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Chapter 45

Tris's POV

"Beatrice, wake up. We're leaving in ten minutes."

I snap awake to find that I'd fallen asleep without changing clothes, taking a shower, or even getting under the blankets. I look up just in time to see Caleb leaving my room.

Did he say ten minutes?!

I stumble off the bed to find that I apparently hadn't looked hard enough and that one foot had made it under the covers. It gets caught up in the blankets and causes me to trip and fall flat on my back, sending a loud thud throughout the house. It knocks the breath out of me and I feel my cheeks heat up from embarrassment as I gasp for air to refill my lungs.

"Are you alright up there?" I hear Tori yell from downstairs. I go to reassure her, but all that comes out of my mouth are rasps.

"Beatrice?" I hear Caleb say with a knock on my door. "Beatrice, I'm coming in."

I hear the door open and Caleb is on his knees next to me a moment later, looking worried. "What happened? Why can't you breathe? Are you having an anxiety attack?"

I quickly shake my head and gasp through my ragged breaths, "Fell. My foot. Knocked my…" I start to cough. "Breath...away," I finish.

Caleb looks stunned for a moment, then he starts laughing. He laughs so hard I can see tears forming in his eyes. My cheeks flame up again.

"Is she okay?!" Tori yells.

"Oh, she's wonderful!" Caleb yells, stands up, and exits my room, leaving me to deal with my foot still entrapped in the blankets. I struggle upwards, coughing violently as my breath reenters my lungs. The muscles in my left leg pull and stretch as I lean forward to free my foot. Once I've done that, I stand up and take deep breaths.

I habitually turn to my window, looking through it and hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I see black curtains flying shut, but not before I see the amused smirk on his face, which oddly did not look menacing. I frown as I remember last night—what he'd said...what he'd done.

I shake my head to clear my mind. Mason. I'm meeting Mason today. Mason, who has much bigger problems to worry about than my love life. Or, rather, my lack of one.

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. I make a face when I feel how greasy it is, but there's not enough time for a shower. I quickly change into a new pair of jeans and long sleeved shirt, then put my hair back into a french braid. That will have to do for now.

I finish my morning routine and hurry outside where Tori and Caleb are waiting for me in the car. Right before I climb in, I turn my head to look at the house next to ours. I freeze as a wave of something unfamiliar hits me and leaves me with a tight feeling in my chest.

"Just a second," I tell them and run back inside. I grab a piece of notebook paper and pen, scrawling out a long note, words effortlessly pouring out of me. I stick it to a piece of tape and, sprinting back outside, stick it again to his truck's door handle.

I go back to our car, slightly breathless. They both look questioningly at me.

"I told him I didn't need a ride today, not to wait up for me, and to go on ahead," I explain.

"Couldn't you have just called him?" Tori asks from the passenger seat, confused.

I shrug nonchalantly. "I doubt he's up at this hour."

She nods, but Caleb turns and frowns at me. "You could have just texted him."

I bite my lip and feel my cheeks burn. There's no way I'm telling them why I wrote that note or what was really on it.

"I just thought a note might be better," I sheepishly say.

Caleb gets a suspicious look on his face and I know he knows I'm lying, but I don't care enough to elaborate. Tori is frowning, looking back and forth between us.

"Well, are we going to drive anytime today or should I go and trash that note?" I ask.

Caleb shakes his head at me, but turns around anyways and starts to drive. I lean my head against the window and close my eyes. The image of Tobias, my Tobias, clutching my shirt with white knuckles and not even bothering to fight tears appears behind my shut eyelids. Minutes later, I fall asleep with the words I wrote ringing through my mind.

Tobias,

I wish I knew what was going on in your head, but I don't. Maybe for good reason. Maybe I don't want to know. Maybe I never will know. I know only one thing for sure, and that is that I made a promise to you. No matter how much I go back and forth with the urge to break it, I know that's all it ever will be—an urge. I don't break promises, especially ones to you. I intend to keep it.

I don't know why you're doing this, or what I did to deserve it. That is if I even did anything. But I won't give up on you. I can't. It's not who I am, and I know that this is not who you are. I know that you're somewhere in there. My Tobias.

I didn't mean what I said yesterday. Not really. I can't stop loving you, no matter how much you hurt me, or how much I don't want to. I can't hate you despite your actions or your words. I fell hard, and as far as I know, there's no way to climb back up. I doubt there ever will be.

So I'm not giving up on you.

Not because of my promise, or my stupid love for you, or the probably improbable belief that this hurts you as much as it hurts me, but because I can't. I won't. My heart refuses to leave you alone, to leave you behind. And maybe that's selfish, but I think I've earned the right to be selfish for once.

You said you didn't love me anymore, but I realized last night that that can't be true. A love like ours doesn't just burn out. Maybe you don't love me the way you did before. If that's the case, then I'll find a way to deal with it. But you can't just leave me. Whether as a friend, or a used-to-be love, or even a current love, I need you. I won't deny it. But I know that you need me too. What we are to each other is your decision.

The ball is in your court now. I'll be waiting.

I love you,

Tris

"Name?" the desk lady asks.

"Caleb Prior." Caleb whips out his wallet and slides his ID across to her. She gives it a quick once-over. She nods and gives it back, flashing him a polite smile.

"He'll be down in just a few minutes."

Caleb comes back over to where Tori and I are waiting and plops down in the seat next to me, his face already screwed up into a grin. I can't help but smile at his obvious happiness.

"You'd think that you just figured out a cure for cancer with that kind of smile," I sarcastically say.

