Hi!
I know I said I was done, but I've been watching a ton of Christmas movies, thanks to both the Hallmark Channel and the Chiller Channel, and I realized I've never gotten the chance to write anything holiday themed. I was always busy working on other stories, but I had a few hours of free time, and after talking with Erin, she suggested this idea. I loved it, so I had no choice but to write it as a one shot. It's really fluffy and happy, and the only angst is Four being included in this story.
It's been so weird not to update weekly and Sundays definitely don't feel the same! I hope everyone is doing great and has a happy holiday!
[Side note, this could be considered AU. E&E are not together at the beginning and he did not train her;)!]
Thanks to Erin for the idea + editing it!
"Eric Coulter."
The smirk on Four's face is enough to make me want to punch him. I could. He'd taught me how to punch, while Eric observed with great disdain before disputing the scores. I didn't really know Eric, other than when he oversaw our class once; he nearly killed everyone by making us fight to the almost death, and I limped away only because Karl couldn't bring himself to really beat the living daylights out of me.
It had been six whole months since I ranked first, surpassing Karl by exactly half a point. The best part of ranking first, was that it was not just because of my hard work and some sheer luck, but also because the rest of my initiation class had made the assumption that I would suck. I was constantly forgotten about, despite ranking high, because they were at each other's throats in an attempt to outdo each other. Four frequently expressed that we were his least favorite class to train: none of the large, obnoxious boys listened to him aside from a few, and the rest were a hot mess of initiates who had picked Dauntless thinking it was more fun and excitement than physical work, and were unprepared for the physicality of it.
At a certain point, Eric was called in to oversee what was going on.
He took his job seriously, though it was easy to see he'd rather be elsewhere. He and Four did not get along, and they hated the sight of each other. Due to Eric's position as a Leader, Four was forced to stand by while he demanded we fight until blood was spilled, and at one point, I woozily watched Four walk away, looking pissed off at what was going on while Eric smirked.
Luckily for all of us, it didn't last very long.
Eric was called away to do something else, and our training went back to normal.
The rest wasn't exactly easy. I'd spent weeks falling asleep only because I was exhausted, and I swore there were still a few lingering bruises. My fear landscape was terrifying and lengthy and the worst part was Eric showing up in it. I might have been able to scrappily fight my way through boys who didn't think I'd punch them, but I couldn't escape knowing that as one of the main leaders, he would critique my scores and approve what job I took here. The simulation ended with him shooting me right in the head, announcing that I was a traitor who should have stayed in Amity, and when I opened my eyes, they went straight to him.
He barely blinked.
His head tilted slightly, he nodded, and left without another word.
A month later, I applied to work with Lauren. I thought it would be fun to help train incoming initiates, and Max liked the idea since my own story was impressive. He felt it would be inspiring for others to know they could choose somewhere out of their comfort zone and succeed, and it would look good for him, too.
Unfortunately for me, Lauren loathed the very idea. I heard her meltdown was loud and spectacular, but because Max was dead set on my story being one he could use to attract more initiates, I was assigned to work with Four.
I hesitated to accept the job because Four hadn't been even remotely cordial during my own initiation, but in the end, I didn't really have a choice. I shook Max's hand, smiled at Four, and ignored the furious and irritated glare of Eric, who was only there since Max forced him to be.
Four wasn't my ideal work partner in any way. He appeared insulted the first few days, was angry the entire second week, and finally relaxed during the third, when a rogue initiate broke his nose and he was forced to take the afternoon off, leaving me in charge. We got along amicably after that; he agreed it was nice to have someone to back him up, seemed to trust me, and didn't let anyone mess with me. We ate lunch together often, more out of necessity than anything, but it was nice not to eat alone.
I thought he had my back, maybe not as my friend, but at least as a co-worker.
That is, until now.
We'd been entered into the Dauntless Secret Santa because he'd submitted both our names. When he first told me, I thought he was joking. Four is almost always serious, has a tendency to look like he's sulking ninety percent of the time, and loathed interacting with most of the leaders. We routinely attended leadership meetings as back up, and were expected to be kept up to speed. We weren't exactly part of the office, but we were. I had figured we'd be left out of their party, since we were rarely up there anyway, but I was wrong.
Our presence is expected, as is our participation. The gift exchange is the last thing I expected Four to sign us up for. We weren't celebrating any real holiday, but the winter brought out some cheer I hadn't seen here before. The offices were all decorated in a blizzard of paper snowflakes, and Rylan's office had a decapitated snowman sitting outside of it. Even Jason's office had red and green paper chains linked around his door frame, and Linda's desk had a never-ending plate of icy blue frosted cookies.
I assumed I was safe from joining their office gift exchange, until Four handed me a piece of paper and told me to open it. I was expecting a schedule change, or maybe a meeting I wouldn't want to attend, but instead, I got Eric's name, written in perfectly even, dark letters.
"Are you serious?" I hiss at Four right as Lauren stomps passed, flipping her hair with annoyance at the sight of me. "You signed us up? You told me you hate giving gifts. You said presents are stupid!"
"I had to. Max made me," Four's answer is glum, but I still hate the expression on his face. He struggles to look sympathetic, and it makes me dislike him all over again. "I got Linda. I uh, had no clue you got Eric."
"What exactly am I supposed to get Eric Coulter for…for –"
"Christmas. That's what they said we're celebrating. Rylan read about the holiday and decided everyone will celebrate the night a fictional man in a red suit drops off gifts. There are elves involved, too. I don't know. He seemed very excited about it when I saw him." Four stops his explanation when I don't forgive him, and he sighs. "I'm sorry, Everly. Max watched me write my name and made me write yours, too. I think he made Eric sign up, as well."
"What does he even like?" I glare at Four, and the panic of trying to find a gift for the meanest, least friendly leader we have washes over me. "He hates me, you know. Ever since I spilled his coffee on him."
"Yeah, well…" Four fails at not laughing. "I'm sure he perked up when someone dry cleaned his uniform for him. He hates everyone, so don't take it personally."
"It is personal! I have to get him a gift," I glare harder, and Four holds his palms up innocently. "Trade me names."
"Hell no."
He stands up quickly, taking the paper with Linda's name on it, and high tailing it out of the breakroom before I can stop him. I watch the back of his head duck down as Jason walks by him, and his mood sours further when Rylan crashes right into him, loudly asking if Four can't see him because both his pants and shirt are camouflage.
I sit there by myself, listening to the chaos of the office, until my break is over. Jason and Rylan eventually close their office doors, and the rest of my time sitting there is pretty quiet. I trek downstairs to the initiation class, and I spend the rest of my afternoon ignoring Four.
He knows he deserves it.
He does try apologizing at the end of the day, but he laughs when he says it, and I know he doesn't mean a single word he's saying.
