Never has the bed smelled so good. The scent of clean sheets, cologne and musk; a match made in heaven. Is this what heaven smells like? If so, I'd like sign up right away.

The smell is familiar though, like it belongs to someone… someone like… Eric Coulter. Lightning shatters my snuggle session and my eyes fly open in alarm. A few things hit me at once. One; the sunlight coming through the window. Two; there is water running from the door beside me. Three; the room holds personal belongings and a wardrobe. Four; I'm in the middle of a king-sized bed with sheets wrapped around me like a cocoon. Five; I distinctively recall collapsing onto a black couch in the living room, not a black bed.

At the last fact, I wrench my arm out under the blankets and feel the area beside me. My palm skims up the pillows and down the bed, finding the space cold – he didn't sleep here. As if the dam gates opened, relief floods through my body. But the feeling doesn't last long when I remember that today is Monday. A long stare at the bedside clock that reads nine thirty-eight am confirms that I'm indeed late for the sims. It doesn't help when the water stops running too.

Wild panic rises in me; just what I needed. "Oh crap." Eric will appear any second now. I try to wiggle out of the cocoon in frantic movements, but the fabric doesn't loosen fast enough. The curses that tumble out of my mouth would disappoint my parents as I battle against an inanimate object.

It's only when I collide onto the ground does the blanket give way. But by that time, I'm already a second too late. Eric stands at the opened bathroom door, dressed in nothing except a towel around his hips with steam escaping into the bedroom. The scene is much like those dramatic space entrances I watch on tv, minus the nakedness. He looks down amused with his hair damp and sticking to the sides of his head. Out of all the four sides I could've fell, I choose the one closest to the door. Why am I like this? "Good morning." His voice is husky; a tone I would appreciate given that I'm not currently dying from embarrassment.

"Hi." The greeting sounded more like a squeak than anything else. My eyes dart away from him towards the blankets that are half on the bed, and half on me. Could this get any worse?

"You know, if you were so desperate to see it, you could've just asked." My mind jumbles up and my face squeezes together, completely confused on what he's talking about. And only by staring dumbly at his cocky smirk do I register that he's referring to his cock – of which I definitely could not see.

My face immediately heats up and I jerk away from him. "N-n-no, th-this isn't what it looks like." The words splutter out nervously. If dying from embarrassment is a thing, I would be 6 feet deep already. Eric cracks up, body shaking as he watches me squirm uncomfortably half a meter away from his feet. I do my best to make myself look less of a fool by pulling the covers over my face and groaning.

"Aww… No, don't be like that." Eric coos, playfully tugging the covers at my head. My fingers curl around the soft fabric tighter; to hell if they're gonna budge. With another small tug, the practically naked man walks away from my pitiful puddle. Yes, please leave.

The footsteps grow softer as he moves away from me. "You can come out now." The humor in his voice is unmistakable; good that at least one of us is finding joy in this.

Slowly, I lower the blankets from my face. As assured, Eric is no longer staring down at me, probably disappeared into the room. I blow out the air through my mouth and finally escape the sly blankets, freeing my lower limbs at last. Bunching up the fabric, I get to my feet and toss them back onto the bed.

Eric stands in front of the opened wardrobe with his back towards me. This wouldn't have been a problematic sight if it weren't for the fact that the towel around his waist was shifting and loosening. My eyes widen in horror and I make a dash to the exit.

This was not what I expected how the morning should've panned out.

I was expecting waking on a couch in Eric's apartment feeling like an utter idiot for asking him to bring me here. As I said yesterday, I wasn't drunk. So, I doremember every single conversation I had since the moment I opened my first bottle. But that doesn't stop me from being appalled by my actions. Sure, a little embarrassment was sure to come with my recklessness. However, I did not expect this – waking in his bed with him half-naked.

As if my feet were still drunk, they conveniently trip over themselves. On any other occasion, I would be applauding at how they managed to pull off such an impossible feat, but it's hard to do so when my face collides with the door. A sharp twinge of pain crackles at my forehead; can't stop the yelp that follows. My hand shoots out for the handle, pushing it down and steadying myself simultaneously. Yanking the wooden door open, I shove myself out of the room, slamming the door to drown out Eric's laughter.

It takes a while for me to regain my dignity and composure; I'm red enough already to be a clown inside out. Leaning against the door with a hand over my pounding heart, I force myself to survey the room before me. Eric's apartment is abnormally large for someone that lives alone. Across me is another door of which I assume leads to a guest room or office. His kitchen is just as big as the one in my house, complete with cooking appliances that would accommodate any recipe he wishes to try. Or I wish to try.

I crush that thought immediately.

The common area adjacent to it contains the couch I had passed out on. It's a three-seater black leather couch, big enough for Sabre and Hawk to sleep on without shoving each other off. The couch faces a coffee table and a wide television which is mounted onto the wall.