He rolls his eyes but doesn't drop his grin. "Whatever, Bea."

We lapse into silence as we wait. Caleb grabs my hand and squeezes hard in anticipation. I chuckle despite my own nerves and squeeze back. Soon, we hear the sound of little footsteps pounding down the hallway. Caleb stands up just in time for a little boy to come flying into him.

"Caleb!" he shouts in delight.

Caleb picks him up and swings him around two times before setting him down. "I've missed you so much, Mason!" he exclaims with a huge smile on his face.

I can already tell Mason will be very handsome when he's older. He has deep green eyes, wavy dirty blond hair, a charming smile, tan skin, and a light patch of freckles speckling the bridge of his nose.

"I didn't know if you'd come back," Mason quietly admits to him.

Caleb ruffles his hair and squats down to his level. "Oh, c'mon, you know I'll always come back for you."

Mason smiles and wraps his arms around Caleb's neck. "Do you promise?"

Caleb pulls away and holds one hand up. "I solemnly swear that I, Caleb Prior, will never not come back for you, Mason Cain."

They both grin at one another before embracing again. However, Mason's smile vanishes as he finally sets his eyes on me for the first time, just now noticing Caleb is not alone.

"Caleb?" Mason asks slowly, pulling back from him. "Who are these people?"

Caleb turns to look at us as if confirming we're the people Mason is talking about, then says, "Remember what I told you about my family, Mason?"

He slowly nods, still staring at me. I can't help but feel a little bit uncomfortable, but I ignore the feeling and try to shoot him a friendly smile.

"Well, this is what remains," Caleb continues. He stands up and takes Mason's hand, leading him over to us. He goes to Tori first. "Mason, this is my aunt Tori. Tori, this is Mason."

Tori smiles at Mason and slowly sticks her hand out for him to shake. Mason's hand trembles as he does so, quickly pulling away afterward.

I see me in him. I see what happened to me after the only ones I'd ever loved were torn from me. I see the wariness and fear of everyone and everything, not allowing yourself to trust anyone. I see the deadness inside, hidden well by happiness from seeing the one person you can trust, seeing your savior, your knight in shining armor. I see the feeling of absolute smallness, like you're a bug being constantly trampled on but unnoticed by the crowd. I remember how it felt when I found people smaller than me, and I remember the relief that maybe I wasn't the smallest thing on this earth, which was not very often I might add.

As Caleb leads Mason over to me, I sit on the ground and cross my legs. Mason tilts his head confusedly at me, but I only smile at him.

"Mason, this is my sister, Beatrice. Her friends call her Tris, but we call her Bea. You can call her whatever you'd like," Caleb says and looks questioningly at me. I avoid looking at him and move my hand up to shake Mason's. His face breaks into a small, amused smile and he shakes it without hesitation. I smile even larger as my plan to get Mason to feel comfortable works.

"Hey, Mason! Caleb's told me so much about you!" I say enthusiastically.

He tries to fight the smile on his face as he asks, "Why are you sitting on the floor?"

I shrug and lean back on my hands casually. "I wanted to sit down." He looks pointedly over at the chairs. I shrug again. "Too far."

He laughs at me. "You're funny. I like you."

I laugh as well, glad to see the shell that Caleb told me he has broken. It was much easier to break into than Tobias's.

I shake my head at myself. The ball is in his court now. I've done what I can.

"Well, I like you too," I say and slowly stand up. "But I think it's time we get out of here."

Caleb nods, looking amused, and agrees. We walk to the car, Caleb and Mason having a quiet conversation behind us. I turn to Tori and ask, "What exactly are we doing today?"

"Well, Caleb did say that Mason loved mini golf, so I believe that will be our first stop."

"Hey!" I shout at Caleb as I watch his red ball knock my black one out of the way. He sniggers as he walks past me and putts his ball in before I can react. I scoff and shove him away as I let Mason take his turn.

The kid's a natural at this. I've lost count of how many times he's gotten a hole in one. At first, I believed it was luck, but then as he gained more and more on us and made it look like it was nothing, I realized that he's a professional. Well, the most professional you can get in mini golf.

I sigh as I watch Mason's ball roll over the hills, ricochet off the curved wall, and fall straight in the hole. When he walks up to retrieve it from the hole, I ask, "How are you so good at this?"

He shrugs and smiles sheepishly at me. "I don't let Caleb knock my ball away."

I roll my eyes and putt my ball two more times to get it in. "Yeah, well, sometimes I can't help it."

He suddenly grins at me and leans close. He gestures for me to lean down, even though he could probably stand on his tiptoes and whisper in my ear quite easily.

"What if I help you?" he whispers.

I raise an eyebrow at him and look over my shoulder to where Caleb and Tori converse amongst themselves. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"There's no way you can catch up now, but I'm way ahead of everyone else. Caleb is in second place. What if we knocked his ball out of the way all the time and put him below Tori?"

I'm surprised that he's offering to go against the boy who's kept him safe for years, but I don't bring it up. A grin slowly breaks out on my face, and I stick my hand out for him to shake. He does so with a smile and we hurry onto the next hole.

"It's your turn to go first, Bea," Caleb says and pokes at me with the end of his club.

I step up and tap my ball so it just barely passes the first of many curves. Caleb grins mischievously and smacks his ball into mine, causing it to roll the wrong way. I look at Mason, but he's already taking his turn. I watch as his ball hits Caleb's with such force that it flies off the course. I start to laugh when I see the shocked look on Caleb's face. Mason smiles innocently at Caleb as he frowns and takes his ball back to the beginning.