He's impressively tall.
I stand behind Eric in line to get coffee, staring at the back of him as I try to figure out what he'd like as a present. I've never really gotten super close to him, and I have to confess he's much larger than I remember. His black uniform is dark and pristine, and his boots are as large as my head. His shoulders are broad, his hair is buzzed to nothing on the sides and back, and his posture is arrogant. A few girls stare at him, including one behind the coffee bar, but no one dares speak directly to him. When he steps forward, his boots thud over the ground, and he barks his order at the girl like she's an idiot.
She quickly repeats back his order of a black coffee. No sugar. No cream. Not iced. Definitely not iced. If it's iced, he's going to rip her head off and throw it back to her.
I step forward to fill the space in line, and I crane my head up to compare us. My own size is unimpressive compared to his; my head comes up to somewhere near the middle of his back, my hair is a mess, and my feet are a third of his in size. He steps back when the barista tells him to wait there, and he nearly takes me out by sheer force.
"Fuck!"
He stumbles back right as I yelp in surprise. He catches me with one arm, and his grip is tight as he steadies both of us.
"What the hell are you doing? Why are you so close to me?" Eric snarls at me, with enough malice that I yank my arm back away from him and step away, right into someone else. Eric looks down in surprise, then straightens himself up. "Watch where you're going, Amity. Why are you sneaking around?"
"I wasn't sneaking around. You stepped on me!" I make the mistake of protesting, and the person behind mutters a worried shit. "Why did you step backward?"
Eric's expression darkens. He steps closer, towering over me by at least a foot, and I'm saved only because the barista calls his name. She yells it loudly, perhaps noticing he's about to murder me in the middle of their pricey coffee shop, and she's not in the mood to clean up any extra blood. It works. Eric changes his mind on killing me, and he stomps off to pick up his drink. He leaves with another dark look in my direction, and I ignore the heavy feeling of dread at him realizing I'm the one who is being forced to buy him a present.
"Uh…next." The barista waves at me, and I nearly forget I was here to order coffee.
I decide on something sweet and sugary, and by the time I finish it, I realize there is no way around it.
I'll have to get him a gift one way or another, and when he figures out it's from me, he'll definitely have a reason to kill me.
I summon all the courage I have.
In every way, this might be more nerve wracking than my fear landscape. I wait until he's alone, cheerfully stabbing macaroni and cheese onto a fork while frantically texting on his phone, and I approach Rylan with all the reluctance in the world. He doesn't look up, and it makes it all the worse when I have to greet him a second time.
"Hi."
He finally looks up, and when he realizes I'm talking to him, he stares at me like I'm an alien.
"Hi?" Rylan narrows his eyes suspiciously, and I do my best to remember his connection to Eric. I know who he is: one of our leaders, constantly shirking his work in favor of doing something fun, and generally the most friendly, and frankly, the least horrifying. I also know he's one of Eric's close friends, I know they worked together, and I know they both come from Erudite.
Other than that, I wasn't sure how Eric tolerated him. Eric is known to prowl around the compound like he owns the place, and Rylan is known to be leaping down the stairwells in an attempt to make Jason think they're haunted.
Even their physical differences would make me think they wouldn't be friends. Rylan isn't as intense looking, but he's still intimidating. Today, he's skipped wearing his actual leader's uniform in favor of wearing a dark long-sleeved top and a pair of skinny black pants, and his hair is twisted into a loose bun on the top of his head. His shoes are untied, there are black rubber bracelets on his wrist, with a tiny duck dangling from one of them. He's friendlier than Eric, but there's definitely a hint of authority to him, mostly because I'd seen him in action. He's serious when he needs to be, but only then. "Hello. What's up, Amity?"
I smile tightly, trying not to bristle at the name.
If anything, I'd never once announced my love for Amity. I'd pointed out several times that I had left my faction because I felt trapped, yet no one here seemed to remember.
It was my own fault, I suppose.
I hadn't purchased many items that screamed Dauntless. I couldn't bring myself to buy anything that wasn't a pretty dress, had some sort of ruffly hem, or was made of a soft fabric. For the first time in my life, I wasn't stuck with the option of only dresses made for a milkmaid, yet I kept buying anything I found that resembled my old wardrobe. Maybe it was a contrast to the hard, dark life here, or maybe I truly couldn't escape coming from Amity. Everything in my closet is far from your standard Dauntless trainer, and today, I feel like perhaps I should rethink that.
I fidget with my sleeve, ruched and pink, until I realize he's watching.
Rylan eyes my dress warily, then gestures for me to sit down. "Are you lost? Don't you normally eat with…Fourteen? Is our resident angst lord busy with the opening of our newest emo boutique? What's it called? Heated Interest? Burning Subject?"
"I don't always eat with him. I just work with him, so our lunch is at the same time," I answer, and I try not to laugh at Rylan's description. "And you aren't entirely wrong. He did buy a new shirt because he's getting a tattoo. I only know because he doesn't have many friends to share such news with."
This is far more than I plan on saying, but Rylan likes it.
"I wonder why," he retorts dryly, but his eyes light up. "Don't tell me. He's finally getting that unicorn on acid tattoo he's always wanted. During initiation, he wouldn't shut up about it. He's a brave man to come up with such a concept, I'll tell you."
"I don't know what he's getting, but I don't think it's that," I lose the battle not to laugh, and Rylan is clearly pleased. He smiles and sits up straighter, happy to have an audience other than his lunch. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something…other than Four."
He immediately scowls. "If you're here to file a report about the fires, it wasn't me. I already told Max I was sleeping when the fire alarms went off, and I have an alibi."
"No, it's about Eric." I lean in closer, and his eyes widen dramatically. "Um, can you tell me what he likes?"
"What he likes? Why do you need to know that? Do you want to date him?" Rylan also leans in, and his macaroni is abandoned. "You're a little too short for him. And he's not very friendly or romantic. He hates poetry. Says it a waste of time and didn't even want to read the ones I wrote for –"
"No, no!" I interrupt him, suddenly nauseous at the idea of Rylan thinking I wanted to date Eric. The last thing I need is him trotting over to Eric with such a hilarious tale. My cheeks burn at the very thought, because I'm pretty sure Eric would laugh in his face. "I got him in the Secret Santa gift exchange. I don't know what he likes other than…. well, not liking everyone. And how do I give him that?"
"Oh." The disappointment on Rylan's face is immediate. "Are you sure? He's free this Friday. We're supposed to have dinner, but I'll cancel if you want to ask him out."
"I'm pretty sure he'd rather die than have anything to do with me," I shake my head, and Rylan's disappointment intensifies. I find it funny he'd even think this is a possibility, considering Eric loathed anything and everything related to the Amity faction. "I bumped into him while getting coffee earlier, and he nearly bit my head off."
