A/N- Rights go to Veronica Roth.
August 27th
It's 1am, and we're currently in the police car driving into Chicago. I don't know where they're planning on taking us, whether it's the police station or home. I'm praying that we'll go home, but I seriously doubt that. Surely they can't keep me in a cell if all I did was trespass and smoke a joint, right? My body trembles as we watch the city lights flash by. We sit in silence, and Lynn shifts her body so that she can sort of grasp onto my clammy hand with hers. It's awkward because we're both cuffed. The officers are conversing in the front of the car, and radioing in various codes and numbers. Lynn scoots up closer towards me, so that she's sat right next to me, and leans in towards my ear.
"I've screwed up, but I've not got time for apologies now," she whispers almost inaudibly. "I had unaccounted prescription drugs in my van that I bought from a dealer, including a bunch of sleeping pills and more bags of weed. I'm in serious shit Tris, this isn't just going to be a slap on the wrist for me. I've been caught with weed before, so I'm not gonna escape with a fine." My heart sinks and tears start to fall from my eyes, this is more serious than I thought. I lick my lips and take in a deep, shaking breath. "Hey listen," she continues, "when we get there, you're gonna say that I pressured you to smoke the weed, but you didn't have anything else. You have no knowledge of the other drugs, and this is the first time that you've ever smoked, got it?" I nod my head slowly. "Tell them that I got you the alcohol too. You're gonna use your one phone call for your mom, tell her to come pick you up as soon as she can, you'll probably have to attend some drug awareness class and pay an eighty dollar fine. You won't even have to stay the night, alright?"
"No, I can't call my mom. She'll kick me out of the house and then I'll have no where to go!" I whisper shout, she gives me a wide eyed look telling me to shut up, and one of the officers turns around.
"We got a problem back there?" He says, Lynn and I both shake our heads.
"Please, do it for me Tris, just call her and get yourself out of this shit. You and I both know that you're not going to cope in there."
"What will happen to you?" I fail at holding back tears. I don't know how Lynn has managed to stay so calm, it's like nothing phases her.
"My parents can't afford bail so I'll most likely be staying there for a while," she laughs a humourless laugh and shakes her head, willing away the tears.
"I'm not calling my mom. I'll just stay there for a couple of nights until they let me out. I'd rather that than be homeless."
"Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?" Then, the car pulls up at the station. I stare wide-eyed at Lynn, trying to contain the tears. I'm not going to last in there if I'm a blubbering mess. She gives my hand one last reassuring squeeze before the car door opens, and the officers pull us out. They escort us into the building, and I begin to feel claustrophobic. I hate the fact that I can't move my hands, I feel so vulnerable. The building has an official, clinical feel to it. There are distant shouts and the voices of angry men. It also looks like it could do with a good clean. There are a few people sat on the chairs in what looks like the waiting area; they don't look like nice people. I smell cheap coffee and bleach, it burns my nose. The two officers walk us over to the check-in desk and grab a couple of clip boards, then we begin to go our separate ways. I panic. I can't do this without her.
"No!" I don't know what makes me cry out, but I pull on the officer towards the direction that Lynn is going. He keeps me still and acts like I'm being dramatic, as if there's nothing to worry about. I suppose he deals with the most terrible criminals, who get locked away for years. Deep breaths. It will only be one night. Or will it? I don't even know what's going to happen to me.
"You'll be okay Tris! I promise," she's lead into another room, and the door shuts behind her. I feel very scared and very alone.
"Come on, we need to take your details," the officer with the high pitched voice says to me. He takes me into a small room where an older man in uniform sits at a computer. The officer takes the cuffs off me, and leaves the room. Locking it behind him, of course. I rub my sore wrists, glad to be free of them.
"Right, lets see what we've got here then," the older officer says, as he taps various keys on the keyboard. "I'm going to ask you some questions and you need to answer them truthfully." I nod my head, chewing on my lip. I sit on the edge of my seat the whole time that he asks me my name, date of birth, address, guardians, whether I have any illness, whether I'm suicidal, whether I self harm, whether I'm on any medications. I answer them all as honestly as I can with my quaky voice. "Okay, empty your pockets please," I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out my money, cell phone and house keys. He tells me to take off my jacket, and puts all of the items into a plastic bag. He also asks me to remove my belt, necklace and shoelaces. I have to sign a few forms, trying my best to stop my hand from shaking. A few minutes later, a female officer comes into the room. She pats me down and runs a metal detector over my body. I remember this morning, opening my brand-new pyjamas, how excited I was to be sleeping in them. I had no idea.
