A/N- I do not own Divergent, rights go to Veronica Roth.
IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: In this chapter, there are going to be a few flashbacks (from when they went back to Four's house at the end of the last chapter) and these will all be written in italics.
September 14th
I wake to a rancid taste in my mouth. My eyes feel like they're glued shut, and I the warmness of the morning sun beats down on my sticky skin through the window. I prize my eyes open with difficulty, squinting at how badly the blinding light burns my them and makes my head throb. I open and close my mouth a few times, nearly gagging at the horrible aftertaste of last night's alcohol. I glance at my surroundings; this isn't my room. Everything is dizzy and foggy, I still feel a little drunk. However, I recognise the grey curtains and white walls all too well. I'm in Four's room. In his bed. I move my leg and it touches the floor, I'm laying on the edge of the mattress, surprised that I have somehow managed to not fall off since I'm half hanging out. I lift my head to look at the bedside table next to me, where the clock says it's seven in the morning. Sat next to the clock is a torn condom wrapper, making the foggy memories of last nights antics all too real, and almost acting as clarification. I attempt to roll over, but feel a strong arm tighten around my bare stomach. Four. I blink my eyes a few times in order to focus, my cheeks feeling hot. I lift up the sheet that's half haphazardly draped across me, and carefully remove his hand from where it's tucked under me, freeing myself from his iron-clad grip. I take the opportunity to turn around, and come face to face with him. His eyes are shut tight and his head rests on the same pillow as mine, his body sprawled across most of the bed. Shuffling back a little, I try to get out but end up falling and slamming onto the hardwood floor. My legs are unsteady and every inch of my body is sore. I peak my head back up to see if I woke him, but thankfully, I didn't. He does wriggle around a little though, turning to lie on his back and heaving a deep sigh. I delicately cover him back up with the messy sheets, desperately trying not to disturb him. I grab onto the edge of the bed frame in order to try and stand up successfully. However once I'm upright, the nausea hits me. I grab onto my mouth and stomach, stopping myself from throwing up. I tiptoe around his room and catch sight of myself in the full length mirror, realising that I am oh so very... naked. So I begin to frantically look around, trying to locate my clothes. My sandals are sprawled across the middle of the floor, so I quickly slip them on and buckle them up. Then I see my black dress, crumbled up next to the bed. When I pick it up and slide it on, I almost die inside. The zipper is completely bust, I mustn't have even bothered to unzip it when I took it off, effectively tearing down the side of the dress. There are random stains all over it and it looks terrifying. The filthy dress is useless. To make matters considerably worse, I wasn't even wearing a bra underneath it (thanks to Marlene) and I have no hope in hell of finding my underwear. Devastation overcomes me and I begin to panic, looking around the room frantically for something to cover myself up with. One of Four's t-shirts is slung across the back of his desk chair, so I grab it and slip it on. Thankfully, it covers the ripped dress and reaches mid-thigh length, gratefully preserving my modesty. I find myself clenching my legs together with the un-ignorable sensation to pee, but I can't use his bathroom without waking him up. Carefully creeping out of his bedroom, I shut his door softly behind me and make my way over to the family bathroom. But I stop dead in my tracks when I walk past Marcus and Sarah's open bedroom door, only to see them lying in bed sound asleep. I internally scream, and tell myself to retreat. Retreat, retreat, retreat! Down the stairs I go, feeling like I'm in a terribly real comedy sketch. The two must have gotten a midnight flight and returned home in the early hours, for whatever ungodly reason. Once I'm finally downstairs, I expect to be relieved, however the sight that greets me spoils any chance of that happening. I inwardly cringe when I see my purse neatly placed on the side table, alongside Four's neatly folded up shirt. I know for a fact that we didn't leave these particular items like that. I even seem to recall them strewn across the floor down the hallway. That must mean that either Marcus or Sarah picked them up, obviously knowing that Four had brought a girl home. Could this whole thing get any worse? When I go to open the front door, I realise the answer is yes. Yes it can. The door is locked, and I don't have the key. At this point, I'm almost close to tears. I start searching for a set of keys, trying to be quiet but quick at the same time. I look inside the little jars and drawers and cupboards, what kind of people don't dump their keys by the