Chapter 5 – Rise
Tris Prior's POV
I am determined to get to breakfast.
However, Christina is determined to get me into a tighter shirt.
She finds seven different shirts, just about throwing them at my head. "Why do I have to wear these now?" I ask, lifting the shirt I had on, originally, over my head. "I'm not gonna see him until later." And even then, wearing a shirt that shows just how pin straight I am isn't exactly what I want him to see me in.
"Humor me, at least." Christina pleads, crossing her arms over her chest. I roll my eyes, but decide I have nothing to lose; I put the first shirt on, and bumps rise alone my arms. I can't tell if I'm cold from the lack of sleeves, or if I'm embarrassed by the same factor.
"Definitely not," I say, shaking my head. The bones in my shoulders stick out too far for my liking; I turn away from the mirror, glancing down at the shirt. The neck is too low, just barely covering the top of my chest, "are you sure this even fits me?"
"It fits you, trust me," Christina replies, "you're just not in the right mindset, wearing it."
"I can see why," I mutter, pulling it over my head like mine. She hands me the next one; this one is a little better. It's not as tight as the last one, but it fits like a muscle shirt. Single, leather grey stripes run down the sides, while the black material over the rest of the shirt feels like a nylon. The only problem is that my bra shows through it. "I would need a tank top under this."
"No! Why?" Christina asks, incredulously, "that shirt looks good on you. Besides, you're supposed to wear it that way." Great. But another problem: I don't ooze the sex appeal to wear this shirt, at all.
"Don't you have anything normal?" I shiver, standing in the middle of the room without my shirt on. Christina foregoes a few of the shirts on her bed and hands me another one, this time solid black, with the sleeves made of a similar, silver nylon material.
I put the shirt on, instantly admiring the way it clings to my body; it actually doesn't make me look pin straight. I can see the skin of my arms through the sleeves, but the material is warm. Christina hums in approval, nodding. "It looks good on you. Not as sexy as the others, but I am taking you shopping later so we can get you more clothes." I roll my eyes, but I decide not to argue with her.
By the time we get down to the cafeteria for breakfast, we only have about twenty minutes before class starts. Marlene and Lynn sit across from Uriah, with Will to his right and Al sitting uncomfortable on the edge of his seat—he almost looks afraid of Lynn.
"What took you guys so long?" Uriah asks. I take the seat on his other side, Christina sits down beside Will.
"Her wardrobe needs updating," Christina says, simply.
"My wardrobe," I sigh, "is fine."
"For the single life," Christina retorts. I give her a glare, and she sticks her tongue out at me.
"I don't see you wearing that stuff on a daily basis," I tell her, shaking my head. Christina grins, shrugging a shoulder.
"That's because you don't see Will when I am wearing them," she says suggestively, earning a loud 'gross!' from Uriah, a gasp from Marlene, and Al blushing at the thought.
"You're unbelievable," I say, feeling laughter in my stomach as my face grows warm. Leave it to Christina to be brutally honest.
"I'm heading to class," Uriah shakes his head, standing up from his seat, "anyone care to join me?" Marlene stands, holding her arm out like she is waiting for him to take it; and he does.
"We should be going too," Will says. He picks his tray up and dumps it, doing the same for Christina. Al follows them out, while Lynn and I walk to class side by side. She tells me about her sister, and their most recent argument—something about a boy.
xxxxx
Uriah sits exactly two seats away from me in our history exam. He tries to subtly cheat off of Lynn, and gives me cues for when to give him the correct answers. It's a bit comical; he admitted on the walk here he forgot to study—he stole Marlene's notes right out of her hands for some last minute cramming.
Somehow, Lynn manages to sneak a note his way. When he opens it, his expression is priceless; Lynn snorts, loudly, and almost gets herself caught because of it. I try to keep my head down, and I finish my exam rather quick.
I wait for the others to finish, Lynn emerging first, followed by Christina, then Marlene, and then Uriah. He throws the piece of paper at Lynn's feet, "What was that for?"
"I'm not getting caught for your cheating just because you didn't study," Lynn says, laughing to herself. Christina picks up the paper, and her eyes grow wide. I'm not sure I want to read what Lynn wrote.
She passes the note to Marlene, and Marlene bursts into a fit of giggles, clutching at her stomach. Uriah groans, snatching the note from her hands. He rips it into pieces and stomps on it, looking relatively similar to a child throwing a fit.
"You could have just hid your paper like a normal person!" He cries.
"Where's the fun in that?" Lynn taunts. Uriah frowns, shaking his head again.
When Marlene's laughter dies down, she wipes the tears from her eyes and sighs. She throws an arm around Uriah's shoulders, ignoring his attempts to push her away, "I'm sorry I laughed, I was not expecting that."
"Yeah, yeah," he groans, "Whatever. I'll get you back Lynn, no worries."
Lynn smirks, "bring it."
xXxXx
I will be seeing Tobias in only a short amount of time. The thought makes my heart race all over again. Christina has almost poked my eye out twice, because sitting still is not an option today.
She shoots me a look, then stands back to look at her work. I take the second I have to shake my hands out, relieving some of the tension from my body. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, basically just fidgeting to fidget as if it'll get rid of my nerves. It was easier when I assumed his feelings weren't the same—I always thought it would be easier when the other person knew.
"Wanna jump tonight?" Christina jokes; I give her a hard look and she laughs. With how nervous I am, I don't need the added adrenaline. My heart is already in my throat, it wouldn't do me any good to add my stomach. "Wow. I have never seen you this nervous. Are you okay? You're not gonna explode, or something, right?"
"I don't know." I shake my head. Christina grabs my shoulders, shaking me until my nerves are replaced by nausea. Though I appreciate her trying to rid me of my anxiety.
"Feel better?"
"Not really," I say.
"You are gonna see Four, and you are going to have fun," she orders. She gives my arms a tight squeeze and then smiles. "You can do this, Tris." I nod, but I don't think my stomach gets the message.
"If I tell you the story of what happened when I met Will, do you think you'll calm down a little?" She asks, staring me in the eyes.
"You can try it," I answer weakly.
"Okay. Flashback to freshman year: he and I constantly bickered, and then one day, in our sophomore year, our class had a field trip; we had to wait at the train station. Will, being the smarty pants he tends to be, was leaning quite closely towards the tracks to see something because he wanted to know what it was. I didn't know he had feelings for me; I never really thought I had any for him other than, supposed, mutual dislike." She shrugs, and I feel myself starting to lose the tension as I try to imagine fifteen-year-old Will and Christina, "well, he almost fell down onto the tracks. I happened to be standing relatively close by and I reached out to grab him, out of instinct and it turned out he was only faking it. He pulled me against him and kissed me, and he didn't even taunt me for my concerned reaction. But he did laugh—asshole." She grins.
I smile, picturing in my mind what that moment must have been like. To see someone as your total opposite, and then suddenly your equal. Will deserves a round of applause.
"Better?"
I think so. I nod, shaking my hands out one last time, and smile wider, "much."
xxxxx
We get inside, Christina and I, and we spot Zeke, Uriah, and Tobias by the control room door; Tobias's eyes flicker to mine and he smiles at me. My face heats up when I notice that the others are watching us—still, Tobias holds his hand out for me, and I slip my fingers between his.
His hands are not particularly soft, or too rough. His fingers are long and narrow, but they give mine just the right amount of pressure. Mine feel too warm, but he doesn't seem bothered by it.
"Believe me now?" Tobias smirks. Uriah points to Zeke.
"He didn't believe you," Uriah says, "I did."
"It's not that I didn't," Zeke retorts, rolling his eyes, "I'm just saying, you're not exactly nice and she might be a other-worldly for having the ability to put up with you."
I find it easier to joke, and say, "You're already talking about me?" Tobias grins, pulling me closer to him.
"Well, as much as I'd love to stay," Zeke starts, motioning between us, "I have to watch the cameras... otherwise, I have to face your wrath again."
"I didn't yell at you," Tobias sighs, "but the lost footage wasn't my fault."
"It wasn't mine either."
"Lost footage?" I ask.
Zeke shakes his head, "different story, for a different time." He turns to open the door, and starts up the stairs; Uriah waves goodbye and follows Christina down the hall toward the main area. Tobias's fingers squeeze mine again, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"You can go with them if you want," he says softly, "I'm not forcing you to stay here with me."
