CHAPTER 3 – CLOSER
Tris Prior's POV
Christina and I leave our last class of the morning for lunch, meeting Al and Will just outside. I wait in line with Christina as she fills up her tray when I feel an impatient, rude, tap on my shoulder and turn around to see Molly and Peter. Peter smirks, "too bad he only got your ear..." I flinch when his fingers come in contact with the cut, "though I doubt he could do anything with that knife to fix your face anyway."
"I don't think he could," Molly adds with an agreeing nod.
"Four was just too afraid to hurt you, huh?" Peter glares at me, dead in the eye, "Is this gonna be a regular thing, making yourself news around here?" Little does he think, I don't ask to be.
"Get the hell out of here," Christina says, trying to turn me away from them. I'm too stubborn to back down though, she knows that by now. Peter and Molly don't scare me as much as they'd like to think they do.
"How do you do it?" Peter taunts, "you're a nobody. You're a stiff. Yet somehow everyone's calling you brave." He puts his hands up in air quotations.
"Well I don't get those titles by bullying those beneath me," I retort. I know Peter's not an idiot – he knows what I have just said. Though I can't say the same about Molly, she seems to agree a lot instead of thinking of her own thoughts.
"You'd better watch out. If Eric picks you as the target again, I'll volunteer myself to throw those knives and there goes you're not so pretty face."
"Can you even actually throw a knife, Peter?" I ask. If Eric picked Four, I doubt he wants an amateur throwing knives around.
"Watch yourself," Peter growls. "You better hope Eric doesn't pick you next time," He's close to my face that I instinctively recoil back, but not out of fear. Just out of disgust. He turns away after a minute, with Molly right behind him.
Christina asks, "Does anyone else need a nap after dealing with them?"
"He's such a coward," I mutter, "what did he do? Mull over in his head what to say for the last two weeks?" And I thought he was smarter than that.
"While he may be smart, he's not the smartest person here." Christina says, stepping out of line with her tray. We find a table by the windows, I see Peter and Molly harassing a younger boy out in the courtyard. I feel my face wrinkle in disgust.
"Can't they find something better to do?"
Al shrugs, "Don't waste your time hoping for that. Besides, he's gone now," Al says, going back to his food.
We see Uriah heading towards us, a girl by his side I think I remember her name is Marlene.
Uriah jumps right into it, "Zeke says this is the last week we can go zip lining again until the spring." I am all ears, and apparently so is Christina.
"Oh yeah, when are we going?" Christina asks.
He replies, "Probably Friday night. He's gonna be bringing some more friends this time, so if you guys want you can bring some too. But you've got me, so you don't need to," Uriah winks, which causes Christina to snort, shaking her head. I wonder if Four is one of those people, but given how much he hates heights I doubt it. Uriah turns to me, looking expectantly.
"What?" I ask.
"I'll forgive you for zoning me out, just this once, only because I happen to enjoy your company stiff," Uriah says with a wicked grin.
"Don't call me stiff!" I protest with a sigh, "what do I have to do to make you stop calling me that?" They all glance at each other, some of them smirking. There's a feeling in my gut, one that's unsure about whatever they have in mind.
"How do you feel about tattoos?" He asks after a moment. I hadn't thought about getting a tattoo at all. I stare between them all, wide eyed for a moment.
"You're not serious," I reply.
"Dead serious."
What would my tattoo even be? I don't want something on a whim, something without meaning. If I'm going to get a tattoo, I want to be something I won't regret later. With a shrug I say, "...well, I'm not opposed to them, I guess."
"Alright, if you get a tattoo I'll stop calling you a stiff." He holds his hand out, like he's about to shake my hand. With a reluctant sigh, I reach across and shake his hand, "But it's gotta be a good one."
"Define good," I say. He shrugs.
"Bigger than the size of a quarter...it can have meaning...not some cheap quote-y thing, please," I laugh, "...and it's gotta be where we can see it," he replies. I nod, and stand up.
"And where exactly will I be getting this tattoo done?" I ask.
"Tonight at the pit. You know, Tori?—she's amazing with the needle." Uriah promises. I feel like I should be more nervous that I'll be permanently marking my skin—except I don't. I'm not scared of this, and I wonder if that's because I have some weird trust in this boy or if fear doesn't register with me the same way as most.
"Have you thought about what you're gonna get?" Christina asks as we get to the pit. I shake my head; I hadn't really given it anymore thought today. Uriah is talking with his brother, Zeke, and I notice that Four is standing with them. They're laughing, and I wonder if it's because Uriah has mentioned I'm getting a tattoo in exchange for him calling me something other than stiff. It's a weak deal, but not a horrible one.
As we approach them, Four's eyes meet mine. I see a glint of humor in them. He has to know. "So, you made a deal with my idiot brother?" Zeke asks me. I nod. "What's the deal?"
"He didn't tell you?" I ask. They shake their heads.
"I figured I'd let you do the honors," Uriah says with a wave of his hand.
"It was your idea," I reply.
"The fact that you actually agreed is startling," Four speaks up. I look up at him, "...his ideas usually end in disaster."
"Oh come on, Four," Uriah says, rolling his eyes, "this was actually a decent idea."
"I'm scared for her," Four retorts. I suck in a breath, feeling more confident.
"I'm getting a tattoo," I say, feeling slightly proud to admit it. They both stare at me, wide-eyed, unblinking. Zeke laughs.