"Yeah…. he's not in the best mood these days," Rylan leans back, and his exhale is heavy. "He hates this time of year. It reminds him of his grandma."
"His grandma?"
Rylan glances around, and he tries to lower his voice so no one can hear except me. He's still loud, but it's fine, since no one is over here. "Okay, don't tell him I told you, because he'll kill me for real and I know he has a knife, but when he was little, his grandma used to make apple pies during the winter. It was my favorite time of year because I got to come over and eat with him. She was the best lady ever. She always made homemade pies, while Eric's mom always bought some shit from the store. Plus, she'd sit and tell us stories and make fun of his dad. I loved her so much."
"What happened to her?" I try to imagine Eric having a grandma, and the best I come up with is a terrifying woman who threw knives across a fancy kitchen if the pie didn't turn out right. "Is she still alive?"
"Sadly, Grandma Coulter died a few years ago. She always sent Eric pies here, and sometimes she'd come visit and rant about how Eric is still single, and she didn't get why, because he's so handsome. Highlight of my time here, really." Rylan reminisces, and his expression turns dark. "Anyway, that's why Eric hates this time of year. I tried to make it better by saying we'd celebrate Christmas, but so far all he's done is bitch about everything."
"Does he like his parents?" I pry a little further, hoping Rylan will give me more insight.
As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was fascinated hearing this sort of stuff. The rumors which surrounded Eric were always the same: he was violent, he worked with Erudite and couldn't be trusted, and he had little patience for everyone around him. None of the rumors were ever about who he was dating or his parents. The closest thing to gossip I ever heard was when he once cracked the barest of all smiles at his phone, and the girl behind him swore he was reading a text from a nameless girlfriend.
"Loathes him. His dad's a brain surgeon. So, you know, if you want your brain looked at, you could go visit him." Rylan offers. "His mom is a psychologist, but also a psycho. She only cares about him because he's a leader. If he was anything else, she'd lose her shit."
"Does he like –" I get cut off when Jason shows up.
He looks confused to see me sitting with Rylan, but he says hello to the both of us, and elbows Rylan as he sits down. "Hey, are you working today? I just got called out to walk with Harrison's squads. I guess three and five are down a few men. I thought maybe you'd want to go."
"I'm in! I am working, but I'm also not," Rylan agrees without any hesitation. "Oh, hey have you met Everly?"
"Uh, sort of. In the meeting. You train the transfers with Four, right?" Jason wrinkles his nose, and his expression is pained. "I don't know how you stand listening to him every day. He was in my office today to talk about initiate accidents by injury. I told him to go see Max. That's definitely not my department. I don't think it's anyone's department, actually."
"Yeah, he's…an acquired taste," I answer as evenly as I can, because really, Four didn't even like me half the time. And Jason is right –Four had been keeping track of all the injuries like he was going to be quizzed on them, and I was pretty sure no one had asked him to. "But yeah, I have been in a meeting with you. Harrison led it. It was the one about the…the vampire goat thing?"
"Chupacabra!" Jason's eyes light up, and he looks psyched that I've brought this up. "Holy shit, I forgot Harrison and I were going looking for it. He swears he's seen one down by the river. We even ordered night vision goggles for our stake out."
"Count me out," Rylan shakes his head. "I went with him to find the lake monster. Three days of my life, and all I got were splinters in my ass and a neckache from sleeping in the woods. Anyway, Everly and I were talking, because she's Eric's Secret Santa."
"Rylan, we aren't supposed to know who has each other!" Jason points out, then his eyes widen. "Wait, you have Eric? Seriously?"
"Yeah," I shrug, not liking the way Jason looks nervous. "Lucky me."
"What are you going to get him?" Jason glances down at his watch, then back at me. "He's supposed to meet me in an hour. Want me to ask him? I could report back. He might need a few things."
"No!" Rylan protests. "You can't ask him. He'll say boring shit like…a book or another book, or bullets. She should get him something personal."
"Because he's so personable?" Jason laughs, and he shoots me a sympathetic look. "I wonder who got you? What do you want for Christmas?"
"Hey, Everly, do you have a Grandma? Maybe she could make me an apple pie?" Rylan looks hopeful, then bummed when I shake my head.
"I don't. My mom can make apple pie. I'd like to see her." I try not to sound wistful, but I can't help myself. It felt like it had been years since I saw my mom, and when I'd left Amity, she'd looked both optimistic and terrified for me. "I miss her a lot."
"Okay, so you'd like your mom to visit. Anything else?" Jason stares intently, and I wonder if he drew my name.
"Maybe a dress that doesn't look like she just wandered in here directly off a pirate ship," Rylan interjects. "Unless Eric is into that sort of thing. Who knows? Maybe he likes role playing."
"Rylan, shut up," Jason laughs. "I want to hear what else she wants. I was asking Lauren what she was hoping to get, and she said poison. So uh, remind me not to eat anything she brings in."
"Well, I think it would be nice if maybe Eric didn't look like he wanted to stab me if I accidentally look at him in the next meeting?" I suggest, and Jason snickers. "Or a gift card to get coffee. That would work."
"Got it," Jason nods. He checks his watch again, and Rylan gets the hint.
"Alright, anything else you need, Amity?" He looks at me, then narrows his eyes. "How tall are you, by the way? Do you enjoy long walks through Dauntless while the security lights flicker in a suspicious manner?"
"Um, sure. Thank you. You've been very helpful, Rylan. Nice to see you again, Jason. Good luck on your….route." I stand up quickly, and I don't answer Rylan's questions of am I single and have I ever considered turning over to the dark side. I leave the mess hall feeling slightly defeated, and surprisingly homesick.
It's a weird feeling. It stays with me all night, so much so, that when I go to bed, I've never felt so lonely in my life.
On the dreariest Tuesday so far, Eric storms into the meeting like he's here to publicly execute someone. He's oddly late; I've never once seen him not be on time, and the look on his face is all I need to know that he's not thrilled with it, either. He surveys the room, scowls, then takes the only open seat at the table. I do my best not to look at him, because it's the one right next to me. He shoves the chair back, drops into it with an annoyed sigh, and crosses his arms.
Four elbows me, and he tries hard not to make eye contact with Eric. When I don't look at Four, he clears his throat. When this doesn't get him the attention he's looking for, he kicks my foot, and his attempt at subtly pointing out Eric is sitting by me –for whatever stupid reason he's come up with –fails.
Eric turns to glare at the both of us, but it lessens when we make eye contact. He eyes me suspiciously, like he hadn't been seconds away from murdering me in the coffee shop the last time we had met, and for a split second, he looks pleased. Then he smirks, and I know either Four or I are in for it.
