Man I've been dying to do this chapter since I first came up with this whole story, so here it is~ I hope you enjoy it!

Big shoutout to the lovely folks who've been leaving me so many nice reviews, you're wonderful and make me want to keep writing forever. :)

Habromania

(n) delusion of happiness

The clock read 5:25 - Peter was early. I was beginning to panic. I still had five minutes of freedom, he couldn't be early! With a deep breath, I forced myself to stop pacing the floor, closing my eyes as I held the breath in for a few heartbeats before releasing it. I am strong, I told myself, I wouldn't let something so small as a date with a guy like him terrify me. No. I would terrify him. I set my shoulders with a newfound determination and stormed back to the living area of our apartment. I had this, I could do it. He knocked again in the time it took me to make it to the door.

My fingers found the handle, only shaking a little, and I wished I'd wiped the sweat from my palms before because it was a lot more difficult to open than I'd expected it to be. Finally I found purchase and jerked the door open, nearly hitting myself with it in the process, to find him standing on the other side with his arm extended as though he intended to knock again.

All the air whooshed out of me at once at the sight before me. Both of us were silent in that moment, his eyes were round and my mouth was set into a firm line. It was a relief to see that he had dressed up for the occasion as well, so at least he hadn't been lying about that part of the night. It wasn't much, but it was something.

To my surprise, he was wearing an honest to goodness suit, in varying shades of black and gray. The coat was a lighter shade - as was his tie and pants, so that they seemed to melt together into the soft material that had a faint shine to it in the light - and beneath that was a pitch black dress shirt, which matched the color of his shoes.

The only variation in color for his outfit was the green of his eyes and the bright silver clips on each of his wrists. He'd combed his hair, but it was still a mess of curls, I was almost sure that he'd gelled it, but couldn't be certain. Even when he'd done nothing to it his hair gleamed, regardless of any source of light, not necessarily in a dirty, greasy way; more like..an oil slick, or a crow's feather.

He looked good. I hated it.

We still hadn't spoken yet, which was particularly surprising for him, and the silence became uncomfortable as it stretched on between us, seemingly endless. I'd never in my life wanted him to open his mouth, but now I would have been glad for him to say something. Anything.

I was still standing in the doorway with it wide open, and he was still in the hall, staring. His arm had dropped back to his side, so that both of his hands were tucked into his pockets, while he stood ever so slightly stooped. Peter cleared his throat, and I tried to ignore the way his eyes were scanning me from head to toe. Why wouldn't he just say something already?

In the back of my mind, I knew he was absolutely not admiring me or my outfit; he was structurally searching for weaknesses to exploit, insecurities to poke at. His gaze halted at my collar bone, where the three birds flew, and I realized that this might have possibly been the first time he'd seen them. Standing like that, being gawked at by him, made that whole plan of Christina's feel even more ridiculous than it had previously.

I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, which seemed to snap him out of his daze, because his mouth turned up at the corners into a smile that was frustratingly less unpleasant than usual. That was more dangerous than any sneer he could have shot me, but I wouldn't let him lull me into a false sense of security. There was no way I could accept that he was happy with our evening being about my discomfort, or making me spend money on him. No, he had a bigger plan. I knew it.

"Well, who knew you could clean up so well, Beatrice? I'm impressed, though that's probably more Christina's hard work than yours. I'll have to thank her, you look good."

I frowned, the word Stiff came unbidden to me, and I found myself thinking that he should have called me that instead, but I couldn't say as to why. My name sounded wrong on his lips - like an insult instead of a title. I cleared my throat and crossed my arms over my chest defiantly, refusing to smile and pretend he'd just complimented me, when in reality his words were anything but kind.

"It's Tris, and..thanks, I guess." After a pause I relented, partly because he seemed to be waiting for me to reciprocate the "kindness", but moreso because I was sure that once I did it would make things move along a little faster, "You don't strike me as a suit guy. It..you look nice." It was as friendly as I could manage, but the words felt wrong all the same. I should have said handsome or okay, nice was not a word to describe the man in front of me. No, he didn't look nice. He looked dangerous.

He smiled then, holding his arm out as though to escort me - when I didn't take his offer, he rolled his eyes and stepped out of my doorway. I quickly locked my apartment behind me, and followed him out of the hall and towards the small parking area out front of our building. In the space that was always empty, reserved for our apartment, was a sleek black car; it was one of the nicer ones with solar panels on the roof, and I found myself hating him for owning it.

Christina and I just walked everywhere, mostly because we lived close to everything we needed, but that wasn't the point. It was just another thing about Peter that accentuated how very different he was from me, another divide that allowed for me to dislike him. I felt a brief wave of guilt for thinking that way, but a glance at his face, and the memory of his smug cruelty was enough to erase that feeling.

Probably because I didn't take his arm, Peter didn't open my door for me, or help me into the car, which I was grateful for. It was difficult to maneuver myself into the vehicle in a dress, but I managed to do it without embarrassing myself, to find that the interior was soft and smelled distinctly like him; like his cologne and cigarettes, and vaguely like leather, too.