We take turns doing this up until the end of the game, and it works even better than planned. We end up putting Caleb below me, leaving Mason in first (of course), me in second, and Tori in third. Mason and I high five as we calculate the scores and Caleb scowls at us.

"You betrayed me," he grumbles pointedly towards Mason.

Mason's face drops. Before he can think Caleb is serious, I whisper, "He's a really sore loser. He believes intelligence helps you win at anything, so when he loses it disproves that theory. In other words, he hates being proved wrong."

Mason laughs, and I smile as his mood changes back into pure joy. Thank goodness I was able to save that. "So, what do you want to eat, Mason?" Tori asks.

"Pizza," he immediately says.

"Pizza it is," she says with a laugh.

"What is your favorite kind of pizza?" I hear Mason asking Caleb.

"Pepperoni, of course," he replies and turns to Tori. "Tori, is yours still meat lovers?"

Tori nods and smiles as we all climb into the car. "Some things never change. Speaking of things never changing, Bea, your favorite is the same as your brother's, isn't it?"

I smile at her. "I haven't had it in a long time, but I'm sure it hasn't changed."

As we begin moving, I turn and look at Mason from the front. "What is your favorite kind of pizza?"

"Pepperoni!" he exclaims, then frowns. "Wait, why haven't you had pizza in a long time?"

I bite my lip and turn back to the front. As I'm debating over what to say, Caleb steps in and saves me from having to reply.

"She got sick a while back while eating pizza. Now it holds a reminder every time she smells it and loses her appetite," he hurriedly says.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Mason says directed toward me. "I didn't know. We can eat something else if you'd like."

I shake my head quickly focusing on pushing down my sudden nerves. "No! No, uh, I'm fine! I promise! Besides, I couldn't avoid pizza forever, now could I?"

Now Mason looks suspicious, but he drops the topic. He's very perceptive for being only nine years old. He is very mature. Then again, what else could I have expected him to be? Anyone with an experience like that comes out with what feels like several more years of age. I would know. There are still times I wonder if I really am only seventeen years old. I've experienced enough hurt and loss in the seventeen years I've been alive that it could easily be compared to someone of sixty years of age.

"What's the best pizza place around here? I take it you two would know," Tori says, breaking me from my thoughts.

I turn my head slightly just in time to see both Caleb and Mason grin at each other. "Oliver's," they say in synchronization.

"Oliver's," I repeat slowly. "I mean, I usually see Italian names when it comes to pizza but I suppose Oliver will do."

Mason giggles and says, "What? Did you think it would be Mario and Luigi's?"

I quirk a smile and say, "If it was, then I would be expecting a red and green color scheme with waiters wearing blue overalls and mustaches."

Caleb rolls his eyes while Mason laughs again and Tori smiles, looking at me with pride. It makes me blush. We sit in a comfortable silence the rest of the way there, Caleb occasionally giving Tori directions on where to turn and which exit to take.

Oliver's happens to be on the more quiet side of the city which leaves you with the ability to hear yourself think. It's a small building lined with red and black (not green, much to my disappointment), and has large windows installed to catch the sunlight. The inside looks just as nice, with black tiles and deep red walls. The smell of homemade pizza wafts in the air, filling my nostrils and making me smile.

"This is really...genuine," I say in awe as I eye the paintings of different pizzas on the ceiling. Caleb smirks at my greedy eyes attempting to take everything in at once and pushes me into an empty red booth.

I finally tear my eyes away from the ceiling to look around the very crowded room. From the looks of it, this place is very popular even if it is a detour from the busy city streets.

"Hey, guys! I'm Olivia! I'll be your waitress for today! Can I start you guys off with something to drink?" a girl, Olivia, says from beside us. It looks like they also have plenty of staff to handle the crowd.

"I'll have a water," I start. Everyone else follows my lead, except for Mason who gets a Sprite.

Olivia brilliantly smiles and tells us she'll be back in a few minutes ready with our drinks and to take our orders.

"We're getting Pepperoni, right?" Mason excitedly asks.

Tori cracks a smile. "Yes, we'll get two medium pepperoni pizzas."

Mason breaks into a large smile and starts up a conversation with Caleb. I sit in silence again and continue to stare at the paintings covering the walls and ceiling. Not all of them are pizza. Some are red peppers, some are green peppers, some are wedges of Swiss cheese, some are puffs of steam, some are half cut mushrooms, some are flying dough, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

"The artwork was done by Oliver himself," Caleb says, interrupting my observations.

"Wait—this guy is actually the one who started up this place?" I ask.

"Yeah! He comes out every time me and Caleb come here to say hi! He usually does it right away. But it's also not usually this busy…" Mason trails off and frowns.

"Wait—so you know this guy?!" I exclaim.

"Yes," Caleb chuckles. "We know him. He's actually an artist in his spare time, hence the overload of paintings adorning the walls and ceiling. He draws a design on Mason's arm every time we come here based on what he thinks Mason needs a reminder of."

"Yeah! One time he painted a sun to remind me that happiness is always reachable if I just look for it! And another time he painted my entire hand black and covered it with silver stars to remind me that there is light even in darkness!"

"Wait—so this guy is an extremely successful entrepreneur, a very talented artist, and a poetry enthusiast?" I ask jaw dropped. "Oh, c'mon, you've got to be messing with me. This guy doesn't actually exist, does he?"

"Before I answer that, you need to quit saying 'wait' and referring to Oliver as 'this guy'," Caleb says, quite amused by my awe. I blush. He chuckles and says, "Yes, Beatrice. Oliver is a real person."