"Is Four alright over there?" Eric asks slickly, and I notice he has nice eyes. He looks handsome in his uniform, and his hair is extra short today. He's massively tall beside me, and he leans over ever so slightly, enough that his arm touches mine. "He seems to be having some issues."
"He's always having issues," I answer brightly. Eric smirks even harder, and Four has the audacity to look insulted. "I think he wants to know if you've read his report about initiate injuries. He said he was going to email it to you."
"What?! I did not!" Four's hiss is rife with panic, as it should be.
Eric's stare lands on him, heavy and unyielding.
"Do me a favor," Eric looks over my head to flash Four a blinding grin. "Don't. Don't ever email me. Don't even try to contact me. You can take your stupid injury report and shove it up your –"
"Hey, hey! Sorry, I'm late. I think it's time we get this meeting started!" Max shows up at the exact moment I can tell Eric is about to leap over me and strangle Four. Max walks to the front of the conference room, where Jason and Rylan are arguing over where to hang the paper snowflakes they've made, and Tori hands him a thick stack of papers.
I slump in my seat, and I know this meeting is going to take forever.
Eric leans back next to me, and his foot hits mine.
I look up out of the corner of my eye, and he does his best to ignore my existence. Eventually, he does look at me. Probably because I'm staring at him, wondering who made his jackets, and what he looked like with it off, and he grunts a very low, nearly inaudible sorry.
"It's okay."
I whisper my answer, because Jason is staring at us so intently his face is bright red, Rylan has gotten himself tangled in a strand of lights he's trying to show Max, and the only other person paying attention is Linda. I spend the rest of the meeting splitting my time between taking notes, doodling flowers all over the paper, and sneaking glances at Eric in pure surprise that he apologized.
He spends most of the meeting on his phone.
He texts someone, furiously, then slower, then eventually slams the phone onto his leg. I catch a glimpse of the name Daniel on the screen, and Eric glares at me when he realizes I'm looking at him.
He doesn't speak to me again.
He does stand up near the end of the meeting, nearly knocking my chair out of the way as he storms past, and Eric doesn't return.
Not even when Four gives his presentation on injuries per initiate.
On Wednesday, I sit with Christina as she rambles off the thousand things she's getting Rylan for Christmas. The concept of them together is funny to me; they are both dramatic, both overly enthusiastic, and both incapable of speaking at a low volume.
I sip an overly fruity drink, something Lucy swore is meant to be Christmas themed, and the warm buzz betrays how cold it is. I lean back against the seat of the worn booth, quietly taking in every gift Rylan is getting, but my mind is elsewhere.
I'm dimly aware of Christina saying the words robotic, voice activated, remote controlled, hyper intelligent duck, but it loses out to trying to figure out what Eric is doing.
Two tables away, he sits with a guy I don't really know, watching him with some major disdain. He's half listening the same way I am; his attention flits between his drink –something dark and tall –and his phone. He toys with it a few times, swiping or tapping the screen, frowning and exhaling heavily when the guy keeps talking. I faintly hear the words 'leadership program', and a plea to take him on. Eric clearly isn't on board with whatever he's saying, because he shrugs indifferently, and looks past the guy's head, right at me.
Our eyes meet in the dark, warm glow of Clyde's ancient, creaky lanterns, and I feel the same way I felt when I stood on the edge of the roof and Jason goaded me to jump: my stomach turns over pleasantly, like this is the thrill I've been waiting for.
There's an odd shift that happens when he doesn't look away; the stoic appearance of him softens, and sitting there, with his jaw unclenched, he looks almost approachable.
Almost.
It's so subtle that I'm not sure I see it, but I do. It's the way his posture belies a longing to get the fuck out of this bar, out of this faction, perhaps not having someone yapping his ear off while he'd rather be elsewhere. I wouldn't say Eric is homesick for anything, but I understand his desire for more. Maybe he's lonely, maybe he's sick of listening to orders come in, day in and day out, or maybe he wants to go home and fuck whatever girl he can find to take his mind off someone begging to be made a junior leader, while Christina asked if I knew how to tell if robo duck is a boy or girl.
Whatever it might be, I feel it in my bones.
Eric holds my stare as I smile, because in front of me, Christina is trilling on about robotic duck food and how the duck can't get wet and she's not sure Rylan is capable of keeping it out of the shower, and I empathize with Eric on every level.
I'd come here to have a single drink after Four lost his shit during today's training and took it out on me, and I'd agreed to meet up with Christina out of sheer desperation for a distraction.
Beneath a beam with a strange animal skull mounted on it, still dressed in his uniform, still looking at me, Eric smiles back.
It's not so much a genuine, all out grin, but more that his lips turn up the slightest, for a split second before he can stop himself. His eyes immediately drop back to the guy still pleading to take on more responsibility. The moment is shattered, oh so quick and oh so guilty feeling, and I think he feels it, too. Eric's expression tenses as he finishes his drink in a few large, impatient sips, and he looks at me once more.
They leave before Christina and me.
I go back to reassuring Christina that Rylan will be fine with the duck, and more than likely, nothing bad will happen. We share a few laughs over his gift to her: a giant, life sized cut out of himself, with a note saying it's so she'll never forget him, and our evening winds down as the after-work crowd begins to come in.
The increasing buzz makes my head hurt, so I tell Christina I'm going to make my way home. When I ask for my check, Lucy shakes her head, and her expression is just as confused as mine.
My drink has been paid for, including the tip, and I'm told to enjoy my night.
Thursday ticks by faster than I want it to.
With great horror, I realize I only have only tonight before I have to turn in my gift for the Secret Santa party. I've been wracking my brain to come up with a gift for Eric that's acceptable, yet safe. Socks. A new jacket. Pomade for his hair. A gift card for him to get coffee, though given our run in at the coffee shop wasn't pleasant, and a gift card from there seemed telling it would be from me. I spent an hour wandering a store trying to decide if I could guess what size black shirt he wore, and I did my best not to blush when the girl working pushed some dark boxers in my direction and cheerfully said my boyfriend might like them, cringing when she threw other underwear at me, claiming it was a popular gift this year.
I left with nothing.
Well, nothing other than a headache, a nervousness feeling in my stomach since Eric would more than likely hate whatever I got him, and a pain in my chest because the homesickness I'd never had during initiation hit me full force. It was so strong I nearly stopped in my tracks, and instead, I stumbled through to the Pit and pressed my palms to my eyes. I told myself I was being stupid, and I'd chosen Dauntless, and I could suck it up and get on with my day.
