A/N: Hey everybody! Thanks for giving my story over 30 reviews! You guys are so great! This chapter is probably my most favorite so far so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything in Divergent. Darn. I do, however, own all of the character's who were not in Divergent and the plot and dialogue.
We stare at each other for what seems like hours. His eyes explore my face first, like he can't believe how much I had changed even if he saw me just a few months ago. Then his eyes move south and he smirks. Heat rushes to my face when I remember all I'm wearing is a towel. I reposition the towel so that it is almost touching the hollow of my neck. "What are you doing here?" I snap at him.
"Someone is in a bad mood," Peter says back, looking amused with himself.
This only infuriates me and I hiss back,"Maybe next time you'll be more considerate on what time of day you'll come in." It's a weak argument but I couldn't think of anything else.
"Maybe you'll be more considerate and greet your guests with more than a towel on."
I redden.
"Where is Four?" he asks me and crosses his arms.
"Why do you want to know?"
He waves me off. "That's none of your business." His eyes catch my engagement ring as it reflects the light. I curl my hand into a fist, not wanting to share its delicate beauty with him even for a second.
A drip of water from my hair makes a mini river, a trail from my shoulder to my forearm like a slithering snake looking for a place to wrap its body around. I wonder what it would be like to curl up and just fall asleep whenever you wanted. The thought makes me want to crawl under the covers again but I can't; not when Peter is here.
"Where is Four?" He demands again putting his hand on the door.
I cross my arms like he did when he asked me the same question a few seconds ago and say," That's none of your business."
He snorts and puts pressure on the door so that it is sliding open. "Clever,Tris. Didn't know a Stiff could mock people. I thought it was self indulgent."
"You would know about being self indulgent, Peter," I say as if every word was like venom coming out of my mouth. "You've never been anything but selfish."
"Interesting theory but I came to talk to Four not about self-indulgence."
"He's not here," I say trying to close the door on him. Instead he opens in further.
"Where is he then?" He's trying to contain his temper. The thought of me being the source of his aggravation is strangely hilarious and I have to choke down a laugh. I don't answer his question.
"Well, I guess I'll make myself at home then while I wait for him," He says flippantly as he pushes me out of the way and crosses the threshold on his way to the couch.
"This isn't your home," I snap.
"It's not yours either," Peter says and sits himself on the couch. I want to leave claw marks on his cheek bones that run deep and long but I can't. Not in a towel anyway.
I go into the guest bedroom and quickly change into a black t-shirt and pants. I throw over a sweatshirt for good measure because the last thing I want to be around Peter is to be exposed.
When I renter the living room, he's faced away from me hunched over the coffee table holding something. When I get close enough to see what he is holding, I see that it's a glass of water. His slender fingers of both hands are curled around either side of the cylinder tightly and I'm waiting for the glass to shatter. I remember for a brief horrifying second that that was the position of his fingers so long ago on my neck as he held me over the chasm. I push away the thought.
"Why are you here,Peter?" I ask as nice as I possibly can with murdous thoughts running through my head. He's supposed to be in Amity, at the compound. Dauntless was supposed to exile him for treason. Did they? Or did he leave on his own terms?
"Like I said before it's none of your business,Beatrice."
The way he says my name is like he's using it as an insult. I know because when I'm mad at Tobias I use his nickname against him like a weapon. He knows that was my Abegnation name; He knows that my parents and Will died in the war that had no effect on him.
He knows that using my name, my given name, can reopen wounds.
I slam my fist down on the coffee table so hard and fast that I upset the glass of water and it pours all over the carpet. Peter stares at me like he didn't know I had it in me. But there's a lot about me he doesn't know. "Either you can tell me yourself what's going on or I can find out from my fiancé," I say looking him in the eye. "I'd rather hear it from you."
He gently sets his hands down in the pool of water making a few drops leak from the table onto the carpet but he doesn't acknowledge them. He doesn't even break eye contact or wipe the smirk off his face when he says,"Your fiancé invited me to the wedding."
A/N: Oh boy. Trouble in the neighborhood! Peter has to ruin everything doesn't he?
Thanks for reading and review! The next chapter should be up in a couple of days! I've already started working on it! Until then!
-Kel