I give him a look, "don't do that." I scowl. I evaluate my wants and fears, before telling him, "I want to spend time with you." Tobias smiles, touching his palm to my face.
"I just don't want you to think you have to stay with me." I nod, because I understand him. I really do, but I don't want to be afraid of him. I want this to get easier, even if I'm the only one who needs the reassurance.
"I want to." I say, firmer.
"We can go to my apartment if you want peace and quiet," he offers. My stomach twists; he said so last night, that his intentions are pure. I trust him, "Or we can go out there."
"No," I say, "your apartment sounds fine."
"Fine?" He asks. Tobias smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes like it usually does; he sighs, never looking away from my eyes, "you can talk to me about anything, you know. If going to my apartment bothers you—,"
"—just trust me," I say.
xxxxx
"Do you want something to drink?" Tobias kicks his shoes off by the door. My throat is dry; I nod.
"Water's fine, thank you," I reply. His apartment is still the same from the last time I was here. I notice, though, this time, all of the paint and graffiti on the wall opposite the kitchen. Some words I can make out, but others are lost under the layers of new colors. "did you do that?" I ask, pointing towards the wall.
Tobias looks up, and comes up beside me. He briefly glances at the wall, and hands me a cold water bottle; he shakes his head, smirking a little, "No. People before me did. I just don't feel the need to cover it up or go over it." It's a loud, but impressive, addition making it stand out from the other plain walls. I don't know how I missed it last time.
He touches my cheek again, running his thumb over my bottom lip that's wedged between my teeth, "are you okay?" Then he adds, "honestly." I sigh, and manage a nod.
"I am, really," I say, feeling a bit more confident. He looks somewhat convinced, but doesn't press me on it.
Tobias laces his fingers with mine then. He kisses my forehead, lingering there for a moment, before he kisses the tip of my nose, and then my lips. I don't know how, but kissing him comes as a second nature like it's not still new to us. His lips fit perfectly against mine, and electricity surges through my body.
His hands move to my shoulders, almost hovering like he's unsure if he can touch me. He brushes his thumbs along my skin, soothingly. I sigh against his lips—I think I could get used to this.
When he pulls back, he looks down at the tattoo on my collarbone; it's more prominent now because of the shirt I'm wearing—he can thank Christina for that much. He smiles, "I never did get to see it that well." A small laugh bursts from my chest, and I find the courage to slide a hand up his neck, into his hair. And just like that, his expression is serious, "I meant it before, you know... You can talk to me about anything."
"I know," I reply. "There is something..."
He doesn't sound irritated, or impatient; he sounds amused, "I figured as much." We're quiet; I count each rise and fall of his chest. But he presses his lips to my cheek, and says slowly, "what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," I say softly, "You've been so honest... I feel like I owe you the same. I'm not afraid of you, but I'm afraid of what I want." I see his breathing pick up before I hear it.
"What do you want?" He asks, his eyes meet mine, "me?" My throat tightens; I'm unable to speak so I just nod. I want to be truthful with him—if admitting to myself first, and then him, that he is what I want, would it get easier to do this?
His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against him into a gentle hug. I can feel his heart beating against my cheek, and I smile a little. Just like he'd said—I make him nervous, too.
"Someday, if you still want me," Tobias says, kissing the top of my head, "we can." And it's all I need to hear from him right now. My arms wind around his neck and I pull myself up on my toes to kiss him. He hums against my lips, quietly, grasping my chin between his fingers.
xXxXx
At some point, we made our way over to his bed, just lying there, talking and kissing. I will myself to believe that it will not go any further; and it doesn't, because Tobias doesn't attempt anything more than resting his hand on my waist, or kissing my jaw.
I steal glances at his watch; not because I want to leave, but because when we're quiet the ticking is all I can hear. It's just past midnight—I really should be getting back; Christina might worry, and I have more exams tomorrow.
Tobias's fingers draw oblong circles between my shoulder blades, his lips rest on the crown on my head, and my legs are tangled with his. We're a heap of limbs, but I've never been more comfortable.
My eyelids are heavy, my limbs are relaxed, and sleep is quickly ebbing away at my consciousness. Tobias lightly nudges my shoulder, provoking something between a moan and a sleepy hum from my throat, "Tris, you're falling asleep." He sounds amused.
"So?" I ask, tilting my chin up to readjust my head on his shoulder. Tobias chuckles, kissing my temple.
"I'm still here," he says, quietly, "I can take the floor." I weakly pull myself up into a sitting position and brush my hair out of my eyes. I'm really tired, but I don't think I can make it back to the dorm without falling asleep on the way there. I weigh my options; I could spend the night here with him, or play it safe and get back to my dorm.
"I can't kick you out of your own bed," I say, yawning.
"It's not kicking me out if I offered, Tris."
"Still..." I try to protest, but I don't come up with anything. He smirks, pecking my lips.
"How about I walk you back then?" I feel the corners of my lips tug up, and I nod. He stands up from the bed and holds his hand out for me, helping me to my feet. The whole way back, we walk hand in hand and we talk to keep me awake; he asks me more about my family, my exams, and me.
I think I can do this, me and him.
xXxXx
I'm shaken awake by Christina the next morning.
Her eyes are bright, excited and her face is practically red from holding in whatever she wants to tell me. "What is it?" I ask, propping myself up. I'm still only half awake when she lets out a loud, ecstatic squeal.
Christina grabs my shoulders, watching me with a suddenly-stern expression, "promise you won't get all weird on me." I give her a hard look, and she smirks, shaking her head, "okay, whatever. Will and I finally did it. Last night."
I feel my jaw drop on its own accord, and Christina just laughs. "Oh my god," she just nods, practically bouncing. I feel like I should be looking at her differently, but I don't; she's still Christina, still my best friend. I feel a smile growing on my face, and we start laughing, "Oh my god, Chris!"
Christina smirks at me, "you are such a girl—I love it!" I ignore the comment, suddenly feeling my face grow warm. I don't know much about sex; I know the basics.
"Well..." I hesitate, "what was it like?" She heaves a large sigh, but the smile never leaves her face.
"I don't even know how to explain it, honestly," she answers, "it was... amazing. I feel like a new woman." She laughs at her own explanation, and I join her, shaking my head.
"Where did you guys go?"
"We came back here," Christina says, blushing, "I figured you'd be with Four for a while, and I was right."
"Was it... weird... at all?" I ask. She shrugs.
"I mean, a little," she says, "you know, before. But afterwards...it wasn't, not really." She grins again, covering her face with her hands, "it just felt right...the timing, him...me..."
Then she hugs me, shaking me violently again; I've never seen her this happy, but I'm glad that Will is the guy for her, "I'm happy for you guys," I say, wrapping my arms around her. Despite my lack of knowledge on the topic, she still tells me all of the details.
I may not look at her differently, but I'm sure if I see Will at breakfast I'm gonna have to make sure nothing is weird—Christina can be a little too honest.
It's Wednesday morning, no full classes, but we exams at ten. We get up for breakfast. Christina launches herself off my bed, hurrying to get dressed; I know I will have to, so I throw the blanket off of my legs and stand up, grabbing clothes on my way to the showers.
xxxxx
Will and Christina don't join us for breakfast—they sit by themselves, and I can't help but smile when I glance over at them. They make it look so at ease.
I think about Tobias. If we were to ever get that far, would it be that easy? I guess I wouldn't know—I couldn't know... not yet, anyways.
For most of breakfast, I listen to Marlene and Lynn talking about people whose names I don't care to remember. Uriah sits beside me, scarfing down food like it's nothing. His eating habits are insane—I laugh.
"How do you eat like that?" I ask, staring at my tray of nearly untouched food.
"How do you...not eat like that?" Uriah retorts, grinning. I laugh, and scoop a spoonful of eggs into my mouth to humor him; he nudges my shoulder, as if to jokingly say 'good job'.
I bite my lip, and quietly ask, "have you seen To—Four today?" Uriah nods, taking his time to chew and then swallow his food before answering me.
"Yeah, he and Shauna went for a run this morning, and I think they're meeting Zeke in the training room later," he answers, glancing over at me, "I can bring you with me if you want. I'm heading there after the exam." I feel a blush creep into my skin; I want to see him. Uriah laughs, shaking his head at me, "I was gonna hold back my comments, but you make it too easy."