"Please tell me you get to pick what it's going to be," Four practically begs. I nod again, and I see him breathe a sigh of relief.
"Of course, I'm not an idiot," Uriah says, shaking his head. "She gets to pick it, I just said it had to be bigger than a quarter, it can have a meaning, but the only catch is that we have to be able to see it." He turns to me, "So, stiff—," I give him a look, but he stops me, "—hey, until that tattoo is on your skin I still get to call you stiff. We made a deal." I roll my eyes and he continues, "So, have you thought about what you're going to get?"
"Tori does offer ideas if you don't have one," Zeke cuts in. I feel relieved, but a little unsure at the same time. I don't exactly know if Tori likes me or not; when we first met I didn't like being scrutinized.
"Then I guess I'll see when I get there," I say.
"Let's go then," Uriah says, heading off with Zeke and Christina right behind him. I'm about to leave when I feel Four's hand grip my arm.
"You actually made a deal with Uriah?" He asks me. I nod. "I'm surprised he even set guidelines."
"Uriah wouldn't be a jerk to me," I say, surely. Four shrugs and follows me as we head in the direction they went. Uriah holds the door open for me, and I realize that we're in a different area of the pit—one I've never been. There are glass slabs with silhouettes of designs hanging all over the walls. Tori is standing by a chair, the needle all set and ready in her hands.
"Ah, you didn't tell me I'd be tattooing the stiff..." she says, smirking a little.
"My name's Tris," I say.
"Right, how could I possibly forget the name I was never told," Tori says. She has a dry sense of humor, but she doesn't seem like she's essentially being mean towards me. Just sarcastic—I guess I understand why they're friends with her—they're not always the nicest of people either. "You can take a look around, I need to go grab more sterile wipes." She leaves, and I head towards the wall in the back.
Most of them are of animals; stags, snakes, animal claws... I come across a slab with three birds; they look like they're flying downward. They remind me of my family, because there's three of them. And I've always associated flight with freedom, confidence. All of which my family has—they all know what they want to do, what they need to do.
"Find something?" Christina asks, coming up beside me. I nod.
"I think so." I reach up and pull it off the clip. The glass is smooth in my hands, the design has a texture of its own. A little rough. Tori returns, kicking the door shut behind her. She places a box next to the chair and looks directly at me.
"Found one?" She asks.
"Yeah," I answer, holding the slab out to her waiting hands. She takes it from me, glancing at it briefly before pointing at the chair and setting it aside.
"You ready to get marked up, stiff?" Uriah grins, leaning against the desk.
"Better get your 'stiffs' in now," Four says to him, grinning, "I don't think she's backing out."
"I'm not," I promise.
"Where do you want it?" Tori asks, holding a sterile wipe. Where it can be seen. I'm feeling a bit more confident than I should... Where it can be seen. It's an uncommon place, but I want to be able to see it as well.
"Right here," I answer, running my fingers over my collarbone. On the left side. Tori wipes the area down and turns the needle on; she moves my hair out of the way. The last thing I see before I close my eyes are a bunch of gazes on me. I stay completely still, waiting for the pin pricks. I am a little nervous now as her fingers grip my shoulder to hold me still. My heart is beginning to race, and then the needle is on my skin.
It hurts, especially on the base of my neck, on bone, but it's not unbearable. I imagine she held me down so I wouldn't jump; it is a little painful. After a moment, I relax slightly and just let the needle prickle and pinch my skin.
I don't know how long I've been in this chair, but soon enough Tori turns the needle off, "You're all done." She says, glancing down at the work she's done. They're all still watching me when I look up.
"Well...?" I ask.
"I didn't think you'd actually do it," Zeke says, frowning slightly.
"You, my friend, owe me ten bucks," Four grins.
"You guys bet on this?" I sit up, wincing at the slight discomfort now.
"It looks nice!" Uriah says, clapping me on the back, "definitely a good one. And we can see it. I guess I can't call you stiff anymore."
"Nope, you can't," I smile. Christina holds my hair back, observing it much closer.
"Now I kinda want another tattoo," she says; I laugh.
"Well, this one's only free because I owed Uriah," Tori says, "any of you want one now, I'm charging."
"Damn," Christina sighs, "maybe next time." Tori had closed up right after we left; Christina kept trying to look at my tattoo as we walked back to the pit. "I would have never imagined you would actually get this done."
"Why? You all wanted me to remain a stiff?" I ask, lightly brushing my fingers over the irritated area. It hurts a little worse now than actually getting it done, but my shirt doesn't rub against it or cover it. I can handle it.
"Not really," Christina shrugs, and speeds up to walk beside Uriah—who is telling a wildly inappropriate story. He practically has Zeke in stitches. Four slows down, falling into stride with me behind the others.
"Does it hurt?" He asks, his voice low enough so only I can hear him. Though I doubt the others would notice us—they're too busy laughing at Uriah's story.
"A little," I say, tracing it again. Four looks over at it, his eyes lingering.
"It looks nice," he says, a shy smile grazing his lips. They look soft.
"Thanks." I bite my lip to keep myself from grinning a little too wide. The comment already has my skin growing warm, I can only imagine how red my face must be. We don't say anything else, but the silence isn't awkward or intimidating, it's nice.
Four is a lot taller than me, not that I'm just now realizing this but his legs are longer so he's a little more up ahead than me. I take this time to look at him again; he walks a little tense, but it's also a little reckless. He doesn't really drag his feet, but he doesn't pick them up much either. And he usually walks with his hands in his pockets, like he is now. With his gaze to the floor when he thinks no one is looking.