front door? Tidy people. How inconvenient for me. I creep into the living room, staring at the large windows. I decide if I want to get out of here, it's this or nothing. The key is placed on the windowsill, so I unlock the largest window and open it. I manage to clumsily climb out, hopefully not flashing any of the neighbours. This is the first time that I'm thankful for being so small. My feet are now standing in the prickly plants as I lean in and put the key back on the windowsill, closing the window shut behind me. I'm finally free. Now that the initial escape part is over, I have to engage in the walk of shame. A bra-less, panty-less, guy's t-shirt wearing walk of shame. Fabulous. I stomp jelly-legged down the sidewalk on the way to my own house, sweat collecting on my brow, my hand shielding my eyes from the morning light. I pray that no one sees me. Because how on earth would I explain this one? Since it's a Sunday, most people are still in bed, so no one is around to witness my messy hair and sweaty sickly skin. I look like I just crawled out of a hole. Soon enough, I feel a burning sensation in my chest and my stomach flips. I throw up in the rose bush of someone's front yard, retching up the food that I don't even remember eating. It's official, I'm a zombie mess. I need to pee so badly, and it takes the will of wanting to preserve my last shred of dignity to stop myself from squatting behind a bush right now to relieve myself. It hurts to walk, and I've never been more thankful to see the chipped paint of my front porch. When I walk up the steps, I almost kiss the floor. I fiddle with the lock for a while before stumbling through my house, racing up the stairs on all fours in order to get to the bathroom.
"Beatrice? Is that you?" Please God, no! My mother's tuneful voice rings out and I slam the bathroom door shut before she gets a chance to see me. I tug on my hair out of pure humiliation and shame.
"Yeah mom, I'm just getting in the shower!" I shout through the door, my voice raspy and contorted. Why did she choose to stay in, last night of all nights?
"Where have you been?" I can sense her pressed up against the other side of the door, a confused expression plastered across her face probably. Now is the time to lie, and I need to make it good.
"Well, I stayed over at my friends house last night with Marlene because she wasn't feeling good," I say.
"Why are you home so early?"
"I think I have what she has because I don't feel so good either, I came home incase I was sick." There's a long pause before I finally get a response.
"Have you been drinking?"
"No, no!" I reply a little too quickly. "Of course not! I'm underage so I'd never get served. We've both just got like, the stomach flu or something."
"Alright. Well, I'm going back to bed. I have a shift at the hospital in a few hours, but I'll be back for dinner."
"Okay, see you later." I reply, heaving a sigh to relieve the tension. When I hear her walk away from the door, I turn the shower on. I peel what's left of my sweaty clothes off my body, and step into the steamy water. I scrub off all the grime with my wash cloth, noticing all the little marks and bruises on my body. Evidence of last night's antics. I step out and wrap a towel around me, grabbing my shoes and clothes before heading into my bedroom and shutting the door behind me. I stuff the clothes in my hamper and after drying my hair and putting my pyjamas on, I slide into the comfort of my own bed to catch a few more hours shut-eye.
Later, I woke to a text from Marlene, apologising for the state she got herself in last night, and to inform me that she's leaving for LA this afternoon. I reluctantly left the comfort of my bed, quickly throwing on some clothes on and making my way down to her house, which so happens to be crowded with family members helping to lift and pack various boxes. I was planning on only popping round to see her for a few minutes to say goodbye, but I really need to get what happened last night off my chest, and there's no one else I can really talk to other than Marlene. I walk up her long driveway, stepping out of people's way, my hands shoved in my pockets timidly. I see Marlene standing outside her front door, clipboard in hand, seemingly ordering people around. "Hey," I walk up to her, lightly slinging my arm around her shoulders in a half-hug.
"Hey Tris," she sighs. "I'm sorry it's manic around here," she gestures to her parents wrapping up large items, people stressing and rushing around.
"I can see that. I never knew a college student had so much stuff," I look at her questioningly. "I thought you just packed a suitcase of your clothes and took your laptop."
"Oh, I know, but I'm moving into a small house so I decided I may as well take everything with me," she pushes her hair back from her face in a frustrated manner. "I still have more stuff to get once we get there, like kitchen-ware and a bit more furniture."
"That's exciting," I smile. "So why a house? Don't you want to be on campus?"