"Please tell me what's going to happen," I ask the female officer in a timid voice. She must show me pity because she decides to give me an answer after heaving a long sigh.
"I'm going to take you to a cell, you'll be able to make your phone call in the morning." She doesn't elaborate on what will happen after that, I use my own basic knowledge to guess that I will probably stay in this cell overnight and be interviewed in the morning. That's what happens in the movies. But this isn't the movies. Eventually, the officer leads me out of the room. My jeans are a little too loose since I no longer wear my belt, and I'm finding it increasingly difficult to walk in my converse shoes, since they are useless without the laces. I wish I had worn a warmer top, my tiny cropped t-shirt isn't enough to keep the damp chill away. She takes me to a large holding cell, which to my great displeasure already has a couple of people in it. I back away out of instinct, but she pushes me in with force, handing me an overused blanket. The cell has three brick walls, and the front of it is barred, so that they will be able to keep an eye on us. I take this as a good thing, at least no one will be able to beat me up. She slides the doors closed behind me, confining me in my own personal hell. The screech of the metal bars slamming against the post causes my shoulders to hunch up, and I hear a high pitch laugh from behind me.
"It's yo first time, huh?" A skinny female asks me. Her skin looks grubby and she chews on gum. Her eyelids are covered in bright blue eyeshadow, contrast to her neon pink lipstick. Her tennis ball sized boobs are pushed up to her neck, and she wears a tiny fake leather leopard-print mini skirt with a hot pink spaghetti-strap top. I gulp loudly, without saying anything.
"Little lady can't seem to find her voice!" An older overweight woman says, she's sat down on one of the bench seats picking her fingernails. She has grey, greasy hair and is covered in faded tattoos. She smells of cigarettes and alcohol.
"Girl," the skinny woman says, "don't be shy now. We've all been there before. My name's Precious, it's nice to be acquainted with y'all," she holds out her dry, flaky hand and I grab it feebly. Her false nails are so long they almost scratch my skin.
"Tris," I just manage to get out. Just being the operative word.
"Damn girl, you be shakin' like a leaf!" Precious says, she sits down on the bench seat and gestures for me to sit next to her. "What did y'all get yourself into?"
"I thought prisoners didn't ask each other what they did?" I say, Precious and the older woman both shriek with laughter, Precious being a little over enthusiastic. Then they calm down and look at me expectantly. "Smoking pot," I answer.
"Oh, don't worry child, you'll be out of here by tomorrow. They're just gonna give you a slap on the old wrist," Precious demonstrates on her own hand and smirks at me. "You got a ride to get out of here sooner?"
"No actually, I don't have anyone to call. I suppose I'll have to catch a bus, I only have 5 dollars though."
Precious sniggers, "you 'aint gonna have them 5 dollars by tomorrow, I know that them sergeants be stealin'. I swear they stole my sister's toe ring last time I was in here." I don't ask her why she's in here, but if I take a stab in the dark, I'd say it's prostitution. "Oh, I know girl. I'll be outta here in a couple of days, you can just hitchhike a ride with me and Romano."
"Romano?" I question.
"Her pimp," the older woman answers. Yep, suspicion confirmed. I just nod and say thank you, praying to the lord that there will be another way for me to get home. I think I'd rather walk 20 miles barefoot than be aquatinted with Romano.
"You ever done community service?" Precious asks me.
"No, I've never got in trouble for anything," I answer truthfully.
"Honestly, last time they got me picking' up litter, they jacked up my twenty dollar manicure. And I aint get the smell of trash outta my weave for about two weeks after," she looks at me in all seriousness, and I continue to gaze at her completely gobsmacked. I can tell that I've lived a completely sheltered life.
"Well," I continue, "I hope I don't have to do community service."
"Not for pot, or your first offence, you'll just get some long lecture on why drugs are bad for you, and you'll have to cough up a fine since you're over eighteen," the older woman tells me. Just turned, I think to myself. "They'll inform whoever comes to collect you of what drugs you took."
"Well no ones coming to collect me. My mom would kick me out of the house," I say.
"Yeah, figured. But which is worse? Staying in here until you get someone to pay your fine, getting stranded in the city, or getting a spank from your mom?" I didn't even think about how I'm going to pay the fine.
"She's away with her boyfriend anyway, and I don't know her phone number off by heart. So I guess I kind of have no choice," I blink back the tears and discreetly practice my deep breathing. I'm continuing to feel more and more confined. I wipe my palms on my jeans, and thank that I'm not stuck in here with a drunk or aggressive person.