"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, jabbing his ribs with my elbow. He just grins, rubbing what will be a bruise later.
"You asked me if I'd seen Four today," he answers, "and you're blushing, even though I didn't make a joke. That's what I mean." I just roll my eyes at him.
xxxxx
Uriah and I head to the pit, taking the entrance to the tattoo parlor. Tori spots us, and briefly waves but returns to the new design she's sketching out. I keep thinking about getting a new one, but I don't know what it would be; Christina has my head filled with the idea.
We sneak down the corridor; I hear Tobias's laugh, loud and genuine and I smile, instantly. Uriah throws the door open, most likely in hopes of scaring them, but scowls when they just turn to look at us, shaking their heads, "damn, that was a bust," he sulks, kicking at the concrete like a disappointed child. I lightly touch his arm, as if it'll console him and then turn to the others.
"What are you guys doing here?" Shauna asks. I see Uriah grin then, mischievously, and he peers over at me for a moment—this won't be subtle. I brace myself.
"She wanted to see Four," I was right. I punch him in the arm, ignoring the pain in my knuckles at the contact—my face heats up, and I drop my eyes to the ground as I hear the others snickering, quietly.
An arm snakes around my waist then, and Tobias pulls me into his side. I lean against him—he is strong and warm. He touches his lips to the top of my head, just standing there with me. "Funny, I was thinking the same thing," he says, loud enough for them to hear. I look up at him, meeting his eyes and nod. Tobias smirks, "so you really wanted to see me?"
"I came to punch some bags," I joke; he feigns a hurt expression, and I laugh, pushing him lightly. His other arm wraps around me then—I can feel the others staring at us, and I rest my hands against my face, cooling my skin down.
Yet I don't feel smothered, like I expected to.
Zeke and Uriah head over to the mats, about to start a match while Shauna watches, counting down until she says 'go!' Tobias watches them, and I turn to him; he looks at me.
I feel a little awkward asking, but he's told me I can tell him anything; that I shouldn't be embarrassed. And I know I shouldn't be, but my teeth dig into my lip anyway as I say, "can we go somewhere?" I don't mind being here, but I want to be alone with him for a while.
Tobias nods, and we begin to head for the door; the others are too preoccupied with the fight to really notice, but Shauna waves at us before we leave.
"I really did come to see you," I say, watching him. The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile, and he glances down at me.
"I'm glad you did," he replies, fitting his hand against the small of my back. I focus on the feel of his hand resting so casually on me; even through the fabric, it feels like his skin could burn me. I think, someday, I will welcome the burn.
We walk down a deserted corridor—I glance around, looking down different hallways as we pass them. "Where are we going?" I ask; this is a different way from any of the ones I remember.
"It's a place I like to go sometimes; Zeke found it."
I grin, "just how many hiding places do you have?" Tobias smirks, shrugging.
"Tons," he answers after a moment, "you may never get to see them all."
"What if you're ever missing?" I don't like the idea, but I joke anyway, "wouldn't you want someone to know these places? Maybe find you?"
"But see that's the beauty about good hiding places," Tobias says, "nobody else ever finds them." I get a sense there's a double meaning to his answer—he sounds almost longing. I don't ask him about it, though I want to know. "But that's why I'm showing you."
The hallway is darker now, Tobias's grip is just a little stronger like I might disappear in the shadows if he lets go. I hear the sounds of water again, and I recognize that we are somewhere close to the chasm.
He presses a hand to the wall, like he is feeling for something. A minute or so later, he finds what he is looking for; there is an opening big enough for a person and no more. It opens up above the chasm, and I realize that we are on the other side of it now—I can just see the rock we sat on the other night, but only a piece of it, and I realize no matter where we are in here, we are hidden.
Tobias finds a place to sit, his feet hanging over the edge; his sneakers are soaked in seconds, but he doesn't seem bothered by it. I ask, "Does the height not bother you here?"
He shrugs, "Not really. It's dark enough to almost completely ignore it." Tobias pulls something out of his pocket, a flash of light reflects off of it and as he unscrews the cap I smell the unmistakable scent of alcohol. "It's only beer," he says, carefully.
"I've never had it," I say.
"You can try it if you want," Tobias grins, shaking his head, "but I will say the taste isn't the best there is."
"Maybe later," I laugh, a little out of nerves. I see the white of his teeth as he smiles, then he takes a sip. Does he always drink this close to the chasm? I bite my lip, and ask, "Do you do that often?"
"What?" He asks. I wave my hand toward the flask.
"Drink," I say, "this close to the water?"
"Not usually, no," he says, shyly, "sometimes with Zeke and Shauna, but not on a regular basis." I suddenly wonder what his motivation is, what is making him do this. He can't still be that nervous around me—I want to ask him, but I am afraid it will be a question he can't, or won't, answer just yet. He seems evasive to the more personal questions, maybe with good intentions for now.
But I don't forget he's nineteen; perhaps it is just something to do, a small rebellion of the rules. I can't forget that he is still so young... nineteen; two years older than me. I scowl slightly.
"What's wrong?" He asks. I shake my head with a sigh.
"I overthink things, sometimes," I say lightly.
He doesn't look surprised; he straightens his back and asks, "What are you overthinking?"
"I'm younger than you..." I reply. I watch him frown at me, and I shake my head again, "I don't still think... that." I say quickly, "...I guess I just don't understand what makes me different."
"Is it really that hard to believe somebody likes you?" He asks, carefully.
"You'd be the first," I answer.
"That's not exactly true." I raise my eyebrows at him, confused. He gives me a look like it should be obvious, "your guy friend?" I had almost forgotten about Al. I feel the tension ease out of me enough to laugh a little.
"Okay, fine. You'd be the second person to in that case," I say, disconsolately. Tobias moves closer to me, so that his leg touches mine, and he presses his lips to my temple, breathing in.
xxxxx
That night, Tobias and I go to the pit with the others.
He keeps his arm around me, and for once I don't feel so alone around Will and Christina. Though I never truly was.
I'm not used to Tobias being with us like this, but I like it. I like that he holds me against him, like he's done it a million times before. I like how easy this feels. And I'm not sure if it's the alcohol in my system that makes me feel lighter, or if I'm just tired of arguing with myself that I've finally given in.
Either way I lean into him more, welcoming the warmth from his body, happily.
I notice that he doesn't try to kiss me; it's actually a bit of a relief. Tobias keeps his affections to a minimum in front of the others. We both appreciate leaving those moments for when we're alone. Though he kisses the top of my head occasionally.
I notice Al, glancing over at us every time he thinks I'm not looking; he's sulking. I feel bad, but I can't—I won't—find it in me to tell Tobias to keep his distance whenever Al is around. I try not to look over at him anymore tonight.
xXxXx
After my exam, I find Caleb at the cafeteria and join him for lunch. He's having an in-depth conversation with himself, since I don't really have an interest in water filtration and how it works. But for him, I try to make it look like I know what he's talking about, at least a little bit.
He eyes my tattoo then; I had forgotten that I'd even gotten it. It's fully healed. Caleb frowns, slightly, "You're not worried about what mom and dad will have to say?"
"Not really," I say, shaking my head. I absentmindedly skim my fingers over it. "They wouldn't have to know just yet..." my voice grows quiet with each word. I know Caleb hates lying.
"Beatrice—,"
"—I know. I know, Caleb. I'll deal with their disapproval when I get it from them. Can't you just pretend you didn't see it?" I plead; he looks indecisive and I pout slightly, "Please? Just act like you never knew about it." He sighs; I know how much he hates keeping secrets from our parents. But he's my brother, and he's lied for me before. As I have for him. He'll do this for me.
"Fine," he sighs. "I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see you again."
"Well, we have different friends," I say simply, "you're always with them, I'm always with mine." Caleb nods. And I have a boyfriend now... except I think I'll bite my tongue on that discussion a little longer. I'm not sure how much new information he can take from me today.
I didn't realize just how much I actually missed my brother until now; he listens to my stories, about most of my nights at the pit—he's weary of the idea of me going to such a place, but he holds back most of his opinions. His exciting nights are trying not to get caught staying in the labs after curfew.
I tell him about Four; leaving out that he's my boyfriend. I almost tell him; it is too easy to get lost in honesty, I realize. But I don't need Caleb going all big-brother on me, right now. So far, Caleb hasn't said anything against him; I think he actually approves of the Four I've described. He just doesn't know the part about us.
