I still don't own Divergent ;)
Many thanks to BK2U for taking the time to edit these chapters.
Thank you for your thoughts on this story. It's lovely to hear how much you are enjoying it!
I manage to avoid Eric's curious stare the entire way back to his apartment.
I keep waiting for the next biting remark or darkly teasing words, but they never come. He seems a bit lost in his own thoughts, halfway between irritation and distraction. He holds his tension in his jaw, and the muscle seems to twitch as he flings the door open.
I watch him throw a folder onto his counter, and shrug out of his uniform jacket. He takes it with him, making a silent beeline for his bedroom. I hear his door slam shut, and I use his departure to my advantage.
The folder sits unattended on Eric's kitchen counter, silently calling out to me to open it.
It seems rather out of character for both him and the entire Dauntless faction — a manila paper folder with my name neatly written across the top of it. After watching Eric type away endlessly on his tablet, the printed hard copy seems a bit outdated. Amity isn't exactly on the cutting edge of technology, but even Johanna does most of her work on the computer.
My fingers pry the folder open, and a small thrill of excitement runs through me.
Snooping through my own file is hardly an act of bravery, but the prospect of snooping and potentially getting caught by Eric is. I flip through the pages aimlessly. They are my medical records, unsurprisingly drab and incomplete. Amity rarely uses nurses and doctors. We have several aides who are somewhat more trained than the average family member, though they typically offer only home remedies or very mild pain reducers. Any more pressing issues require travel to Erudite, and most Amity would politely turn down that offer given the choice.
I skim over Arlene's notes. There is a list of vaccines I have been given, a list of several more with a suggested future date next to them, and a list of medications recommended for me. In my case, she's offered up a multivitamin. Thrilling.
I flip to the final page of the papers. It's a recap of my visit and at the very bottom is Eric's neat signature. He has surprisingly immaculate handwriting, as though he spent a lot of time practicing it. I go to close the folder, disappointed in its contents, when I find one final paper, folded up and lodged in between a few of the heavier pages. It's Arlene's examination sheet.
At the very top of the page is a section to be filled out by the trainers: Patient Information. In Eric's very neat handwriting is my name, only it's written as Everly Coulter.
No wonder Arlene didn't believe me.
I stare at the words until they are burned into my mind.
"If you can learn to control your heart rate, isn't that cheating? What would the point of the simulation be?" I ask Eric between bites of my macaroni and cheese. Eric shakes his head, stabbing his fork at his steak with much more force than necessary.
"No," he answers shortly. He's been in full 'Eric the Dauntless leader' mode since we returned. He had reappeared from his bedroom freshly showered and had headed straight to the kitchen without acknowledging me. I have to remind myself that I'm in his territory, and he does have a job to do. I try not to take it personally, but I'm reminded of the first time I met him and his chilly demeanor.
"It's how you work through it." Eric seems uninterested in my questions, and very interested in his food.
I stare at him while he eats.
His hair is now slightly longer than when I first came to Dauntless; it's slicked back on the sides and curls at the top of his shirt collar. I try not to smile while thinking of him taking the time to try to force it into submission. His brow is furrowed as he intensely concentrates on his dinner. His lips are full, and I find myself wondering if they are as soft as they look.
His eyes flash up to mine, and I swear the man has some sort of ESP.
"Do you need something, Amity?" His voice holds the same authoritative, bored tone that I've become well acquainted with, one unique to Eric. I want to ask him what on Earth possessed him to write his last name as mine, but judging from his posture and his dark scowl, this is not the time.
I push my salad around my plate. "When we will start the second part of training?"
"Tomorrow," he answers without much emotion.
I take a bite of my macaroni, and he finally drags his attention away from his fascinating cut of meat. "Four will assist with the simulation. You'll sit with his class until it's your turn. Try not to get into any fights while you're waiting," he informs me dryly.
I shrug at him. "I can't make any promises, Coulter."
His head snaps back in my direction, and I instantly feel hot. I should know better, but I can't help it. I get a secret thrill out of getting a rise out of him, and I wonder if he feels the same.
"Cute," he snarls at me.
I find myself smiling, really honestly smiling, for the first time since I chose Dauntless.
"I'm glad you are finding this so funny." He is unamused and staring at me, his expression bordering on something close to murder.