He is very handsome, sometimes in a boyish way; his eyes are so deep-set. His eyelashes are quite long for a boy's, they touch the skin below his eyebrows. I also notice that his eyes are a deeper shade of dark blue than usual, they look like you could drown in the depths. And maybe I am, because I'm staring too long, too intently at him.
He must notice because he looks over his shoulder at me, with a faint smile tugging at his mouth. I avert my eyes to my shoes and keep walking. I think back to what Zeke had said earlier, about him not thinking I would go through with it—I think about it enough, that I nudge Four's arm and ask, "what was the bet? The one you and Zeke made."
Four smirks, "thanks for reminding me. Zeke didn't think you'd go through with getting a tattoo, but I knew you would." I'm not sure if I should suspicious of that, or flattered. Flattered that he saw that faith in me to go through on my word, or suspicious because he thinks I was being careless again. But he sounds sincere.
"How?" I pry. Four shrugs again, thinking.
"I'm not exactly sure, just a gut feeling I guess. But Zeke thought that he'd talk you out of it somehow." I nod, but shrug after a moment.
"Well Uriah has been nothing but amicable to me," I reply, "he's like a brother to me."
"Uriah could be anybody's brother," Four says with a smirk. I nod in agreement; Uriah has that friendly nature about him—whether you're the shyest person on the planet, or the biggest jerk, he seems to be that guy that could bring the good out, the fun out in anybody. Silence again, but I'm finding that silence with Four is normal—it's just how he is.
As we get closer to the noise, the others barely notice the two of us have fallen behind. For a moment, I wonder if Four is expecting me to join my friends; but he must notice my hesitation, because he asks, "You don't have to go back if you don't want to... you could stay with me?" He looks hopeful. I feel my stomach twist at his words.
I do very much want that.
"Okay," I nod, feeling my lips curl into a smile. Four's smile is gorgeous, and I almost feel like I don't see it enough. He watches me for a moment, before he reaches for my hand and we break away from the group. I'm not sure where he is leading me, until we find ourselves just outside the apartments. I wonder why he is bringing me here?
Four unlocks the door and lets me in first, following behind me.
"What are we doing here?" I ask, I play with the sleeve of my shirt out of nerves.
"I wanted to show you something," Four says. He takes my hand again and leads me to another door; when he opens it, light pours into the room and I see that there is a balcony. It looks rusted and scratched up, but sturdy. "The other night, when you were looking out the window... I didn't think you realized there was a way outside to see better."
I suck in a breath; he was watching me?
"I didn't," I say breathlessly, "the view is amazing." It is the second best view I've gotten of this city. I don't know if anything could top the view from the Hancock building, or the zip line, but still I am taken away with it.
"I'm glad you like it," Four smiles. He stands at the rails beside me, his shoulder brushing up against mine. He feels firm, almost solid, like a rock.
"Do the other apartments have this view?" I ask. Four shakes his head, the smile never leaving his lips. He looks almost like a statue of gold in the city lights.
"No," he answers, "That's why I'm glad I chose this one."
"You got to choose?"
Four nods, "Every few years or so the apartments free up and new employees Max hires get to live here. Because the pit was fairly new when Eric, Tori, and I got here there weren't too many people living here at the time. Zeke started a few months later than me, but he lives with him mother and Uriah. Eric wanted something without windows, Tori likes her apartment behind the tattoo parlor, so it worked out. I like windows..." he trails off. A small breeze picks up around us, some of my hair rests on Four's shoulder.
"How does that work?" I ask, "Max hiring, and living here, working here...?"
"Well, Zeke and I work in security; we're usually up in the control room making sure nothing happens overnight, or while everyone is here if we don't feel like joining the excitement. Tori owns the tattoo parlor, she worked in security with us and tattoos back to back and bought it from Max. Eric worked in security for a little while too, but he's become Max's assistant when Max isn't around. Eric's also a trainer, he likes to think his training is 'what's best'. To make things easier for the employees, Max decided he wanted a few additions added to the pit, and he made the additions about twelve apartments. We don't have to live here, but it's just easier."
"Max sounds generous," I say. Four smirks.
"About as generous as Eric," he says with a sigh, "just a little more lenient." Four looks at me, his face is only about a few feet from mine. His lips look soft, his skin looks rough. I can see a scar on his chin I didn't notice before.
"Do you deal with him a lot?"
"No, thankfully," Four says, "I don't think I've seen him in about two months. He doesn't stay here, he rarely ever visits anymore to check up on things. I think last I heard from him, he'd opened up another spot on the other side of Chicago. We usually only see him when he's here to collect rent. He mails our paychecks, otherwise he'd be here weekly like he should be."
"I guess it's nice you don't have to see him all the time, though."
"Definitely," Four nods, "but if only he could see how Eric's running this place." I nod, I wasn't expecting Eric to be so harsh after I met him. He seemed almost normal that first day, but I am quickly making my way up his list of names.
"Do you worry about Eric a lot?"
Four laughs, "If I spent every minute worrying about how Eric was gonna deal with me every day I don't think I would have seen three years here. He wasn't this bad in school, but back then he was just as jealous." I can see jealousy from Eric.
"He's jealous of you," it's not a question.
"Very," Four nods, "He was always one or two points behind me in everything. Even fighting."
"You used to fight him?"