But when he brings up the girl, Susan, that he's so very fond of, I just want to tell him about Tobias and me. I just can't bring myself to say it—not because I'm embarrassed, or trying to keep it a secret forever. Not really. I just know how Caleb is; he'll ask a lot of questions.
"Have you spoken to mom or dad recently?" I ask. Caleb nods.
"A few days ago," he answers, "they want to talk to you sometime. They were mostly checking in on us again, wondering how things are." I nod once; I miss them, a lot. But I like it here. "They want to come up for a visit."
"Did you tell them yes?"
"I did," he answers, "should I not have?"
"No," I say almost too quickly, "you should have, I mean. Of course I want to see them." Caleb smiles then, and nods. He still looks boyish to me, but he looks older—like I haven't seen him years rather than weeks. As we sit, talking, I realize we truly are growing apart—we are finding ourselves here.
I could never forget my brother's face, but I almost don't recognize him right in front of me.
xXxXx
I decide to meet Tobias at his apartment after lunch. When I get inside, it's warm; like the first time he brought me here. He heads toward the kitchen, grabbing a glass. I hear the faucet, and watch as he fills the cup with water.
He notices my staring and gives me a curious look, smirking slightly. Setting the glass down behind him, he turns to watch me for a moment, "what?" I can't help but smile, shaking my head at how absurd I'm being. Only he could make something so simple look so interesting.
"Nothing," I answer, "I just got distracted." The moment I say it, my skin warms.
"By me drinking water?"
I decide to play along and shrug, "you're quite talented." Tobias laughs. Stepping closer, until there is only about a foot between us.
He lifts my chin up with his fingers, pressing kisses to my jaw, and my cheek, and then my lips. It is a sweet kiss, nothing desperate like our first; though I can still tell he's waited all day to do this. Bumps rise along my skin as his hands trail down my arms, and Tobias pulls back to ask, "are you cold?" I shake my head. How do I tell him it's just a reaction to him?
He asks me about my day; I skip telling him about my exams and I tell him about my lunch with Caleb—he looks almost in awe as I talk about how different our lives have become. I tell him my parents are planning to visit, and as I say this, Tobias's fingers pull at the neck of my shirt, revealing my tattoo.
"Aren't you worried they'll see this?" He asks. His fingers accidentally graze the skin beneath my collarbone, almost making me forget the question.
"A little," I finally say, "but my mother has one."
"Does she?"
I nod, "I saw it once, it's on the back of her shoulder..."
A little while later, Tobias tells me stories of past dates Zeke used to set him up on, "Do you remember the stories I told you, where Zeke always dragged me on double dates, and every time it always ended with them making out and me somehow offending the girl I was with." I laugh, nodding.
"Well you aren't exactly the nicest," I say.
"Somehow you're still here," he grins, leaning forward to peck my lips. I smile, meeting his eyes.
"How early on did you offend those girls, Tobias?" I tease. The carnal side of me is glad none of them worked out; every first of his, is a first of mine too. He laughs, shaking his head.
"Too early on." It doesn't seem like he's bothered by that confession, though. We talk more, about his day this time. I don't realize how late it is until I can no longer contain my yawns. Tobias chuckles, giving me a look through hooded eyelids. He is getting tired too.
"You can stay here tonight, Tris. If you're tired. I swear, I don't mind." I nod, so he knows I heard him but I don't answer right away. I have no classes tomorrow, but I have one exam left. He swears he will be up early enough to wake me, so I finally give in to his pleas. I laugh, because I don't see him as the type to beg, and this time, I kiss him without fear—without fear that he'll hurt me, or take advantage of me. And he kisses me right back, for as long as he can before we have to break away for air.
I am already dozing to sleep on the bed while he gathers some blankets, letting them drop to the floor. He steals a pillow off the other side of the bed, careful not to move me around too much, and lets that drop too. Before he gets comfortable on the ground, Tobias presses his forehead to mine softly, his breaths fan over my face as he whispers, "you might think I'm saying this too early, but I have to tell you that I am absolutely crazy about you."
I'm not sure if he thinks I am asleep, but I heard every word. And just like that he has just confessed himself. Tobias gives me one last kiss on the forehead, and takes the spot on the floor.
xXxXx
'You might think I'm saying this too early, but I have to tell you that I am absolutely crazy about you...' I hear those words in my head, replaying over and over from last night. His confession made everything more clear—just how important I am to him already; and I find it easier to trust him, and his actions.
I am awake, but I don't open my eyes just yet. There's a blanket that's twisted and tangled around my legs, and the bed dips down with my weight. It's soft—and nothing like my mattress. The sweet, yet heavy and musky scent fills my nose then and my eyes peek open, blinded by the sunlight streaming in through the window.
That's not my window either. I lift my head up off the pillow, glancing around; I'm in Tobias's apartment still. Though I don't see him anywhere at the moment. The clock in the kitchen reads just before eight. I wonder when he left.
I sigh, sitting up; my body aches and pops from sleep, and the blanket falls to my lap with a quiet rustle. My shoes, kicked off carelessly, now sit upright by the end of the bed. He must have moved them. I wonder where he went.
I look down and see the make-shift bed he made last night is all picked up; the blankets sit on a chair, and the pillow is on the end of the bed by my feet. I stand up and head to the bathroom; I notice my reflection—the sleep lines beneath my eyes, and the marks from my sleeves. I didn't wash the make-up off my face, either; the once even, neat black lines are now smudged under my eyes and in my eyelashes. I sigh, casting my eyes over my hair. It's not too bad, but it sticks out and tangles in some spots.
I hear the sound of the front door opening, and I step out of the bathroom. Tobias walks into the room. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, "you're awake. How did you sleep?" He asks, kicking his sneakers off by the door. He went for a run.
"Well." I answer, stretching my muscles out. My body still feels heavy with sleep, but I have to move around. "How did you sleep?" I ask as he wraps me in a tepid hug. He's sweaty from his run, but at the moment I don't care.
"You know, the floor is not as uncomfortable as you may think," Tobias says, smirking, "I slept fine."
"How long did I sleep?"
He shrugs, "almost eight hours. I wasn't gonna wake you earlier; you looked too comfortable." He says, kissing my forehead. I shake my head against his chest.
"Did you watch me?" I ask.
"You know, you're quite a heavy sleeper," Tobias teases; I give him a look and he laughs, "I'm joking, Tris."
"I know," I say, trying to fight the smile. He squeezes me just a little bit tighter, and I embrace him. He pulls back to look at me, smoothing my hair down. "It's a lost cause," I tell him, defeated. My hair needs a brush. He smirks.
"It looks fine," he says, tucking most of it behind my ear. I want to tell him about last night, what he said to me when he thought I was sleeping, but I decide against it. For now, I'll keep it as my little secret—I want to hold onto it for just a little bit longer.
xXxXx
"Free of exams," Uriah claps his hands together, a triumphant grin on his face as we walk to the cafeteria. We meet the others for dinner, Lynn and Will are the first ones at the table. Lynn seems to be determined to win whatever it is they're arguing about, but when I sit down she just turns away from him. Will shakes his head.
"Did I interrupt something?" I ask, pushing my tray forward. Lynn steals the lettuce on the side, and begins to rip it into smaller shreds. I don't comment, but I watch as she lefts the pieces fall onto the table to dry up. I notice Uriah is no longer by my side.
"Not really," Lynn sighs, a deep scowl on her face, "we just have different opinions."
The filter between my brain and my mouth is lost as I say, "Don't your opinions differ with everyone's?" Part of me can't believe I have just said that to her. Lynn watches me, glaring slightly. I expect to get sucker punched, but she just sits back.
And then she laughs.
"I have to give credit where credit is due," she says, smirking, "fair point, Tris. I didn't think you had it in you, but maybe you could be a bitch." I release the breath I had been holding in, and let myself laugh with her for a moment.
"That was a mistake," I reply, shaking my head.
"A truthful one," Will speaks up. Lynn barely acknowledges him; I interrupted something, though I don't press on the matter anymore.
"Hey—where's Christina?" I glance around the cafeteria to see if she's in line, but I don't see her anywhere. "And Al?"