Before I can reply, Olivia is back with our drinks and quickly scribbling down our order, promising to be back again soon.

"Oliver is a real person?" I start again. "Like, one hundred percent human?"

Mason giggles at my doubt and Tori sets her hand on my shoulder. "Bea, even if he wasn't real, why would Caleb and Mason be making him up?"

I sigh and take a drink. The cool water soothes my parched throat. "The only other person I can think of that sounds that amazing is Sadie. Maybe they should get together. You know, share their perfectness with each other before they die."

Caleb busts out laughing, attracting several confused looks. I feel myself flush even though I'm not the one they're looking at. They slowly turn away as Caleb begins to calm down, wiping tears from his cheeks.

"I don't understand," I say confused. "What's so funny?"

He takes several deep breaths and meets our confused faces before looking at me. "Considering there's at least a sixty year age difference, I don't think either of them would appreciate that much."

I blink once, twice, three times. "Wait," I say against Caleb's better judgment. "He's young?"

Caleb smirks at me. "He currently attends an art college in Chicago. He has a full ride to Loyola University."

"Chicago?" I repeat.

"Yes, Bea, Chicago. He comes back here on the days he has no classes and on the occasional weekend."

"Wow," I say. "How old is he? He has to be at least twenty."

"Try nineteen. His birthday is today, which is why it's so busy," Caleb says, directing the last comment at Mason.

"Alright!" Olivia appears, holding two round stones. "I have two medium pepperoni pizzas for you!" She expertly slides them to the center of the table, passing out plates afterward. "Is there anything else I can get you?" she politely asks.

"Is Oliver here today?" Mason asks hopefully.

She looks slightly confused, but answers, "Yes, he is here. He's about to leave, but maybe I could catch him for you…?"

Caleb nods. "If you could, that would be great. Tell him that Mason and Caleb are here. He'll know who we are."

Recognition rises in her eyes and she quickly nods. "Yes, of course! He's mentioned you! I'll go get him!"

Without another word, she scurries away to the kitchen. Mason happily grabs a piece of pizza and begins to chomp down on it. Caleb, Tori, and I follow. As soon as the pizza hits my tongue, I sigh in pleasure and close my eyes.

"Don't tell me he cooks too," I say through a mouthful of pizza. Caleb doesn't seem to hear me.

"You're not throwing up," Mason observes a few bites later.

"Well, I sure hope she isn't. I made that pizza myself," a deep voice says.

My eyes widen and I quickly swallow, turning to look at the man. I only see the color of his hair before the man turns to look at Mason. Dark brown.

"Oliver!" Mason exclaims and climbs down from the booth to hug him. The man, Oliver, hugs him with one arm and ruffles his hair with the other.

"Hey buddy!" he greets. "How are you?"

"I'm good! I've been having a lot of fun!"

"Oh?" Oliver questions. "Fun with who?"

"With Caleb and his family!" Mason exclaims.

Oliver lifts his head and looks at Caleb. They shake hands.

"It's good to see you again, Caleb. I was starting to think that after two years you wouldn't come back."

"Good to see you too, Oliver. I heard you're a college man now. Also, happy birthday!"

Oliver chuckles. I'm startled by how much it sounds like Tobias.

Four, my brain reminds me. Not Tobias. Four.

"Thank you. And yes, Loyola University in Chicago offered me a full ride so I took it. Now, I don't believe you've introduced me to your family," Oliver says and turns to look at Tori and me.

The air I was taking in is immediately cut off. My eyes widen and my throat dries. He looks just like Four. He's practically a carbon copy. The jawline, the cheekbones, the lips, the slight stubble, the nose, the handsomeness. I'm too busy studying him to realize that everyone is looking at me expectantly. I flush madly.

"I-um-I...I...I'm sorry. I-um...I...you see, the thing is that I-uh-I don't exactly know what you...what you just said," I stumble, my cheeks flushing a deep red.

What the hell? Since when have you stuttered?

Oliver chuckles and extends his hand to me. "Hi, Tris."

"Hi," I say and smile at him, taking his hand. It's cool and smooth and soft. I finally look into his eyes and almost jump when I see green instead of blue.

Artist, entrepreneur, poetic, polite to everyone...but not Tobias.

I let go of his hand first and awkwardly look away.

Not Tobias, not Tobias, not Tobias.

"Can you draw on me?" Mason asks Oliver, who I could feel staring at me. One set of eyes look away as two more land on me. I carefully look at Caleb, who looks suspicious and calculating.

I hesitantly chance a look at Tori. Her gaze is confused, sad, yet amused. She leans in and whispers, "What about Four?"

"What about Four?" I find myself whispering back, looking down.

She sighs and covers one of my hands with hers. "He is your boyfriend, you know. I would think you'd give him some thought, especially since you're in love with him."

"And what if I say you're wrong?"

"I know you love him. That is blatantly obvious. Plus, you told me first, remember?"

"Not about that," I whisper, feeling guilt crawl into my veins. I now regret not telling Tori this sooner. "The him being my boyfriend part. What if I told you you're wrong about that?"

She takes in a sharp breath and her head snaps back, surprised. I turn my head to look at Mason and Oliver, the latter drawing on on a hand with colored Sharpies and the former having the hand being drawn on. I watch as the outline of an infinity sign appears, greens and blues and whites appearing on the inside. It takes me a few more moments of watching to realize that the greens and blues and whites are forming a globe from inside the infinity sign.