It surprised me that I recognized those scents as his specifically, that even without knowing it was his vehicle, I probably could have associated them with him, but more than that, I was shocked to find that I didn't dislike it - which only served to make me want to hate it more.

"So," I said, buckling up and trying not to think of it as strapping myself down for a painful procedure, "Where are we going, anyway?" He was still smiling, not looking at me as he started up the car and put it into gear. Not when he glanced over his shoulder, and put his hand on the headrest of my seat to back out of our parking lot. Not when his fingers brushed against the shell of my ear before retreating to the steering wheel. He made it a point, almost, to not answer me. The prick.

Once we were on the road, heading away from my apartment, he finally looked over, and I wished he hadn't. With the dim windows and the way the sun was already hiding behind taller buildings nearby, I could have almost forgotten that this was Peter I was sitting next to, and if I did that, I would be in danger of letting myself admit that I found some of his features attractive. I couldn't allow for that to happen, so I stared at the road instead.

"You're taking me to this nice restaurant in the legal district - pretty ritzy, it's called Sky View." I scowled, and settled as far into my seat as the safety harness would allow, not responding at first; the fact that I'd never heard of the place was just another sign of our differences. When I realized that my first real look at the place I would end up living, where I'd go to the academy and maybe even work in one day, would be with Peter of all people, I felt robbed. Frustrated.

He filled the silence with his voice, just like I had expected him to from the start. "So, I'm amazed you haven't asked about our little chat last night," I glared up at the roof of the car and prayed for us to crash and burn right then and there. We didn't. The road was smooth and the traffic was light. I'd have to endure his torture after all.

"Fine. Let's talk about it."

"Alright" He gushed immediately, "let's see. So, I wake up to you, of all people, calling me and think, yeah okay you're finally coming to terms with how great I am, obviously this is a confession of love or lust or-Oh fine, you're no fun at all, did you know that?"

I shot a sour look in his direction, waiting for him to continue; I think he expected me to laugh at his sarcasm, but that was difficult to do when it was entirely reliant on me being the punchline. After a few moments of silence, he rolled his eyes and looked back to the road, smiling all the while. I was already regretting the decision to discuss this - Peter was nothing more than a liar, of course he wouldn't tell me what I said.

"Anyway. You were pretty pissed, shocker, I know. I almost hung up because, honestly, what do I have to gain from being yelled at by the likes of you at that hour of the morning, or any time, for that matter? But since I'm such a nice guy," I scoffed at that, which earned me a pointed look, clearly he was annoyed by all of my interruptions. Good.

"I let you complain about me to me for a good ten minutes before you started losing steam- which was worth it in the end, because somewhere in your big, angry rant, you actually complimented me."

"I complimented you?" That was impossible to believe - there wasn't anything to compliment him on, so of course I wouldn't have. He was just messing with me. I glared across the vehicle at him, suddenly wary, why hadn't I been given the impeccable lie detector ability Al and Christina had? So far what he'd said matched up with what I'd have done sober, if I'd been angry enough, let alone drunk, but something about the look on his face was worrisome. He seemed amused.

Peter wasn't the kind of person to just laugh off insults, or to chuckle like he currently was doing when someone defied him. So what had I said, what could I have possibly thought was nice enough about my blackmailer to say was enough to make him smirk instead of inciting rage in him? I'd seen first hand what he was like when he felt insulted - this wasn't it, so whatever I'd said must have been bad.

"Yeah I don't fully remember it all, I was pretty tired, but it was something like "you can take your shitty attitude and your pretty eyes and get lost, you creep" which, harsh, I know, but you did say my eyes are pretty," As the words left his mouth he turned to stare at me, and I wanted to punch the satisfied look off of his face. His eyes were absolutely not pretty. Not one bit.

"Don't look at me like that, I wouldn't lie about such a nice comment.." He hesitated for a moment and I could practically hear my last name on his lips, but finished weakly with, "Tris," like he was trying it out. The syllables sounded strange in his voice, but it was a nice change. I could feel the blood rising to my face.

"I wouldn't say that - your eyes aren't pretty at all - they're cold, and squinty, and mean. I hate the color, it's like..mold or something." I probably should have felt guilty for being so rude and childish, but I didn't. He needed someone to pop a hole in that massive ego of his, and I was glad to do it so long as he continued teasing and harassing me.

"That's not what you said on the phone. Last night you said they were gorgeous - deep, even - and that you really liked the color. I think you and your drunken self need to have a discussion, because one of you is lying." He narrowed his eyes at me and I looked away, I didn't want to look into them or at him right then.

His lie made me feel sick - there was no possible way I'd said something like that, was there? His words were filled with amusement as he added in a hushed tone, "You know what they say about drunken words being sober thoughts," I wanted to hit him, but he was driving, so I settled for glaring out the window to show I wasn't at all interested in continuing this discussion.

My face was hot compared to the cool glass of the window and I was almost positive it was entirely from anger. There was no way I he'd embarrassed me, that would mean that I believed him. "Moving on," He hummed, like it was his idea; I had a knot in my stomach by that point, but I opted to ignore it, watching the buildings zipping by out of my window instead.