"Bummer," the older woman says. She gets back to picking at her fingernails and Precious taps her fingers against the bench. I'm absolutely dying for a piss, but there is no way in hell that I'm using that metal toilet in front of these two. There isn't even any toilet paper. I start counting the bricks, examining all the mould spots. The bench is uncomfortable and I'm shivering. It's colder in here than it is outside. I shuffle back so that I can lean against the wall, and close my eyes. I feel as though I'm having to force them shut, like there going to spring open at any moment. It would probably be easier if I held my eyelids down with my hands, so that is what I do. I start to count sheep, but that has never helped me to get to sleep, not even when I'm in my own comfortable bed. Hours and hours seems to pass, each second is painful. My leg bobs up and down, and my back burns with the pain of being leant up against the wall.
I don't know how much time passes before an officer walks up to the cell, it feels like it's been decades. "Phone time," he says monotonously. Precious leaps up and squeals, while the older woman heaves herself up off the bench. I, however, stay put. I cover myself up with the blanket and close my eyes again, begging for sleep to take me far away from here. The sensation to pee is torturous, but I'd be mortified if I had to go in front of the officers and the other cell mates.
I wake up, my eyes flaring open, covered in cold sweat, to see Precious and the older woman both snoring and slouched on the bench seats. I wonder how long I was asleep for, it was probably only an hour. My mouth feels horrible, staled with alcohol and sleep. Although my stomach feels bloated, I don't feel like I'm going to wet myself anymore. Thankfully the sensation seems to have subsidised. I feel like I've sat here for eternity when the same officer comes up to the cell. Precious jolts awake and looks at the officer expectantly.
"Prior?" The officer asks.
"Y-" my voice cracks, I cough to clear it, "yeah?"
"You're coming with me."
"Where are we going?" The officer ignores me, instead he looks at me impatiently and ushers me out of the cell, holding onto my arm.
"Bye Girl! Hope I'll see you sometime soon!" Precious yells. I hope I never see you again if it means coming back to this hell hole. I smile a little at her and let the officer drag me away. I have to keep pulling up my jeans a little, since I need my belt. I walk past the glass panels of the office, and see Lynn in my reflection. We're so close, she's almost become a part of me. And now we're separated. I fret about where she is, and what's happening to her. Is she as stressed as I am? I nearly trip on my loose shoes, before the officer takes me into a small room with a table, and sits me down on the chair.
"Okay then, where were we," he flicks through a folder of papers and pulls out a few leaflets. "Do you understand why you got arrested?"
"Because I was smoking pot," I state.
"Yes, not to mention the under-age drinking, and trespassing. Although we've let that one slide for now since there were no adequate trespassing signs," he shuffles the papers and then looks at me, folding his arms. "Look kid, taking pot is illegal. Against the law. A felony. The money that you use to buy it funds slave trade, sex trafficking, and all kinds of serious crimes and black-market trades. It's bad for your health and causes trouble. So don't do it, okay? Since this is your first offence, we're letting you off with a caution and a fine, which your guardian has just paid." My guardian? Oh no, my mom is going to kill me if she had to pay a fine, I'm not even sure that she can afford it. "Your guardian asked to be present for this interview, but I told him there would be no need if you cooperated and accepted that what you had done is wrong." Him? The only guardian I have is my mother, and she is definitely not a him. Images of my father flash through my mind, it couldn't be possible, could it? "Here's some leaflets about drugs and such, and you're also required to attend at least one teenage support group about drugs and peer pressure. Now, I'll just need you to sign these caution forms saying you agree to all of this, and then you can be on your way." I look at him dubiously, I don't understand any of these legal terms. "Your responsible adult has already read through the forms, if that makes you feel any better about it." I suppose if whoever has come to pick me up says it's okay, then I'll just have to trust their judgement. It's not like I'm going to get scammed or anything, I'm just accepting what I have done. I sign the forms and he takes the cuffs off me, taking me out of the room and leading me back to the front desk. I stand at the desk waiting for my plastic bag filled with belongings when I feel a large hand on my shoulder. I immediately spin around and see no other than... Four. My heart drums incredibly fast and I feel tears of relief fill my eyes. I forget about the fact that I had an inch of hope that it would be my father, and find myself even more surprised at the fact that I'm glad to see him, and no one else. I stare at him in shock for a moment before he pulls me into a hug, squeezing me tightly. All that has happened between us in the past week has been forgotten. This is all that matters. He came for me.