"Christina wasn't feeling well, so she went back to the dorm to rest for a while." Will answers, "But Al, I'm not sure. He was back at the dorm a little earlier, he might still be there." I nod.
We hear a cheerful, loud scream sound from the other end of the room then; the doors are thrust open from the courtyard and Uriah comes charging through the aisle with Marlene thrown over his shoulder. She waves at us as they run past. Her face is bright red.
Lynn leans across the table towards me, lowering her voice, "have you noticed how much time they've been spending together lately?" I shake my head—I haven't noticed. Usually, when I see Uriah it's just the two of us, or the group. "And Uriah has been like super flirty with her..."
She looks amused.
"Maybe he likes her," I shrug. Lynn rolls her eyes.
"Of course he likes her," she says, snapping her fingers at me, "wake up!" I give her a hard look; she shrugs me off. "Has your newfound relationship made you less observant than usual?" I want to be angry at her insult, but I know it's in her nature—she's a hard person to like, but when you do you try to overlook her abrasiveness.
"Not less," I finally say, indignant.
After a few minutes, Uriah and Marlene come back and they sit down beside us; with Marlene beside me, and Uriah across from us, next to Lynn. "What was that all about?" Lynn asks them. I'm about to eat, but the food is now cold; I push the tray away from me.
Uriah reaches for my hamburger.
He shrugs, swallowing his food before he answers, "I could carry you around if you're jealous." He's joking, but by how frantic he is to grab the table after Lynn punches him I take it she's not. But she smirks.
"I am not jealous," she promises, "and I wouldn't let you."
"Yeah, yeah," he says, waving her off. He glances at me, giving me an easy, toothy grin, and then says, "we're going to the pit tonight—all are welcome to join." Lynn rolls her eyes at him; I find it humorous how extravagant he makes the smallest things seem. "Eric has some fights going on later. I heard he managed to get Peter to fight."
"Are you serious?" Just as I ask this, Peter stops at a table a few rows down—he's grinning like he's excited. He almost looks normal, like I wouldn't recognize anything significant about him if he hadn't tried to shut my arm in door the first time I ever met him. He turns his head, and catches me staring. I mentally kick myself. He's coming over.
"Did you guys hear? I'm fighting tonight." He asks, but I know the question is directed at me, like I have an interest–I'm only interested if he's losing.
"Well, for our benefit I hope you lose," Lynn says, looking unamused. Peter's leans across the table, towards me; I try not to flinch.
"I wasn't talking to you," Peter hisses at her. He looks back to me, "Too bad you're not my opponent, stiff. You'd probably burst into tears after the first hit." My hands itch to smack him, or scratch him—anything to see the color of his blood, either spilling or rushing beneath the surface. But I don't. I keep my fingers firmly clasped around my knees and focus on the pressure as I clench and unclench my fists. "Too scared to talk now?" He taunts.
I turn to face him, glaring hard. I clear the hasty, angry retorts from my throat and say, "I'm not afraid of you. And I'm not afraid to take you on," I keep my voice even, firm, as I stare him down, "but I don't need to beat you to prove anything."
I am not afraid of him, not like I thought I was. This strength is driven by hate.
Peter glares at me, "we'll see about that." It's not the reaction he wants—not the one he expected. And when he stalks off, I smile a little. He can't get to me if I don't let him, and I won't. But I am worried at what he means by 'we'll see about that'.
I turn to Uriah, and say, "Okay. We're going to that fight. Do you know who he's up against?"
Uriah shrugs, "don't know yet. But this guy's Eric's secret weapon—according to what Zeke was told."
"Well, I'm all for seeing the bastard child get his ass kicked," Lynn says, rubbing her hands together; the excited glint in her eye tells me she's waited for this day. "What time's this fight?"
xXxXx
Tobias Eaton's POV
Eric is in the control room the next morning when I arrive for my shift. He is at my monitor, a deep pucker between his brows. I ask, "What do you think you're doing?"
He looks up at me, frowning, "I should be asking you that question." Uh oh, this can't be good.
"What are you talking about?"
"One of the cameras was found busted last night, the camera in the hall to the apartments. And when I tried to pull up the footage before it got that way, I realized it's missing. Like someone erased it from the hard drive."
"And you think I had something to do with both events?" I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose, "If I wanted to lose my job—or even my residence here—do you really think I'd be that careless covering it up?" I shake my head, "You're smart, Eric... you should have known right off the bat it wasn't me."
"You have been preoccupied lately," he agrees, smug, "Not to mention sneaky..."
"You're ridiculous," I snap.
"No need to get defensive," Eric bites the piercing in his lip as he thinks, "If you didn't do anything." I breathe through my nose to keep calm.
"Does Max know about any of this yet?" I ask.
"Not yet," Eric stands up, "But no need to worry, I'll be in touch with him."
"What do you get from all of this?" I shake my head, "You're already leadership—what more do you want from him?"
"You better find that footage," he says, stalking past me to head out, "and soon." Zeke walks in then, his gaze following Eric as he leaves down the hall. He gives me a questioning look.
"What did he want?"
"Some footage has gone missing..." I say, "apparently from the hard drive completely. Eric was checking for traces of it through my computer."
"He thinks you would do that?" Zeke asks, incredulous. I shrug.
"So it would seem."
"That's fucked..." he sits down beside me, looking through the files Eric left on my monitor, "So is someone framing you? From the looks of these codes... whoever did this knew what they were doing..."
"They would have had to get past my login," I tell him with a scowl.
"Are we sure Eric didn't do this himself?" Zeke sighs, "he is the only other person, besides Tori, that knows the information. And you already know Tori is too loyal to Max to ever do anything close to this."
"Eric wouldn't have left any traces behind," I say.
"Unless he did it intentionally," Zeke argues. As much as I'd like to believe Eric could have done this, I know for a fact he didn't. This work is too careless, as he'd said. And I have no desire my sabotage my employment with Max. I'm not sure whoever did this even works for him.
"It wasn't Eric. It wasn't Tori. I will say it a thousand times, it wasn't me—,"
"—Or me," Zeke cuts in.
"Right." I nod once, "how are we supposed to get this footage back before Eric goes and tells Max, and he decides to suspect both of us?"
"He can suspect me all he wants," Zeke says, a smirk on his face, "I may have a job here, but I'm not that smart for erasing footage into oblivion."
"You don't want Max suspecting you anyways," I snap, "This person smashed one of the cameras, and then broke in here and erased the evidence. We're up against someone that knows more about this place than we thought."
Zeke tells me to calm down, "What if it's another employee, or someone that used to work here and has a grudge. Max can take care of that, don't worry about what Eric says... if you want, I'll stay here tonight so that nothing like this happens again. And we'll take turns, you stay here in the day and I'll cover the nights."
"I don't think we have another choice," I sigh, "we aren't getting that footage back..."
"We'll take care of it," Zeke promises, "nobody's losing their job for no reason, Max isn't like that." I know Zeke is right, but part of me can't help feeling uneasy—the other half of me wants to think it's Eric, just trying to scare us. But this is serious—this is what Max expects us to prevent, and Eric would not put himself in the position to lose his power.
xxxxx
I am on my way out of the control room, followed by both Zeke and Uriah. Since mentioning this morning that Tris and I are together, Zeke says, "I need to see this for myself."
"What is so hard to believe?" I ask, "you wanted me to throw myself at her—,"
"—which you blatantly disregarded," he adds.
"I didn't disregard it. But I wasn't about to be obnoxious to get her attention," I retort, rolling my eyes, then add, "Unlike some people—"
The door at the end of the hall opens—as if on cue—and in walks Christina, followed by Tris. She looks calm, but a blush creeps across her skin and I smile at her. She smiles in return.
When they're close enough, I reach out for her hand; her fingers are quite long for a girl's, and thin. Her hands are soft, nothing compared to my rough, and calloused palms. I give her hand a light squeeze, and grin at Zeke, "believe me now?"
He scowls at me, but looks over at Tris for a moment. Uriah says, "He didn't believe you, I did."
"It's not that I didn't," Zeke replies, rolling his eyes at me, "I'm just saying, you're not exactly nice and she might be a other-wordly for having the ability to put up with you." I almost repeat what he'd said to me the other day, but Tris speaks up before I can.
"You're already talking about me?" I realize she's joking, sounding so at ease. I admire that about her, that she realizes this doesn't change how they see her. I grin, pulling her closer into my side. Her small frame fits perfectly.