"Okay, uh. Let's see. Did you know you like to curse when you're drunk? Specifically at me. It's hilarious - you're surprisingly good at it. You said you couldn't wait to kick my ass in training, which, I mean, that's not going to happen but it's a nice thought." That caught my attention. I jerked my head back in his direction with a look I could only hope was confident, and even managed a small smile.

"I will,"

"You will, what?" He looked confused, his brows furrowed together, and glanced my way for a few heartbeats. It was like he didn't think that I might actually believe that I could beat him, that it was only something I'd say drunkenly. How could he know that I practically fantasized about besting him in front of everyone?

"Beat you, in training I mean. Just because you're bigger doesn't mean you're better." He snorted, I was sure the idea of losing to me wasn't even something he'd imagined in his wildest dreams. I'd considered it ever since learning that men and women were scored and trained equally, side by side, during Sergeant Coulter's speech.

I'd been hoping for an opportunity to prove to Peter, and myself, that I wasn't just some weakling who couldn't defend herself - especially after the way I'd been overpowered in their apartment. I was eager to see the look on his face when I knocked him to the mat for the first time, when I finally beat him. For a brief moment I was reminded of my dream, of the pain in my ribs and head, but I tried to shake it off. Peter's voice made for a decent anchor, so I forced myself to focus on what he was saying.

"We'll see about that. You also made it a point to tell me you aren't a child - I guess I hurt your feelings the other night after all." I frowned into my lap, silently cursing myself. I didn't need him to know that he touched a sensitive spot with those insults, I wanted him to think I was unshakable. Guess that was ruined. Even if he never got another ounce of dirt on my weaknesses, he'd at the very least always have that.

"No, you didn't. I'm just not a fan of being belittled by someone as immature as you. It's laughable that a person who steals things and forces someone to go on dates with them could call anyone a child," I snapped, feeling my blood boil. I'd done so well, not getting angry with him, this entire trip, but now I was experiencing our fight in the hall all over again and I wanted to hit him like I had before. "Moving on. What else?"

When he didn't respond, I finally pulled my gaze up to see what stupid expression he would be shooting my way this time, only to find that he was staring straight ahead, lost in thought. Was there more bad news for me? From what I'd gathered, we'd talked for half an hour, so I could only assume there was more to the conversation than what he'd said, that little bit of communication could hardly have been fifteen minutes, let alone thirty.

"So, what else?" It looked like I shocked him, or snapped him out of whatever stupor he was in because suddenly he jumped and turned his head in my direction. I was surprised by the look on his face, if it were anyone else I might have said he was embarrassed, but this was Peter. I wasn't entirely sure he was capable of experiencing shame or anything close to self-consciousness, so it had to be something else.

I fought the urge to bite my lip, not wanting to get lipstick on my teeth, and fixed him with a challenging stare. For once, Peter was the one to break eye contact, clearing his throat as he stared out at the road ahead. He was acting strange, more so than usual, what could possibly be so bad that he was hesitant to talk about it? It occurred to me, then, that I'd somehow shifted from assuming he was lying to believing him.

"Nothing, really. I mean, I complained about how I'd been having a nice dream and you woke me up to yell at me, but then your big idiot friend Al picked up the phone and told me to leave you alone. He's pretty rude, even hung up on me." There was something familiar in his tone, almost like when I'd talked to Al earlier today. Almost like..jealousy, but that couldn't be right. What did he have to be jealous of?

Wait.

"I'm sorry, did you say..Al took my phone and talked to you?" That couldn't be right - he'd told me that I had been the one to end the call, that he hadn't even known who was on the line. I wasn't sure who to believe anymore, because Peter had sounded genuinely annoyed, and he looked it at the moment, too.

"Yeah, I did. The guy's a major prick, and that's me talking. Who just butts into a conversation like that? Tris isn't in the state of mind to be talking to you, I mean, what the fuck is that?" It was hard not to smile at how much this seemed to bother Peter - which, normally I would have questioned, but I was pretty pissed about the whole ordeal myself.

What benefit did it serve for him to lie to me about how Al came into the equation? If what he said was true, it was more believable that I'd been lied to by the hulking soft hearted blonde, it would be better for him to not admit he'd decided who I could and couldn't talk to into his hands. The vehicle slowed and Peter looked away from me, suddenly focused on driving again.

"..I'm gonna need to have a nice long talk with him, from the sound of things. I mean, he's right, I should definitely not have been talking to you, or anyone for that matter, while I was that drunk, but it's not his place to decide that." Before Peter could muster up any sort of reply, we rolled to a stop outside of one of the redesigned buildings in the city. I'd been so distracted by our conversation that I'd barely made time to take in our surroundings - I'd missed my first good look at the legal district!

The skyscraper before us was almost all windows, illuminated with soft yellow light closer to the top to give it a halo. Peter seemed more relaxed than he had been before I'd asked about the rest of the call, which only raised my suspicions. He was definitely avoiding telling me something and he'd used Al to misdirect me. I was sure he realized that I was about to question him some more, because he seemed suddenly very jumpy as he unclasped his seat-belt and opened his door.