"You're alright now, I'm taking you home," he whispers in my ear. The woman at the desk hands me my belongings, and with Four's help, I shakily slip on my jacket and thread my belt through the loops in my jeans. I have shooting pains in my chest from the anxiety, and I feel like I could collapse at any minute. "Do you need to use the bathroom before we go?"
"Yes, where is it?" He points me in the direction of the rest rooms and half jog there, conscious of the fact that I still have no laces in my shoes, but reminded of my desperation to relieve myself.
I swear I'm in the bathroom for about 10 minutes before I'm finally finished. I get out of the cubicle and look in the mirror, what I see surprises me. The dark circles around my eyes are prominent, and my skin looks grubby with makeup that has been left on for too long. My hair doesn't look too bad, since it's naturally thick and wavy. It looks greasy, but I always somehow seem to manage to pull that off, or so Lynn says. Lynn. My best friend, probably still stuck in a cell. I have so many questions, but now is not the time to answer them. I splash water on my face and dry my hands off, noticing the waft of my own stench when I open the door. I stink of sweat, alcohol, weed, and the mouldy cell that I was sat in for hours on end. I am beyond glad to be out of there. Four smiles as I approach him, and puts a hand on my waist to guide me out of the door, carrying the plastic back with my remaining belongings in his other hand. As soon as we get outside, I realise a shaky breath and allow the morning sun to beat down on my face, thankful to be free of the strobe lights and dank musky air.
"My car's over here," he takes us over to his white car, and I gratefully sink into the plush leather seats, leaning my head back on the head rest. My breathing is rapid and I can still hear my heart beating trough my chest, I suppose the panic still hasn't faded. "You don't look too good," he says while lifting a hand and pressing it against my sweating forehead.
"I'll be fine, I just needed to get out of there."
"Yeah, well, I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but I think we should get some food in you first, if you can manage it? I presume they didn't give you any when you were in there," he pulls out of the parking space and we thankfully drive away from the station. I never want to go back there in my life.
"No, I'm starving." I stay quiet, unable to speak due to the combined anxiety and hunger pangs. We arrive at the drive-through, and I quickly devour my cheeseburger and fries, filling the large hole in my stomach.
"Why did you come and get me?" I break the silence, his hands clench tighter around the wheel. "How did you even know that I was in there?"
"Lynn called Shauna, who called me. She said that there was no one to come and get you, so I offered to go."
"Why would you do that? I thought you hated me."
"I don't hate you Tris," he looks at me sternly. "And do you really think that I would let you stay there alone? Let you wander round Chicago?"
"I'm sorry, about the other day."
"Don't apologise to me," he looks angry for a moment but then his face softens. "I should be the one apologising. I should have thanked you for helping me, and you were right. I didn't enjoy the fact that I was vulnerable. I'm not used to people seeing me like that."
"Did you pay the fine?" I ask him.
"Yeah," he smiles a little. "Think of it as both an apology and a thank you."
"No, I'll pay you back, I promise. I got some money for my birthday-"
"I don't want your money Tris. Honestly it's no problem, I'm not going to miss it."
"But you shouldn't pay my fine, Four. I was the one who got in trouble. I should deal with the consequences."
"I think spending a night in a cell and going to that support group will be consequence enough. It's what friend's do, help each other out." Friends. Lynn is my friend, and I left the station when she's still in there.
"I can't believe Lynn," I shake my head in disbelief and let a lone tear fall down my face. She had so many drugs in her van, God knows what's going to happen to her. I don't know what I'll do without her. Four places a hand on my leg towards my knee while still looking ahead at the road. I know it's just a friendly reassuring gesture, but it makes my stomach flutter.
"With a good lawyer, she'll be out of there soon enough. Hopefully she'll only have to serve a couple months before being let out on probation and community service."
"Yeah, I hope so. I just can't believe she had all of those prescription drugs in her van. You must think I'm a stupid kid, a failure."
"Don't be so hard on yourself, you're not a failure. Yeah, you did something stupid and ended up in an overnight cell for it but trust me, most of us have been there before. I've done things that I'm not proud of, dabbled with drugs in my college years, but you've got to quit it now, before it screws your life up."
"I know. I promise I will," but is he going to stop drinking at three in the afternoon? We pull up at his house, and he drives up the driveway. "I'm just worried about her."
"I know you are, but she made her own choices, and now she's going to have to deal with it. Be glad that you're out now, and things will get sorted soon."
