I don't own Divergent *sobs uncontrollably*

Here you go, people. Another update. Instead of the three days' worth of HW I have from being sick *coughs guiltily* anyway bye! I have to go do HW.

Enjoy!

But Four and I are too focused on each other to notice Booth. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him leave, but my eyes are focused on Four's. Four leans closer, and….(A/N: sorry to disappoint the many reviews guessing a real kiss) kisses my cheek, and then whispers in my ear, "What happened with that Al guy?"

I divert my eyes and Four taps my chin. "Last year, he and two other guys kidnapped me and - and - and -" I look away again.

"Did they….?" Four assumes.

"No, but they got near to it," I answer. "My dad heard and beat one of the guys up. The other two ran off." I bite my lip so hard it starts to bleed. Four gently grasps my jaw in his gentle hand and unhooks my lip. He gently brushes the blood away, and then wraps his arms around me. I hug him back and we just sit like that for a while.

"Beatrice?" my father calls when he gets home. He sees Four and I and his eyes widen. "Oh. Okay. Sorry."

But Four releases me, face red. "I'll see you tomorrow, Tris," he says softly.

My dad sits across from me in his armchair. "Are you and Four -"

"Not right now," I answer, looking out the door he just walked out of.

"Do I need to give you the talk?" To be honest, Dad sounds nervous.

I chuckle. "No. Believe me, Dad, that won't happen."

My father looks utterly relieved. "Good. Oh, and I forgot to tell you. I invited a co-worker over for dinner." He sees my face and adds, "Not Eaton. This one's my manager."

"Do I need to dress up and or clean?" I ask knowingly.

"Yes and yes. And cook," he replies, patting my head.

"Do I have to dress up?" I plead.

But my dad remains firm. "Yes. If it makes you feel any better, I'm wearing a suit. Now go get cleaning. You take upstairs, I've got the bottom floor."

I nod and scurry up the stairs. In my room, I pick up any and all dirty clothes, make my bed, organize my desk and quickly sweep. I repeat for my father's room, and put all the clothes down the laundry shoot. The guest room stays clean, so I leave it and scrub the bathrooms down. It takes me about forty five minutes, at which time my father calls me down to help him cook.

"I can't cook tonight, Dad. I have tons of homework." I poke my head in the kitchen. "I think you can manage for a night."

"What were doing while Four was here?" is his response.

"Talking," I tell him firmly, running back up the stairs. I finish as much of the homework as I can, and then take the quickest shower possible and throw on a black dress with silver accents, a silver sweater, and black leggings. I French-braid my hair and apply eyeliner and lip gloss and rush downstairs in time to help my father set the table and open the door when they knock.

I open the door and see a very dressed up Zeke and Uriah with two older people that look a lot like them. "Zeke! Uri!" I greet them. "I didn't know our parents worked at the same company."

"Neither did we," Zeke mutters, causing his mother to flick his ear.

That reminds me who they are. "Sorry, sir, ma'am. My name is Beatrice Prior. Would you come inside?" Zeke and Uri's mother and father smile at me and walk inside. I hug Uriah and stick my tongue out at Zeke. They chuckle and we join the parents in the living room.

"Beatrice," my father says. I've been zoning out as we've been eating. Zeke and Uri look just as bored.

"Yes, sir?" I reply politely, blushing slightly.

"You and Uriah are in the same year in school, right?"

"Yes, sir, but we're in a lot of different classes," I tell him.

Zeke snorts. "She's as smart as the Erudite. In all their classes, too. She's above both Uriah and me in school."

Zeke's mother flicks his ear again. He hides a smile. Then, there's a pounding at the door.

Dang, I think. Twice in two dinners? But I excuse myself to get the door anyway. I open it onto….