Which is what I'm telling myself now, as I stand in my kitchen. I'm staring at the bleak appliances, probably dragged far beneath the ground years ago, and the squeaky cabinets. The black refrigerator, holding the few groceries I'd bought, and the note on my door from my dad, telling me he loved me. I'd managed to hold onto it all through initiation, even when we were forced to turn in any of the items we'd brought with us. I stare at it until my eyes blur, and it suddenly hits me what I can do. I don't know how I didn't think of this before, or if it'll even be considered a gift, but it's better than buying him something he'll never use.
Not to mention, there's the slightest chance it'll make his shitty mood a little less shitty.
I get to work quickly, and fortunately, I have everything I need.
The party is held on the roof.
I shiver next to Christina, walking carefully up the steps and trying not to slip. I'm not sure why Rylan took the holiday theme seriously enough that he wanted us to celebrate outside, but this is where we were instructed to go. The rooftop –the very same one I learned to shoot targets on –is decorated to its fullest extent. There are large bonfires lit every few feet, large piles of snow, a few ice sculptures, trees decorated with lights and empty beer bottles, and a few makeshift bars set up.
It's a rather large party considering the Secret Santa exchange is supposed to be only the leaders, but it appears Rylan has invited everyone he knows to attend.
Which basically amounts to the entire faction.
"Hey! Put your gifts over here!" Linda greets us cheerfully, if not a little loopily. The drink in her hand glows a florescent red, and I would bet anything it's stronger than she's thinking. "Everly! You look so pretty! Christina, you too!"
"Thanks. So do you," I set the box down on the table, and I glance around to see if anyone is watching. The Secret Santa exchange is supposed to be completely secret. Rylan swore no one would ever know who the gifts are from, and that was part of the fun. I'd placed the pie in a large cake box, wrapped it up in pretty paper, and the only bow I had was pink. I stuck it next to the tag with Eric's name, and I thought it looked lovely.
He might not, but oh well.
"Come on. Let's get a drink," Christina insists, and she tosses her gift onto the table. I knew she'd gotten Four, and she'd bought him a book on how to make friends, along with a bunch of shirts that weren't grey. "Look! I helped Rylan put up the garlands."
I follow her easily, having no real plans other than being here long enough that I could go home and people would be able to say they saw me. I wave hello to Max, smile at Jason, slip by Karl and his friends standing around a bonfire, and we end up in one of the shorter lines for drinks. I do my best to ignore the cold chill in the air while Christina points out the menu. I try to decide what to order, but I look over to see Rylan waving wildly. He dramatically gestures for me to head over to him, so I tell Christina I'll be right back.
I make a beeline for him, and he hands me a drink while telling me to hurry up and down it.
"Why?" I'm instantly suspicious, and his mischievous grin makes me even more nervous. "Did you make it?"
"Yes!" He says proudly, and I take the most hesitant sip ever. I don't know why I'm surprised it's so strong, and he watches to make sure I drink more. His expression is expectant, and I gag when I try to swallow the burning liquid.
"Rylan, this is…gross." I try to hand it back, because it's so strong there's no way I can drink the whole thing. The look on his face makes me feel bad, so I pull my arm away. "Sorry, I don't normally drink anything with so much…. alcohol in it."
"I'm just trying to make sure you have fun," he frowns, and to humor him, I take another sip, and this one is just as hard to swallow. I decide that's enough, because I'm immediately warm, despite my dress and boots being a poor choice of clothing. "Hey, I wanted to ask you what you got Eric."
"Well," I look around to make sure he isn't nearby, and Rylan smiles.
"Don't worry. He's not here yet. Actually, I don't know if he'll show up. He claims he's…. tired."
"I made him something. I made a –" I stop talking when Eric appears right behind Rylan, looking pretty cranky. It's his usual look: tense shoulders, unimpressed stare, and tight jaw. He looks at Rylan for a second with a funny look on his face, then me. He nods, the most polite greeting anyone could ask for, and I smile.
Stupidly.
I blame Rylan's drink.
"Hi."
"Hello," he answers coolly, and Rylan adds a third hello, low and snickering as he sneaks away like he's planned this. Eric watches him, then looks back at me. "What did Rylan want? What is he telling you?"
"He uh, made me this drink and he wanted me to try it?" I hold it up, and Eric raises his eyebrows. "It's very strong. Like, really strong."
"I'm pretty sure that's made of entirely alcohol," Eric tilts his head, stepping forward to inspect the drink. He's so close his chest is nearly touching me, and the rest of the party fizzles away with the realization that he's standing here, talking to me. "I wouldn't drink anything he makes. Last year, Jason spent three days with Arlene after he and Rylan made their own energy drinks."
"Are you serious?" I tilt my head up at him, and in the cold air and dark sky, he's striking. His cheekbones are sharp and high, the piecing above his eyebrow is pulled taught, and the heavy gauges in his ears are a definite contrast against his skin. "How is he…"
"Alive?" Eric snorts. "Good question."
"Do you want to try this?" I wiggle the drink at him, wondering how close he'll let me get, and the idea of knowing him seems like an appealing challenge. I'd already spotted him being upset over his father, and uninterested in whatever some random member was asking him. He'd smiled at me, once, sort of, maybe, and now, he's eyeing me intently.
His gaze drops from my eyes, to my mouth, to the drink.
He pries it out of my fingers. Eric drinks a large sip then immediately makes a disgusted face. "What the fuck. Don't drink anymore. You'll die."
I reach to take it back, and my fingers touch his hand. My hands are cold; the dress I'd picked out is flimsy, and my leather jacket does little to keep me warm. His hands are not cold, and I feel more than raw jealousy over his internal body temperature when he closes the minute gap between us.
"What should I drink then?"
"What do they drink in Amity?" He looks down at me, not mean and not malicious, but genuinely curious. "Juice?"
"Sometimes. If you really wanted to get wild, we'd occasionally make milkshakes," I hope he knows I'm kidding. Amity actually produces all the beers sent to Dauntless, but it's likely he knows this. Christina told me Eric and Rylan were frequently seen at Clyde's. It appeared the most popular way to unwind in Dauntless is with a beer, and they had a table they always sat at, and a lone waitress brave enough to wait on them. "Although if you want to get really wild, you should try the lemonade Carole makes. It tastes pretty close to this."
He struggles not to smile. I like the look on his face, because it's clear affection, and the most basic concept of fun does not come easily to him. It might be from years of leading the faction, or perhaps he is just a serious person who didn't normally joke around. But it's obvious he's not hating this moment.
At least not until Lauren shows up.
"What the fuck are you two talking about?"
She shatters the bubble we're in with a pop. Her arrival blazes with pure, raw jealousy over how close Eric is to me, and the private conversation we'd been having. She has no clue the steps it's taken to get here, nor that our conversation was hardly deep. Lauren slithers closer, her skintight jeans and matching shirt as black as the night sky, and she stares me down like I've personally wronged her.