A few minutes later, the drawing is finished and everything is outlined in black. Little people line the black of the infinity sign, all of them with joined hands. Mason raises his hand and a huge smile breaks out onto his face.

"What does it mean?" he asks.

Oliver, who is currently putting the Sharpies back into his pocket, answers with, "The earth is a world of seven billion people with an infinite amount of possibilities. Even if you fail at one thing, there is an infinite number of other things to try. The people are meant to remind you that this world isn't all bad and that there are people who care about you. Don't pull away from them. Don't let them go."

My lungs burn and my eyes sting. I come to the alarming conclusion that I'm about to cry. I stand up quickly and make up some excuse about forgetting my phone in the car before hurrying outside. I go to the car and climb in, taking shaky breaths and blinking at an unreal speed. I eventually calm myself down enough to comfortably walk back in without worrying I'll look like a mess.

"Sorry," I apologize to everyone. "I just remembered that Christina had texted me earlier and I forgot to reply," I lie. No one seems to buy it, though, not even Oliver who doesn't know me.

"Well," Tori says slowly, saving me from any questions, "if we want to make the movie we should probably leave now."

"Movie?" I stupidly ask.

Caleb raises an eyebrow at me, his eyes the same as Tori's—sad but amused. "Yes, movie. The one Oliver suggested we go see with Mason during the introductions?"

I blush again. I dug myself into a hole. "Oh-yeah...of course, yeah, that movie."

Oliver crookedly smiles at me. I blush harder under his gaze. I'm forgetting who this really is in front of me, but then green enters my vision and it's like a slap to the face as I realize that I want them to be dark blue instead of bright green. It feels weird to see someone so much like Tobias, yet not like Tobias at all.

"We should go," Caleb says and slides out of the booth, reaching over and stealing my unfinished piece of pizza. I force myself to look away from the almost carbon copy Tobias and slide out of the booth as well.

"Thank you for the drawing," Mason says with a large smile. "I'm never going to wash it off."

Oliver chuckles. "You say that every time."

"Only 'cause I mean it," Mason replies.

Mason hugs Oliver one more time before letting the rest of us say our goodbyes. When he gets to me, he smiles a bit wider.

"I...bye," I say and feel disappointment ride through me. I mentally shake my head at myself. This is not Tobias. He may look the same, but he is not, and I would do well to remember that.

"It was a pleasure to meet you," he charmingly says.

"You too," I quietly say, suddenly having the urge to call Tobias and make sure that he is still...there. But then I remember the past five days and scowl to myself. He's made it clear that he wants nothing to do with me.

Then why was he crying over you?

I shake the thought from my mind. I should have never left that stupid note. Knowing him, he probably laughed at it, tore it to shreds, and left it on my front doorstep.

But that's not the Tobias you know, now is it?

I clench my jaw as anger fills me again along with a distinct sense of longing. I turn and shove my hands into my pockets, following Tori, Caleb, and Mason out the door. But the calling of my name stops our path.

"Yes?" I ask Oliver politely.

He looks surprised as if he can't believe he stopped me. "I...I was wondering if maybe you'd like to spend some time with me while the rest of your family goes to the movie? I know this really great place that's only a couple miles away from here."

I open my mouth to reject the offer, but the words die in my mouth. I wanted to tell him that I have a boyfriend, that I have someone waiting on me back home, but that's not true. What I really want is for Tobias to snap out of whatever it is he's playing at, but...what if he isn't just playing?

A dark feeling floods through me and before I can stop myself, I spin around to look at Tori and Caleb for permission. Caleb looks reluctant, but Tori only nods. I turn back around to look into the not-so-blue eyes.

"I would love that," I reply.

"Wow," I say as I stare at the scene in front of us. A large green hilly area sits there with a sparkling blue pond in the center, a brown bridge built over it swaying gently with the wind. "This is amazing."

Oliver smiles, pleased that I think so. He gets out of the red, partially banged up truck and quick as a flash crosses to my side and opens the door for me. I blush at his antics and take his hand to help me down. Once again, I find myself subconsciously taking note of his hand. Cool, soft, smooth, only a bit larger than mine.

"Thank you," I quietly say and remove my hand from his, feeling slightly guilty. I push the feeling away. I doubt Tobias would feel guilty.

But didn't he?

"So…" I begin.

"So…" he repeats, smiling. "What are your feelings on the question game?"

"The question game?" I ask.

"You know, I ask you a question and you answer it, you ask me a question in return, I answer it. That game."

"Ah," I say. "You start."

"Okay," he says and ponders for a moment. "Tris is a nickname, right?"

"Why?" I jokingly ask. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"I believe you just took your turn out of order, but no, I don't have a problem with that. Just curious as to what it's a nickname for," he replies with a charming smile. I can't help but smile back.

"You know, I don't just give that information out to anybody, especially strangers."

"Ah, but you see, I'm neither 'anybody' or a stranger. You know my name, and I would like to know yours. What's so wrong with that?" he asks, his green eyes twinkling.

Green. Not blue.

"Beatrice," I quickly say. "It's Beatrice."

He narrows his eyes to study me, then shakes his head. "Tris suits you better."

"I get that a lot," I admit, my cheeks turning red.

"Now, since you took your turn already, it's mine again." I open my mouth to protest, but he rushes forward, not allowing me to butt in. "Why have I never seen you with Caleb before? He talked about you all the time, yet I haven't seen you until now."

I wring my fingers together and bite my lip. "It's a rather long story. To keep things short, we'll just say he and I never communicated for the past two years because of a certain incident and leave it at that."

He nods slowly. "I'll respect that."

"So it's my turn now?"

