"Tris," Four says suddenly. I look up from my phone. I just got a text from Chris. "Sit." I sit, and he continues, "I'd like to get to know you, and I'm sure you'd like to get to know me." He smirks and I smile slightly at him. I sit across from him on the bed and he takes one of my hands.

"So, Four Eaton, tell me about yourself," I say, breaking the silence. He thinks, biting his lip in an adorable way.

"You want the good or the bad?"

"Both," I answer. "Start with the basics."

"I was born on October sixteenth seventeen years ago, to Marcus and Evelyn Eaton. My father beat me from the age of five. My mother got pregnant again when I was nine, lost the baby, and left us. The beatings worsened after that. When I was younger, I lived in Englewood. When I was fourteen, I moved to Lincoln Park and attended the high school for a year. Then I transferred to Chicago Prep at Marcus' insistence and joined Dauntless, though he wants me to be Abnegation. I had aptitude for both. I play soccer, hockey, and baseball." Four touches my cheek. "And then, on the bus heading to my first day of senior year, I met you. You immediately….I knew I had to know you." His hand drops, and I immediately miss its presence.

"And the bad?" I murmur.

He thinks. "Two things you should know about me; The first is that I am deeply suspicious of people in general. It is my nature to expect the worst of them. And the second is that I am unexpectedly good with computers."

"More," I press. The shield he usually wears almost slips up but he forces it down.

"Uh, I'm a virgin?" he guesses. I chuckle, and he grins and continues. "I've never even dated anyone. No one special had come along. Until now." I wrap my arms around him on a whim. "And now I'm really happy 'cause I have a beautiful girl hugging me."

I laugh and release him. "You went straight from basics to deep stuff. What about, like, what your favorite color - and no, black does not count - or your movie star crushes?"

Four thinks. "Uhh, my favorite color besides black is blue-gray, my new movie star crush is Shailene Woodley, I think the best kind of flowers to give a girl are roses, and - oh my God, I sound like an idiot, don't I?"

"I think your flirting's kinda cute," I counter. "My favorite color besides black is navy blue, my new movie star crush is Theo James, and I think roses are beautiful."

Four smiles at me. "I think you just started your turn. Go ahead, spill."

I stick my tongue out at him, but oblige. "Okay, well, my full name is Beatrice Grace Prior -" I shoot a pointed look at him - "and I was born on January second sixteen years ago. I lived in Englewood until I started getting catcalled a little too much for my father's liking. So he scraped together as much money as he could and bought the house we live in now. I was in seventh grade, so I went to the middle school in Lincoln Park for a year, and then Lincoln Park High for two, and then I transferred to CP for my sophomore year. When I was riding the bus, I met a beautiful boy I knew I had to know. I play soccer, figure skate, and play softball. My mother had an affair and decided to up and take Caleb and me, but my father insisted he get at least one of us. They flipped a coin and he got the daughter. Me. My father's parents died a long time ago, I don't know about my mother. I am a very defensive person and am not afraid to call someone a dickwad or asshole. And my secret talent is drawing. The only person I've ever dated is Booth."

Four smiles at me. "I...like this. I like getting to know you."

I poke him in the stomach gently. "I like it, too, Blue Eyes."

He raises his eyebrows and he looks so cute I want to - oh my god. What is wrong with me?

"'Blue Eyes?'" Four asks.

I shrug. "If I can't call you Four and I can't know your real name, I'm gonna have to think of nicknames."

He shakes his head and grins. "Yeah, but 'Blue Eyes?' C'mon, you have to admit that that's pretty bad."

I smirk. "Perfect."

His mouth drops open and he quirks at me (A/N: "quirks" in this sense means half-smile, half-mouth-dropped-open). "I don't like you, Beatrice Prior."

I smirk even wider. "I love you too, Blue Eyes."

"So when are we leaving?" Four asks, changing the subject.

"I'll go see. Do you need anything?" Four shakes his head, changes his mind, and nods. "What?" I ask.

"A big kiss on my cheek," he flirts. I oblige, pressing my lips to his cheek and leaving them there for a second longer than customary.

"I'll be right back," I promise. Then I open the door and run into - literally - my father. "Dad! Were you eavesdropping? And when can we leave?"