"Let's go, then, before we lose our table." That only served to deepen my frown, I didn't trust him one bit, but got out of the vehicle all the same. A guy my age in a blue coat was standing near where we'd parked by the curb, all smiles, as he held his hand out to Peter, who immediately passed over the keys to his car. The man shifted over to a small pedestal, and returned with a slip that Peter then tucked into his pocket. The entire affair was really odd. I glanced over my shoulder to watch the retreat of my ride home, feeling a small ball of panic beginning to grow in my gut. I was trapped, now.

The warmth of a hand on my lower back caused me to tense, and snap my head around to glare at Peter before taking a few steps forward, so that his hand fell away entirely. "Rule number one for this - you don't touch me without my permission." I wanted that to sound harsher, but the words rang with a tone of desperation that shamed me. I sounded anxious rather than authoritative.

"Jeeze, okay, okay." Peter held his hands up in a mock surrender and rolled his eyes, nodding towards the entrance of the building rather than guiding me with his hand as he'd originally planned to. We walked in silence, I considered the notion that I might have offended him, but made no move to apologize. I was in the right to demand the right to my own personal space, damn it.

We got into the lobby without making eye contact once. It was a quiet place that sent prickles of discomfort up the bare skin of my arms; I could hear each infuriating click of Peter's heels all the way to the elevator which, thankfully, was functioning. I had a sneaking suspicion that things in this district worked a lot better than they did in the small blocks of city reserved for college and collegiate housing.

Peter's finger pressed down on a silver, circular button that almost immediately was illuminated with a blue ring of light before stepping back beside me again. "You look like you're being escorted to your execution, Prior. Relax, would you?" That was easier said than done when I was being led by Peter into a small box with no immediate escape. I could feel my heart racing, and considered taking the stairs, but that was impossible in my current outfit, so I reluctantly joined him when the doors opened. It wasn't like this could be any worse than being confined in a cramped car with him, right? Except now he wasn't distracted by keeping us alive.

Peter stood with his hands in his pockets, I could feel his eyes on me, boring holes in my flesh. So I forced myself to look his way, to meet whatever cocky face he'd be pulling, only to watch him immediately glance to the side, as though he didn't want me to know he'd been looking. Odd. The silence between us was suffocating and, for the second time in the history of ever, I wanted him to talk, just to fill the void. He didn't - so I did. My voice bounced off of the stainless steel walls around us in a way that made me flinch.

"So why are we doing this, Peter? I'm sure you'd have a much better time with Molly here than you will arguing with me all night, that can't possibly be worth whatever stupid torture I'm supposed to be going through." The corner of his mouth turned upwards into a smile. Not a smirk, a genuine smile. That made me nervous, so I glanced away and stared at the scrubbed metal that wasn't quite clear enough to reflect our images back at us.

"I mean, you could get a free meal and annoy me in the cafeteria just as easily as this place. Seems like a lot of work just to get on my nerves," He chuckled quietly, causing me to frown as I peeked at him from the corner of my eye - as far as I could tell he hadn't looked at me since I'd caught him earlier - it felt like he was intentionally not paying attention to me.

"You ever consider that I genuinely am interested in your company?"

"No."

"..it was worth a shot." Peter sighed, I could just see him shake his head in my peripheral, but I wasn't going to be the one to look over first. If he was staring straight ahead, I'd do exactly the same. Besides, that just meant I didn't have to see the smug, self assured expression he was bound to have on his stupid face. The rest of the elevator ride was spent in silence.

My breath caught in my throat as the elevator doors opened to reveal our destination with a soft ding. We'd reached the highest level of the building - the rooftop itself. It had tables that were enclosed in a large glass dome for the biggest portion of the building, while the other part allowed you to look right out over the city with the only barrier being a railing. The wind was stronger topside, and colder, but the glass dome blocked the worst of it, making it bearable.

The view was beautiful, and for moment I allowed myself to forget where I was and who I was with. I could feel a wide smile pulling at the corners of my lips, but I couldn't make myself reign it in. The lighting was low, provided by strings of small bulbs that only added to the atmosphere; everything was either steel or a dark wood. I would have been lying if I said I wasn't at least a little bit impressed.

We stopped in front of a smiling woman in a similar blue to the man who'd taken Peter's car earlier, she stood behind a pedestal with a book, which was inclined away so that I was unable to see what was written on it. Names, most likely."Hayes," Peter said smoothly, like he came to places like this all the time, and her eyes drifted downward, trailing over lines of writing before a few moments before they look at either of us again. She continued to hold that smile that was polite but on the side of forced and waved a waiter in blue over to us.

He smiled, too, as he pushed his glasses back up his nose; he was tall and confident, two traits I had begun to grow to hate in just about anyone."Good evening, your table is right this way." Even his voice was calm, collected and soothing.

Peter mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, just loud enough for me to hear it over the wind, "Can I touch you?" To say I was shocked, both by the question and the weird genuine tone of his voice, would have been an understatement. I hadn't expected him to swallow his pride and ask my permission, to give me any kind of power. Biting my tongue, I nodded, not trusting my voice out here.

In a matter of moments his fingers were splayed out against my lower back and I tried not to enjoy how warm his hand was. I was, admittedly, chilled - the season was still just on the side of too cold to be eating in a place like this - so his touch felt like fire, and I found myself leaning into him without meaning to. It seemed to surprise both of us, I felt him tense, but we walked forward without mentioning it all the same.