"Excuse me?" I tilt my head in confusion, and Eric really pisses her off because he steps closer, almost in front of me. His hand grazes my side, and his fingers press there, pulling me back.
Away from her.
"Fuck off, Lauren. This doesn't involve you," he snarls without an ounce of patience. "Go see what Four is doing."
"She's from Amity," Lauren retorts, and she says Amity like it makes her mouth feel dirty. "This is really what you're into? Are you serious?"
"Go," he answers her evenly, but the dangerous undertone makes even me nervous. His fingers creep up, higher, and I'm against his side before she can realize he's not fucking around. "If I have to tell you again, you'll meet the concrete a few floors down."
He's not just warm, he's hot.
I lean against him, just once to see how it feels, and it's exactly what I would imagine: safe. He's strong and steady, and my head hits somewhere near the middle of his chest. I stand there as Lauren slinks away –although not without one final sneer in my direction –and there's an awkward beat as we both stand in silence.
Then he lets go like his hand is on fire, and he vanishes into the party without another word.
I would normally wallow in a sea of disappointment and horror at what's just happened, but instead, I feel weirdly drunk, more so off Eric touching my side than Rylan's drink.
I stand there until Christian finds me, and cheerfully shoves a hot chocolate in my hands, and leads me away to come meet her friend.
A few hours later, I'm done.
I've had a single glass of something less toxic than Rylan's handcrafted cocktail, I'd gone to the bathroom with Christina to help her fix her hair, and I'd talk to Karl and CJ about what jobs they'd taken. I'd met a lot of new people, made plans to hang out with some, and had my fill of being outside. My fingers are numb as I hug Christina goodbye, and I thank her for coming with me. Rylan thrusts an envelope into my hands, warns me not to open it until tomorrow, and winks.
I say goodbye to Jason, wave at Max for the second time –noticing he and Arlene are deep in a heated conversation while Four stands there looking like an awkward child waiting for his parents to finish arguing –and I head for the stairs. I make it a whole two steps before I slip, and I'm saved by Eric grabbing me. He's coming up the stairs at the same time I'm going down them, and he catches me before I manage to fall any further.
I gasp out a thank you, but he doesn't let go.
His fingers curl into my back as I throw my arms around his neck, and were he not holding onto me, I'd tumble right down the stairs.
"I'm so sorry!" I blurt out, and the look on his face is highly amused. "Thank you! I guess I missed a step."
"Are you always this graceful?" He quirks one eyebrow at me, and my fingers move on their own. They move up to touch the back of his hair, and it's soft beneath my fingertips. "What are you doing, Amity? Are you drunk? Did you go back and finish Rylan's drink?"
"Yeah, yeah maybe," I answer him, but I'm shaking my head no. I'm hardly drunk. If anything, maybe the slightest bit tipsy, but the alcohol has made me brave. "Eric, why were you going to kill me in the coffee shop?"
"What?" He looks confused, and he cocks his head as he realizes what I'm talking about. "Oh, when I stepped on you. I…"
Eric stops talking. He presses his lips together, and I hold on tighter, pulling him closer while he tries to justify himself being mad when he stepped on me.
"I uh…" he pushes his lip out, and his head tilts toward me. "You were in my way. I don't know."
"You crashed into me," I remind him, and the whole entire world turns melty. Maybe more than melty. It bursts into flames, explodes in succession, and all but combusts, because he lets go to move his hand to my hair, and he grasps a fistful in the back. He bends his head down, and he says my name right before his lips touch mine.
"Sorry, Everly."
The way he says it makes it sound far cooler than it really is. He exhales it like some dark secret, and he yanks me against him, kissing me with a pent-up frenzy that makes my heart speed up. The world of Dauntless and Rylan's winter wonderland fizzles in comparison to his teeth hitting mine, the way he takes my lower lip between his, and the grunt of frustration when someone yells his name.
He ignores them.
His other hand finds my neck, large and warm and possessive, and he cups my jaw as he deepens the kiss. His lips are soft. They are warm and lush, and I sink against him, kissing him back with a lust I'm not expecting. I dig my nails into his hair. I try to get closer, fumbling to stay pressed against him. He seems to share my sentiments; a second passes and my feet leave the stairs, and Eric's tongue touches mine.
He breaks apart when someone yells his name again, uttering a single, furious fuck and stepping back. I stare up at him, trying to catch my breath. It comes in uneven, unattractive gasps, and my blood pumps so loud it's all I can hear.
"I uh, I have to go." Eric looks at me, my cheeks burning and my hair a mess, and his eyes are dark. "Don't…trip –"
He stops, and his gaze is wild. I go to thank him again, for saving my life this time, but I don't get the chance. He leans in, and his lips brush against mine, longing and desperate, and I whimper when he pulls away. The moment is really gone when he shoves by me without a single word, and I turn to watch him disappear into the crowd.
My gaze strays skyward.
Above us, is a long strand of holly, a few pieces of mistletoe, and the horrified, grossed out yet obviously jealous stare of Four.
I throw him a dirty look, then I take the stairs two at a time, until I reach the bottom.
I look back only then, hoping to see Eric, thinking maybe he'll follow me, or maybe he'll come back to tell me he wants to kiss me again and he's never really hated me.
I wait another few seconds, until the sky is even darker and the party roars to an even higher volume.
He doesn't come back.
"You don't actually like him, do you?"
Four, with the emotional range of an actual four-year-old, makes a face. He's annoying; he scrunches up his nose and mouth, and he stops short of pretending to gag. I pretend I can't see him, and the coffee line moves at a snail's pace, giving him plenty of time to bother me.
"Everly!"
"Four, go away. Don't you have a…someone else to talk to?" I look at him for a single second. He's a little too smug looking for my liking, and I take comfort in knowing he'll be bald by the time he's forty. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Oh, you don't want anyone to know you kissed Eric? Is it because he could murder you? You can tell me. I know he kissed you twice. I saw every second of it," Four insists, and I try to push him away from me.
Unfortunately, the coffee shop is crowded. He ends up stumbling into a girl with a mohawk who is taller than he is, and he mumbles a quick apology before she can rip his head off.
"Why were you watching me?" I glare at him, and he fixes his shirt for no reason. "What is your deal?"
"I was looking out for you!" He exclaims. "I saw him give you that drink and I figured he was trying to drug you. I was right. There's no other reason you would want to kiss him."
He looks triumphant in his logic, and it's then I decided Four will likely die before anyone ever kisses him.
"He didn't drug me. Rylan made me the drink. I was leaving and slipped on the stairs, and he caught me. I liked kissing him. I was enjoying myself, but you must have missed that part." I scowl, although I ease up when I see he looks genuinely confused. "Wait, you really thought he was trying to kill me?"