"I won't fight anyone, Eric. I promise." I meet his eyes, and my smile vanishes. He looks serious again, almost severe now. "I'll keep to myself." The words taste somewhat bitter in my mouth. I've always been fairly social by nature, and this is the first time in my life I've had no one to really confide in. While Eric has done wonders for my training, he's hardly the type with whom I can have a heart to heart.
I stand up and his eyes follow me. "Thank you for dinner," I tell him softly. I get up and head towards the kitchen, trying to ignore the flinch in his posture as I step past him with my full plate.
Eric brushes my hair off my neck while his eyes bore into mine.
They are a light grey now, and his eyelashes are surprisingly long.
"It will take a few minutes to go into effect. Don't panic, just go with whatever happens." His words are quiet, and his fingers linger over my exposed skin. I jump slightly at the needle; the liquid inside burns hot under my skin. It takes a second before I start to feel a little lightheaded. I can still see Eric in front of me; his finger runs over the injection site, and he opens his mouth to say something, but it's completely mumbled.
The simulation is unnerving.
Everything is so disturbingly real that I almost can't handle it. I wake up from it with a jolt, my limbs shaking uncontrollably, feeling as though I can't catch my breath.
"Relax, Everly. It's over now." Four's voice is quiet, almost soothing. I can hear him typing away at the computer. "You did really well."
Eric is nowhere to be found, and I find myself scanning the room for him. "Where's Eric?" I ask before I can help myself. "Why isn't he in here?" I'm shocked that he isn't standing next to me, ready to analyze every single second of the simulation.
Four frowns at the mention of Eric's name, his fingers hovering over the keys of the keyboard. "He had a small issue to take care of with Max." I nod, trying to keep myself still in the chair.
I can still see my parents' faces, bloodied and lifeless against the ground, and the feel of the gun pressed to my temple, the cold metal digging into my skin. There are more images in my head, but they bring up too many emotions and I try to push them back down. I manage to stand up, and my head feels dizzy.
Four frowns again. "Take it easy, you might feel a bit out of it for a few hours. You have the rest of the afternoon off, unless Eric's given you something else to do."
I shake my head at him. Eric had left no instructions. He'd been practically mute while he dragged me through the hallways to reach the sim room, where we met up with Four's class. I want to say I heard him mutter good luck before I went under the simulation, but that's probably just wishful thinking.
"Thanks, Four." I smile at him, and he meets my eyes. His smile is wide and real, the exact opposite of Eric's smirks. It catches me off guard. I'm spending too much time around Eric to remember what proper human emotion is. I head out of the small room, and pass a few initiates from Four's class sitting along the wall. A few of them are sniffling, and one of the guys throws me a nasty look.
I continue past them silently, and walk back to the only place I know to go.
Eric wakes me up by shoving my shoulder roughly, then pulling on the ends of my ponytail.
"Amity." I can hear him muttering, and I try to shove him away with my eyes closed. I'm unsuccessful; he only continues shaking my shoulder, and I keep my eyes shut.
"Go away. I'm tired," I mumble into the pillow, and try to swat at him again. The fear simulation took a lot more out of me than I'd expected. I hadn't planned on lying down, but by the time I'd made it back to the apartment, I'd felt more exhausted than if I'd spent the entire morning training with Eric. I'd simply shrugged off my boots and sweater, and thrown myself onto the bed.
"Everly." Eric's voice is exasperated now, and dripping with disdain. I still don't open my eyes. He's probably in here to inform me of how mediocre I performed during the simulation. Or how average my time was. Or how he completed the simulation in forty seconds and only had half a fear. For a long minute he sighs. His hand leaves my shoulder, and I quietly celebrate the fact that I've won this round.
The bed suddenly dips under his weight, and my eyes fly open. He's stretched out beside me — much too close to me — with his hands behind his head and his feet crossed at his ankles. My heart stutters for a second, and I hope he can't hear it. Gone is the vest and dark shirt he'd had on at lunch; instead, he lies next to me in nothing but a pair of black boxers. They sit just below his bare hip bones. His chest looks even more defined now that I'm this close to him, his exposed skin much paler than I would have expected.
"What are you doing?" I manage to raise myself up a bit and stare at him. A piece of hair is in my eyes, free from my messy braid, long and tangled from sleep. I shove it out of my eyes. His head turns to me, almost lazily, his lips curling upwards.