"Unwillingly, most times," he answers. I notice his knuckles are split, black and blue. He didn't fight Eric recently, did he? His fingers graze over the cuts, absentmindedly, "Eric thought that since he couldn't beat me academically, maybe he could beat me physically."
"He thought? So I'm guessing he didn't, then."
"No," Four answers, shaking his head, "He always wanted rematches, he was always looking for the next excuse to fight me. I wouldn't give it to him, I got tired of his need to win. If I don't let him fight me, he can't win. And that drives him crazy... it's better than getting even with him."
"That's... mature," I say, a small smile tugging at my lips. Four scoffs, his eyes finding mine.
"Mature?" He asks with a laugh. His whole body turns to me, he leans on one arm on the railing, watching me, "I guess you could call it that." We stand there for a few minutes in silence, the city seems to get brighter as the night grows darker.
"What would you call it, then?" I ask. His eyes don't leave mine, and it makes me hyperaware of everything about him.
"Resigned," he finally answers. Another few moments of silence before Four clears his throat, "Okay, you got your questions in. Now it's my turn."
"What do you want to know?" I ask, my voice feeling weak. He wants to get to know me?
"Where are you from?" He asks after a minute. Easy.
"Well, from the time I was about nine maybe, we lived here in Chicago. My father and mother decided they wanted a change of scenery and we moved to New York. My parents wanted us to have a good education; my father went to the school here, that my brother and I are attending, and they thought it would be perfect for us."
"My father thought boarding school would straighten me out," Four comments, a small frown on his face. I don't like seeing him frown.
"Were you a bad kid?" I ask. Four shakes his head slowly; he is staring at the city but it almost looks like he's staring into nothing.
"It's complicated," he says softly. I don't press him on it. He must sense my unease, because he straightens himself up, towering above me. He reaches down, his fingers slipping between mine and he gives my hand a soft squeeze. He peers through his eyelashes at me, searching my face, "is this okay?"
I feel like I might melt, or fall apart, or stop breathing.
I must opt to stop breathing, because I can only nod and hope that my face isn't bright red. Four smiles, his fingers giving mine another light squeeze. I am sad when he releases my hand, but I don't protest. My fingertips feel alive with electricity, seeing his touch again.
After a quiet moment, Four's eyes linger down to my tattoo again.
"Do you have any tattoos?" I ask, my voice finding its own strength. He smirks, a playful grin.
"I'm not much different from you, it seems," he says, "I didn't get a tattoo until just recently."
"Really?" My mouth hangs open slightly, "but you seem so... tough." Four laughs, deep from his stomach. When he calms down, his eyes are glassed over and his smile is soft.
"About as tough as a dull knife," he replies. I am reminded of the knife throwing, how sharp it pierced my ear. Definitely not dull. I quickly shake the thought from my mind, "and I'm not sure tattoos define strength."
"What makes you say that?" I ask, my fingers poke at his arm, "you're strong..."
"Strong," he agrees, nodding his head, "but not because of my tattoo."
"What is your tattoo?"
"Would you wanna see it?" He asks after a minute, his voice low. For a moment, I can't breathe; where is his tattoo? Will it give me the excuse to see a part of him I never thought I'd see? What does it mean to him?
"Yes," I breathe. The corner of his lips curves up, briefly. He really is gorgeous. Four takes a deep breath in; he looks almost hesitant before he reaches for the neckline of his shirt and lifts it above his head. His torso is long, and muscular. I imagine running my hand along his skin; I wonder if it would burn me, he looks so warm. Or if he would turn me to ice because his stomach looks hard as stone. Gorgeous doesn't even begin to describe this half of his body.
He looks shy, "I don't let many people see me like this... I don't let anybody, actually."
"I can't imagine why," my voice feels lost now, "Look at you..." Four's smile is kind, like a boy's smile. He turns away from me to reveal a large tattoo that covers almost every inch of his back. The blades of his shoulders visibly relax as he finally gets his shirt off. The ink almost looks like black paint against his skin, with five symbols down his spine and spikes all around them running along his ribs. It is the biggest tattoo I have ever seen, "Wow... Four..."
He faces me again, his fingers lacing mine again.
"You don't have to call me Four, you know," he chuckles.
"What do you want me to call you, then?"
"My real name is Tobias," he says cautiously, "everyone just knows me as Four around here because of the first fight I was in."
"Really?" I ask, "what happened?"
"Took me four seconds to knock this poor kid out..." he says, looking sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck, "It was actually an accident, I knew nothing about fighting really... the guy, Edward, that Max had running this place at the time chose me to fight and out of instinct I just went for it and I don't even remember how I hit him. I just remember seeing blood, and watching this kid fall to the ground..."
"Your first fight wasn't with Eric?"
"No," he shakes his head, "Eric heard about my fight. He wanted to prove he was tougher."
"But you won," I say. Four nods.
"Don't ask me how," he laughs a little, "I was scrawny. Probably a hundred and ten soaking wet, and I knew nothing about fighting. I just watched him, and I figured out when he would try to hit me."
"Sounds like you got lucky."
"Yeah," he says quietly, "sounds like it." We fall into another silence, only hearing the noises from the city below and the wind above. I feel him shift beside me and he reaches for his shirt on the ground, finding the hole for the neck.
I bite my lip, I don't want to see him put his shirt back on yet.
"Wait—," I keep my hand at my side, though I so badly want to touch him. Given his hesitation about removing his shirt, I don't want to make him even more uncomfortable.