Peter's side was warm against mine and I pretended that I wasn't even phased, despite the fact that my heart was pounding. It was to do with the heights and the cold and adrenaline, I told myself feebly, but I'd never been a particularly good liar. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Christina and Will sitting at one of the tables under the dome - they smiled at me, and I grimaced in return. They looked happy.

He noticed them shortly after I did, rolling his eyes, "Small world, huh?" He sounded vaguely annoyed, but didn't say anything else on the matter. I'd expected a plethora of taunts about needing babysitters and how I couldn't handle doing anything on my own. Instead I was met with pensive silence. He just continued to act stranger and stranger, it seemed. I was beginning to think that..maybe I'd had him pegged wrong. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

The waiter stopped in front of one of the tables, right by the railing, and I felt my heart soar. I was seeing more of the city than I could remember ever having seen before - except..well, there was a twinge of familiarity to the view that I couldn't quite place, but it filled me with adrenaline. It was beautiful. I glanced over my shoulder when I felt a chill where Peter's hand had been moments before, only to see that he had pulled my chair out for me; I gave him a pointed look. He didn't strike me as a gentleman.

"Stop looking at me like I'm going to throw you from the roof already, Prior. I wouldn't do anything that stupid - especially not here. I have a future, I don't plan to spend it behind bars," He sounded offended, and I had a hard time celebrating that fact. I found myself wishing that I'd worn a jacket once I was finally seated and no longer moving around.

I sat ramrod, ignoring the fact that my teeth were chattering and my muscles were wracked with spasms of shivers; it was impossible to hide the little bumps all over my bare arms, however. I opted to bury my face in the menu to avoid looking at Peter, I didn't want to see his satisfaction at my discomfort.

Peter's menu lifted as well, and I found myself a little disappointed despite knowing he wasn't the type of person to care about my well-being. A small part of me had been hoping for..something. I was going crazy. "So, how do you like this place?" He asked, making me look up from the list of foods I was struggling to pick from. Everything sounded extravagant - I'd never been very adventurous where food was concerned - and I had no idea what I would have liked. The prices weren't as bad as I'd been expecting, but I knew without adding it up that this would be the most I'd ever spent on one dinner.

"It's.." I paused, looking back over the city - from this height I could see the expanse of the bog, the moonlight was slowly seeping in and filling in the gaps so that, if I squinted, I might have seen its former glory, "It's gorgeous up here - I'm impressed," That made him smile. The pull at his lips was another of the soft cornered ones, untainted by cruelty or laughter at my expense, and it made my stomach flip without my permission. I wished he wouldn't do that, it made me want to like him.

When the waiter returned to ask about drinks, Peter ordered a bottle of wine, and I raised my brows, but if he noticed my disapproval, he didn't mention it. I'd never tried wine, but I wasn't entirely sure it was the best idea to drink again so soon after last night - I'd only just gotten rid of the headache from that affair..

Our waiter didn't ask me about my preference, so I kept quiet. My curiosity outweighed my wariness. As I resumed staring down at the menu, I heard the sound of chair legs scraping the floor, but I was preoccupied with trying to make a decision based on food I'd never tried, so I paid it no mind. So, of course, he caught me off guard and, I jerked my head up when I was suddenly cloaked in a soft, warm material that turned out to be the jacket of his suit.

I watched him silently walk back over to his seat where he sat gracefully, now wearing just his silvery tie and the black dress shirt. The jacket smelled like his cologne, and was silky on the inside; reluctantly I tucked my arms into its sleeves to escape the harsh wind and its chill. I had to roll the material up a few inches just to free my hands up for eating - I'd have to be very careful not to drag his nice jacket through my plate of food, now. "..Thank you,"

"Don't mention it, what fun would this be if I let you freeze to death? And I'm glad you like it, I thought you might." It felt like I was sitting across from a stranger wearing Peter's skin; he would never have cared, even if my lips were turning blue before, and since when did he consider things I would like?

Wasn't this supposed to be about what he liked and my discomfort? I kept trying to remind myself of who I was dealing with, that as soon as he'd lulled me into a false sense of comfort he'd strike, and I'd be weak against the attack. I needed to keep my guard up, but it was getting harder and harder to accomplish that feat with every one of those stupid, soft smiles of his.

He leaned forward and flattened the menu I'd been hiding behind, pointing to a couple of things on it. It felt like he knew I was overwhelmed, he likely did, I was sure that my inexperience was written all over my face. "That salad is good, it's got some steak in it - and the steak itself is pretty great, too." I wanted to understand his angle, to see cruelty behind the lie he was painting so prettily, because it was difficult for me to be rude at the best of times, let alone when he was being so civil.

I swallowed my pride, just a little, and smiled at him, mumbling my thanks again, for lack of something better to say. I had no witty retort, no banter, just a mounting level of insecurity. I felt stupid for not even knowing what food to order, but he didn't hold that over my head. Maybe he was just saving all of these little moments of weakness to throw in my face later. My stomach twisted at the thought.