Dad grins. "Yup." Then he walks into Four's room with me. "You ready to go, son?" I glare at the back of my father's head. Four chuckles and nods, standing up. I grab our stuff and Four and I follow my father out.

He signs one last form and I help Four into the backseat of our car, sitting next to him and holding his hand. I lean my head on his shoulder and then remember what Chris said. I move my lips so they're touching Four's ear. "You know, I told Chris we said we liked each other," I whisper. Four reddens and I continue, "And she wants us to play truth or dare tonight and me to distract you so she can dress me up like her dolly."

He smirks. "Serves you right."

I smirk right back. "She wants to set us up in front of everyone at truth or dare."

The smirk on his face disappears. "Damn her."

"Want for us not to be set up in front of everyone? You have to help me."

"Fine," he says. "What do I have to do?"

"Make it look like we're already together," I answer logically.

"Won't work. Chris used to be Candor and can tell when someone's lying."

"Okay, then you have to 'need me to be with you' every time she wants me to go with her," I nearly plead.

Four thinks this over. "Hmm. And what would I get out of this? She'll still get us together during the party."

"Uh….I will draw something for you. Anything," I say, satisfied.

"No. I get to look through whatever sketchbooks you have," he decides.

"Fine, but only if it works," I answer. "If it doesn't, then you can choose one - only one - to look through."

Four grins and we near my house. "What are you two kids talking about?" Dad asks, a glint in his eyes that tells me he was listening.

"Aww, shut up, old man," I tease. "You were eavesdropping."

Four stares at me. My father notices, too. "What's wrong, Four?"

"It's just - if I'd spoken to Marcus that way -" Four begins, and we understand.

"My dad and I are close," I interrupt him quickly. "He teases me much worse than I tease him, trust me."

Dad sticks his tongue out at me. "So, Bea, where and when should I go tonight? Do I need to bring policemen back with me? Is there going to be alcohol?"

"You should leave at about five and go to that place you go with your lame-o old fart friends and watch the game - it's Yankees versus Red Sox. Should be interesting tonight. No to the policemen and I'm not buying any alcohol, nor drinking it. Four won't, either - I won't let him - but I can't make any promises for my other friends. You know Booth won't either." My dad smiles at me.

"You're so honest with him," Four whispers.

"Yeah. We have an always-honest policy that's only allowed to be broken with lady problems, holiday surprises, and matters of utmost importance," I answer, my lips tickling his ear.

"That's good, Bea," Dad replies. "Have a good time. And, by the way, my friends have names. Johnson, Darius, and Thomas. They aren't that old. Neither am I. Believe it or not, forty isn't bad. Means I had you when I was twenty-three. You were conceived -" and I've heard enough.

"OKAY!" I yelp. "I've heard enough!"

Dad grins and Four chuckles. "You don't want to hear about your and Caleb's conceptions?" he asks innocently.

I put my best death-glare on. "Caleb and I were made in a petri dish. I decided that when I was eleven."

My father smirks. "Nope. It was much more fun than that."

"Do you want to think about your parents conceiving you, Dad?" I question sweetly. "I'm sure I could call Granny."

His face whitens. "Okay, okay. Truce."

Beside me, Four is dying with laughter. We're at my house, though, so I help him out. Chris' and Ange's cars are out front and I groan. "How did they even get each other's numbers?"

Four lets me help him inside and onto the couch. Ange and Chris yell for me to come up to my room and I ignore them, chatting with Four. After about five minutes, Chris comes down. "We have been yelling at you for nearly ten minutes." Oops. "Why didn't you some up?"

"Four needs me."

Chris looks at us and then decides just to drag me up the stairs. I shoot Four a meaningful and pleading look. Then he's gone and all I see is my room. I sigh and sit on my bed. Ange and Chris sit on either side of me, gushing. I grunt and eek out a "yes" every now and then to satisfy them.

"If you guys are going to torture me," I say slowly, speaking for the first time. "Will you at least get a move on?"

They grin and Christina pushes me into the shower. I scrub the blood off my skin and shudder as I remember the sight of Four when he knocked. I scrub my hair, too. Then a tear slips out, and before I know it, I'm full-out sobbing. Fortunately, the shower covers the sound.