"What?" Tobias asks, looking at me in confusion. My fingers itch to touch his skin. I let my eyes absorb this image of him; tall, lean, strong. His blues eyes burn into my face but all I can bring myself to look at is the muscles pulling his abdomen taut. He must work so hard to look like this, but he is modest—he doesn't show himself off.
"I just—," I feel my face heat up.
"Just... what?" He asks; his tone sounds enticing, joking. I bite the inside of my cheek—how do I tell him, without actually telling him, that I don't want him to cover himself up again? "You can touch me," he says softly, his eyes never leaving mine. His fingers wrap around my hand, and he brings my palm to his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, it flutters as quickly as mine and I can't tell if he's nervous too, or if it's something else.
His skin is not just warm, his skin is hot. It burns my fingertips, warming my hand to the same temperature as my face. I feel a shiver run through him.
He is hard as stone, just as I expected. His eyes soften the longer I stare, and he breathes a small sigh of relief. I don't know how long we stand like that for, but Tobias tugs me closer until he can wrap an arm around my waist.
All of the air leaves my body as I realize just how close he is; alarms going off in my head that this could lead to something I am not ready for. He feels so good, at the same time. My hands rest between our chests, I push against him lightly at first, and then a little harder the second time. He must get my hint because he lets me go immediately, his skin flushing to a bright red.
"I'm sorry," Tobias apologizes. He quickly throws his shirt back on, his arms crossing his chest. I can't tell what he is thinking, or what he is feeling. He looks upset. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable..."
"You didn't..." I say, "uh... it's all just new to me. I haven't been with anyone... like that..."
"Like what?" Tobias gives me a cautious frown, "like romantically? Or... sexually?"
"Both," I breathe, feeling embarrassed. I see the vein in his neck jump as he swallows, hard.
"Tris," he starts, shaking his head, "I wasn't going to do anything you didn't want me to do... it's all new to me, too." I want to find it hard to believe, but he said he doesn't let anyone see him—and he's looked nervous around me this whole time. "You believe me, right?"
"I do," I say after a pause, "I do..."
"I let you touch my chest, so you would be more at ease around me," he says, taking a slow step towards me, "I would never touch you without your say so..."
"I believe you," I say, wholeheartedly. I do believe him. He didn't even try to kiss me, he just wanted me close. I would be lying if I said I didn't want the same.
"Good," Tobias lets out a shaky breath, nodding once, "will you be back tomorrow?"
"Here?"
"At the pit," he says.
"I think so," I reply, feeling cold now that he is no longer holding me. He must sense it, because he carefully touches my arms, rubbing his palms along my skin to warm me up. "Thank you..."
"You're welcome," Tobias smiles, briefly, "come back tomorrow, okay? I want to see you again." I feel a blush creeping along my skin at his words. I want that, too...
"Okay."
xXxXx
Tobias Eaton's POV
Zeke and I are up for a jog the next morning; Shauna had me up in the practice room all night, my arms feel heavy with every step. Zeke stops about twenty minutes in, at a bus stop, to catch his breath.
"Apparently your girl made a deal with my idiot brother?" Zeke tells me, smirking, "she's not stupid...so what is she thinking?"
"She's not mine," I say, a little bitterly. "And I have no idea what you're talking about." I haven't seen Tris since the other night in my apartment. I haven't told Zeke about that, he's keen on making up scenarios.
"So she didn't mention anything?"
"Does it look like I've seen her today?" I ask. It's only nine-thirty.
"No, but you definitely saw her the other night," he shrugs, but he's right, "right?"
I smirk, "So?"
"...So?" Zeke asks.
"What? We talked."
"I'll get more out of you later," Zeke says.
"Threat or promise?"
"Both," Zeke smirks; I laugh, shaking my head. He's not gonna get much.
"What's the bet she and Uriah made?" I ask between breaths.
"No idea, but he's been gloating about it since he left class this morning," Zeke says with a shrug. I'll have to find Tris tonight and ask her then. We finish our run, making it to the pier and back, Zeke decides to go find Shauna and I decide to head back to my apartment to shower.
xXxXx
I didn't realize this bet they made would be happening tonight; Eric is going to be the only one on patrol it seems, I don't want to miss this and I'm finding that somehow Tori is involved. Uriah arrives first, Tris and Christina in tow not too long later. Tris looks at me, "So, you made a deal with my idiot brother?" Zeke asks as they get closer. She nods, looking a little too eager for one of Uriah's ideas. "What's the deal?"
"He didn't tell you?" She asks. We shake our heads.
"I figured I'd let you do the honors," Uriah says.
"It was your idea," Tris retorts.
"The fact that you actually agreed is startling," I say. She looks up at me, "...his ideas usually end in disaster."
"Oh come on, Four," Uriah says, rolling his eyes at me, "this was actually a decent idea."
"I'm scared for her," I taunt.
"I'm getting a tattoo," Tris says, practically glowing with pride. Zeke's mouth hangs open slightly and I just stare at her, wide-eyed. Zeke laughs beside me.
"Please tell me you get to pick what it's going to be," I ask, a little nervous. She nods again, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
"Of course, I'm not an idiot," Uriah says, shaking his head. "She gets to pick it, I just said it had to be bigger than a quarter, it can have a meaning, but the only catch is that we have to be able to see it." I suddenly wonder if she even knows where she's getting it, "So, stiff—," Tris gives him a look, but Uriah stops her, "—hey, until that tattoo is on your skin I still get to call you stiff. We made a deal." It's amusing to watch them—definitely like brother and sister. Tris rolls her eyes but he continues, "So, have you thought about what you're going to get?"