When our waiter made his second return, Peter ordered the steak, so I did, too. The more I thought it over, the less I was sure I'd ever even had steak before. Searching for childhood memories, even something small like meals, made my head hurt, like something was pushing me back, so I stopped trying and sighed in defeat. Maybe I wasn't quite over that hangover after all.

The smell of Peter was surrounding me and I was having a hard time convincing myself that I didn't like it. It's just the cologne, I told myself firmly, not Peter, but I'm not entirely sure how true that was. I was treading dangerous waters.

"So..um," I paused, not sure if I wanted to admit that I was completely at a loss. What would Peter do with the knowledge that I'd never been on a date before? Maybe I should have stopped there and not told him, but I had no idea what came next; what was expected of me. It was all a mystery. Ignoring him seemed like a good route, but he was being nice, so I figured I was supposed to do the same. I didn't want him to revert back to his unpleasant nature, after all, and be stuck with that for the entire evening.

He was watching me silently, waiting for me to finish my thought, which was just another oddity that I was unaccustomed to. "..What do we do, now?" Since I couldn't bite my lips, or my nails, I settled for chewing on the inside of my cheek, and watched his face register what I'd just said. It seemed to take him a minute to understand the implication of my words.

He raised his brows as realization dawned on him, seeming genuinely surprised, and rubbed at his chin while laughing in a way that could almost be described as nervous. Except that I'd never seen or heard him nervous before. Did he not know about dates, either? I doubted that very seriously. So why did my lack of knowledge make him uncomfortable?

"Have you really never been on a date before?" I shook my head and shifted uncomfortably, trying to figure out which Peter I was about to see; the rude, sarcastic one that lived to see me suffer, or the Peter who had crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, and wrapped me in his jacket just to shield me from the cold? I could already hear him teasing me, even if his face was still thoughtful. There was no way he'd pass up ribbing me about this.

"You should try the wine," He finally spoke up, his voice quiet, and I thought, just maybe, he looked a little guilty. Oh. I didn't know what to do with that information, so I chose to ignore it, and picked up the glass in front of me. It was a fragile looking thing, made tall with a round base and an area to rest my fingers around a narrow stem, ending in a thin bowl filled with a nearly clear liquid. It smelled sour and fruity, and I wasn't sure I'd like it, but it was worth a shot.

Watching Peter, I noticed right away that he didn't take large sips like you might with whiskey or beer, instead he tentatively tipped it back and drained a small amount. I mimicked him, finding the first taste incredibly bitter, it almost turned me away, but the aftertaste softened the flavor. The trickle of liquid warmed as it eased down my throat and into my stomach. It was much more pleasant than the foul things I'd drank with Will and the others, and by the second sip I was starting to like it.

"So, you've been on a lot of dates, then?" I asked, trying to sound withdrawn, but it hit me, suddenly, that I was a novice next to him. I didn't like knowing next to nothing about something someone else was so informed on - particularly Peter - and yet I've surrounded myself with a place full of firsts for me. How did I let that happen? And why did the idea of Peter sitting across from possibly multiple other people, right where we were now, bother me so much? I didn't look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me; it was a sensation I'd grown used to over the past few weeks.

"Yeah, I've been on a few - but not with anyone with enough brains for it to count, until now," I raised my head quickly, wondering if that was a compliment for my sake, or just an insult to his past endeavors. He was smiling that weird, friendly smile again, and I felt myself return it without meaning to. I needed to figure a way out of this, Peter Hayes was breaking down my walls, sound the alarms!

"So, when you're not arguing with me in class, what do you do for fun? I mean, I've seen you in the Pit a few times, but you don't seem like a partier." For a moment I watched him, trying to pick up on any sign that he was making fun of me, but only found genuine curiosity in his face. I took another sip from the glass, stalling for time. The shift in topic had thrown me off.

"I like to run..and read," I admitted, suddenly uncertain about what exactly I did for fun - the real answer was nothing - college had been such a centrifugal part of my life for so long now that I wasn't entirely sure I even knew how to really have fun. The closest to that would have been the times I was dragged into public with Christina, to go to a club or a bar, but I enjoyed hiding in our apartments watching movies a lot more.

In truth I was very boring, it appeared. He seemed to be waiting for me to say more, but I shrugged and stared at the table in front of me, hiding my hands under it so he wouldn't be able to see how they were balled into fists to keep from shaking. How dare he make me feel self conscious just because I studied too hard to do much more than read a book or take a jog?

"You're an anomaly, Tris," He said my name with ease, that time, and I managed to look up without feeling the knot in my stomach. It wasn't a compliment, but it wasn't an insult, either. "I mean you've got this whole angry, tough girl persona going on, and I can't seem to get past it. What's under all that grit and rage?" Did he think I was being short with him, not being honest about myself, just to look tough? I frowned and sat a little straighter, jutting my chin out defiantly. I forgot who I was dealing with for a second. If he wanted to know these things, it was likely to hurt me.

"Well, I'm sorry I don't torture people I don't even know for kicks, or date idiots just to give me something to do. Reading is nice, Running is fun - I like it, and it doesn't hurt anyone." That seemed to shut him up, he lifted his glass and avoided my eyes. Thankfully our food showed up right then, over-encumbering our smiling waiter, and giving us a valid excuse to not talk to one another.