I cry for my father, for his pain all the years without my mother. I cry for Caleb, for always thinking his father was a douche. I cry for my mother, because she made everyone so sad even though she might not have meant to. I cry for myself, for the pain of finding my mother and Caleb and hearing the full story and all the years of feeling alone. I cry for Booth, for what he's going through with his father. But most of all, I cry for Four. I cry for everything he's been through and everything he will go through with the trial and county home and foster care.

When I compose myself, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself. Christina and Angela step in and I know they can tell I've been crying. They don't mention anything, though, which I'm thankful for. They just dress me, and are starting my hair when Four steps in. His eyes zero in on my face and I can tell he immediately knows I've been crying. He walks over to me, wincing a tiny bit, and I stand up. Four enfolds me in his arms and we stand like that for a few minutes. Neither of us cry, talk, or move - we just stand there.

Unfortunately, after about five minutes, Christina and Ange burst back in. They "aww" over Four and me, but then kick him out. He meets my eyes and smiles sadly before the door closes. Chris and Ange are immediately upon me, yelling about how cute Four and I are together.

"We aren't together, guys," I remind them, rubbing my temples.

"Yeah, but after tonight you two will be," Chris promises, meeting Ange's eyes and grinning.

I groan and zone out again as they work on my hair and makeup. I don't even want to look, but they force me to. And I'm shocked - they didn't completely cover who I am. My eyes are outlined by a little eyeliner, there's a tiny bit of blue eyeshadow on my lids, my lips have a tinted gloss on them, and my cheeks have a tiny bit of blush on them. None of it is too noticeable, but it makes me noticeable. My hair is in a simple French braid - one of my favorites.

I look down and I'm wearing a little black skirt, black leggings, a red tank top and a shorter black shirt covered by a little leather jacket. I hug them. "I look Dauntless."

Christina nods and grins. "Dauntless with a tiny bit of Amity."

"Don't even," I warn. "I'd die before I became Amity. They're so….peppy." Ange looks confused, so I continue, "CP lingo. They're groups in the school, based on what you do most. Erudite the intelligent, Amity the peaceful - or happy-go-lucky, as we say - Abnegation the selfless, Candor the honest and Dauntless the brave. Erudites tend toward being know-it-alls that love school. Candors make up our debate team. Amity are the artsy and peppy ones. Some cheerleaders, too. Abnegation volunteer. And Dauntless play sports."

Angela nods and then grabs her stuff and heads into the bathroom. I know she's going to take a shower, so I dart out of the room to where Four's lying on the guest bed, staring at the ceiling. I lay next to him and he doesn't move.

I am the first to speak. "Sorry. About earlier."

"It's fine." He pauses. "So I guess I don't get to look at any of your sketchbooks?"

I hesitate. "Maybe I can just show you a few. Just….'cause you tried."

Four nudges me with his shoulder. "Thanks."

We're silent for another few minutes. Then I speak again. "This is awkward."

He turns over so he's on his stomach and looking at me. "It doesn't have to be."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we could talk. Make it less awkward, you know?" Four moves a little closer.

"Okay," I agree. "What about?"

"Why were you crying earlier?" he asks softly.

I look down at him, and then away. "Lots of things." I put my hand on the top of his head and run my fingers through his hair a little. "My dad, my mom, Caleb, Booth and his dad, my family stuff, and -"

"And me," Four finishes, looking down.

"Yes," I breathe.

He changes the subject. "What's up with Booth and his dad?"

"Booth's dad has terminal cancer. There's a tiny chance he's going to live, but they're doing one last round of chemo. Booth has to manage two jobs and school to pay," I reply, still running my hands through Four's hair. He relaxes a little bit after each passing minute and I can tell he needs the physical affection.

" - it," Four finishes. I realize I've been too busy zoning out and staring at his face and thinking about him to listen to what he's saying.

"What?" I ask, face flushed.

He smirks. "I said that I'm sorry Booth has to go through that kind of pain and stress. He's a good guy, and he doesn't deserve it."

I nod slowly. "It's hard on him."

Four is silent after that, and I follow his example. I doze off to Four's snores a little while after we stop talking, too.