"Yeah," I murmur, unconvinced. "I should probably get back now."
"Come inside? I don't really think you should be alone," he unbuckles his seat belt and scratches the back of his neck. I don't really want to go back into his house after how he made me feel, but I can't deny the fact that he has most definitely redeemed himself. I nod and get out of the car, following him into his house. The clock in the hallway says it's just past midday. I was in there for less than twelve hours, but it seemed like an entire week. I follow him silently as we walk up to his bedroom. I stand there awkwardly as he roots around in his drawers, pulling out a black t-shirt and pair of boxers. He then goes into another cupboard and pulls out a white towel. "You can have a shower in my bathroom," he points to the door leading to his en suite, "and put these on," he hands me the clothes and towel and shows me how to turn the shower on.
"Thank you," I tell him earnestly.
"It's okay, you can use whatever shower gels are there," he points to the rack in the shower and leaves the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I sigh, and begin to peel off my sweaty and dirty clothing, throwing it on the floor. I gratefully step into the steamy shower, cleansing myself of this entire experience. I squirt his shower gel onto myself, pleased to be smelling just like him. I watch the dirt and grime slide down the drain as I lather up the shampoo in my hair and rinse it out. For a moment I forget how to turn the fancy shower off, put I manage to figure it out. I step out of the shower and dry myself off with the fluffy towel, wrapping my hair up in it. When I pull on the Calvin Kleins, only then do I realise how weird it is to be wearing his boxers. But, I suppose they're more like shorts on me. Thankfully they don't fall down, as my curvier girly body fills out the waistband. I pull on the black soft T-shirt, which reaches up to mid-thigh length. I smell like Four. I take the towel out of my hair and continue to rub it on my head and shake it until my hair is no longer dripping. Thankfully my hair dries quickly because it's short. I leave the bathroom and find Four sitting at his desk typing furiously at his laptop.
"Feel better after that?" He asks me, while keeping his concentration on whatever it is he's doing.
"Yeah, much. Do you have a plastic bag for my clothes? They reek," I laugh at how stupid this predicament is. He turns around in his chair before answering me, but gets caught staring at me. His gaze doesn't go unnoticed when he skims over my body, fixing on my bare legs. My cheeks heat up, I've never been looked at in this way before. He doesn't look greedy or perverted. I don't mind it.
"Yeah, I'll go get one," he answers...still looking at my legs. My mind is telling me to preform an awkward cough or project a sarcastic comment like 'take a picture it will last longer' but I can't seem to do it. I let him stare at me because I'm okay with it. Eventually he lifts him self up off the chair almost urgently, and leaves the room in a couple of strides. I sit down on the end of his bed and wait for him to come back in. When he does, he places my worn clothes in the carrier bag.
"You should lie down, try to get some sleep," he walks over to his bed and pulls back the covers for me to get under. I slide in, getting myself comfy in this huge bed. If I had a bed like this I don't think I'd ever leave it. I pull the sheet over myself and lie on my side, watching him as he shuts the blinds in an attempt to keep the day light out. "I'll just be downstairs. Marcus and Sarah are away on business in the city, so it's just you and me." I smile and thank him, and he exits the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. I plan on getting to sleep, but that just isn't the case. I shrink down into the bed sheets that smell so strongly of him, especially his pillow. He has a distinctive smell, it isn't artificial. It's his own sweet scent, and it makes me feel safe. My body is still pumping pure adrenaline, and I feel like a live fire. I still think I'm in shock, not yet processing what just happened to me or the fact that Lynn is going down for possession of drugs. I toss and turn in the huge bed for what feels like an hour, it must have been because my hair is no longer wet. The sheets get tangled up in my legs, and I keep frustratingly fluffing up the pillow and slamming my head back down again.
"Tris?" I hear Four say quietly from behind the door. I freeze.
"Yeah?"
"Can I come in?" I don't know why he's asking, it is his room after all. I suppose he's just being polite. Was I tossing and turning that loud?
"Yeah sure," he walks in carrying a mug of some sort of hot drink. He looks at me for a moment, furrowing his brows, before setting the mug down on the bedside table and pulling his desk chair up next to the bed and sitting down in it. "It's some kind of herbal tea, it will probably help you relax." I sit up in bed, lifting up the the mug and blowing on the hot liquid.
"Thanks. How did you know I was awake?"
"Well, if I were you then I probably wouldn't get to sleep either. Plus I heard you rolling around," he laughs slightly.
"Have you ever been me?" I ask seriously.