The hunk of meat before me was well portioned compared to the massive one on Peter's plate; I'd ordered a petite, which I was grateful for as I begin to cut the tender meat. There was no way I could have eaten more than that. The whole process was difficult to do without getting the sleeves of my borrowed jacket dirty, but I managed, somehow.

During this whole process there was a lingering silence between us, only broken by the sound of metal against ceramic, which was setting my teeth on edge. If I'd learned anything since he'd come into my life, it was that there was nothing so dangerous as silence where Peter was concerned. I was holding my breath.

"We can't all be all perfect and pure like you," His tone was jarringly cold - I'd almost let myself forget he could sound like that - and any kindness he'd been showing me before was long gone. I must have struck a chord, which should have made me feel victorious, but the knowledge only served to twist my stomach into knots. I glanced down at my plate as I mumbled under my breath that I wasn't any of those things. For some reason, I decided to peer up at him from beneath my lashes, checking to see what kind of emotion I would find. I expected anger, but was met with confusion, instead.

His head was tilted slightly and his brows were furrowed - there was a frown right where it'd been when I had broken eye contact before. "What was that?" I scowled, no longer cowering, and looked him dead in the eye - it was jarring to see the green in them, brought out by the fairy lights above us, if I looked close enough I could just see a light ring of gold around his pupils. Suddenly it was hard to say, even to myself, that they' weren't gorgeous. Shit. I was in trouble.

"I said," I gritted my teeth, speaking up for him, "I'm not perfect," He scoffed and took a large bite of his steak, choosing that moment to tear his eyes from mine in favor of staring at the table instead. This was Peter, the guy who blackmailed me into being there, who had made the last three weeks of my life a living hell. So why did I feel bad, suddenly?

I finally remembered my own steak, taking a much smaller bite than he had, and for a moment I was distracted by the flavor alone. It melted on my tongue and was almost overwhelming in its seasoning, but in the best possible sense - the little chunk of meat may possibly have been the best thing I'd ever tasted. How had I missed out on something like this before now?

I glanced at Peter, then, tempted to thank him for the recommendation. He wasn't watching me, like I'd grown used to him doing. He was eating methodically with his gaze still lowered, it was a habit I recognized easily, I'd looked like that many times, I imagined, since Peter and co. started teasing me and I'd just wanted to get my meal out of the way, eager to be done and to move on. Why was this such a big deal to him, to the unshakable force that had been my tormentor for the last few weeks?

I'm not even sure why I did it, but I leaned forward then and put my hand over his, stopping his fork from digging into another chunk of meat. That got his attention. Peter glanced up at me with his eyebrows knitted together and his mouth puckered into a look that fell somewhere between mistrust and confusion. Once I had his focus again, I pulled my hand back, the lingering tingle of warmth that his skin left on mine made me uncomfortable.

"Why did you want to do this, Peter?"

"You keep asking me that." It wasn't an answer, but it was all he said for a few moments, sounding like a sulky child. I forced myself to eat a few more bites of my steak, not wanting it to get cold, and watched him warily, "I dunno, maybe it was the only way to see who you are, without the distraction of school and..Molly and Drew - just..an even playing field or something. You're right that I don't know you."

He wasn't apologizing for what he'd done, which was annoying, but I wouldn't have believed him if he'd said sorry, anyway. That just wasn't him. A tiny voice whispered to me eagerly; he just wants to get to know you. But I couldn't believe that so easily. Why would he pick now to decide I was a human being with feelings? Someone to talk to, rather than attack?

"..That makes sense. I'm sure you're regretting that decision, now," That garnered a chuckle from him, and I chose that moment to get a chill from the wine, or the wind, or both, as a shiver ran up my spine and made me flinch.

"Mm. No, not really."

"Oh." I nodded, pretending to understand him, and focused on my food. I found myself wishing I could catch Christina or Will's eye from my seat, but there was a wide panel separating us from the inside tables - I was sure it was meant to create a sense of privacy, or god forbid, intimacy. The conversation continued tentatively from there. I learned that Peter enjoyed music, a lot, that he didn't care about many people or things, but was very passionate about the few that he did, and he had a little sister.

He learned that I was being honest in my love for running and reading, and that I have a brother that I don't talk to, not out of anger, but because it wasn't convenient for him. It felt weird to tell him about Caleb. It made me nervous to give him information he could use against me. Neither of us talked about anything too terribly deep, we didn't give one another any kind of weapon to bring up later. It was..surprisingly nice, just talking like that without the hostility. He didn't even accuse me of being in love with him once.

Christina and Will were still seated at their table, just on the edge of the indoor area when we got up to leave. They were laughing, and holding hands over the table; I didn't catch their attention, thankfully, and smiled to myself despite the small twinge of jealousy I felt at their untainted night. Peter looked in their direction and scoffed, but refused to tell me why when I asked. He simply shrugged and muttered something about predictability under his breath.

He was possibly the most confusing human I'd ever met.