"Going to sleep," he drawls at me. He's watching me with great interest now, and I feel myself grow irritated. I thought he might be done teasing me, but apparently not.
"Get out," I snap at him.
"No," he retorts. He adjusts his position a bit, and I try to ignore the way his muscles shift as he moves.
"This isn't funny. I'm tired and I want to go to sleep." I glare at him. He turns towards me, his whole body now facing mine. From this angle, I'm only more aware of our size difference; he seems to tower over me, even on his side. His eyes find mine before an entertained smile stretches across his face.
"Then go back to sleep."
He seems impossibly close now. I can smell the aftershave on him, and I'm now all too acquainted with the scent. I'm so close to him that I can see the stubble across his jaw and the faint shadows under his eyes.
"I will. After you get out of my bed." I try to sound stern, but he merely laughs now. It's a rare sound, and it makes my eyes widen in response.
"Oh, little Amity. Maybe after you pass your initiation you'll learn which bedroom is actually yours." His voice is low and gravelly, and I grow hot at the sound of it. It takes me a second to process his words, and I suddenly sit upright. His eyes fall to my exposed shoulder, the strap of my tank top having slid down my arm.
"What are you talking about?" I pull at the shoulder of my shirt, trying to shrug the tank top strap back up. I glance around the room quickly and shut my eyes in disbelief.
"Oh, shit," I swear. The dresser mocks me from its position, some of Eric's clean clothes in a neat pile atop of it. I can see his vest tossed on top of the pile, and his pants and boots kicked to the side of the door. I rub at my eyes and try to make myself shrink.
"No," I groan. "This isn't happening."
He laughs again, and this time it's deep and throaty. It's almost pleasant-sounding, except that it's at my expense.
"This isn't funny." I scowl at him, and he sticks out his lower lip in mockery.
"I find it hilarious." His eyes hold mine. "You just can't seem to stay out of my bed, now can you?" He raises his eyebrow and props himself up so he's closer to me. "You know, I told you all you had to do was ask."
My cheeks burn bright red now, and I'm so close to him that I'm sure he can feel the heat from them. His gaze drops for a second, and I swear my heart skips a few beats.
I need to get out of his bed.
He's a Dauntless leader, and I am an initiate, one who's managed to fall asleep in his bed twice now. His presence is overwhelming to me, but something in me doesn't want to go away. I don't want to slip out of his bed and crawl into cold sheets. I chew on my lip for a second, trying to figure out why I'm suddenly torn. His eyes watch my lips again, then they slide back up to meet mine.
I swallow nervously now, stuck in his gaze.
Eric's eyes are dark.
They are dark and hungry, filled with something I can't put my finger on. I try to remember to breathe, my lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. He tilts his head towards me, so close that his forehead lingers against mine for the briefest of seconds. I open my mouth to say something, and then stop.
He pulls back abruptly, settling so he's on his back again, and closes his eyes.
"Go to sleep, Amity. We're up first tomorrow."
I am still sitting there, half-upright and completely confused. Was I just given permission to sleep in his bed? Do I want permission to sleep here? The logical side of me says I need to get out now, that this is a dangerous game I'm playing here. The illogical side of me tells me to shut up and go back to sleep. To curl beneath his warm sheets, next to his warm body, and allow myself one blissful night of sleep.
I steel myself to get up, to walk out of this room and back into my own bedroom.
Instead, I close my eyes.
Waking up next to one of the Dauntless leaders is not something that I had ever envisioned happening during any of my daydreams about getting out of Amity. When I thought of my new life, I'd thought of myself as strong and independent — easily passing through the training and making a few real friends. Even though I had thought it would be tough, I was excited for it. I never expected myself to be trained alone, by one of the leaders, who seemed to sway erratically from hating the mere sight of me to inviting me to sleep next to him.
I wake up before him, sometime in the early hours of the morning. The room is still dark, and twilight has yet to break. I am finally warm, curled deep beneath the blankets, and surprisingly against Eric's sleeping form. My head is against his chest, one arm resting over his stomach, and one of his legs is shoved between mine. Our hips are angled close together in an almost embarrassingly intimate way. My brain wakes up slowly, and the recognition of our position should startle me.
I'm surprised to find it doesn't.