"Tori does offer ideas if you don't have one," Zeke cuts in. Tris looks a little weary at the sound of Tori's name.
"Then I guess I'll see when I get there," Tris says.
"Let's go then," Uriah heads off first, with Zeke and Christina right behind him. Tris is about to follow them, but I just want a second with her. I grab her arm. Her skin is soft, and cool to the touch. I don't move my hand just yet.
"You actually made a deal with Uriah?" I ask her. She nods. "I'm surprised he even set guidelines."
"Uriah wouldn't be a jerk to me," I believe her, but I just shrug and follow her. Uriah holds the door open for her; she glances around the room in awe, like she's never seen a place like it. And I'm guessing she hasn't, but her expression is one of genuine curiosity. All of the designs Tori's made over the years or in her spare time hang all over the walls on glass slabs. Tori is standing by the chair with the needle all set and ready in her hands.
"Ah, you didn't tell me I'd be tattooing the stiff..." she says, smirking.
"My name's Tris," She says. I have to suppress my smirk—she has a fire in her, that's for sure.
"Right, how could I possibly forget the name I was never told," Tori retorts. "You can take a look around, I need to go grab more sterile wipes." She leaves the room, and Tris heads for the wall in the back. I don't see which one she grabs because Christina steps up beside her and blocks my view from the counter.
Zeke hits my shoulder, "ten bucks, she backs out."
I smirk, "ten bucks, she doesn't." He shakes my hand and I already know I'm right. She won't back out of this. At least she can flinch this time if it hurts... I'm reminded of the other night, with the knife throwing, and I shiver.
When Tori returns, she throws most of the boxes under the counter and puts one at the chair. "Found one?" She asks. Tris hands it to her, and on the slab is three birds, flying down. It's an interesting tattoo; I wonder what made her choose it. Oddly enough, it already suits her well.
"You ready to get marked up, stiff?" Uriah grins, leaning against the desk.
"Better get your 'stiffs' in now," I say to him, grinning, "I don't think she's backing out."
"I'm not," Tris says, shaking her head at us.
"Where do you want it?" Tori asks, holding a sterile wipe. Tris contemplates the question, and then her fingers graze the protruding bone on the base of her neck. My mouth goes dry slightly. This is not the time to be getting worked up over her!
"Right here," She answers. Tori runs the sterile wipe over her neck and turns the needle on. Tris looks between the four of us and then closes her eyes, sitting almost completely still. The moment Tori touches the needle to her skin, Zeke sighs.
Sometime later, Tori finishes fairly quickly; she puts the needle down and says, "You're all done." Tris opens her eyes again, and then looks down at the ink.
"Well...?" She asks.
"I didn't think you'd actually do it," Zeke frowns.
"You, my friend, owe me ten bucks," I grin.
"You guys bet on this?" Tris asks. She sits up, wincing slightly.
"It looks nice!" Uriah says, patting her on the back, "definitely a good one. And we can see it. I guess I can't call you stiff anymore."
"Nope, you can't," She smiles triumphantly. Christina pushes her hair out of the way, observing the tattoo.
"Now I kinda want another tattoo," Christina jokes, throwing her arm around Tris's shoulders; Tris laughs, leaning into her hug.
"Well, this one's only free because I owed Uriah," Tori says, "any of you want one now, I'm charging."
"Damn," Christina sighs, "maybe next time." We leave the tattoo parlor shortly after. Tori locks up once we're out and she heads to the pit to check on Eric. Christina keeps trying to see Tris's tattoo, "I would have never imagined you would actually get this done." She says.
"Why? You all wanted me to remain a stiff?" Tris asks, lightly tracing over the tattoo.
"Not really," Christina speeds up to walk beside Uriah—who is in the midst of telling Zeke and the rest of us about the overly-affectionate couple he walked in on in the bathrooms. Zeke is in stitches beside me but I slow down, walking beside Tris.
"Does it hurt?" I ask, low enough for only her to hear. I remember the pain from getting mine done—though mine was much larger than three birds.
"A little," She answers, tracing it again. I can't help it, this is more skin I've ever seen on her.
"It looks nice," I say, smiling at her.
"Thanks." We're silent after that, listening to more of Uriah's ridiculous story; I actually like the silences as much as when we talk. It allows me to steal small moments to just admire her.
We fall out of stride slightly, Tris is a little further behind me. I feel her nudge my shoulder and she asks, "what was the bet? The one you and Zeke made."
I smirk; I almost forgot, "thanks for reminding me. Zeke didn't think you'd go through with getting a tattoo, but I knew you would."
"How?" She questions. I can only shrug at first—I don't actually know, she just has that aura that tells me she doesn't give up or back down easily.
"I'm not exactly sure, just a gut feeling I guess. But Zeke thought that he'd talk you out of it somehow." She nods slowly.
"Well Uriah has been nothing but amicable to me," Tris replies, "he's like a brother to me."
"Uriah could be anybody's brother," I say with a smirk. The main area of the pit isn't quite as full tonight; I have a feeling Eric's had an easier time keeping track of everybody. I notice the closer we get to the pit, the more unsure she looks about something. She watches the others head off into the crowd of people, but stays back with me. Maybe she doesn't want the excitement tonight? "You don't have to go back if you don't want to... you could stay with me?" I ask.
