hide behind him. Not to mention the fact that Eric would probably rip me apart and throw me back at them. Beside me, Eric nods his head and I can almost feel him straighten his spine as Four finally nears us.
Four throws me a small smile, and beside me I can see Eric grimace.
"We missed you at lunch. You two not eating today?" Four raises an eyebrow at 'lunch' and I almost laugh. I've never even noticed him in the dining hall, and he's probably only asking to make sure Eric is letting me eat.
"We've been busy." Eric's words are icy, and I am suddenly aware of the thick tension between the two of them. I'm standing in the middle of them, and Four takes a step closer to me.
"Too busy to eat? That's not good. It looks like you've lost a bit of weight, Everly." His words are full of sincere concern, but Eric's jaw clenches as though Four just accused him of deliberately starving me. I find myself taking a step back towards Eric, almost in an unconscious defense of him. I'm almost against his chest now, and I can feel the anger radiating off of him.
"No, I'm fine. I just want to do as much as I can. We were actually just leaving now to go eat. Plus, I, uh, you know, have been working out just a little more than normal." I shrug at Four, and throw him a smile that I hope reaches my eyes. "But thank you for your concern."
Four's eyes search mine, and I find myself wanting him to leave me alone. I actually enjoyed my lesson with Eric today, and I have a feeling this is about to end the tiny bit of satisfaction I had. He finally nods, and Eric takes a step forward. His fingers brush against mine as he almost knocks me out of the way.
"Are you implying I'm not letting her eat, Four?" He stands in front of me now, his shoulders squared towards Four. I can't see anything over Eric, so I try to mentally tell Four to abort this conversation now.
It must work, or I've lost my sense of hearing, because they suddenly seem to finish their conversation and Four heads back towards his class. He throws me one final worried look, and I half-heartedly smile back.
"Come on," Eric's rough voice calls out to me, and I trail after him towards the dining hall. I have to almost run to keep up with him. He comes to a sudden halt in front of the large doors, and I nearly crash into him.
"Is there something you aren't telling me?" His voice is nearly acidic now, and confusion washes over me. I shake my head at him.
"What do you mean?" I find his eyes, and in the dim hallway, he looks positively livid.
"Are you still hungry? Am I not feeding you enough for dinner? Or are you and Four just trying to screw with me…"
"Wait, Four and me? I haven't spoken to Four since he took me to Max's office. When would I see him? I'm always with you!" I interrupt him, utterly confused. "And I'm fine. I'm not hungry after any of my meals, and if I was, don't you think I'd tell you?" I watch as his shoulders ease the tiniest bit, and he seems to actually be listening to me for once. It's short-lived.
"Don't lose any more weight," he finally snaps at me, throwing the door open.
"Finish your spaghetti."
I groan and close my eyes. I don't want any more spaghetti; in fact, I never want to eat again. Eric took Four's accusation to heart, and he obsessively watched me eat lunch. For dinner, he proceeded to serve me enough pasta to feed the entire population of Dauntless. I shake my head at him with my eyes shut.
"I'm too tired to eat."
He makes some sort of growling sound, and I pry one eye open at him. His expression matches what I'd imagined in my head.
"Everly." It's the first time he's said my actual name, and it sounds just as vicious as I'd expected.
I shake my head again, and adjust myself so I'm leaning against one of the dark pillows.
"Are you falling asleep?" Eric asks incredulously. I don't answer him. The pillow isn't exactly comfortable, and I almost laugh. I bet no one but me has ever sat on this couch.
"You eat the spaghetti," I finally mumble.
Eric makes some sort of unpleasant noise, and I realize no one must ever tell him what to do.
It's fine, though, because I can feel myself drift off, sweetly and exhaustedly, into a blissful sleep.
I awake sometime in the middle of the night.
My room is dark and cold, and I sit up with a start. I'm in my bed, somewhat warm beneath the dark covers. My throat is dry and sticky, and I shove the covers back after deciding I need a drink. My bare feet hit the carpet, and it takes me a horrifyingly long moment to realize my legs are bare, too.
There's only one other person in this apartment, and that person apparently had the honor of carrying me to bed and partially undressing me. Horror wells up in my stomach. While I'm still dressed in one of the few shirts I own, Eric has removed my socks and leggings. I can feel my cheeks warm at the thought.
I make my way out to the kitchen.
