Editing: by BK2U!

Disclaimer: I still don't own Divergent ;)

Spoiler: Everly gets handsy and Eric gets frustrated.

Enjoy!

Thank you SO much for sending me your thoughts :)

His fingers are twisted in the nape of my hair, tightly curled against my scalp.

I awake before him; the sky is still dark and I am still tired. But my mind shakes me gently, forcing my eyes open. Eric's breathing is slow and deep, his body instinctively pressed against mine in his unconscious state. Sometime during the night, I'd turned myself towards him, angling myself against his chest, hip to hip, legs woven between his as though I could completely melt into him.

He doesn't move, aside from his chest rising and falling.

I press my head back against his chest. His words echo in my ear, even the ones he didn't speak. He wants me to stay here, worded under the guise of this leadership program; I can't find a reason not to, nor do I really want to try.

I lie there for a long moment, taking in the scent of his soap, the rough scratch of stubble on his cheeks, and the warm skin of his chest. I can feel every inch of him against me, his form completely relaxed in his deep slumber.

I snuggle closer to him, even though there is no space between us. He seems to like it that way. Even before I was invited to sleep in his bed, he had little problem closing any distance between us. There was something almost salacious in the way he held himself close to me, giving no fucks to anyone who may have thrown him a second glance. If it had been a purposeful plan on his part, it had certainly worked; he had allowed himself to slip under my skin without a second thought.

In the dark hours of the early morning, I let my mind wander.

Eric is so warm, his skin almost hot against mine. I wonder what it would feel like to have him on top of me, his weight pressing me into his mattress, his body joined together with mine. Or maybe beneath me, his head tilted up to look at me. Would he keep his grey eyes open and upon me? Would they flash cold even during the heated moment?

The thought makes my cheeks burn, but I find myself more and more curious. His brash claims that he cannot be gentle can't be entirely untrue. I let my fingers touch the soft hairs trailing down his sternum, and wonder how he would react. Would he let me touch him openly? Or would he shove my hands aside all together?

My experience is limited only to Landon. He had not had a rough bone in his body. Our nights together were the very definition of gentle; he never once dared to leave a mark on me, let alone whisper any sort of claims in my ear. I can't remember the last time my skin felt this electric, this alive, and I'm merely sleeping beside Eric.

I let my fingers stop when they reach his abdominal muscles, and I snake my arm back through his.

I can only dream in these sleepy hours.

The sun weakly tries to peek through the curtains.

I open my eyes, pleased to discover that I am, for once, awake before Eric.

Eric is half on top of me, his leg over the top of mine, and his arm tightly around me. I'm surprised to find that he's still asleep; I'm even more surprised to feel all of him pressed against me, including the very reason he's always up before me, and seemingly alert for our early training sessions.

Today that's not the case, and I suddenly feel flushed and overly warm.

I can't really move, and while it's not unpleasant, I'm not sure how Eric will feel if he were to wake in this position. I shift slightly, gently pressing him to the side of me, and I freeze as he shifts himself onto his back, one of his arms flinging outward.

I should follow his lead and hop out of bed. I should take my own shower and allow him to wake up without any mention of his situation. He hasn't mentioned it so far, and I have a feeling if he wanted it known, he would have been quick to bring it up.

Instead, I reach out for him.

I eye him carefully, taking in every inch of him.

I watch the way his stomach moves with each breath, the definition of his abdominal muscles deeply etched in the skin. I follow them downwards, and my fingers spread out until I find the sharp line of his hipbone. He's flaunted them in my face for the past few weeks, his low-slung pajama pants leaving nothing to my imagination. I decide the narrowing of his waist is fair game.

My fingers trace down until they reach the waistband of his boxers.

I'm embarking on dangerous territory here. My cheeks pink at the mere thought, but if I'm not going to be brave, I might as well go back to Amity and pick wildflowers. I touch the soft fabric of his boxer shorts, the material dark and rich against my skin. My eyes continue their descent until they reach the very outline of his erection.