She smiles.
"Okay." I feel my own smile at her answer. I reach for her hand, like second nature, though I never liked holding hands in the first place. It was always unnatural to me, but with her it's easy; it's something I want to do. I decide my apartment may be the most closed off. I don't want to make her uncomfortable by bringing her there alone, but the first time I had her there she seemed okay. I just want some time with her, no interruptions, no audiences. The closer we get, the more I think about the other night, when she was intrigued by the large window in my apartment. I could show her more of that, out on the balcony. I unlock the door and hold it open for her, following her into the room.
"What are we doing here?" Tris asks, playing with a loose string on her sleeve. Nervous.
"I wanted to show you something," I say. I take her hand again and lead her through the door to the balcony; light pours into the room and I hear her suck in a sharp breath, "The other night, when you were looking out the window... I didn't think you realized there was a way outside to see better."
"I didn't," she says in awe, her eyes look so alive, "the view is amazing."
"I'm glad you like it," I say, smiling.
"Do the other apartments have this view?" She asks. I shake my head, this view is all mine.
"No," I answer, "That's why I'm glad I chose this one."
"You got to choose?"
I nod, "Every few years or so the apartments free up and new employees Max hires get to live here. Because the pit was fairly new when Eric, Tori, and I got here there weren't too many people living here at the time. Zeke started a few months later than me, but he lives with him mother and Uriah. Eric wanted something without windows, Tori likes her apartment behind the tattoo parlor, so it worked out. I like windows..." A small breeze picks up around us.
"How does that work?" She asks, "Max hiring, and living here, working here...?"
"Well, Zeke and I work in security; we're usually up in the control room making sure nothing happens overnight, or while everyone is here if we don't feel like joining the excitement. Tori owns the tattoo parlor, she worked in security with us and tattoos back to back and bought it from Max. Eric worked in security for a little while too, but he's become Max's assistant when Max isn't around. Eric's also a trainer, he likes to think his training is 'what's best'. To make things easier for the employees, Max decided he wanted a few additions added to the pit, and he made the additions about twelve apartments. We don't have to live here, but it's just easier."
"Max sounds generous," Tris says. I can't help but laugh a little.
"About as generous as Eric," I say with a sigh, "just a little more lenient." When I turn to look at her, she is already looking at me. Her eyes are an intense mix of blue and grey, something I've never seen before, but something I could get lost in.
"Do you deal with him a lot?"
"No, thankfully," I reply, "I don't think I've seen him in about two months. He doesn't stay here, he rarely ever visits anymore to check up on things. I think last I heard from him, he'd opened up another spot on the other side of Chicago. We usually only see him when he's here to collect rent. He mails our paychecks, otherwise he'd be here weekly like he should be."
"I guess it's nice you don't have to see him all the time, though."
"Definitely," I nod again, "but if only he could see how Eric's running this place." Tris bites her lip, deep in thought. I wonder what she is thinking about.
"Do you worry about Eric a lot?"
This time I laugh, "If I spent every minute worrying about how Eric was gonna deal with me every day I don't think I would have seen three years here. He wasn't this bad in school, but back then he was just as jealous."
"He's jealous of you," it's not a question.
"Very," I almost sigh, "He was always one or two points behind me in everything. Even fighting."
"You used to fight him?"
"Unwillingly, most times," I answer. I run my fingers over the splits on my knuckles from practice with Shauna last night, "Eric thought that since he couldn't beat me academically, maybe he could beat me physically."
"He thought? So I'm guessing he didn't, then."
"No," I shake my head, "He always wanted rematches, he was always looking for the next excuse to fight me. I wouldn't give it to him, I got tired of his need to win. If I don't let him fight me, he can't win. And that drives him crazy... it's better than getting even with him."
"That's... mature," Tris says, a small smile on her lips. I scoff, which causes her to look up at me, and her eyes find mine.
"Mature?" I ask with another laugh, "I guess you could call it that."
"What would you call it, then?" Tris asks. I don't take my eyes off of her as I search for the right word; she is very pretty, just not in the way I'm used to seeing. Most girls around the pit, that I've noticed, are very skilled with make-up; they tend to wear a lot of it, but it still looks attractive. Tris wears nothing more than what is on her eyes; her skin glows, and her lips, on their own, are the perfect shade of pink. She is ordinary, but in a good sense—I would have originally said plain, but there is nothing plain about her that keeps me coming back to her. I can't place what it is, I just know that she is what wakes me up every time I see her.
"Resigned," I finally answer, realizing I was beginning to lose myself at the sight of her. Another few moments of silence before I clear my throat to break it, "Okay, you got your questions in. Now it's my turn."
"What do you want to know?" She asks.
"Where are you from?" I ask out of curiosity.
"Well, from the time I was about nine maybe, we lived here in Chicago. My father and mother decided they wanted a change of scenery and we moved to New York. My parents wanted us to have a good education; my father went to the school here, that my brother and I are attending, and they thought it would be perfect for us."
"My father thought boarding school would straighten me out," I frown.
"Were you a bad kid?" She asks. I shake my head. How would I even begin to tell her my past? The last thing I want to do is dampen this evening I have with her.
