Resurgent

Chapter 15

After a little bit, the laughter dies down and we realize that we should get cleaned up. It was such an odd situation-him wiping blood on my face and then me kissing him. I wasn't expecting to kiss him anytime soon...let alone in that instance.

While we stand in the kitchen, Peter hands me a rag and I run it under the sink. I wipe it across my face and then examine the blood on it. For some reason, I'm not grossed out by the fact it's on my face.

I laugh when I see how much of the blood Peter is missing on his face. "Here, let me do it." I gently place the cool rag on his face. I never noticed before, but his eyes are so soft and kind. I think that they get hidden by his sarcastic comments and crude sense of humor. I get lost in his eyes for a moment until Peter cries out in pain. In my daze, I somehow forgot about his broken nose.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to bump it." It's then that I realize I hit his nose when we kissed. It's noticeably more swollen than it was before, all because of me. "Oh no...I hit it when we...um..."

"Kissed? It's okay to say it. It's not a bad word, babe." Peter laughs. "And don't even worry about it."

"But it's so much more swollen. I shouldn't have done that..."

"You think I would ever pass up kissing you just because of some broken nose?" He smirks. "Of course I wouldn't."

"Okay but seriously, you need to get that bandaged." I say, trying to avoid talking about our kiss. Even though I enjoyed it, I am still a little awkward about the whole situation. I hope he doesn't think I will kiss him just whenever now.

"Alright, whatever you say, sweetie." Peter says with a snooty voice. "Conveniently, my neighbor is a doctor. I'll swing over there real quick and then come right back. You'll be okay here by yourself for a few minutes?"

I nod my head. He waves as he walks out the door and leaves. Now alone, the house feels slightly eerie. It's dark outside and the rain is gently falling. I walk over to the couch and plop down. It's then that I realize I have no idea what I'm doing. Without anyone to talk to and be with, I am nothing. I don't have a job to do and I don't know what my favorite hobbies are.

Sighing, I open one of the magazines on the table and flip through it. I stop at a picture of Caleb looking at someone on a table and read what the caption says.

Caleb Prior, older brother to Tris (formerly known as Beatrice) Prior, has recently made

outstanding breakthroughs in his field research. His simulations make training militia easier, cheaper, and more efficient.

Wait. Caleb is my older brother? That explains why he was so protective over me. I laugh when I remember thinking he liked me. Still, how can I be related to such an arrogant snob? Maybe I am one, too.

I just finished scanning the magazine pages when Peter comes back. His nose is covered with a white bandage.

"You weren't kidding when you said just a few minutes." I greet him.

"I told you he was fast. Now, how about some dinner? I'm starving." Peter asks as he walks into the kitchen. I jump up and meet him in there. I didn't realize how hungry I was until he mentioned it. "So, we could have pizza, pizza, or pizza for dinner."

"Hmmm, tough choice but I think I'll have pizza."

He laughs and pulls out a plate with slices piled on it from the fridge. He sticks the plate into the oven and whips around to me. "So, you don't have anything to wear for bed, but since I'm such a kind soul, I will let you wear something of mine. My dresser's in the room if you want to pick out a large t-shirt."

I laugh stiffly and walk to his room. I'm not sure why I don't have my own clothes to wear since I live with him, but I don't think too hard about it. Pulling out his drawers, I search for something comfortable to wear. To my dismay, there are not pants except for jeans. I do, however, find a huge, oversized blue t-shirt. I change out of my old clothes and slip it over me. When I look in the mirror, I let out a sigh of relief. It hits just above my knees. I feel weird not wearing any pants, but I don't want to wear jeans to bed.

When I return to the kitchen, Peter laughs. "Very nice choice. Except I think a smaller shirt would have been more comfortable."

"Shut up." I say, only half joking. I really need to get used to his comments and not blush every time. We walk over to his bedroom and I sit crisscross in the center of his-our-bed. Peter places the plate of pizza in between us and lays his head on one of the pillows. We eat in silence for a while until I talk.

"Peter..." I start. "Who am I?"

He raises his eyebrows at the question. "Well, you're sorta a brat." Inevitably, a sly smile slides onto his lips. I grab a pillow and hit him with it. "See what I mean? Brat."

"Whatever. Forget I even asked. Goodnight." I slip under the covers and turn away from

him. I'm not actually upset, but it is fun messing with him.

"Oh, c'mon, you can't seriously be upset about this. I was just joking, babe."

"Do you realize how many times you call me 'babe?'" I jokingly ask, still keeping my back towards him.

"Sorry, babe. I can't help it, babe. It just sort of happens, babe." Peter says, sliding his hand over my waist. I can feel my heart beat nervously speed up.

"Now that's just annoying, 'babe.'" I mock him. "I really am tired though."

"Okay, goodnight. Sleep well." Peter says with sincerity. He slides under the covers and puts his arm over my waist again.

It's comforting to know that he's here for me, but I still remain stiff. I'm afraid to move and make him uncomfortable. I close my eyes and listen to his breaths tickle my neck. After what seems like forever, I relax. My body loosens and I let it naturally lean into the warm body behind me. Maybe it is possible to fall in love with Peter again.