He's far bigger than I would have expected, but to be fair, I have only Landon to compare him to. Eric wins by a landslide, and I know he would be pleased with that fact. I can just imagine the smug look on his face if I were to tell him.

I continue my exploration before my bravery runs out; I prop myself up on my elbow and slide my fingers beneath the waistband. There is an obvious destination in mind, but I haven't thought far enough ahead to decide what I will do when I get there. Touching him seems like an obvious choice, but for some reason it seems far more important that he let me.

It feels like several long minutes pass, but it's probably more like seconds. My fingers touch deceptively soft skin hidden below the slant of his hipbones — and then I hear him.

"I hope you aren't starting something you can't finish, Amity."

I jerk back at his voice, my fingers flying off of him as though they have been burned. He's smirking down at me, his eyes half-hooded with sleep and lust. I take a cue from him, and I bounce off the bed before he can utter another word.

If I thought Eric would leave me alone after catching me with my hand down his boxers, I might as well have just shoved them down his hips and carried on.

I finish my shower quickly, trying to weigh my options. He wasn't mad at my exploration, but I will not live this down. Even if he decided he never wanted to speak of it again, my cheeks will forever darken knowing he awoke to find me in such a position. I shove my shirt over my head, and stand there, trying to breathe evenly. I am reaching for my leggings when I'm graced with Eric flinging the door open.

For a moment, I forget that I need air to breathe.

He saunters in behind me, still clad in nothing but his boxers. I try to focus on myself in the mirror, and not on whether or not he's still aroused. It doesn't matter. I could be painting the bathroom walls and I have a feeling it wouldn't stop him.

He comes to a halt behind me, so close to me that his chest touches my back, and he places his hands on either side of the sink.

"You seem awfully stuck in this bathroom." His lips are purposely against my ear now, and I try not to let out a squeak as he presses himself firmly against me. He meets my eyes in the mirror, and he looks utterly pleased with himself.

"I…I'm getting dressed." It's all I can manage. His hands leave the sink and find my hips, his fingers pressing against the fabric of my underwear with a definite intent.

"You gonna tell me what exactly you were doing back there?" His words are dangerously low, his voice rich in the small bathroom. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

If I were braver, I would have a witty answer for him. Maybe even tease him the tiniest bit. But I am not that brave. Not yet, at least. Instead, I can only stare up at his reflection and try to slow my racing heartbeat.

"We could just finish this right now. Right here." He squeezes tighter, pressing himself closer to me. I can definitely feel him, every single inch of him. His head bends forward to my neck, and I feel his lips against my skin. "You're awfully quiet, Amity," he drawls. When he roughly drags his teeth across my shoulder, I shiver.

All of a sudden he jerks himself back, and stares at me for a moment with a hard gaze.

"I think I'd rather you continue your exploration in bed. Not here. Not right now." He lets go of my hips, and stalks into the shower. I can barely comprehend that he's turned it on, and I can't form a coherent thought until his boxers hit the floor next to my feet.

The girl that cuts his hair seems nervous.

She keeps watching me out of the corner of her eye, her clippers expertly buzzing the sides of his head. I watch her, more curious than anything, and almost invisibly-short hair falls to the floor. She's quick and precise, and pauses only to dampen the top of his hair. The wave appears almost immediately, and she neatly combs through it, pulling it taut and confirming the length with him.

Eric sits in the stylist's chair, his gaze utterly bored.

I've been gifted with the day off, something that delights me. I'm fairly certain Four's class has had a few days off from their training; I have had none. While I know it's pushed me further, and I'm better off because of it, it was unbelievably delicious to wake up without Eric's alarm blaring at me.

I curl my feet beneath me and continue watching. Eric finds my gaze in the mirror and stares at me as though he's being interrogated. In reality, the girl cutting his hair has only uttered a handful of words at him. She's thrown me a few curious looks, as though she isn't quite sure she believes I exist.

"Aren't you getting your hair cut as well?" She looks mildly nervous at the thought, her stare falling to my long hair. I'd never even considered cutting my hair. It seems easy to pull it away from my face; Eric's training has left little time for any style fancier than a ponytail or bun.