He nods again, faster this time, and smiles. "Yes. It's your turn."

"What's your family like?"

He seems a bit confused by the question, probably expecting something more along the lines of 'What's your favorite color?' or 'What's your favorite food?'

"Well…I have a twin sister, Olivia, whom I believe was your waitress. John, who is my eldest brother, is to be married exactly three weeks from now, and I have another sister, Natasha, who is already married and curses me all the time for spoiling my niece. My mother and father live just a few minutes away from this area and have been married for forty-eight years now," he answers with clear love in his tone.

I smile. "They sound wonderful."

"They are," he agrees and grins. "My turn. Any hobbies?"

I frown as I ponder the question. "I don't really have any hobbies. I mean, I guess I play the piano from time to time, but I usually spend most of my time with the gang."

Oliver leads us down the slope to the bridge, once again taking my hand to help me down. I'm torn between wanting to take it back, this time because of the fact that I hate being treated like I can't do anything that requires physical work, and letting him continue to hold it even after we've made it down.

"So, tell me," he says, a soft smile on his face, "Have you always been a gang member or is this a new development?"

I smile. "Really, Oliver?"

He looks amused. "What? I think that's a pretty fair question for me to ask out of turn. For all I know, I could be the next person on your hit list."

"And why would you be on my hit list?" I ask.

"Because I wouldn't give you the secret recipe for my pizza," he answers without missing a beat.

"But I haven't even asked you for it!" I exclaim with a laugh.

"Yet," he pipes in. "You haven't asked me for it, yet."

"Fine! You got me!" I feign defeat. "I've been working undercover for the past ten years trying to find someone to get close enough to you for you to trust them! And once that was done, I would swoop in out of nowhere and steal your heart along with your secret recipe!"

"You'd have thought you'd make a lot more progress if you've been working on this for ten years," he quips and lets go of her hand that she forgot he was still holding.

"Well, I was only seven years old when I started. I got sidetracked. Can you blame me?"

He grins. "Considering my pizza parlor hasn't even been open for ten years, yes. I do blame you."

I jokingly scoff. "Whatever."

He laughs. "Now, back to my follow-up question: How many friends make up the 'gang'?"

"Well, there's Christina, Will, Uriah, Zeke, Lynn, Marlene, Shauna…" I swallow hard. "Four," I choke out, "and me. So there's nine of us."

He frowns studiously at her. I bite my lip and turn to the water, crossing my arms and setting them on the railing of the bridge.

"It's my turn again," I say a little too quickly. "I heard you're on a full ride to Loyola. What are you majoring in?"

"Business design," he replies. "My dream is to open my own cartooning and/or animation business one day. You know, being hired to draw for movies, kids books, magazines, that sort of thing. But until then I plan to work my way up, get a good name for myself, move to L.A., save up enough to start advertising myself, and hopefully, hopefully, I'll slowly live up to my dream. Maybe I'll get married along the way, have a kid or three, live in a nice house in a nice neighborhood."

"Wow," I say, taken aback. "I mean, I guess it doesn't surprise me all that much. After all, I did see your art in your restaurant. But I'm just surprised at how...planned everything is. You know exactly what you want to do."

He shrugs. "Dreams change. Yes, that's what I want now, but what happens if I see something better in sight? The only thing I really have planned right now is getting my degree. Everything after that is up in the air."

"Still," I reply. "At least you know enough about yourself to have a dream."

"You don't?" he asks curiously.

I dryly laugh and throw a pebble into the water beneath us. It makes a small splash, sending ripples that spread further and further outward until they fade into the water, leaving no trace behind.

"Not even close. I don't even know who I am most of the time."

I'm not sure what it is about him—maybe it's the fact that he looks just like Tobias, or maybe it's that his voice practically screams compassion, or maybe it's because he's so easy to talk to. Whatever it is, it makes me say things that I've only ever said in my head. It feels wrong to be telling these things to someone I've only just met, but at the same time it feels...relieving.

"I'm sure that's not true," he says and turns his head to look me in the eye.

I shake my head. "I don't think you have any idea how true it is."

"Then enlighten me," he casually says and turns to lean his hip against the wood.

I sigh and look out at the water. "I went by Beatrice for 15 years of my life, then I went by Tris for the other two. But I still answer to Bea. In fact, I told Caleb and Tori to call me Bea. Only two of my...friends know what my real name is, yet when they say it it feels wrong. I told them so, and they now stick to calling me Tris. How's that for not knowing who I am?"

Oliver is silent for a moment. He looks pensive, thoughtful. His green eyes crackle with an undying light.

"Well, until you tell me more, I'm afraid I can't help you," he eventually says.

"More?" I ask, frowning.

"Yes, more. How can I help you figure out who you are when I don't know anything that's shaped you into that person?"

I bite my lip. "Oliver…"

"Ollie," he says, startling me. "That's what most people call me."

I squint at him. "Are you sure you're not just saying that to make me feel better about my own nickname?"

"Name," he corrects me. When he sees my confused look, he says, "Tris isn't just a nickname. It's your name. It's a part of who you are. Don't ever overlook that. And, no, I'm not lying to you," he chuckles.

"How do you know that being Tris is a part of me when I don't even know who I am?"

He smiles. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

I blush. "You don't want to know everything that's happened to me. It's...not good. Only a select few people know what has happened to me. If I'm counting, there's only one of them that know everything by my choice. There's three more that know most everything, some by my choice, some not. There's a reason why that is."

"What's the reason?" he asks.

"The fewer people that know, the better."

"Why is that?" he pushes.