Feeling a bit more like myself, I stroll into the kitchen, fingertips gliding over the dust-free countertops. Just by looking, Eric's entire apartment is immaculate. Had he brought me here completely sober, I would've hesitated before entering. Everything here is pristine like a showroom's; intimidating.

I grab a glass from the rack and fill it with water, finding my dry mouth and sugary teeth an unsettling feeling. Then, as I survey the room once again, does something come to light.

Eric's from Erudite; and there is no way that he wasn't.

Hidden against the wall by the corridor earlier, lays a large wooden bookshelf. Hundreds of books arranged neatly which upon closer inspection, are mostly non-fiction and classics.

I should've guessed it earlier, especially with how he's able to process situations and his behavior. Even with the slight possibility that he may just be a book-worm Dauntless-born, the shoe rack by the door says otherwise. Never would I admit that seeing shoe rack ticks another checkbox off my list; just another reason I may consider this man more than an acquaintance.

"Why were you drinking last night?" My eyes flicker to the now-dressed man, all thoughts going down the drain. Eric is leaning against the wall, an ankle crossed over the other and his arms folded. He wears a long-sleeved jacket today, something he occasionally puts on when he disappears for the rest of the day. His hair has yet to be gelled up, the strands falling over his forehead messily. Eric should leave his hair as it is more often, gives him an adorable boyish look.

A few seconds of silence pass as I appreciate the perfection of the Dauntless leader. Definitely won't mind seeing this first thing in the morning. I choke on my saliva at that incredibly bold and uncalled exclamation.

Eric lifts an eyebrow; microdermals glinting off the light. "I felt bothered." How does one tell someone that they're the reason you're drinking without exposing yourself?

"About?"

I blink. "Joe's death." That isn't a total lie.

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You don't even associate yourself with him." At that, Eric pushes himself off the wall and starts towards me.

I force myself to stay put. "Doesn't mean that his life was insignificant." His life was insignificant; but better him than me right?

Just when I thought Eric was going to corner and make me blurt my guts out, he reaches beside me to extract a coffee pot instead. Huh. "Well he chose to jump, not much you can do about that." Now it's my turn to frown in confusion. Eric didn't sound like he was lying. He eyes my expression. "What?" But Eric must be right? Why else would a top-ranking initiate die?

I shake my head to rid of all the growing questions and slip out under Eric; his cologne was affecting my ability to think logically. Taking a seat on a barstool, I prop my face onto my elbows and stare at him.

Eric seems casual about the whole incident, like he had nothing to do with it. He's busying himself with the coffee without a care in the world. "Then why?" I ask as if he knows the answer.

Apparently, he does. Eric digs something out of his pants pocket and slides it over the counter. "He left this note at his bunk. Doesn't make much sense, but people who jump don't typically make much sense anyways." He shrugs. "It's common to have initiates jump during stage two." He adds nonchalantly, grabbing a mug now that the coffee's done.

I lift the folded piece of paper to my eyes and unravel it. Inside is a few brief sentences of how he – Joe – couldn't take the sims and has been feeling out of it since stage two started. Unlike Eric who seems completely convinced over the note and reasoning, I'm not. Because unlike Eric, I saw how overjoyed Joe was over the results.

I leave his apartment more confused than ever before.

All heads snap to me at the waiting room. Though I'm awfully aware that I'm two hours late, I have more things to be bothered about. It is by some miracle that Riley isn't in sight, I think I would've snapped if she opened her big mouth and ask where I've been.

Skylar is present though, unfortunately. "You alright?"

I reply curtly, taking the empty seat beside her. "Yes."

She hesitates. "You seem a bit bothered... that's all." I wonder.

My hand flies to my face to cover my twitching eye. It requires great effort to remind myself that Skylar has been nothing but a decent person to me. "I got held up by Eric. I don't want to talk about it."

Drama aside, I did enjoy spending time in Eric's apartment. It was the first time I slept through the night this past week and woke up not feeling like I want to stab my dormmates. The smell of his room, the softness of the bed and blankets, the magnificent sight of his glistening body, the sound of his voice; everything I didn't know I wanted to wake up to. Had he offered for me to sleepover, I might just not hesitate to say yes.

Skylar doesn't push further, a reason why I tolerate her far better than the Candor. We lapse into silence as we wait for our respective turns.

When Four pokes his head out for the next initiate, his eyes widen minutely at the sight of me. I give him a tight-lipped smile. There is so much I want to talk to him about, and I can only hope that he somehow has telepathic abilities.

"Rylan." He says.

Maybe he does have them.

Entering the room, I expected a 'Where have you been', not a "What did Eric do to you?"

Four stands between the door and me, arms crossed and face twisted into a scowl. I stare at him dumbfoundedly. How did he know I was at Eric's? "Nothing."

"He took advantage of you, didn't he? I saw him dragging you back to his apartment drunk."

