The Way I Loved You {Divergent}

Part IV

"But I miss screamin' and fightin',
And kissing in the rain,
It's 2 AM and I'm cursin' your name,
So in love that you act insane,
And that's the way I loved you."

"What the hell was that for?" I demand.

He grabs both of my hands, and looks down at them. His callused fingers send sparks through my veins.

"Tris," I almost melt from him saying my name. "I need to know."

I look up at his face. His eyes hold hurt and pain, and seem to have lost some of their icy blue light.

"Know what?" I say, a bit softer this time."

"Does he love you?" He asks. "Does he tell you he loves you, every waking moment of every day?"

I almost immediately respond with a 'No,' because even as Al cares for me, it feels more of a close friends, or sibling love. And I can't think of the last time-- or anytime,-- that he has told me that he loved me.

I can't let Tobias know that though.

"Of course he loves me." I say, trying to keep my voice steady, "Maybe he doesn't tell me all the time, but he shows it through his actions. He's kind to me, and actually cares about me."

The rain comes down in sheets now, drenching us both. I know it's getting late, and Mom will be expecting me home soon.

"I care about you." He tells me. "I always have, Tris, always."

"It doesn't seem like it." I retort.

"Tris, people fight, it's human nature."

I yank my hands from his grasp. "People do fight, but not people who are supposed to have loved each other."

"I love you." He automatically says. "I love you so much, I can't function properly, it makes me insane, but not as insane as it does seeing you with someone else."

I shake my head. "Well then it's your loss."

Lightning and thunder joins in on the rain, making me jump.

Tobias pulls me back to him, cupping my wet cheeks, and my arms automatically go around his waist.

"Tris, I miss you. I miss us." He quietly says, bushing his lips across my cheek, and along my jaw.

Before he can kiss my lips, I push away from him, and run up the front porch steps, and open the door, to find my mother, with her arms crossed and a stern look on her face.

Waiting for me.