I shift slightly to peer up at him, hoping not to wake him with any sudden movements. He's asleep, his lips parted slightly and his head tilted towards mine. I'm tempted to say he looks younger in his sleep, but he looks like the same Eric to me. The only difference is his eyes are closed, and he's not scowling in my general direction. I close my eyes again, and shift slightly, making myself more comfortable. I don't really realize I'm pressing myself closer to him, but I am.
His grip on me tightens slightly, almost a sleepy reflex. He adjusts himself closer, without opening his eyes. After a few seconds his breathing deepens, slow and even. I can feel myself drifting off again, and for a minute I let myself think how good it feels to be against him like this.
"Again, Amity." His voice is low, and I adjust my stance in preparation to attack.
While Four's class gets a reprieve from their combat training during the simulations, I am not quite that lucky. And just because I woke up in Eric's bed, drowsy and alone until I realized he was in the shower, it does not mean I am treated to anything less than continued intense training from Eric. Part of me is glad; the other initiates glower when they walk past us, and a few even mumble their displeasure. Four can't do both simulations and training at the same time, so training with Eric is almost a luxury at this point.
He dodges my punch, but I manage to hit his side, then his stomach.
I try to swallow down the images of his abdominal muscles that I know are beneath his shirt. The feeling of his chest rising while he sleeps. The push of his leg between mine, lessening any space between us. Sleeping in his bed may not have been the smartest idea. He is all I have thought about today, and maybe that was his whole plan.
He pins me to the mat easily, his hips effortlessly holding mine in place; his breathing is ragged despite little physical effort on his part. He jerks up suddenly, his eyes anywhere but on mine.
"Again."
I've become accustomed to sparring with him; I find myself falling into an easy rhythm with him, and by the time we are done, we are both sweaty and sore. I'm proud of the progress I've made, and Eric seems to be as well.
"Good job, Amity," he sneers as I limp away from him. My braid is trashed, and my shirt is soaking wet with sweat.
"Thanks, Dauntless," I mutter. I find my water bottle, and gleefully drink down the icy water. "Are we done for the day?"
He's behind me now, striding towards me. His shirt clings to his chest, and he wipes at his forehead. I've rarely seen him break a sweat during any of our workouts, let alone during the training. I take it as a sign that my fighting is up to par.
"We are. I thought we'd go shower and have dinner," he answers me, his eyes lifting to watch something over my shoulder. I can hear the footsteps behind me, and I turn to find a few boys from Four's class straggling in.
"How romantic," one of them sniggers at us, obviously feeling braver than normal. Eric's eyes flash cold, and they narrow at the one who opened his mouth. His gaze darkens to something murderous, and he takes a step towards him.
"Is there a problem, initiate?" His voice is low and dangerous, and I can feel the small shiver work its way up my spine. Pissing off Eric is a risky mistake, one that this idiot is about to realize.
The boy freezes in place, and his eyes suddenly widen in horror. It's as if he's just realized that he uttered the words out loud and that Eric heard them.
The boy tries to mumble some sort of weak apology, but Eric is having none of it.
"Why don't you come over here." Eric's voice is like ice, and I haven't heard it that particularly chilly since I said Four's name while asking for cake. The boy slowly makes his way towards us, all bravery gone from him. He looks almost ill as he stops a few feet away.
"I have an idea. Since you all seem so curious as to what's going on over here, why don't you and Everly fight a round together. Let's see who's been paying attention during training, shall we?" Eric's stare is directed squarely at the boy in front of us, and I feel a slight twinge of sympathy for the poor idiot.
"But we're done with combat! We're onto fear simulations!" the boy protests, and I recognize him as the same boy who mocked me right after we jumped. He looks different now; gone is the soft roundness from his face and build, only to have been replaced by sharp features and lean muscle.
The boy looks at me and his face is filled with dismay. I want to laugh. He can't possibly be afraid of me.
"Then this should be easy for you. Since you've already passed combat with flying colors. Unless your friend wants to take your place?" Eric's tone is cold and nasty, and the boy's friend shakes his head nervously.
I watch as the boy miserably marches into the center of the ring, and waits for instructions. Eric nods at me to join him, but catches my arm as I approach the ring. He bends his head down, his lips grazing my ear, and hisses something low and quiet.
"Beat him in this fight, and you can sleep in my bed for the rest of your training."