"Well, as much as I'd love to stay," Zeke says, looking between the both of us, "I have to watch the cameras... otherwise, I have to face your wrath again." I sigh, shaking my head at him. He says it like I stormed the compound and threatened to throw him over the chasm.
"I didn't yell at you," I say, irritably, "but the lost footage wasn't my fault."
Zeke holds his hands up in front of him and says, "It wasn't mine either."
"Lost footage?" Tris asks.
Zeke shakes his head, "different story, for a different time." He turns to leave, and starts back up the stairs to the control room, while Uriah and Christina head for the pit, waving a goodbye to us. Tris's eyes linger after them for a moment—I have to remember not to be selfish, that it won't always be me she chooses to spend time with.
"You can go with them if you want," I say, keeping my voice soft, "I'm not forcing you to stay here with me."
She gives me a look between a sad frown and glare, "don't do that. I want to spend time with you." She says it confidently and I smile, cradling her face in my hand. This time, I allow the selfish part of me to rejoice.
"I just don't want you to think you have to stay with me." I say after a moment. Tris nods.
"I want to." She answers.
"We can go to my apartment if you want peace and quiet," I don't know how strongly she feels about that option, but I put it out there incase she's bored with the pit. A part of me feels now isn't the right time to suggest it, but the other part says she's strong enough to hear it and decide for herself, "Or we can go out there."
"No," She shakes her head, "your apartment sounds fine."
"Fine?" I ask, teasing her some. I don't want it to be just fine. I want to know what she's really thinking. I need to know she's not just agreeing with me to spare my feelings or anything. I know it would be easier on her, if nothing were sugarcoated between us. I try to smile, but instead I sigh, keeping my eyes firmly locked on hers, "you can talk to me about anything, you know. If going to my apartment bothers you—,"
"—just trust me," Tris says, her grey eyes look almost blue today, with a different fierceness I haven't seen until now. I don't want her to close up around me; that'll only makes things harder for the both of us. But I do trust her, and I realize that this is her decision to make herself more comfortable around me.
I unlock my door, and let her in first. This is not the first time she's been here, so this isn't really anything new for her. Everything about us, this, together, is.
"Do you want something to drink?" I offer. She nods after a moment.
"Water's fine, thank you," she replies, sounding strained. I go into my barely utilized kitchen, and grab a bottled water from the fridge. My water is clean enough to shower in, but I don't want to give her warm, tap water. "Did you do that?" Tris asks, pointing towards the wall. I glance over at the graffiti, despite knowing what that wall looks like by heart. I shake my head, and walk up beside her, holding the water out.
"No. People before me did. I just don't cover it up or go over it." Her fingers skim mine when she reaches for the bottle. She stares at the mural a little longer, as if avoiding my gaze. I want her to look at me again, so I can almost read her thoughts. I touch her cheek, my thumb frees her bottom lip, wedged between her teeth, "are you okay? Honestly." Please. Tris sighs, nodding. It doesn't sound like a defeated sigh, however—it almost sounds tired. But tired of what?
"I am, really," Tris says, her voice is strong, clear. My fingers find hers, and I kiss her forehead, breathing her in for a moment. She smells like soap, and something sweet. I kiss the tip of her nose next, and then her lips. I find it easy to enjoy this company—to be this close with somebody, and to want to share moments with them. I am glad it is her. That she is mine; it sounds possessive that way, but I wouldn't be opposed to her claiming me as such.
Intimacy, as innocent as this, with her, is more than enough. The thought never once appealed to me before her; I had heard people talk about it, but now I think they underestimate these small moments. To say anything more serious with her hasn't occurred to me would be a lie, but for now I know I can wait for that. Kissing her feels good, almost natural now.
Every little touch between us is like a current of electricity between wires, it never stops; it gets stronger. I almost forget that we are both new to this—my hands still just above her shoulders, unsure if I am touching her so carelessly. But as my fingers leave trails down her arms, she sighs against my lips and I pull her closer to me.
I wish air was not an obstacle.
I pull back to look at her, my eyes find the tattoo on her collarbone. It looks healed, the skin around it is no longer red, and it shows just above the neckline of her shirt. It is just low cut enough to reveal something, but not everything. Just looking at her now makes my throat dry.
"I never did get to see it that well," I say, my excuse to look at her just a little bit longer. She laughs, a soft expression on her face; peaceful, and comfortable. It tells me that she is not hiding her thoughts from me. I clear my throat, and say, "I meant it before, you know... You can talk to me about anything."
"I know," Tris replies with a small shrug of her shoulders, "There is something..."
I almost laugh with relief, but I just say, "I figured as much." We are quiet for a moment; I suddenly wonder if she has decided to keep it to herself. I press my lips to her cheek, finding the spot just before her ear, and I whisper, "what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," She says softly, "You've been so honest... I feel like I owe you the same," I want to tell her she doesn't owe me anything—I want her to get rid of that thought now, because I have no expectations. But she peers up at me through her eyelashes, and says, "I'm not afraid of you, but I'm afraid of what I want." Her words still within me, sending a shiver to my core. Has she just admitted she wants me? Not just a materialistic want, but a physical want—something more close to skin.
It stirs a feeling in me I have not felt before. A slight mishandle on my self-control...
"What do you want?" I ask, my throat feeling dry, "me?" Tris nods, slow but sure. I want you too, I want to tell her, a lot. But I don't. Instead I pull her back into my chest, in a gentle, but selfish, possessive hug. My fingers, tangled in her hair, keep her still against me, enjoying the feel of her heart beating in time with mine.
"Someday, if you still want me," I say into her hair, "we can." Tris pries herself from my hold, stepping up on her toes to kiss me, unyielding. She has done more than just wake me up; I feel like for a while I walked around almost dead, like my life had been missing one certain thing. But she has already given me so many things, she has not filled up just one empty space inside of me—she has taken up everything, even the bad things, and she has made them good again.
Almost like reincarnation; like the phoenix from the ashes, she has given me something to keep rising for.
xXxXx
It is late when I realize Tris is still in my arms; she is asleep, or almost asleep, in my arms. I shake her lightly, eliciting a hum from her throat. I say, "Tris, you're falling asleep." Not that I mind this peace one bit—I don't want her to leave yet.
"So?" She asks. I take it she doesn't want that either, and I laugh.
"I'm still here," I tell her, almost whispering, "I can take the floor." She pulls herself up, half awake. Her eyes are heavy, she can barely keep them open. Even in sleep, and the wrinkles from my shirt that have left an imprint on her cheek, she looks endearing.
"I can't kick you out of your own bed," she yawns.
"It's not kicking me out if I offered, Tris." My space can be hers, if that's what she wants.
"Still..." her protest falls short. I smirk, triumphantly and for a moment I think I've won, so I kiss her lightly. But then she edges towards the end of the bed again, and I know she will not stay here tonight.
"How about I walk you back then?" I earn her smile, and she nods in response. The walk is long, she doesn't move very fast but I don't mind. I talk to her, to keep her awake; I shake our hands so she focuses on that more than my voice, because I realize it is easy to talk to her in a soothing voice when she is like this.
For a moment, after she leaves me outside the school, I imagine what it would be like if we had been in school together. It is almost hard for me to think about it, because I was so different at seventeen.
When I get back to my apartment, I cover myself beneath the blankets again and miss the warmth her body offered, and I let the scent of her run through my memory as I drift back to sleep.
xxxxx
The clock reads just after four. I roll on my side, away from the clock and look out at the darkened city. I want to go for a run, to make myself tired—but my legs themselves are too tired to stand up.
So I stare up at the ceiling, lying on my back. It is not as comfortable; from learning to fall sleep on my stomach almost every night, it became my only way to sleep. My thoughts are just too loud, too active for sleep at the moment.
I think about Tris. I think about the missing footage. I think about too much, and nothing in particular all at once.
My eyes adjust to the darkness eventually, and I can see all of the marks and scratches indented in the cemented walls, and the countless graffiti stand out in a greyscale of various shades. None of which can distract me much. My eyelids feel heavy, but I'm wide awake.
Undoubtedly, one of my worst nights of sleep yet; not counting all of the times I stayed awake in blistering pain. Those were times when cold showers became my savior, numbing my back and making me forget what pain was. This is why staying awake frightens me, because I relive the turmoil of my childhood; I let it play over and over in my mind, and I'm powerless to stop it because I remember it all, much too well. Every crippling belt snap, every screamed held back by clenched teeth or a fist.