"They're better off without the knowledge," I answer.

"How are they better off?"

"Questions much?" I ask.

"How are they better off?" he repeats.

"Because they have their own problems to deal with," I say, rolling my eyes.

"What kind of problems?"

I let out an exasperated breath, but he doesn't budge, his green eyes holding firm.

"I don't know! Life problems? School problems? Social problems?" I exclaim.

"How do you know they have problems?" he asks.

"Everyone has problems, Oliv-Ollie," I say. "Well, except for maybe you," I add as an afterthought.

"I have problems too, Tris. You said it yourself—everyone has problems."

"Yeah?" I curiously say. "What are your problems?"

He shakes his head. "I don't want to tell you."

I frown. "Why not?"

He turns to look out at the pond, head bowed. He taps his fingers on the rail and softly shakes his head again.

"I don't want to bother you. Besides, you have your own problems to deal with. I don't want to burden you with my own."

"You wouldn't be burdening me," I softly say and lay my hand on his shoulder. "I know we just met and all, but you can tell me anything. I won't judge you or tell anyone else about it if that's what you're worried about."

He smirks. I frown and take a step back, confused.

"I'll let you figure out what I just did," he says.

I stand there for several minutes, trying to comprehend what happened. When I finally do figure it out, I roll my eyes and huff, shoving him lightly away.

"I know you said you're a Business Design major, but have you ever considered acting?"

He chuckles and puts an arm carefully around me. A heavy feeling sits in my stomach, but I make no move to push him off.

"No, I haven't, but thank you for the suggestion. I'll look into it," he jokes.

My lips quirk up into a small grin. "I'll be watching for you at the Oscar's. I hope I get some recognition in your acceptance speech."

He chuckles. "Of course." His smile falls flat. "If you don't want to tell me, that's alright. But I can't say I won't be disappointed."

I sigh. "Ollie...I wouldn't even know where to start."

"How about the beginning?" he says.

I force out a laugh. "I have no idea where the beginning even begins." I take a breath. "Can I just give you a synopsis?" I ask him quietly.

He nods understandingly. "Of course."

Another breath. "I had a boyfriend. I was fourteen. He was good, kind, caring, protective. But then we went to a party and he...he...God, I can't even say it."

I sigh and lean forward to rest my elbows on the railing. Oliver's arm falls off of my shoulders, and relief washes over me. It's not that it was uncomfortable because it wasn't. It actually felt...nice. But it also felt wrong, and I can't ignore that.

"He raped me," I say once I gather the courage, my voice strong and unwavering. I don't look at Oliver to garner his reaction before continuing. "It was unspoken, but we were no longer together after that. Then my fifteenth birthday came, and on our way to the city a drunk driver hit us."

I stare at the pond, not allowing myself to become emotional at this point. I've told the story before. I know what happened. I've cried too much already because of it.

A tear still slips down my cheek.

"My father was killed instantly. My brother, Caleb, was unconscious. But my mother...she was thrown out of the car. I crawled out to her and was able to talk to her for a few minutes before...well, I'm sure you can guess." I take a shaky breath and softly laugh. "She even gave me my birthday gift."

I hadn't realized Oliver had stepped forward to stand beside me until his hand touches my shoulder. I don't move away. His touch is friendly, comforting. I tug on the chain of my necklace to bring it out from under my shirt.

"Be brave," he says quietly, reading the engraving.

"Those were her last words to me," I add. "It's a locket. Has the faces of my family in it."

He nods and squeezes my shoulder, silently telling me to go on.

"The next year and a half were absolute torture. I lost my friends, my motivation, my life...myself. Long story short, we moved. Chicago. I made a good life there with lots of friends and lots of support, and I gained a part of myself back that I never thought I would see again."

I tuck the necklace back under my shirt, feeling the metal kiss my skin underneath.

"My ex-boyfriend found me," I say, "not too long ago. He found me alone and he attacked. Luckily one of my...friends lives next door to me and could hear the commotion. He stopped him before he could do anything too serious, and he's now facing charges for breaking and entering, assault, and possible counts of attempted murder and attempted rape. There was a video, and it's enough evidence to find him guilty along those lines, but I decided to finally press charges for the earlier count of rape and assault. I don't have the court date yet, but I am not looking forward to it."

"Well," Oliver says after several minutes of silence, "it sounds like your mother would be very proud of you for upholding her last words. Your father as well."

I close my eyes. "You think so?"

"I know so."

I smile and reopen my eyes. "Thank you," I say quietly.

He squeezes my shoulder. "Have you told your friends?"

I bite my lip. "Some of them. The ones that know already said they would come to support me and would drag the others along too if I decide to let them figure it out during court."

"My advice? Tell them beforehand," he says.

"I know I should," I sigh. "I just...it's hard, you know?"

"But that's what friends are for. To listen, to support you, to be there for you in your toughest times."

I slowly nod. "I know."

We stand in silence, watching the water ripple when a bird gets too close to the surface and the families as they walk and laugh over something unknown to us.

"We should probably go. I'm sure the movie is almost over by now," Oliver whispers so as not to disturb me.

I smile sadly at the view, memorizing it, then nod and turn the other way. The walk back to his truck is slow but comfortable, silent but not awkward. The drive is the same way, and it's only when we make it back to the parking lot of the movie theater that we actually speak.

"I had fun," I say quietly, looking at Oliver shyly. I'm not sure what else to say or how to carry on the conversation. "Thank you for bringing me to that spot. It was beautiful."

He smiles softly at me, and my heart clenches. "Thank you for letting me take you there."