"It's complicated," I finally say. Tris doesn't press me on it, and I realize then that fire in her is under her control; she knows when to press and when to hold off. I straighten myself up, my arms no longer supporting me on the rail. I reach for her hand again, and ask, "is this okay?" I know I am a little late to ask this, but I don't want to scare her off now.
A blush creeps into her skin, but she doesn't say anything. She just smiles, and I decide to accept it as her answer. I give her hand a light squeeze and then let go, against my wishes. I hope she doesn't think I'm being rude; my eyes fall down to her tattoo again, along the bone. I have never wanted anybody in the same way I want her; and seeing her tattoo so easily accessible, I want her even more.
"Do you have any tattoos?" Tris asks. I can't help but smirk; I was without any tattoos for the last three years that I've known about this place.
"I'm not much different from you, it seems," I say, "I didn't get a tattoo until just recently."
"Really?" Her mouth hangs open slightly; her lips look soft, "but you seem so... tough." I feel a laugh, deep from my stomach.
"About as tough as a dull knife," I reply, shaking my head, "and I'm not sure tattoos define strength."
"What makes you say that?" Tris asks, she pokes my shoulder and all I feel is electricity, like a current between us, "you're strong..."
"Strong," I agree, nodding, "but not because of my tattoo."
"What is your tattoo?"
"Would you wanna see it?" I ask quietly, immediately feeling self-conscious because if she says yes, I will have to show her.
"Yes," She finally says. I feel a smile out of nerves, but the look she gives me makes me feel less afraid; I reach for the top of my shirt and lift it over my head. I can't tell if it's the cool air or the look in her eyes sending the shivers down my skin.
I feel shyness creeping in, but before I turn to show her I say, "I don't let many people see me like this... I don't let anybody, actually."
"I can't imagine why," she says softly, "Look at you..." I feel myself smile, an almost giddy high at her words. She doesn't see anything wrong with me—I am glad the ink on my back covers most of my imperfections, mistakes, and misunderstandings. "Wow... Four..."
I turn back to her, my fingers find hers easily now, "You don't have to call me Four, you know," I say.
"What do you want me to call you, then?" She looks confused.
"My real name is Tobias," I say after a moment, "everyone just knows me as Four around here because of the first fight I was in."
"Really?" Tris asks, "what happened?"
"Took me four seconds to knock this poor kid out..." I feel my face heat up; I don't like unnecessary violence, "It was actually an accident, I knew nothing about fighting really... the guy, Edward, that Max had running this place at the time chose me to fight and out of instinct I just went for it and I don't even remember how I hit him. I just remember seeing blood, and watching this kid fall to the ground..."
"Your first fight wasn't with Eric?"
"No," I shake my head, "Eric heard about my fight. He wanted to prove he was tougher."
"But you won," Tris says. I nod.
"Don't ask me how," I say with a small laugh, "I was scrawny. Probably a hundred and ten soaking wet, and I knew nothing about fighting. I just watched him, and I figured out when he would try to hit me."
"Sounds like you got lucky."
"Yeah," I say, "sounds like it." We fall into another silence, she watches the city. When I remember my shirt is off, I pick it up off the ground and I am about to put it back on when Tris says, "Wait—."
"What?" I ask, giving her a look that is a mix between confused and amused. Her eyes don't move up or down, they just glance over my chest, my abdomen.
"I just—," she bites her lip.
"Just... what?" I ask, deciding to take a little advantage of this moment. I see her hands at her sides, pulling at the bottom of her shirt again. "You can touch me," part of me can't believe I have just told her that, but the other half of me yearns for it. I pull her hand towards me, resting it just above my stomach, near my heart. The pulse in her fingertips throbs as quickly as my own; I can't tell if she is nervous or okay with this, but she doesn't pull away.
The skin of her fingers is cool, but her palm is warm against my searing skin. I can't help but shiver. When she looks up at me I can't read her eyes, but her expression is soft, it makes me relax. I decide to test it, and I wrap an arm around her waist, bringing her closer. At first, I am not sure if she is trying to push me away, but the second push is more forceful, though I am still stronger. I let go of her immediately, I can't read her expression.
"I'm sorry," I apologize quickly. I throw my shirt back on, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable..."
"You didn't..." She says quietly, "uh... it's all just new to me. I haven't been with anyone... like that..."
"Like what?" I frown, "like romantically? Or... sexually?"
"Both," she looks embarrassed. I swallow back the anger; I am not angry with her, but I am upset she would think so low of me. I refuse to get mad at her for it, though, when she barely knows anything about me. It wouldn't be fair.
"Tris," I start, shaking my head, "I wasn't going to do anything you didn't want me to do..." I feel compelled to tell her the truth, I don't want to hide anything else from her right now, "it's all new to me, too. You believe me, right?" She hesitates, but I can't imagine what she is feeling or thinking.
"I do," she replies, "I do..."
"I let you touch my chest, so you would be more at ease around me," I explain; I know it was wrong of me to assume that was what she wanted to do in the first place, "I would never touch you without your say so..."
"I believe you," She says more confidently.
"Good," I breathe in relief, "will you be back tomorrow?" I really want to see you again...
"Here?"
"At the pit," I say.
"I think so," She says. Please come back... I notice she shivers at the next breeze that comes through, so I carefully touch her arms, rubbing my palms along her skin to warm her up. She smiles, grateful, "Thank you..."
"You're welcome," I smile. Feeling more confident than I ever have, I spill my thoughts to her, "come back tomorrow, okay? I want to see you again." She blushes, biting her bottom lip.
"Okay."