"What do you mean?" He looks confused and I don't blame him, that question came out completely wrong.
"I mean, have you ever been in my position?"
"Arrested, you mean?" He raises an eyebrow and heaves a long sigh.
"Well...yeah, have you?" He looks at me for a minute, contemplating whether to answer the question or not. Please just open up to me. Please.
"How did you know?" He says, smirking a little. I laugh, a sign of relief, before responding to him.
"You've just been so attentive, knowing how I must be feeling. And so far, you haven't treated it like it's a big deal."
He gets more comfortable in his chair and crosses his legs, looking down at the floor, "when I was in high school, I hadn't yet learned how to control my...temper," he shrugs and smiles a little, carrying on telling me his admission. "In my last year, when I was eighteen, I got a lot stronger, I looked older and taller than the other guys, if any of them pissed me off I'd snap. Anyway, everyone soon became pretty intimidated by me, so they mostly just left me alone. I had so much anger built up in me, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I started looking for trouble, looking for a physical fight so that I could take it out on that person and actually somehow defend myself for once," what does he mean? Defend himself for once? I sense that there is more to this story than he's letting on, but I don't press the issue, I let him carry on. "One day I was out in Chicago with some friends at the night time, my friend Lauren brought this guy with her, and at the end of the night he was getting a little too 'handsy' with her. They left earlier than us, but when I was walking to get a cab, I heard her crying for help in an alley. I saw him hitting her and trying to...you know. Anyway, I lost it. Beat him to a pulp. A police car happened to be cruising In the area, drove past and saw the incident. I earned myself a couple nights in the cell until my dad bailed me out. I won the court case because my dad works in government." I'm lost for words, I never knew Four would have been someone who had deeper issues, he always seems so mature and well put together. I just stare at him in shock and he gives me a tight smile. "Thinking I was going to jail changed me. Even though that fucker deserved it, I realised that at some point, we all have to grow up and deal with our shit like adults. We can't always just do what we want. So, I started going to the gym, joined a couple group sessions in boxing, and learned how to let my anger out in a less harmful way. I still go there every morning." I nod my head a little.
"I guess I've always looked up to Lynn," I finally decide to speak, "I mean, I went through a very confused time. I was lugged around from state to state, had no friends, and life at home wasn't that fun. Sure, she's got her own shit and takes it too far with the whole drugs thing, but she's always been my rock. I just never anticipated her being my downfall too."
"She may or may not be a bad influence on you," he smirks and laughs a little.
"Yeah," I smile and think to myself for a minute, "I'm kind of embarrassed. I bet you think I'm pretty immature and an idiot."
"No Tris, you're none of those things. You're a great person, just misguided. Like I was," I nod my head and fiddle with the blanket, while he looks at his watch. "How about I take you home now? You might feel better in your own bed," no I quite like it here actually. I think to myself. But I guess I need to be home before my mom gets back.
"Yeah, thanks. For everything."
"No problem," he grabs a piece of paper and a pen from his desk and starts to scribble something down. "Here's my number, incase you're ever stuck and need help," he hands me the piece of paper, but before I can grab it he pulls it back and carries on talking, "promise me, you won't hesitate to call, if you ever get in a bad situation? Or even just want to talk?" He smiles.
"I promise," I take the piece of paper from him.
"Text me tonight so that I have your number," he gets up from the chair and hands me my bag of clothes. I just slip my jeans and sneakers on, Four said I could keep the shirt since it's too small for him now anyway. He drives me home, but before I leave the car, I feel a magnetic pull towards him, like I don't want to leave. Can't leave. Without thinking, I turn back around to face him and wrap my arms around him. He seems to be in shock at first, but then wraps his strong arms around my waist.
"Bye Tris," he whispers in my ear.
"Bye Four." I hesitantly remove myself from his grip, and head into my house without looking back, although I don't hear his car leave until my front door is shut again. That was one hell of a birthday.
That was the longest chapter I've ever written! Don't worry, there's plenty more to come.
QUESTION: Can you update Fanfiction on your iPhone? I write all my chapters on the 'notes' app on my MacBook, so it automatically goes onto the notes app on my phone. Is there like a fan fiction app or something? Or do people just use their iPads for that? Just wanted to know because I'm moving house next week and I want to be able to upload incase we don't have wifi straight away. PM me if you can help! Thanks :)
Also thanks for all the reviews I got for the last chapter, I'm really excited about this story and it's only continuing due to your support! Please continue :)
See you all next time! (which will probably be the end of the week)