We stare at each other for an inappropriate amount of time given that I already have a...well, a something.

Oliver reaches forward and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. I can't help but blush—damn you Beatrice!—at the tender gesture. He purses his lips as if in deep thought, then he cups my cheek and leans in, pressing his lips to mine.

His lips are cool. They're soft, careful. The kiss itself is gentle and cautious as if pushing too hard would break me. It's nice, and it's comfortable, and it's safe, and altogether pleasant.

And it's wrong. It's all wrong.

I pull back, removing his hand from my cheek. He sighs.

"I'm sorry. That was too forward, wasn't it? I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I'm so sor-"

"Oliver, stop," I firmly say. He does. I look into his eyes, his green eyes, and feel guilt crush me even more so than before. "It's not you," I admit.

As I stare at him, the differences jump out at me all at once. He doesn't have the same crease between his brows when he frowns, and his jaw is not as sharp. His smile is infectious not because he rarely does it, but because of its constancy. His eyes are not only missing the slight crinkles at the edges, but they also lack the years of torture and brokenness in them. His back, though I haven't seen it, is scarless, and his family is whole. Loving.

He sighs quietly and presses his lips together, just barely nodding. He closes his eyes. "Ah," he says. "I should've known there was someone else."

I sigh. "I'm sorry. I was the one who led you on. It wasn't your fault you didn't know, it was mine. It was wrong of me."

"Can I tell you something?" he asks.

I nod. "Go on, pull the trigger."

"I'm not about to shoot bullets, I just...don't understand. I didn't think you were the type to cheat."

The statement hits me harder than I thought it would, and I close my eyes.

"Because I'm not. At least, I don't think I am." I open my eyes and sigh. "I don't know. It's complicated."

"You got into a fight?" he guesses.

I shake my head and turn back forward, running my fingers through my hair. "No." I pause. "Yes?" I laugh humorlessly. "God, I don't even know what we're doing. I know he's not telling me something. Either that or I did something to piss him off and I can't figure out what it is. We took a break recently because I told him that I needed some time to heal on my own, and we decided to stay friends while I figured myself out. We said we'd wait for each other, be patient for us. We were fine for several days, but then the next it was like we were mortal enemies. He ignores me, and he gets as far away from me as humanly possible, and when we're forced together he acts like a jerk. I don't understand what's going on with him, and he won't speak to me long enough to tell me."

It's only after I finish rambling that I realize Oliver is probably the last person who wants to hear all this. I turn back to him and lean my head on my hand, shaking it back and forth.

"I'm so sorry, Oliver. You probably don't want to hear any of this right now, especially since-"

"Nonsense," he says, waving a hand dismissively and looking interested despite the situation. "Just because you rejected me for another guy doesn't mean I don't want to hear all about him."

I sigh and take my hand off my forehead. "Oliver, I'm so sorry."

He smiles softly at me. "I'm just kidding, Tris." He sighs and runs his hands over his face tiredly. "Look, I would talk to him. Get him alone somewhere he can't run from and force him to talk. There's obviously something going on, and whether or not it's good or bad, you deserve to know."

I exhale and shake my head at him, smiling apologetically. I place my hand on his cheek.

"You're a good man, Ollie," I quietly tell him. "And someday you're going to meet someone who will be as good as you are, and who will appreciate and cherish you every single day for the rest of their lives. You're handsome, and sweet, and kind, and caring, and absolutely wonderful, and someday that someone will love you for all of these things, and every other male will fade in comparison. It's just…" I sigh and smile sadly at him. "That someone is not me."

One side of his mouth lifts up in a half smile, and he covers my hand with his. He gently brings it down and squeezes it.

"Thank you, Beatrice," he says, and for some reason, my name doesn't sound weird coming from him.

I move myself to the middle seat and gently hug him. I smile when he sighs and gives in, wrapping his arms around my lower back.

"I know that given the situation you may not want to, but I would really like it if we could stay friends. You're one of the most amazing people I've met, and it would be a shame if I had to say goodbye to you," I honestly say.

It's quiet for a few moments as he ponders my request, then he chuckles and pulls away. "As if I could say no," he says.

I smile and exhale a short breath of laughter. "So...exchange numbers?" I ask.

He rolls his eyes and smiles. "Give me your phone, and I'll give you mine."

It only takes a minute for us to do so, but when we're finished we can see Tori, Mason, and Caleb walking out of the theater.

"So I guess this is goodbye?" I ask him.

He nods but looks like he's in a much better mood than before. He opens his door and walks around to mine. "Don't be a stranger, alright?" he asks as he opens my door and helps me down.

"I won't be," I assure him when we're both standing on solid ground. I reach up to hug him one last time, kissing his cheek once I pull away. "Goodbye, Ollie. Oh, and happy birthday."

I begin to walk away when he says, "Was there something I could have done differently? Was there something wrong with me?"

I stop in my tracks and turn around. He looks nervous as if he knows I will deny what he asked and is wondering why he even asked it. I half-heartedly smile.

"Your eyes aren't blue," I quietly say and walk away before he can figure out what it meant.

Yeah...I know. It wasn't 'soon' like I said it would be. But please cut me some slack, because my life has been very, very busy lately, and I literally was just out of school for an entire week due to some crappy virus. It was terrible.

I know there wasn't any Fourtris interaction this chapter, but I promise the next one will be full of it! I promise! Thank you for your guys' patience and support! It really means a lot! And I'd really like it if we could reach 725 reviews, 345 favorites, and 410 follows!

Until next time!:)