Admittedly, the wine had gone to my head a little, though I hadn't realized it until I'd stood up earlier, and when Peter made a joke at the expense of a poor woman and her ridiculous wig, I actually laughed, which surprised the both of us as we stepped into the elevator. His hand was on my back again, guiding me, and I found that I didn't mind him not asking me first. The ride down was mostly silent, he didn't move his hand from my back and I didn't ask him to.

When we stepped outside, his car was already there and running, ready to take us home, I was still wrapped tightly in his suit jacket and he hadn't made any move to take it from me. There was this comfortable, almost friendly silence between us now. It wasn't charged with awkwardness of discomfort or the need to fill it with useless banter.

"Are you okay to drive..?" I turned to him with wide eyes, worried he might have been as lightheaded as I was, but he seemed fine. No - fine was a bad word to use. Steady. Once again, I was reminded of the drawbacks that come with my size, I hadn't expected to get tipsy off the sour liquid, especially since we'd had so little of it, but it had been easy to drink when I needed something to wash my steak down. I was certain I'd regret the choice of beverage tomorrow, but right then it felt lovely. Everything was warm and just on the side of spinny.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me." Peter opened the door for me, now holding my arm by the elbow gently, as I eased into a sitting position. It didn't even strike me as odd that he helped me this time. I, somehow, managed to fold my legs into the vehicle without hurting myself or ruining the nice outfit Christina had worked so hard to get me into.

Peter leaned into my side of the car before I could even try to buckle up, gently dragging the belt over my torso until he was hovering over me entirely, and I heard a soft click. He stayed there, above me, for a few heartbeats, and I was fully aware that I wasn't breathing, but he was, and his breath fanned my face. It smelled like dinner mints. Something in me that felt silly and giddy imagined that he was going to kiss me, which sent tingles down my spine. Weird.

Instead, he pulled back, and left me to gulp in a fresh breath of air as he closed my door on his way out. I couldn't fathom why I felt disappointed by that. I snuggled down into his jacket for warmth, suddenly aware of how cold the car was now, that I didn't have Peter in my personal space distracting me. Without meaning to I took a deep breath with my nose pressed into the silky fabric of his jacket and my senses were overloaded with the scent that was so absolutely Peter - either his smell, or the alcohol, made me dizzy. I took another deep breath.

When his door opened abruptly, and brought with it a swift gust of cold air, I was startled, and turned to look at him like I'd been caught in the act of some crime. He grinned at me and raised his brows, and it was absolutely unfair how someone so mean could be so cute. Maybe Al had been right. Maybe Peter, alcohol, and myself didn't mix - or..maybe we did. That was an even more terrifying notion.

"You okay there, lush?" I tried to scowl at him, but my huff turned into a laugh and I was vaguely aware of thinking that this was nice. I felt light and fuzzy and was suddenly unsure of why I had been so anxious, so unwilling to go on this date with him. I'd had fun, right? There had been a reason, but I couldn't for the life of me grasp it.

"I am just peachy, yep." I hummed with another bubble of laughter as I leaned back in his seat and breathed in deeply, this time not into his jacket..mostly because he was watching me. "It smells really good in here," The words tumbled out of me, but I felt no real inclination to grasp them back.

It seemed strange, to not speak my mind, so I opted for honesty. Peter chuckled, either at me or at the whole bizarre situation, I wasn't sure, but I did know one thing: I liked that sound. It was this deep, throaty noise that had a little bit of gravel to it - the kind of sound that covered my arms with goose flesh. It reminded me of something, but I wasn't sure what. I grinned at him for lack of a better response.

"Do that again," I demanded, and he blinked at me owlishly, so I leaned over and poked his chest, still staring up at him. "Laugh." So he did, a little louder than before, I smiled at him and broke into a fit of giggles. I poked at his torso gently, right where I knew there was a cluster of freckles and peeked up at him. "Again." This time he sighed, until I prodded at his hip and he laughed reflexively, pulling back from my jabs.

He was looking at me funny, not like he was laughing at me, it was more like he'd never seen me before. That was a weird way to look at someone, but I didn't mind so much because his eyelids were heavy and his pupils were flared out, and I liked those things on him.

For a long moment we just alternated between me grinning at him, and his resulting laughter cracking me up, without an explanation, before he looked away from me. It seemed like he suddenly remembered something, and whatever it was took his smile away. I didn't like that. He shifted the car into drive and I ducked further into his jacket, humming to myself. I wished he would look at me again - his eyes really were pretty, even in the dim light.

"I told you I like drunk you better," Peter murmured after..some point of time, I couldn't honestly tell you how long. If I didn't know better than to think him capable of it, I might have said he sounded sad. But that was impossible.

Alright! So, for the first time in ever, we get a placid, decent Peter being all gentlemanly. I love it. I'm going to try very hard to make sure my next chapter is up on time but I'm going on vacation in a few days so I might be just a little bit behind - but I'll have a short retelling of the phone conversation (yes, you'll absolutely get to know what exactly went down that night) to go along with it just in case, I've almost finished both of them.

As always, I'd love to hear what you think about everything so far. Is Peter genuinely being a good guy, or does he have another cruel trick up his sleeve? We'll see what's around the corner in (hopefully) a week's time! Thank you for reading and sticking with me guys!