I quietly find a glass, and greedily drink the water until I am no longer thirsty. I put the glass in the sink, and take a quick look around. Eric has put everything away, and the living room still looks like no one has ever been in it. I decide to head back to bed, but I stop when I realize Eric's door is open.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I soundlessly walk closer to it. I hug my arms to my chest, and I try to summon up my courage. I stop in the doorway, wondering just how stupid I really am. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I can just make out his sleeping form. Eric is fast asleep on his side, his bare back to me. One of his legs is free from the tangle of his sheets, and I take in the curve of his calf muscle. He shifts suddenly; he turns onto his back, flinging one of his arms out to the side. His movement is enough to end my nighttime study, and I quickly make my way back to my own room.
I shiver as I slide under my own covers.
There is a small thrill that runs through me, but I can't tell if it's due to my spying on Eric or the fact that I got away with it.
I only have a week of training left before we start the actual fighting.
I try to listen to what Eric is saying; something about knives and something about how I'm going to throw them and they will land right where I want them to go. But I'm distracted. But not for the reason I would expect.
One of his eyebrows is raised, and his expression tells me he's aware I haven't been listening.
"Any questions before we begin?"
"Yes." I square my shoulders and try to draw myself up to look taller. It doesn't exactly work; I only come up to somewhere near the middle of his chest, but it was worth a shot. "Why haven't I been allowed to have any cake?"
Confusion flashes across his face before it is replaced by utter exasperation.
"I meant questions about the training," he barks at me.
"I know what you meant. But I also know that you failed to mention Dauntless had cake, and you failed to let me have any. I bet Four's class gets cake."
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and I want to die. This is not me. I am not mouthy or snappy, and I am not one to argue with authority. But I can't help myself. I am tired from both the endless training and the endless reading I do afterward. I am perpetually cold here, and my sleep hasn't been the best because Eric's apartment is apparently the same temperature as the Arctic. And while Eric has made sure I've eaten a perfectly healthy and sustaining diet, I would happily commit murder for something containing sugar.
I realize there may actually be a murder when Eric's eyes flash and he lunges at me.
"What did you say?" His hand finds my wrist and he yanks me forward until I am flush against his chest. "Say it again, Amity." His tone tells me he is highly unamused.
"I…I…" His gaze is so intense that I could probably snap underneath it. "I just want some cake." His grip tightens on me, and it starts to hurt. I should have forgotten about the damned cake. I only knew about it because I overheard someone from Four's class talking about it.
"I swear I heard you mention Four's name."
He's not stupid, and I'm not about to pretend he's stupid. I try to yank my wrist away from him, but it's useless. "That was unnecessary. I didn't mean that. I just..." I close my eyes for a second and wait for him to murder me. "I thought maybe you just didn't want to share the cake?"
Eric cocks his head, and he finally loosens his grip on me. I chew at my lip nervously, and avert my gaze. "I'm sorry," I mumble. He's so close to me that I can feel him breathing.
"Don't say his name again." It's a dark warning, and I nod at him. I'm hyper-aware of how closely I am still pressed up against him. He finally takes a step back and suddenly sneers at me.
"Hit all the targets today and you can have your cake."
I manage to hit zero targets on my own.
Eric's smirk tells me he expected as much.
"Well, that was pathetic." His tone is almost joyful, and I try to ignore him as I throw another knife. It lands a little closer to the outline of the body, but nowhere near where it should be.
"Will you help me?" I ask him. I need his help, and there's no point in wasting the afternoon. His head jerks back at me, and I swear he looks amused.
"I suppose I could." He walks over to me, and his glare has changed to something lethal. "Or maybe Four could help you." He stands behind me and roughly pulls me back against him; he positions my arm and kicks one leg forward. "Should I go get him?"
I shake my head. "I said I was sorry."
"Shift forward, and tilt your wrist." He's so close to my ear that it makes me nervous. "Look at your target first."
I release the knife easily this time, and it hits a few inches away from the center.
"You can get closer." His lips graze my ear this time, and he helps pull my arm back into position. I take a second to steady my aim before I throw the knife.
When it hits dead center, Eric merely shifts behind me and I swear his grip tightens on my hip bone. "Again."
Two hours later, I have only missed one target and Eric hasn't said much else. I finally stop throwing when my arm starts to feel numb. A few of the boys from Four's class trickle into the training room, and I realize it's almost time for us to be done for the day. One of them, a brave, dumb soul, wanders over to us. He gapes at the targets and the knives stuck in different positions.
"You guys are already on knives?" Eric and I both turn to look at him, and he's staring at us as though he's never seen us before. "We haven't even finished learning our combat terms." He throws a dirty look back at a few of the guys he came with before he whirls back around to us.
"Why don't we get to train with you?" He juts his chin out in indignation. "She should be over there with him and we should be training with you."
Eric stands and gives me a long look before he answers the initiate.
"I have no interest in training you. Go back to your instructor and you can discuss your curriculum with him."