My eye twitches at the accusation towards the man who has never hurt me, even with what he's capable of. "No, he didn't." I growl back. "And I wasn't drunk." Why does everyone assume that?

Four takes a step closer to me. "How would you know? You couldn't even walk straight." He's dangerous like this, especially when his voice is far from the exploding tone one would expect. "He could've spiked your drink too."

Anger flares through me. How dare he say that about him. "He didn't spike my drink. In fact, he stopped me from drinking."

"Didn't seem that way with the bottle in his hand. Looked like both of you were hitting it off together."

The tight hold I've been keeping on my emotions loosens. "Well that was my bottle! He took it from me!" My fists are clenched to the side. Four has no right to accuse Eric over anything. "What are you? Stalking me now?" I'm this close to tackling him to the ground and giving him a piece of my mind, or Eric could do the honors.

He throws his arms in the air. "No, just looking out for a friend so she doesn't get killed!" It requires great effort not to physically roll my eyes.

I take a deep breath. Four is just watching over me; he means no harm. The phrases repeat themselves in my head until I'm slightly calmer. Breathe in; breathe out. There's no need to fight over a misunderstanding.

I take a step back in attempt to clear the tenseness in the air. "Eric came into the bar after he saw that I was drinking too much." Lie. "He was bringing me back to the dorms when I told him I didn't want to spend the night there with all the nasally kids. So, he brought me back to his apartment to bunk." I then proceed to gesture myself. "See? No bruises, no tears, no nothing. I'm perfectly fine."

Four stares at me skeptically, like he's trying to figure out whether I've been threatened to only recite this. "So you just casually slept over his apartment and nothing happened?"

Flashes of me falling at his feet and making a fool out of myself flit over my eyes. "Yep." I say, putting in effort to pop the 'p'. It is now vital I change the subject as quick as possible. "Oh, and I found out something." I wring my hands together and take a seat on the simulation chair. Personally, I don't believe sharing this information with Four is a good idea. However, there's really no one else I could talk to that wouldn't snitch my position or spread the word.

Here goes nothing. "I don't think Eric killed Joe."

As predicted, Four's eyes harden. "So you're saying that he – the first ranking initiate – just happenedto jump off to his death on his own accord?" Perhaps I should've done this another day. Preferably a few days after today, with all the bunking with Eric going on.

I pray that I can drive my point through before he de-friends me and storms out of the room. "I know it sounds crazy, but-"

He cuts me off, and percentage of success decreases drastically. "Crazy? You bet it sounds crazy. In fact, I don't think 'crazy' quite cuts it. More like 'insane', 'absurd', 'preposterous'! What's gotten into you?" Ouch.

"I know, but Eric-"

"One night with Eric and you're on his side now? Didn't you have an aptitude for Erudite? Surely you're not thatdense, are you?" Four pacing back and forth, every sentence he speaks growing a pitch higher; definitely should've done this another day. "How could you defend a monster like him? Pray tell why on earth Joe would've pitched himself off the-"

My body tenses. "Eric is not a monster!" Leave it to the subject of Eric to kickstart my defense mechanisms. "He found a suicide note on Joe's bunk. He even showed it to me."

"And you believe it? How would you know if it's actually from him or written by Eric himself?"

"I don't know what to believe!" Of course, I did consider the possibility of the note being a fake. "But when Eric was telling me about it, there was no hint malice or anything! In fact, he seemed like he couldn't give two shits about the boy."

Four sighs and rubs his face, the lines on his forehead making him look years older. "So you honestly think that he didn't do it?"

"Well… Personally, I'm not fully convinced, but I guess so, yeah." I shrug and kick my feet out like a child.

The instructor stares at me hard. "You know what I think?" He pulls out the roller chair and takes a seat, voice turning deadly quiet. "I think that since Eric is interested in you, he would do anything to make you see the presumably 'good' side of him. And that includes lying to you in order to keep you in the dark."

"But-"

"I mean, what about Amar? And the Amity boy you told me about? Wasn't Eric the only person to know about their divergence? There's no way Joe conveniently committed suicide days after he basically proclaimed himself divergent."

Four has a point.

This is exactly why I wasn't completely buying the story. A wave of fatigue passes through me. "I guess." I say finally, not really in the mood for a new argument.

"Good." Four says, sliding back to the computer desk like a recoiling snake.

Having this conversation has cleared literally nothing. I'm still confused on whether Eric did have a hand in Joe's death. My head says yes, but my gut says no. Because for some sick reason, I actually believe what the young leader said.

A/N

This chapter was fun to write. And the following chapter is pretty great too (There's finally progress between the two :D)

I'll be having another camp on Friday, so I'll only be able to update on Monday. I'm also restarting my traumatic driving lessons, which is why I can't really update tomorrow and thursday without running out of chapters.

On a slightly better note, my creative juices are flowing now that internship is over :D