"Eh," she starts looking at a list on her clipboard, checking off what I presume to be certain boxes. "I'm not really going for the college life, you know? My course is going to be rock solid and I'd rather not have the distraction of partying. And my parents own a few properties that they let out, one of them conveniently being in LA, so I'm going to live there."
"That's understandable, and also very lucky. You look like shit by the way."
"So do you," she giggles. "What happened last night? I take it you got home okay, I mean, I'm so sorry I got in such a state and left you, it was totally-"
"Marlene, it's okay, it's okay," I laugh to myself, biting my lip and start to feel my skin warming up.
"What's gotten into you?" She puts down the small box that she was holding and places her hands on her hip instead, offering me a sly smile and a raised eyebrow.
"I need to tell you something," I scratch the back of my neck. "I mean, I don't know if I should but… I just really need to tell someone. I need to get it off my chest."
"Okay, okay," she touches my shoulder lightly and releases a breathy laugh, looking considerably confused. "What the hell is going on?"
"Not here," I look around me awkwardly. She nods her head and drags me into her large house down the hallway, she pulls us into the small guest bathroom and locks the door behind us.
"There," she whispers, a excited grin on her face. "Now tell me before I combust!"
"I-had-sex-with-Four," I rush out almost inaudibly, my face scrunched up in anticipation of her response.
"You what?" She exclaims, her eyes wide and shocked, the corner of her lip twitching upwards.
He lays me down firmly on the bed, resting between my legs as we continue to kiss. He holds onto my ankles and pushes them up so that my knees are bent either side of him. We're close, but then he breaks away to unbuckle the straps on my sandals. He begins to gently kiss my ankles, whilst pulling them off and tossing them onto the floor. He sucks on the sensitive skin on the sides of my calves, before working his way up to my inner thighs, slowly but surely. He nips licks and brushes his lips against the flesh on my legs, his fingers gripping me firmly to stake his claim. I can't help a moan from escaping my mouth at the feel of his mouth, my body writhing beneath him as he snakes an arm across my hips to hold me down. Suddenly the thin material of the dress is too constricting and adds an unwanted layer between us. So I sit up, clumsily lifting it up off my body in such a desperate manner that I think I hear a little tear. I throw it onto the floor and fall back onto the bed, my hands fisting into the sheets and pulling on his thick brown hair. He looks up at me with a devilish grin, his eyes skimming over my body. I lay bare before him for the first time, my skin heated and clammy, my mind racing and incoherent. When he pulls away to unbuckle his jeans, I realise how bare I actually am, and how I'd rather be at least partially covered.
"Can we, um," I fiddle with the edge of the sheet, implying that I want to go underneath it.
"Yeah," he croaks, clearing his throat and pulling the sheet from under my body to cover us with it. I lean forward when he goes to kiss me again, this time trying to pull his jeans down. However, my clumsily weak hands can't do. "I'll get it," he laughs breathily and makes quick work of removing them, throwing them onto the floor like everything else. He kneels back down on the mattress and reaches over to his bedside table, retrieving a foil packet.
"You heard me," I say clearly this time, swallowing thickly and trying to snap myself out of my reverie. "I slept with Four. Last night," I look down at the floor, bracing myself for either the laughter or the shouting.
"Wait, are you actually serious?"
"Yes," I sigh, exasperated. "I'm being serious, Mar."
"Alright, I'm sorry. It's just, I mean we all joked about you two…but I didn't actually believe it."
"But it happened. It really did happen."
"Oh my gosh," she laughs again, a little too shocked for words. "How? I mean, did you just go home together?"
"Yeah I guess, we kissed on the dance floor and he asked me if I wanted to go back to his place so I said yes…at least I think that's how it happened."
"You think?"
"Well I was pretty drunk, I don't remember all of it clearly."
"I'm sure it will all come back to you. But why do you look so bummed?" She frowns, leaning back against the wall. So I sit on the closed toilet, my head in my hands.
"He's my best friend besides Lynn. Who we all know isn't around right now," I huff. "He was my best friend, and I went and had drunken awkward sex with him and probably ruined everything."
"It was awkward?"
"Well…" I trail off. She raises an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to continue. "Only because I hadn't done it before."
