Tris' POV

Molly's eyes widen and she clears her throat. "No way," she says. "I don't have a death wish."

She pulls her shirt over her head and drops it into her lap. She folds her arms across her bare chest, her cheeks crimson. I clamp my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh. She is never going to forget this, and nor am I. Her lack of clothing should make me uncomfortable, but I'm strangely calm and slightly amused. I glance at Four, and my smile falters. He stares ahead, his eyes cold and his expression hard. His posture is rigid, his face tense and strained. I feel a sudden desire to comfort him.

"Stiff," Molly spits, venom dripping from every word. "Candor or Dauntless?"

I shrug. "Dauntless," I say.

Molly smirks. "I dare you to sit on Four's lap for the rest of the game."

I see Four stiffen, his eyes widening in shock. I swallow nervously. I glance at Eric; a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth and his eyes sparkle with… amusement? I frown. I could easily choose to refuse the dare, but that would require me to remove my jacket, leaving me in just a t-shirt and jeans. The game only seems to be getting harder, so that would make me more vulnerable further on. I meet Four's gaze, and raise an eyebrow questioningly at him. He shrugs, trying to hide his discomfort.

I take a deep breath in attempt to calm my nerves and slowly rise from my seat. I can feel the heat rushing to my face as I cross the room, the other initiates intently following my every move. I pause at Four's side and take yet another deep breath. I slowly lower myself into his lap, grateful that my hair acts as a curtain between us.

Four snakes his arm around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer to him. His fingers interlock with mine and he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, too quiet for anyone else to hear. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Silence stretches between us, making me question whether or not he heard me. I fight the urge to turn around and face him.

Eric clears his throat. "Stiff, it's your turn."

My head snaps up. "Oh, um…" I pause thoughtfully. "Peter, Candor or Dauntless?"

Peter scowls at me. "I've already had a go, choose someone else."

I smile. "I can choose whoever I like," I say, turning towards Uriah. "Right?"

Uriah nods, his eyes glistening in excitement.

"Fine," Peter spits. "Candor."

"PANSYCAKE!" Uriah shouts, pointing at him accusingly. "And you call yourself Dauntless."

Peter glares at him, but otherwise stays silent.

I hate to revisit the subject, but my curiosity overpowers me. "If you really would… date me," I say, bile rising in my throat. "Then why do you continuously taunt me?"

Peter blushes. "Because you're a Stiff, okay?" He snaps. "You're a goody-goody, imbecilic little girl who looks like a twelve-year-old and always puts other people before herself."

His words come as a shock to me, and I can't help but feel a little hurt. Is what he said true?

Four gently caresses my hand. "You aren't making me uncomfortable, Tris," he says. I rest my head against his chest, relishing in his scent. "And don't listen to that weasel, you're amazing."