"I think so," I tell her. "I hadn't really decided." Eric's eyes are still on me, his gaze unreadable.

She nods at me, and stops to turn to the girl next to her. "Can you take her?"

Ten minutes pass before I'm led to the chair next to him. My hair has been washed and detangled, and the girl who will cut it, her vibrant pink hair cut into a sharp bob, throws a hesitant look at Eric.

"What do you want me to do today?" She looks uneasy, as though she doesn't really want to be the one in charge of cutting my hair. Eric's gaze is sharp now, and he has the same cranky look that he did when Karl walked me into his office.

"Can you just trim the ends? I have to put it up a lot during the day," I tell her. I'm not overly attached to it, but I don't want her to chop it off. She nods, relief obvious on her face.

Eric finishes before me; his hair is styled back in its normal fashion, sides buzzed to almost nothing and the top combed back smoothly. He stands next to the chair, and smirks down at me. My hair has been parted and clipped into several sections, and I can barely see him through the pieces placed in front of my face.

"I'll wait you for up front." His stare is somewhat curious, but he's gone without another word.

My stylist continues trimming and finally reaches the section in the front. She combs it in front of my face, pulling at my long bangs.

"Is that her?" I can hear the whisper coming from behind me, and two other girls are paused a few feet away, nosy gazes trained on me. "I hear she's always with him. Like, they're never apart." The gossipy tone drips with something akin to envy.

"We should ask her how he is in bed." The statement is followed by a girlish giggle. The girl cutting my hair freezes, her fingers angling from my eyebrows towards my cheekbone.

"Sarah," she angrily whispers. "She can hear you." Her pink hair almost shakes as she pulls my bangs down. "And he's up front." She angles her scissors and meets my eyes through my hair. Her friends glower for a moment, before they reluctantly head to the back. The stylist hesitates for a moment, the blades poised to cut my bangs.

"Is it true?" she asks me, suddenly brave. Her hands hover in place. "I'm just wondering. Your ticket has his last name on it."

"Obviously," I answer, without thinking. I didn't sign myself in. I saw him write only his name down at the counter, and I'm assuming he gleefully wrote his last name on the ticket.

It isn't until after her shears close in surprise, lopping off a large chunk of my bangs, that I realize that I should think before speaking.

Eric's eyes fall somewhere onto my bangs, his eyes squinting at me with a smirk on his face.

"Yes. She cut them off by accident. She asked if my ticket had your last name on it, and I answered 'obviously', and she closed her scissors." I scowl at him and shake my head. The bangs aren't terrible; they hit just below my eyebrow and swoop downwards, but every few seconds they fall in my eyes.

"Could be worse," Eric answers, and his eyes fall to the length of my hair, and I dare to think he looks pleased that it's still close to the length it was before.

"Can you start writing my real name?" I ask him, shoving the shorter bangs out of my eyes. A flash of amusement crosses his face and he looks smugger than ever.

"I wrote Everly," he answers, pleased with himself.

I elbow him as I stomp past.

We eat lunch with Jason and Man Bun.

I spend most of my time ignoring their stares and even more of my time trying to figure out a way to make them focus on something other than me. They watch Eric and me carefully, looking for the smallest proof of something, anything. When Eric accidentally elbows my arm, mostly because we are shoved close together due to the sudden addition of Karl and his friend, Jason and Rylan exchange a weighted glance. Eric notices, but his glare isn't cold enough to stop Jason's raised eyebrow.

"So, are you guys... uh... doing anything today?" Jason is trying to keep the conversation going, but his words sound forced. He's more interested in waiting to see what Eric will do next.

"Training," Karl announces, mimicking the bored tone he's heard in Eric's voice. "I think we only have a few sessions left before they announce the final rankings. I think the real training will start once we're actual members." He smiles at me, and I can't help but smile. His adoration of Eric is amusing, even if Eric seems oblivious to it.

His friend nods, his gaze daring to stray in Eric's direction. "Yeah, Four's cool and all, but…" He trails off, stuffing his sandwich in his mouth.