He leans over me, one of his forearms bearing most of his weight. He kisses my neck and jaw, while his other hand reaches down between us. I try to concentrate on the feel of him. The closeness of his body, his scent and heat radiating off him in a way that's both comforting and consuming. But let's just say, he's quite gifted in that department, so it takes us a while to get…situated. The fact that this is my first time going all the way doesn't help matters, because I'm anxious and stiff and awkward. I haven't told him that this is the case, but I'm presuming that by now he's probably figured out as much, especially when I wince. Even in his drunk state, he's not that stupid. My heart races and my head pounds, sweat collecting on both of us. He continues to shift us around, and in my drunken stupor, I become irritated, slapping his arm and commanding for him to stay as we are and go slowly.
"You were a virgin?" She says a little too loudly.
"Shh! People will hear you!" I look at the closed door frantically.
"Ha, you're totally thinking about it right now aren't you?" She pokes my cheek, which I'm almost positive has turned the shade of tomato red.
"Shut up, it's kind of hard not to," I mutter.
"Sorry, but jeez. You lost your virginity to Four. Four your best friend. That is hilarious." But he's not called Four, I think to myself. Last night, he told me one more secret about himself. One that I was definitely not expecting. One that added to the increased amount of mystery surrounding his character.
Things start to relax between us, our breathes becoming ragged and the creak of the mattress becoming more evident. His hand is large and warm on my chest, his lips hot and wet. "Four," I sigh, running my hands over his back.
"Say Tobias," his voice sounds deeper and more tense than usual.
"Wait, what?" I pull back and frown at him, what the hell is he talking about?
"That's…my name…Tobias," he pants. I'm not really in the right frame of mind to process the fact that 'Four', the name that I've called him ever since I met him, is apparently not even his real name.
"Okay, Tobias," I smile and run my hands through his hair, he smiles too, against my damp skin. He places wet kisses across my chest and keeps a firm grip on my waist. He's obviously pleased that I'm no longer calling him 'Four', but I keep thinking about how bizarre this situation is. I don't even remember how we got going like this, and now he's telling me he has a different name. For a moment, I let myself get carried away, thinking that I'm being intimate with a mysterious and attractive man named Tobias, not the Four that I'm acquainted with.
"Hey," Marlene starts clicking her fingers in front of my face. "Will you stop spacing out on me."
"This isn't hilarious," I say, slapping her hand away. "This is going to ruin everything. Everything that we have."
"Don't worry Tris, it's cool. You know, I slept with Uriah once and we're still friends."
"Huh? Uriah? Seriously?"
"Yeah, it was a couple of years ago, but that's irrelevant," she shakes her head and shrugs me off. "Anyway, was it good?"
"I-I don't know."
"Don't you remember?"
"Well, I kind of ruined the moment," I smile sheepishly.
"How?"
"I laughed."
"You laughed?" If she wasn't shocked before, then she surely is now. I don't blame her.
It's good, but my mind regrettably begins to wander. I begin to dread the morning, and whether or not we will wish we hadn't have done this. Similar to how you regret drinking so much because of the massive hangover. It was good at the time, but the consequences are often too much to justify the five minutes of fun you had.
"You alright Tris?" he asks me. His voice sounds normal, like it always has done, and it helps anchor me back to reality. He sounds like the same Four my mother introduced me to. The one who picked me up from jail and offered me a caring smile. The one who told me his secrets and helped me when I had to face my own. This is Four. This is my friend. I keep trying to fight the cloud of drunkenness, I need to see sense. But I can't.
"Yeah," I bite lip and let him carry on. This is what I want, isn't it? For whatever reason, a giggle starts to grow in my throat, and I can't keep it in anymore. I laugh. I laugh out loud against his shoulder, until he pulls back and stops what he's doing to look at me. He furrows his brows for a moment before eventually joining in, a grin spreading across his face as he shakes his head almost in disbelief, and drops it so his forehead is pressed against my chest. His shoulders shake with quiet laughter, but soon enough we become near hysterical. "What are we doing?" I say, my voice sounding intoxicated and amused.
"I don't know," he rolls off me and covers his face with his hands, grumbling something unintelligible. "We've had too much to drink."
"Tris," Marlene sighs. "You're doing it again."
"Sorry, sorry. I uh, I may have…let out a slight giggle. Yes. I laughed," I purse my lips. "But he laughed too!"