My body breaks out into a sweat, and I'm uncomfortable. My hands tremble and I clench my fists around the pillow, willing the thoughts to go away. I can't live with these memories forever. I won't live, looking back on these moments of weakness that left me helpless and hopeless. It's just too much to carry on with.
It's just harder letting go, I feel like I will lose a piece of my strength with it. I realize now there was strength in keeping quiet—there was greater strength it getting out, and not letting it consume me.
I try to focus on her face, and breathing through my mouth. Both tend to help when trying to forget doesn't.
I awake a few hours later, the clock now reads nine-thirty. I was supposed to take Zeke's place an hour and a half ago. I don't drag my feet getting ready, and I am out the door.
When I arrive, Zeke notices the dark circles under my eyes, but he doesn't comment on them. He is one of the few people that knows about my father—he has seen me come in from too many sleepless nights, with dark circles like bruises.
I take my seat at the monitor, and he pats me on the shoulder once, then leaves. It's gonna be a long shift.
xXxXx
Shauna and I head out for a run after my shift is over. We run down to the pier, stopping only to catch our breaths. My lungs burn, and my legs ache, but there is no better feeling. It's not like waking up, or stretching your muscles out—though both feel pretty good.
"Getting tired, yet?" Shauna asks, breathless. There are wisps of hair that frame her face and stick to the glistening skin of her forehead. She looks exhausted, but wide awake.
My shirt is drenched, so wiping the sweat off my face with it would do no good. I keep running, and shake my head at her, "No. I could go for another mile."
I don't believe I could, but it's nice to think I'm inexhaustible. That there are no limits to my physicality.
When we get back to the pit, my lungs are on fire, my ribs are sore, and the tension is tight in my abdomen.
In the main area, Eric is ordering his lackeys around. He spots me, and I know he has something to say to me; but I don't want to deal with him. "Anything on the footage, yet?"
"If I found anything new, don't you think I'd have reported it already?" I ask, irritably.
"Tick tock," he smirks, "Otherwise Max is gonna get a call... and I don't think you want that."
"Call him," I snap, "Call him now, Eric. Get it over with—that's what you want, right?"
"So tense," Eric snickers, shaking his head, "Even the stiff can't melt your cold heart, I see." I never want to hear him utter another word about Tris ever again, and I know I could make that happen. He wants to fight me so bad, I could give him a real fight—I could finally make things go the way I want them to. But that is a cowardly thing to think... it's intimidation through violence. Something my father would take advantage of.
But not me.
I shove past him, determined to get down to the training room to join Zeke and Shauna. Eric can call Max, for all I care. Max is too fond of me, he would make sure to see my point first.
xxxxx
In the training room, Zeke tells us about one of the dates he went on last night; apparently, it ended in a disaster—to which, I laugh a little too hard at, since he's usually the one who gets what he wants out of the date.
The door at the other end of the room is thrown open, Shauna flinches but otherwise doesn't seem fazed by it. Zeke stops talking to see who it is.
I see Uriah first, then Tris. She looks at me.
Uriah scowls at us, "damn, that was a bust." He looks like a sulking child. Tris stands behind him, patting his arm.
"What are you guys doing here?" Shauna asks. Tris visibly tenses the second Uriah looks up, grinning. He looks too amused, like he has been waiting for this moment.
"She wanted to see Four," He smirks. I look over at Tris, who throws a rough punch at his arm; Uriah gives her a look and cowers away, clutching his shoulder. She is bright red, Shauna and Zeke laugh quietly, but I can only smile.
I cross the room and come up beside her, pulling her into my side. "Funny, I was thinking the same thing," I say, loud enough for them to hear. Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of silver and blue, like the ocean, "so you really wanted to see me?"
Tris smirks, and says, "I came to punch some bags." I fake a hurt look and she laughs, trying to shove me away from her. I just hold her closer, and grin when her face gets even brighter.
I look up to see Zeke and Uriah over by the mats, shoving each other on the way there; Shauna follows them, and counts down from three. Tris shifts in the corner of my eye, and I look down at her, meeting her eyes.
She bites her lip, "can we go somewhere?" She looks so innocent asking; I nod and wave to the others, though Shauna is the only one paying attention. I keep Tris close to me, she's warm.
"I really did come to see you," she says; I suppress my smirk, because I know she was kidding before.
"I'm glad you did," I reach behind her, fitting my hand against the space between her shoulder blades. Her shirt is thin, it allows me to feel the ridges along her spine and the warmth of her skin. She shivers underneath my touch.
I don't take her back to my apartment, or the main area; I know of a place. I lead her down a removed corridor—it's much colder down this way. I should have mentioned it before. We walk down another dimly-lit corridor. "Where are we going?" Tris asks.
"It's a place I like to go sometimes; Zeke found it."
I grin, "just how many hiding places do you have?" I shrug.
"Tons," I reply, then joke, "you may never get to see them all." That is not entirely true, however—I believe I would do anything to make sure I had her all to myself if any of my other hiding places were found.
"What if you're ever missing?" she asks, weary, "wouldn't you want someone to know these places? Maybe find you?"
"But see that's the beauty about good hiding places," I say, "nobody else ever finds them." I want to kick myself for still being so reserved around her; so vague. I have a problem with specificity, it's probably one of my greatest flaws, albeit worst habits. Everything I say to her may as well be negligible. I add, "But that's why I'm showing you."
I hear the water rushing through the chasm the closer we get. The hallway is more narrow down this part, all of the light is back at the other end, making it harder to see where to step. But I know this place like the back of my hand. A moment later, I find the way in; a hole that is big enough for someone my size and no more. Tris fits through it easily. We are above another part of the chasm, the rock we sat on the other night is hidden from view.
I sit by the edge, my feet dangle over the water and this time the water soaks the bottom of my jeans. Tris sits down beside me, and asks, "Does the height not bother you here?"
I never really thought about it—most times Zeke would bring alcohol down here and nothing else mattered. And I'm not really thinking about the height right now... I shrug, "Not really. It's dark enough to almost completely ignore it." I guess this situation would make me Zeke—I pull a flask out of the pocket of my jacket and unscrew the cap, taking a sip. I notice Tris is eyeing it, "It's only beer."
"I've never had it," She says. This surprises me—of the few times I've seen her drink in the pit, I wonder what it was she had.
"You can try it if you want," I say with a grin. I feel like I am corrupting her, "but I will say the taste isn't the best there is."
"Maybe later," She laughs, her voice echoing off the wall behind us, and I smile at the sound. Then Tris asks, "Do you do that often?"
"What?"
"Drink," she says, "this close to the water?"
"Not usually, no," I say, carefully, "sometimes with Zeke and Shauna, but not on a regular basis." Tris is quiet beside me, her hands twisting in her lap again; a nervous habit. I can just make out her face in the dark; I can see the frown, bright as day.
"What's wrong?" I ask immediately. Maybe the beer wasn't a good idea.
"I overthink things, sometimes," She says. Relief. But I know it is not how I should be feeling.
I ask, "What are you overthinking?"
"I'm younger than you..." Tris starts. I can't help my frown—I'm curious now, as to why she seems to self-deprecating, "I don't still think... that. I guess I just don't understand what makes me different."
"Is it really that hard to believe somebody likes you?" I ask, turning my body to face her now. She sits up straighter.
"You'd be the first," she says, almost sad.
"That's not exactly true." I say, watching the confusion contort her face. How is it not obvious to her? She is incredible, yet she doesn't see it. How could I make her? I suddenly remember the reason we met—she was hiding from somebody, "your guy friend?" At that, Tris laughs.
"Okay, fine. You'd be the second person to in that case," She agrees. I can feel the tension roll off of her like waves, until she falls silent beside me. We stay like this for a while, until she gets too cold and we decide to meet the others at the pit.
Most of the time, I avoid it because it's so busy. Despite how much I've grown to love this place—sometimes it's just too much. Tris stays tucked under my arm for most of the night; not once does she tense up being this tangled up with me.
I have never truly understood the appeal of public displays of affection; not as severely as Zeke asserts himself, at least. I have no problem holding Tris's hands, or kissing her forehead. Tentative, I will probably always be—so I don't expect her to be as openly affection either.