Karl and his friend are a welcome distraction.

It is a brief one, however; Four appears behind them, looking at his watch in an exaggerated manner. "Guys, we've got five minutes until the next session." He doesn't look pleased to see his class sitting at our table, and I'm sure he'd be less pleased to hear that his coolness factor was up for debate.

They both groan and reluctantly stand. "Guess we'll see you around Everly," Karl announces. Beside me, Eric glares at him, his gaze narrowing. Jason and Rylan raise their eyebrows.

"Bye, Karl. Bye, CJ," I tell them sweetly. I wave at them, sorry to see them go. They were a nice break from Jason's and Rylan's stares.

"Well, aren't they lovely," Jason throws out, grinning at me. "They seem to really like you, Everly."

I throw him a dirty look. I know what he's doing, and I'm not about to spend the rest of my first day off dealing with Eric's drastic mood change. "I barely know them," I tell him.

Beside me, I can feel Eric getting restless. His knee bumps mine, purposely, before he finishes his drink. "You almost done? We have a lot to do this afternoon."

His words crush my soul; the last thing I want to do is start my training again today. Maybe I misunderstood him, I think dully, feeling my shoulders slump. But I will push on. I'm determined to make it here, and a few more days won't kill me.

"I'm done," I tell him, and I stand and pick up my plate.

His eyes watch me, even more so than Jason's and Rylan's.

Turns out Eric's definition of "a lot to do" means that we head back to his apartment, where he works on his tablet while I curl up on the couch next to him. I shove my bangs out of my face, and lose myself in the book I found shoved in the corner of his bookshelves. I was surprised to find it; jammed in the corner as though it shouldn't be seen, a small paperback book with a boy on the cover.

I wonder if someone else placed it there. For the life of me, I can't imagine Eric reading anything that isn't completely fact-based, let alone a story about wizards. I kick my shoes off, pull the overly-soft, grey blanket over me, and start reading.

I can identify a bit with this boy who's been thrust into a whole other world with barely a moment's notice. While I had plenty of time to make my decision, and no owls had delivered a letter from Eric to me, I could understand the allure of the whole new world in front of him.

I make it a few chapters in before I realize Eric is staring at me, a weird expression on his face.

"Where did you get that?" he asks, his brows knitting inward. He's staring at the book in my hands with a curious look. I feel a rush of uncertainty wash over me; perhaps I'm not really allowed to touch the books on his shelves.

"I found it. On one of the shelves. I didn't think you would mind. It doesn't seem like anything you would read," I tell him. I shift myself closer to him, unaware of how closely I'm already sitting. I look up at him, his eyes still on the book. "Do you want me to put it back?"

He shakes his head, and his face forms its trademark scowl. "No. But reading about wizards isn't going to help you pass your training." So he does know what it's about.

I find myself glaring at him from below my bangs. I shove them to the side, for the millionth time. "You said we had a day off."

"I did."

"So I'm using my day off to read something not related to the training," I tell him, crossly. He stares at me for a long moment before smirking.

"Fine."

"You said it was a day off!" I protest, knowing very well that he's about to suggest I read something with a title like 50,000 Ways to Kill Your Opponent By Glaring.

He shrugs, and turns back to his tablet, apparently done with this conversation. I watch as he reads for a moment, his gaze fixed on the screen.

"Are you working?" I ask him.

"No," he tells me, not bothering to look up.

I let out an exasperated sigh. Just because I know that he likes my fingers in his hair doesn't mean he will be any less difficult.

"Look at this." His voice has a pleased tone to it. He moves his arm, placing it on the back of the couch, and I scoot closer to him, settling against his side. I glance down at the tablet, and watch as Four's class scrambles to scale the wall again. I try to focus on what they are doing, but all I can focus on his how warm Eric is, and the fact that I can smell his shampoo.

"Your little friend isn't half-bad," Eric murmurs beside me. I watch as Karl scales the wall fairly easily, triumphantly repelling himself back down without the slightest indication of fear. I'm tempted to ask Eric if he spends all of his free time spying on Four's class, but I feel his fingers making their way into my hair.