"Yes!" Four is a little too loud. The girl in front of me turns around, and I smile blandly until she sees I'm fine. "I honestly thought he'd hurt you. He's dangerous. Up until a few weeks ago, he was working for Jeanine."
"What happened a few weeks ago?" I step forward, and Four sticks right by me. "Four, answer me or I'm calling out all next week and you can train the class by yourself. And I know you don't want that because you already told me you wanted to take Friday off."
"Fine," Four exhales in exasperation. he knows I will call out and he knows Max will approve it. "No one really knows. He was working on some project for her, got fed up, told off Max, and they told Jeanine they were done. He seemed pretty fed up with whatever she wanted from him, and Max agreed."
"And you know this how?"
Four hesitates. He hems and haws, examining a rack of coffee mugs until I kick him. "Fine. I was waiting to talk to Max. I just happened to be there. I don't think any better of Eric. I just know he was hunting people down and something made him stop."
"Well, then…good for him?" I shrug, and I order my coffee quickly. Four adds his order onto mine, and I grudgingly let him pay. "Why don't you like him?"
"I have my reasons," Four tries to add some mystery to his life, but my unimpressed stare makes him crack a pretty dry smile. "Lifelong rivalry. Or initiation long rivalry. Nothing major. He's just…obnoxious."
"I suppose that's valid." I step to the side to wait for my drink, and I try to figure out how to get Four to shut up. "Will you do me a favor? Just…keep quiet about it. I'll cover for you Friday. You don't even have to submit a request for the day off."
"Why?" Four stares. I dislike the way he's looking at me. I can see his brain whirling with theories, but none are as satisfactory as knowing the truth. "Are you…with him?"
I stare back at Four, and I decide fuck it. He's not going to leave me alone, nor will I hear the end of this, even if I cover for him.
So, I smile sweetly, and wink as I grab my coffee.
"Oh, Four. Eric and I aren't just together. We're married."
I toy with the envelope.
The paper is thick; it's heavy and expensive, a dark cream color with black lettering. My name is written elegantly, in handwriting far too nice for Dauntless, and it's so perfect I hesitate before ripping it open.
I do, when I realize I'll never know what's inside if I don't.
I slide my finger beneath the sticky seal, and inside is a card. It has a black tree on it, and the print inside says Merry Christmas.
Beneath that, in the same handwriting, is a time, a place, and a date.
Today.
Clyde's.
6:00 pm.
"Shit!" I realize it's nearly five thirty now, and had I not opened this, I'd have missed whatever it is. I figure I'll brush my hair and change, and hopefully, whatever my gift is, it's better than Four grilling me about my love life.
Or lack of it.
I leave my apartment in a hurry, and I forget all about him as I try to make it to Clyde's on time.
"Oh my…. Everly."
My mother crushes me against her, and she holds me so tightly my eyes water. They aren't really watering. I'm horrified to discover I can't stop myself from crying, and the action is strange. I'm not someone who routinely bursts into tears, but right now, there's nothing I can do to stop myself.
She holds on like she's desperate to see me, one hand on my back, one on my hair, and she smells like home. Like fresh lavender, like clean sheets, like the cold air by the lake and the sweet flowers in her garden. Her dress is one she's worn a million times; it's soft and pink, and her own dark hair hangs down just as long as mine.
When I lift my head away from her, I realize quite a few members are gaping. They are all young soldiers, staring at my mother in total confusion, but also with a lot of amusing appreciation. She looks too pretty to be in here, and she smiles brightly as she smooths my hair down.
"You look beautiful. I can't believe how different…" she trails off, then shakes her head. "Actually, no. You still look like Everly. Just…more alive."
"How did you get here?" I manage to gasp, and everything pales in comparison to seeing her.
Amity is far from Dauntless. It sits at the farthest point from the faction, secluded and quiet.
"I'm supposed to tell you that it's on behalf of your Secret Santa. But if you have to know, Forrest drove me. He said to tell you hello. He'll be back to pick me up." She lets go and points to a booth, and there are a few other things on it. Two bags and one box. "I brought you a few things. The other is from…"
"Jason?" I guess, because he's been there when I told Rylan I missed my mom. "Did he come get you?"
"No," she shakes her head, and she looks awfully pleased. "I promised I'd keep it a secret."
"Tell me, "I laugh, and I join her at the table. I slide into the booth, and she pushes the box at me. It's wrapped just as neatly as the envelope had been, and my mother nods encouragingly. "Am I supposed to open this?"
"Yes!" My mom's eyes are bright, and she watches with a knowing smile as I unwrap it. It takes me a second to undo everything, and I lift the lid off to reveal soft, pink fabric. I touch it gingerly, and when I pull it out, it's the prettiest dress I've ever seen. "They were hoping you'd like it."
"Is it from Amity?" I hold it up, and I know it's not. The fabric is too nice, the stitching is far more professional than anything I've seen back home, and the tag on it reads Siriano. It tells me to hand wash it in cold water, and to come see him if I have any issues. "Okay, you know who this is from. Tell me."
"I promised I wouldn't," my mother shakes her head, and she graciously accepts a drink from Lucy. It's only water, and Lucy eyes her intently as she tells us both she'll be back for our real drink order. "Whoever your mystery person is, they wanted to make sure you'd get something you liked."
"This is…I don't even know what to say." I put the dress back in the box, and I close the lid. "I actually…now I don't think I did enough for mine. I made them something. I should have done more."
"Everly," my mom beams, even though I'm feeling a wave of guilt over making Eric a pie, and she reaches for my hand. "I think you did just fine."
Her words make no sense. I blink in confusion, but everything makes sense a moment later.
Three tables away, seated alone, with a single drink in his hands and his stare aside just enough that it looks like he isn't watching, is Eric.
"Was it you?"
I don't run into him this time.
He knocks on my door shortly after my mom leaves. He announces he's here on business; Eric hands me paperwork Four and I both need to sign, and I'm surprised to see Eric not in uniform. His black t-shirt looks soft and worn, and his black pants are casual. He throws me a funny look, and I take the papers and sign them while he watches. He stares intently, making sure I sign every page, and I'm so nervous I sign most without looking.
"Was what me?"
"My mom. She was here a few hours ago. Did you…did you bring her here?" I crane my head up at him, and I struggle with what Four had told me. I try to imagine Eric hunting someone down, and I can. He's fit and built for violence, and the severe haircut and dark tattoos further the persona. "I mean, she said my brother drove her, but did you go and see her?"
"Does it matter?" He chews on the side of his cheek, but he knows this does matter. If he is my Secret Santa, not only did he go to Amity to have my mother come here, he had someone make me a dress. A pink dress, much like the ones I wore when I wasn't stuck working with Four, in the same style as the one I currently have one. "Eden was here, and it was fine. I'm sure. It looked fine."