Zeke tries to offer me another drink, but I turn it down. I had finished off the beer from earlier, and had a few more when we got here; I don't want to be drunk right now, not with Tris here. I have found that to forget how awful things can be around me, I prefer her to alcohol.
xXxXx
I join Zeke in the control room the next morning, monitoring screens for most of the day; still nothing new on the missing footage—though Eric has made it a point to annoy the hell out of me about it. I have decided to give up looking for it.
I know he has already called Max; Tori was throwing a fit this morning, yelling at Eric, telling him he shouldn't have bothered Max like that, and that we have everything under control. Of course, Eric didn't like that.
It is just past two when I tell Zeke I have somewhere to be; he makes a suggestive comment, but I don't hear the rest of it as the door shuts behind me.
I hear a knock on my door a little while later, and I know it is Tris. She had mentioned last night she wanted to come by after her exam. I offer to get her something to drink, but she insists she's fine so I grab myself some water.
I notice her watching me—her eyes have a way of letting me know, like I can feel her staring. But I don't mind it one bit. I set my glass down on the counter, and stare back. The counter stands between us, our only obstacle. I ask, smirking, "what?"
Tris laughs, and the more I hear it I believe it is the best sound I have ever heard.
"Nothing," she answers, blushing, "I just got distracted."
"By me drinking water?" I snort
She tries to shrug, like this is a casual conversation, but it doesn't work. I almost laugh, "you're quite talented." And at that, I do. I step around the counter, until the only space between us is a mere foot, at most. I lift her chin up, and kiss the skin below her jaw, up to her cheek, until I kiss her lips. My hands reach down to hold hers, and she shivers.
"Are you cold?" I ask. She shakes her head, then looks away when her skin breaks out into a blush. I want her to look at me again, so I lean down and keep my face close until she turns back to me and gives me a quick kiss. I smile, and ask, "how was your day?"
"Long," she sighs, "but good. I saw my brother today."
"Really? How was that?" I vaguely remember her telling me about him that first night in the chasm; she spoke so highly of him, and she still does.
"Good," she smiles, "He told me our parents want to visit soon... I miss them." Her eyes follow as my fingers tug at the neckline of her shirt, revealing her tattoo.
"Aren't you worried they'll see this?" I ask.
"A little," Tris admits, biting her lip, "but my mother has one."
"Does she?" Her face lights up as I ask this—she must have a good relationship with her; just like her brother, her she speaks highly of her mother as well. I want to feel jealous, that her relationship is so wholesome with her family, but I don't find it in me. Perhaps I didn't deserve a good relationship with mine—or at least my father—but she does; they sound like the perfect unit.
We talk for a little while, and then the conversation gets to me and my past relationships—if they can even be considered anything more than half-assed attempts, "Do you remember the stories I told you, where Zeke always dragged me on double dates, and every time it always ended with them making out and me somehow offending the girl I was with." Tris laughs.
"Well you aren't exactly the nicest," she says. I roll my eyes.
"Somehow you're still here," I say, pressing a kiss to her lips. Her smile illuminates her whole face, her eyes are almost completely blue. It is easy to get lost in everything about her, like a siren. How dangerous, and tempting.
"How early on did you offend those girls, Tobias?" Tris asks, teasing me. I can only laugh, because as shallow as it sounds, none of them matter to me.
"Too early on." I say. She sits on the countertop, her arms propping her up at her sides. The way she holds herself, it makes her bones stick out beneath her neck; she looks so fragile. I stand in front of her, my hands resting atop the backs of hers. She asks me about my day this time. I don't care to get into too many details about Eric, or about what I've seen on the cameras. None of it is of much interest.
At some point, we make our way over to my bed. She curls herself up at my side, the blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. She yawns. Her eyes have been closed for so long now, I would have thought she was talking to me in her sleep if she hadn't moved around a few times.
"You can stay here tonight, Tris. If you're tired. I swear, I don't mind." Tris nods, but doesn't say anything. I nuzzle my face against her neck, into her hair, and beg her to stay. She tells me she has another exam, and I promise her I will wake her up in time.
Me. Tobias Eaton doesn't beg, for anything. But for her... she'd have me on my knees.
And then she laughs, and she kisses me, long and slow. With a playful, resigned sigh, she agrees to stay.
She is already asleep as I gather blankets for a make-shift bed on the floor. I have to grab a pillow from the other side of the bed, but I am careful not to put my entire weight on the mattress so I don't wake her.
Her shoes have made their way under the bed; I set them upright at the end so she has no trouble finding them in the morning. For a few minutes, I watch her sleep; her features are so peaceful, they resemble a child's deep in a dream. I am hypnotized by the rise and fall of her chest, each breath is the same, slow and soft. It makes me match my breathing to hers, afraid that anything different could disturb her. She sleeps with her hands beneath her head, her blonde hair in layers of strands across the pillow.
She is just close enough for me to avoid leaning across the mattress. I make my touch as gentle as possible, letting my forehead rest against hers for a moment. I slow my breathing, and in this stolen moment, I find the courage to admit out loud, "...I am absolutely crazy about you."
I let my lips to linger on her forehead, listening to the sounds of her breathing to still the chaos in my mind so I can sleep tonight. I have just admitted my feelings to her, and I almost wish she was awake to hear it.
xXxXx
The sun is not yet rising when I wake up. I feel groggy and still a bit tired, but the moment I hear Zeke banging on the door I'm up and running. I try not to throw it open, "Are you insane?" I whisper harshly. I step out into the hallway, glaring at him, "Why do you have to do that?"
"To wake you up," Zeke answers with a shrug, "you are definitely not a morning person."
"Tris is asleep," I say without thinking. Zeke's face lights up, and he starts laughing. I shoot him a look, and glance inside behind me to make sure she didn't wake up. I am relieved when I see she is still curled up in a ball. She looks too comfortable—she's also in my bed. Zeke peers around me, and smirks.
"Long night?"
"We didn't do anything," I groan, rolling my eyes, "she got too tired to walk back to the school."
"You two may as well wear purity rings," he mutters, shaking his head. I don't have an answer to that.
I only sigh, and ask, "Why are you here? What time is it?"
"It's just past five," Zeke answers, "and Shauna wants to go for a run. But she says she doesn't want to go alone. No fun, or something like that..."
"You can't go with her?" I ask.
"I'm on camera duty," he frowns. I sigh.
"Tell her to give me five minutes," I leave him with that, and head back into the apartment. At some point during the night, Tris must have kicked around; the blanket is twisted and tangled around her legs, and her hair covers half of her face.
I get dressed quickly, and throw my sneakers on. It is too early to wake her now; her exam is much later in the morning, and I will be back way before them.
I look back at her one more time, to make sure I haven't woken her up and then head out to find Shauna.
xxxxx
Our run ends just around seven-thirty. Shauna and I part ways in the hall, and I head up to my abandoned hallway.
When I get inside, I notice Tris is no longer in my bed. I hear no sounds of her in the apartment, until the bathroom door opens and she steps out into the room. I smile the moment her eyes touch mine, "you're awake. How did you sleep?" I leave my sneakers by the door, and walk towards her, eager to touch her.
"Well." She answers, stretching her arms. I notice a sliver of skin sticking out beneath her shirt, just above her hip. Then she asks, "How did you sleep?" I pull her into me, into a tight hug, but I forget that I am still covered in sweat from the run. She wraps her arms around me, and I realize she must not care that much.
"You know, the floor is not as uncomfortable as you may think," I say, smirking, "I slept fine." Anything to get her to spend the night again.
"How long did I sleep?"
I shrug, not really sure when we fell asleep, "almost eight hours? I wasn't gonna wake you earlier; you looked too comfortable." I kiss her forehead, and I feel her shaking her head against my chest.
"Did you watch me?" Tris asks.
"You know, you're quite a heavy sleeper," I tease; laughing at her expression, "I'm joking, Tris."
"I know," she tries to fight a smile, but it doesn't work. I try to smooth her hair down, so it looks less hectic, but Tris sighs and says, "It's a lost cause."
"It looks fine," I say, tucking a thick strand of it behind her ear. She looks like she wants to say something, but when she doesn't I decide not to press her on it.
She leaves shortly after, and I go for a shower, ready to face the rest of my day now that the best part is over.
