Chapter 4

-Florence, Italy-

As Tris sat on the bench of the train to Florence in the dark, she got her camera out of her drawstring bag to see the pictures Four had taken. The first one she recognized she didn't take was the one of her smiling at the Sforza Castle. She was in front of one of the frescoes. The next one was of her in the bell tower holding onto the railing and looking down. Next was in the same setting, except, she'd put her sunglasses up and put her hair behind her ear. She was looking at the camera and shyly smiling. Her elbows were leaning on the rail, and her butt was sticking out. Not on purpose, but because she was leaning onto the rail. She remembered him holding up the camera to take this one. The next was of her walking, but it wasn't focused on her butt, and she was thankful for that. The next one she remembered. It was her walking backwards, smiling, telling him to catch up. At the time she had a little hop in her step, and she seemed a little more happy. Next: her spinning on the bull, grinning. And after that, in the next picture, was her sticking her tongue out at him childishly as they waited in line for "The Last Supper." That was the last one she caught him taking. Then next time he took one, she could see her body, and the rest around her was black. She couldn't believe he'd taken this.

She looked over at him sleeping on the padded bench, and glared.

Before she'd started looking at the pictures, she was sleeping. She slept as soon as they got on the train, but she just woke up about fifteen minutes, and she'd known she wouldn't be going back to sleep until they arrived at Florence. So she had grabbed the camera and started looking at the pictures. But while she was sleeping, he must've taken a picture of her. She'd been sleeping on her side, and her hands gathered at her chest. Her hair had been swept over her shoulders, and she'd had a peaceful look on her face.

She evilly grinned a cheshire grin and squatted down with the camera in hand. She snapped the picture, grinning, and scrambled back before he could wake. He shuffled, then opened his eyes. Tris was already back on her bench facing him.

She sat, looking at him, and said, "Can't sleep?"

He shook his head. "No."

Tris looked out the window from her bench, then got up to get a better view.

"You know something I noticed about you?"

"What's that?" she asked quietly, still looking at the city view from the train.

"You laugh a lot. Even when something isn't all that funny, you laugh. And you have a nice laugh. I've concluded that you like laughing."

"Ride bene chi ride ultimo."

"That means…?"

"'He who laughs last, laughs longest.'"

"Something else I've noticed: you love to adore a city's beauty. Not many people take a moment to just stare anymore. They just get on their winklepickers and start walking again," he chuckled.

Tris smiled and looked over him with a tilted head. "What's your last name?"

"What? Why?"

She shrugged. "I feel like I hardly know you at all."

"Eaton. What about you?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

"You like to keep things mysterious. Okay." He shrugged. "Middle?"

"Elizabeth."

"Do you know why? A lot of people put meaning into their children's middle names."

"Elizabeth Cady Stanton. She was a—"

"Woman's right activist. I know."

"You know your american history?" she asked nervously.

He nodded. "Yeah. Not much about recently though."

"Oh," Tris said, relieved. "What about you? Middle name?"

"Frederick," he grumbled, "because of Frederick Douglass. Woman's rights activist, actually. Kind of funny because we both are named after activists."

"I take it one of your parents were born in America?"

"Both, actually. And me. I moved to London at twelve. Been in love with it ever since."

"Oh. I guess after—what, six years?—you pick up an accent."

"I'm actually 21. So nine years to pick up an accent.'

Tris's eyebrows rose. "I took you for 18."

"Really?"

She smirked then. "A buff one, at that. But I'm only 18. So you're three years older than me."

"I actually just turned 21 three weeks ago, so really only two years. Let's go with two," he said, nudging her shoulder and winking.

Tris laughed. She didn't say anything for a few minutes, but all they did was look through the window at the blurring lights that went by so quick they couldn't comprehend them. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Four was looking at her, though, when he said, "Yeah." He paused. "Very."

Tris was looking at him too, and she could only think of the space in between them. She started to stand her tiptoes little by little.

And then the door opened.

How cliché.

"Oh, no, I'm interrupting. So sorry." The man had an Irish accent. He was african-american and had on a tropical flower shirt. He was wearing khaki cargo shorts and a large backpack on his back.

"No, no, you're okay. Can we help you?" Tris asked politely. She was hardly irritated.

"I thought this one was unoccupied because I knocked and there was no answer."

"I'm sorry, we must not have heard you knock. Do you have any place to stay?"

"Oh, this was actually the last room, but I can—"

"No, please, stay here, I insist." Tris moved to her bench and grabbed her drawstring bag along with her camera and moved it over to Four's. She sat on her side, though, while Four sat on his.

"Thank you so much." He sat down a foot or two away from Four on his bench.

"Oh, and I'm Tris. And that's Four. My friend."

He nodded and shook both of their hands. Four was strangely quiet that whole time.

"So, are you two, like…"

"No," Tris immediately said without looking at Four. "No. Good friends."

He nodded. "Okay, sorry. My name's Uriah. I'm from Ireland."