"He's alright," I shrug, and lean my head back into his hand. He's playing unfair; his fingers graze my neck, then tighten until I look up at him. Memories of this morning flash in my mind.

His eyes are dark, but they don't hold his normal cold stare. They meet mine, and I will myself to not turn pink under his stare.

"He can't be in my class. So don't even ask," he tells me sullenly, and I find myself laughing at his petulant tone.

"I wasn't going to," I answer him, and before I can even form a theory as to why Eric is so concerned about Karl, Eric closes the distance between us, and his head tilts until it rests against mine.

It is the moments like this where time stops, where I find myself wondering how he can allow himself to be perceived as so cold, distancing himself from everyone and anyone. He stays still, and he swallows a second before his nose touches mine. My lips part on their own, and I wait for him, debating whether or not I am brave enough to kiss him.

"Finish your book, Amity."

He moves his head back, and returns his gaze to the tablet. A blonde-haired boy from Four's class loses his grip, and I watch him fall, gracelessly flailing his arms.

Eric resumes weaving his fingers in my hair, twisting the dark strands and humming contently to himself.

He will be the death of me.

The slow-burning, drawn-out death. It will be painful and terribly wonderful, and I get the feeling it won't occur until after I've finished this damned training.

Tris corners me on my way to the dining hall.

Eric and I sat on his couch for the rest of the afternoon; I was comfortably settled against him, lost in the world of wizards and their spells, and his hands stayed on me the entire time. He's allowed me to get closer to him with each day, but how long will it last? My plan is a simple one; I'm not going to give him the opportunity to close himself off. He seems to thrive on our moments together, as though his life has not had many like them.

I left while he was making something for dinner, on a quest for dessert. Dauntless seem to really enjoy their sweets, and Eric waved me off in search of some. I was almost there when Tris stopped me, a stack of files in her hand.

"Everly!" she calls out, striding towards me with purpose. I still don't know her very well, but Christina always speaks highly of her. She is hardworking, and she seems to keep mostly to herself.

"Hi, Tris." I stop in front of her, and she takes a step towards me, almost backing me into the wall.

"Did Eric mention anything to you about next Friday?" she asks me, her gaze on mine. I shake my head at her, curious as to what she's talking about. She looks around, as if she doesn't want to be overheard, before she speaks. "There's an annual leadership dinner. Attended by all of the faction leaders."

"Oh, well, that sounds fun." I have no idea why she's telling me this, but she's looking at me as though I should have caught on right about now.

"Has Eric asked you to go with him?" she blurts out. She shifts uncomfortably, clutching her files. "Max told him he had to ask you and not just order you to go with him."

I try to bite back the laugh in my throat. I would have killed to be there for that conversation. "He hasn't," I tell her.

She doesn't look surprised. "I figured. I'm going to be there, too. I thought maybe you would want to…" she pauses for a second before grimacing, "Get ready together? I'm not really great at all that kind of stuff, and Christina mentioned that you only knew a few people here." She stops, and her eyes look hopeful. "Christina said she would help us. Well, me. You look fine."

I could hug her.

Well, if she didn't look so downright nervous about her offer. I nod my head at her, smiling widely. Maybe I could have two friends here.

"I'd love to. I mean, if Eric ever invites me," I offer up. She smiles, a real smile crossing her face.

"He will. He's probably trying to figure out how to ask nicely," she snorts. Then she freezes. "I mean, sorry. I'm sure he's nice to you. At least, he seems like he's nice to you."

"It's alright. I know what you mean." A sudden thought occurs to me. "Wait, are you going with Four?"

Her face drops for a second at his name, and she shakes her head. "No, I'm going with Jeremy. He's still in training for leadership. He's an assistant to Max right now. Four and I are just friends. I guess we weren't really cut out to be anything more." She glances around as though she's divulged some top secret information. "Ok, so you'll let me know when he asks you, and we'll make plans then?"

I nod at her, feeling surprisingly happy.

I might just fit in here.