I freeze.
It was him.
He said her name, not something that's widely known, and in this moment, I know Eric Coulter went to Amity to invite my mother here. The gesture speaks volumes given how uncomfortable he looks.
"I had you," I blurt out, and I regret taking my shoes off. He's so much taller that I have to work to see him, especially with how close he's standing. "I made you –"
"I know," Eric cuts me off, and he looks to the side of me. "I knew it was from you. No one has ever…I don't normally get presents like that. Not ones that mean anything. Rylan told me he talked to you."
We stare at each other, him dressed in black, me in pink, and neither of us look away. There's a minute where I could swear I see the future, and it involves him and I, and a happily ever after that doesn't have me spending the rest of my days watching Four complain about how many punching bags need to be upgraded.
There's a real chance at understanding here.
Being with someone who isn't so desperate to prove how cool or edgy they are, and perhaps living quietly, away from the rest of the faction.
"Rylan said your grandma used to make them." This time, I'm the one to close the gap between us. He looks at me incredulously, like he can't quite believe I'm not afraid of him, and his posture stiffens. "I thought maybe it would be nice to have one again. My dad taught me how to bake and –"
"Everly, did you tell Four you were married to me?" Eric cuts me off, and once again, I fear for my life. I try to answer him, but nothing comes out.
Probably because my explanation won't be as funny as the look on Four's face was when I said it.
"I um, I just…Four is a weirdo! He was spying on me!" I look at Eric and I hope he has even the smallest sense of humor. He probably doesn't, which is why he's here, in my apartment with a dark look on his face. "He saw us kiss, and he kept grilling me about it. I wanted him to leave me alone."
"So, you told him we were married?" The piercing above his eyebrow is pulled taught, and he looks…. oddly interested in this idea. "Did you ever think of running that by me?"
I stare up in horror, but he still doesn't look mad. He looks fairly smug, especially when his fingers touch mine, and he skims them up to my wrist. He pulls me closer, and the smirk from earlier is replaced by the faintest flicker of hesitation.
"He came to my office demanding to know if it's true," Eric lowly informs me, bending his head down. I tilt mine up, and rise up on my toes, moving my hands up and around his neck to hold on. Eric smiles, and his forehead touches mine for a second before his lips press against my own. "I told him yes."
This time, there is no mistletoe. There is no Rylan and his thousand proof drink, no Four spying from above, and no one else but Eric and me, in a warm apartment, both agreeing we were fine with the idea of being married.
It's obvious he really likes the idea.
He keeps kissing me; my hands grasp onto his hair, and he walks us back a step. He doesn't let go. He continues until we near the kitchen, my back hitting the wall, and he breaks apart long enough to look at me.
Eric raises one hand up to touch my cheek, then slides it into my hair. His eyes are dark, not so grey and not so cold, and he smiles.
It's both a smirk and real, and it lasts mere seconds.
He kisses me again, slamming me back into the wall, and I think at some point, we agree that neither of us should tell Four the truth.
Ever.
"Hey, where do you want the ice sculpture? It's me, holding a duck. Several ducks, actually."
Rylan stands in front of me with a slick grin, and he gestures to the hallway. Several men are moving what is, in fact, an ice sculpture of him, and there are multiple ducks.
Too many ducks.
I'd taken him with me to Amity a few months ago. I was going to visit my parents, and he'd tagged along out of pure curiosity. He immediately fell in love with not the faction, not the wide-open spaces, and not even the girls giggling at him in his uniform, but with the wildlife. He was drawn to the ducks waddling down the dirt path, and he was wildly disappointed when my mother told him he couldn't take one back with us.
To ease his disappointment, she sent him weekly updates on how the ducks were doing. He named all of them, pinned up pictures of his favorites, and started a duck themed blog, which he mostly worked on during his office hours, until Max made him go back to doing actual work.
"I guess…outside. With the rest of the décor," I smile wryly, and Rylan leaves Eric's office to oversee the ice sculpture's journey to the roof.
"Is everything okay?"
I turn to see Eric standing there, fixing his uniform. He adjusts the collar, scowls, and comes to a stop by me. I turn and reach up until I can touch the collar, and I fix it for him.
"It's better now," I keep my fingers there, letting them touch his neck where they can, and his lips turn up to form a quietly happy smile. "I was just going to come find you. Do you want to go get something to eat with me? I have some free time."
"Is your boss going to allow that?" Eric snickers, and his arms snake around my waist. He pulls me flush against him, and he's not happy until there's no space between us. "I heard a rumor that he's an asshole."
"I don't know, I kind of like him," I kiss him once, gently, until his eyes close, and I know lunch will be pleasant.
I'd quit working with Four shortly after the last initiation. It became clear things with Eric weren't going to slow down, and they didn't. Not many girls were brave enough to tell someone they were married to Eric, let alone confess it to him. He liked the idea so much he made it permanent; I'd signed my own wedding license while thinking I was signing training paperwork, and I figured it out when I got a letter saying I was being evicted from my apartment by the housing administration.
It was a bold move on Eric's part; we barely knew each other, and living together – while actually being married – could have been a disaster.
It wasn't.
It was quiet and warm. He was very, very different without everyone around him, and I had all the appreciation in the world for the life he'd created here. He had a far nicer apartment than mine, a slew of fancy kitchen appliances, a giant bed, and a closet where he made space for me to hang up my clothes. I spent my nights curled around him, on top of him, or beneath him. I figured out how to deal with his cranky moods. Most of them came from being over worked and underappreciated but they vanished slowly once he was home. I even figured out how to make his favorite dinner, which cheered him up until the smoke detector went off, and he was going to be forced to help finish the dinner.
He didn't.
We went to Clyde's.
Life is different these days; I no longer have to listen to Four talk about riveting topics like which toothpaste he prefers or how many days he's worked without a day off, and my new boss, Eric, lets me have lunch with him every day, for as long as I want. Hiring me on as his assistant was another bold move, and I was stunned when Max approved it.
Turns out, he'd been hoping Eric would end up married so someone else could keep tabs on him.
"Good," Eric mutters, and he kisses me back firmly, until Jason yells from one office over for us to hurry the fuck up so we can all go eat. "By the way, I still hate Four. Even if he did give me your name on purpose."
I pull back to look up at Eric's smug expression, and I resist the urge to go downstairs and smack Four.
I saw him a few days ago, sulking around in the Pit, talking to some girl who I swore was friends with Christina, and he'd waved. It was angsty and unfriendly, and I'd heard he hated his new assistant trainer.
Oh well.
I'm sure he and Brittney will get along just fine.
At least until he put her name in the next Secret Santa exchange.