"I can't believe you actually laughed," she walks over and sits in front of me on the floor. "This is unbelievable."
"It was just the intensity of the situation, and the fact that I was out of my mind. It was weird because, well, he's Four. I guess we both weren't ready for that, we just got a little ahead of ourselves."
"So did he get to finish?"
"Um.."
"Really? You just stopped?"
"I, I can't even remember properly. We both realised what we were doing wasn't what we wanted so yeah, we just stopped. Well, at least I think that's what happened. But anyway, that's the least of my problems."
"You don't have problems Tris," she shakes my knee. "Just forget about it. We're young, it's what we do. Mess around and make mistakes."
"But I didn't want to make any mistakes with him. He's…he's important."
"So you like him?"
"I didn't say that."
"It's cool. If you like him, tell him. If you don't, just forget about it. What did he say in the morning?"
"I ran out before he woke up."
"You humped and dumped?" She smirks.
"Well when you say it like that it sounds bad."
"Whatever," she stands up, stretching her back out. "Anyway, college awaits me, and Four awaits you. So we best get out of this tiny bathroom. Just talk to him, alright? Everything will work out for the best."
And talk to him is exactly what I'm going to have to do. Especially now that I'm sat at home, at my kitchen table, and my phone is lit up with his name on the screen. I watch it vibrate for a moment before finally growing the nerves to answer it. There's a nervous lump in my throat and electricity coursing through my veins. My stomach feels like a cage of rabid butterflies, the mortification of actually having to hear his voice is surprisingly painful. "Hello?" I answer, my hands trembling slightly as I hold the phone to my ear, my voice sounding croaky and terse. I pinch the bridge of my nose to try and relieve the pressure. It doesn't work.
"You know, I'm going to have to start walking around topless if you keep taking my shirts," Four replies. A sigh of pure relief escapes my mouth when I hear that he's being normal. Even though I dreaded the sound of his voice less than a minute ago, it's enough to cure my anxieties. I bite the inside of my cheek and smile to myself a little. I wasn't afraid of him. I was afraid of hurting him, of him being mad at me.
"I'm sure all the girls would love that," I remark, getting him to chuckle. However it wears off quickly and the line goes dead for a minute. "My dress was ripped so it was either that or walk home naked," I explain to him.
"I'm sure all the boys would have loved that." I also try to laugh, but it comes out more like a strangled cat noise. I slap a hand to my forehead, frustrated with myself. "You should have just woken me up and I would have taken you home," he says.
"No it's fine. I uh, had to be somewhere. Didn't want to wake you." I know he knows I'm lying. But there isn't really much else that I can say to him to make this any better.
"Yeah, about last night…" he begins with those specific three words that I was dreading, but I cut him off before he gets a chance to continue with the dreaded topic.
"There's nothing to say."
"Tris, I-"
"I suppose that's not the first time that you've had a one night stand, is it?" I chew on my lip when it takes him a while to respond.
"No, it's not. But I didn't want it to be like that with you."
"What does that mean?"
"Hmm?"
"What did you want it to be like?" The line stays silent. "Four?" After another moment of silence, he begins to stammer, trying to get his words out but obviously unsure of the point he's trying to make. I puff out air frustratedly, wishing thinks weren't so tense. "We were drunk," I say. "It's okay, we'll just forget about it. I don't want it to ruin what we have…whatever that is."
"What if I don't want to forget about it," he mutters quietly.
"Then don't, but, let's face it, we both had no idea what we were doing and got seriously caught up in the moment." I have to admit, I'm not quite sure if I want to forget it either. Scratch that, I know I definitely won't be forgetting it. But I can't risk it damaging us or rushing into anything because of it.
"I still feel guilty," he sighs.
"Don't, we're both as bad as each other."
"I didn't hurt you did I?"
"Four, I'm fine. Seriously, I think we should just move on. But, Marcus and Sarah were home when I got up, they were still asleep though, I don't think I woke them."
"I know, they got an earlier flight because the weather was bad."
"Did they get annoyed at you?"
"Something like that."
"I guess it wasn't the best plan then, overall."
"No, but I'd be lying if I said I regretted it," I can almost hear the smirk shining through in his voice. Just as I'm about to respond with some sarcastic remark, I hear the front door open, and my mom's footsteps patter on the hardwood floor as she walks through the house to dump her bag and coat in the closet.