Four just kept looking out the window, as if nothing had ever happened.

"What takes you to Florence?" Tris asked him.

He shrugged. "My idiocy."

Tris chuckled. "Me too. I'm actually—"

"I'm going to get a water. I'll be right back," Four said, then walked out before Tris could object.

"I did interrupt, didn't I?" Uriah asked.

Tris sighed and shook her head. "We were about to kiss for the first time." She scratched her neck then said, "But it's better that we didn't."

"Why not? If you feel something then that's that. You can just turn it off."

"No, but I can try forget about it."

"And how long have you been friends with this Four?"

"About three days," she chuckled. "But we've spent every second with each other."

"Oh. And you've just been doing what, exactly?"

"I'm traveling Europe, and he helped escape out of someone trying to catch me. He decided he wanted to travel with me."

He laughed. "You're a criminal?"

"No. Just escaping some people."

"And you just… let him follow you?"

"Looking back, not the wisest decision." She smiled. "But he's great company. Super funny. British accent. Super adorable. He seems very mean and angry on the outside, and that's what I thought at first, but he's so nice on the inside. That sounded extremely cheesy, but it's true."

"All passengers," the comm said, "we will be arriving in Florence, Italy in approximately two minutes."

"Are you continuing to Venice?"

Uriah nodded. "I'm meeting an old friend, though, so I won't be bothering you and Four."

Tris smiled and stood, grabbing her bag. "Okay. Well, we'll meet you back here when the train starts up again." She opened the door and saw Four walking down the hallway.

"Hey," she said. "Still up for some gelato?"

He smiled and nodded. "Want to start heading to the doors?"

Just then, the announcer said, "We've arrived at Florence, Italy, at 2:19 A.M. Those of you heading to Venice, please keep your boarding passes and come back at 4:30 A.M. ETA to Venice is 8 A.M."

The doors opened and Four and Tris stepped out, trying to weave their way through the crowd.

Tris spotted a blinking sign that blinked brightly, "OPEN 24 HOURS." It looked like a convenience store.

"Four, I bet they have gelato there."

"Let's check it out."

And they did. They ended up having gelato machines, which made them happy, because they both thought it'd be hard to find some at two in the morning. They found the Lungarno River and its pathway, and began walking.

They hadn't taken a bite of their Italian ice cream yet, so they clinked their cones together and said, "To gelato."

They both got stracciatella, which was chocolate chip, and they both loved it.

"This is better than America," Tris said.

"So gelato is better than ice cream now?"

She shook her head. "It's better than America as a whole."

Four laughed. "You look ridiculous."

"What? Did I get some on my face?"

Four reached over and shoved it in her face. "Yeah. Just a lot." He grinned at her.

"Four! You bastard!"

Tris wiped it off her face, then smeared it on Four's.

"You little…"

Tris started running down the rocky trail, laughing.

"Tris, get back here!"

She only laughed at him, then stopped running. "Truce," she said when he caught up.

"Truce," he agreed.

Tris led him over to a bench and they sat down, cones still in hand. "So," Tris said.

"So," he repeated.

Tris smirked and said chuckling, "I bet you gotta little thing for me, huh?" She then winked at him.

Four looked at over her, smiling, not even surprised at what she'd said. He only winked back at her.

She just chuckled. "Why did you really follow me onto the train? I can take care of myself, if you're, like, worried that I'm some damsel in distress."

"Well, according to you, I have a little thing for you, don't I?" He grinned.

"I was just teasing you," she chuckled.

"Oh, really?" he asked. "I bet you gotta little thing for me, eh?"

She shrugged and took the last bite of her cone. "Well you were the one who was leaning down to kiss me…."

"And you were the one to stand on your tiptoes."

Tris smiled, looking at river. "C'mon. Let's start walking." She stood up and waited for him.

He finally did, and they started walking.

Tris faintly heard music, but she couldn't place where it was coming from. Four must've heard it too, because he bowed and extended his hand. "May I have this dance?"

She just smiled and grabbed his hand. Four laid his hands on her lower back and hers went around his neck. They were about half of a foot away from each other, so Tris stepped closer and laid her cheek on his chest. He kissed the top of her head, and she pulled back completely.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm leading you on. I'm totally leading you on. I can't really… do this."

"Do what?"

"Romance isn't exactly a feasible option for me right now, Four."

He sighed. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Me too," she whispered.

When they got back to the train, Uriah was already asleep on her bench.

Tris sat down on Four's, and they sat next to each other awkwardly.

She kept thinking how she wished she wasn't the First Daughter, she wasn't American, she wasn't under 24/7 security, and she wasn't Beatrice Prior. She wished she was just some lost soul that traveled Europe searching for it. And she would've happened to run into Four, and he would've happened to follow her. And she wished she wasn't so naïve. She'd known this man for about all of three days, and she was already about to kiss him. She hardly knew anything about him. She wished she didn't care about him, and she wished she'd never met him. She wished she didn't care.

Because she knew she couldn't afford to care.