"My mom's home," I whisper.
"Okay, when can I see you?"
"Tomorrow? I'm working a full day though."
"So am I, I'll probably see you after."
"Alright then," I murmur just as my mom walks in giving me a curious smile. She's known for her eavesdropping skills and I won't allow her to put them to good use.
"Take care," he says.
"You too." He hangs up as I pull my phone away from my ear, switching the screen off so that my mom can't see his name lit up. She begins to busy herself in the kitchen, pulling out various foods to make dinner.
"I'm going to make a soup," she says, "since you don't feel well." She drops the bag of vegetables and walks over to me, placing the back of her hand on my cheek and her palm against my forehead. "Although you seemed to have made a miraculous recovery."
"I still feel a little off," I lie. My hangover has worn off since this morning, I may still feel tired but I'm no longer nauseous.
"Who were you just talking to?"
"Marlene."
"Ah," she begins to chop the vegetables, her voice sounding incredibly disbelieving. She doesn't question me further, but she doesn't need to. I can see the accusatory look in her eyes as I help her with making the dinner. She wants me to tell her the truth, she knows I was lying. She knows I've been lying to her all day, I can tell. Even though she still continues to go along with the pretence of me having the stomach flu, she feeds me soup and painkillers and plenty of water. All cures for bad hangovers. We don't say much as we eat at the table, and I retire to bed early tonight, eager to escape all the drama and catch up on lost sleep. I fight the temptation to sleep in one of Four's many shirts that he's given to me, and decide it would be best to sleep in my own bed clothes tonight. That is, if I want to get any sleep at all. But when I'm lying in bed, my quilt tucked firmly around my body like a caterpillar in its cocoon, I find it too difficult to not think about him. The house is dead quiet, the faint noise of the shower head leaking drops of water echoing in the bathroom. I can't help but think about how last night, less than twenty-four hours ago, I fell asleep in a very different way. Still in similar silence, but with a certain someone wrapped around my bare skin. So I allow the delectable reminiscence to lull me to sleep:
A short while later, we're laying on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. His arm is stretched out, resting under my neck, and I examine his face up-close for the first time. I still feel very buzzed, but a sense of normalcy is starting to make its way back to me…at least I think. "So, what's the deal with your name?" I slur slightly.
"Four. It was just," he pauses for a moment, also finding it harder than usual to string his sentences together, "a name that I earned in college. I played football, and that was the number on my jersey. I never used to introduce myself to people because I still had my issues, I would just ignore them. So, they all started calling me Four."
"Do you want me to call you Tobias?"
"When we're alone, yeah," he yawns.
"Oh, so is it just what you do when you sleep with girls? Tell them your real name? Almost like a party favour," I joke, but he looks at me seriously.
"No," he frowns and shakes his head, "you're the first person I've told, who knows me by the name 'Four'."
"Why?" I ask incredulously, wondering why he treated me differently.
"I don't know. When you said 'Four', it just didn't seem right. Four is just a persona, an intimidating alter ego. But when I'm with you, I feel like 'Tobias'. You make me want to be the good guy. The real me." He looks at me earnestly, and I smile slightly in response, feeling my eyelids droop. He rolls over so that he's lying on his side, facing me, and pulls the sheet over us properly. He smoothes back my hair before placing a gentle kiss on my cheek, and intertwines his fingers with mine. I watch him as he closes his eyes, a small content smile growing on his face. He falls asleep quickly, as I continue to stare at him, listening to the deep lull of his breathing and marvelling at how different he looks as he sleeps. He looks weightless and calm, no signs of worry lines etched on his face or the torment and sadness that I know is buried in his blue eyes. I pray that this night doesn't complicate things, doesn't complicate what we have. I don't think the term 'just friends' applies to us anymore. I don't want it to.
Hope you liked that chapter! I decided to do something a little different with the flashbacks because it worked out better that way, rather than just carrying on from the last chapter in chronological order.
Thank you so much for all the reviews I got for the last chapter, it was the most I had ever gotten! I really appreciate it and glad you enjoyed it. I haven't had time to reply to each and every one of you since this one took me so long to write, but all of your words are wonderful!
Stay tuned. :)