But Then I Met Her | ✓

Chapter 29

A/N: Still continuing from Free Four. I STILL OWN NOTHING.

I don't want Eric to look at her, so I turn and glare at Tris, hoping that she understands, that it will make her think twice and hide behind Christina. I know it won't. I'm not stupid.

"Any idiot can stand in front of a target," Tris continues. "It doesn't prove anything except you're bullying him. Which, as I recall, is a sign of cowardice."

Maybe I am stupid.  I have to stop thinking of her this way.

"Then it should be easy for you," Eric says and pushes back some of his hair. "If you're willing to take his place." And then his eyes shift to mine, just for a second. It's like he knows, he knows I have a thing for her, so he's going to forces me to throw knives at her. For an instant- no, longer than an instant- I think about throwing a knife at him instead. I could hit him in the arm, or the leg, no harm done...

"There goes your pretty face," Peter taunts her, across the room. "Oh wait. You don't have one." I don't even pay attention to the comment. I'm too busy watching her to care about what Peter has to say. Not that what he says matters.

Tris stands in front of the board, the top of her head barely skimming the bottom of the center. She tips her chin up and looks at me with that Abnegation stubbornness I know so well- I see the same trait in me, sometimes. She may have left them, but they are what's making her strong.

I can't tell her that it will be okay, not with Eric here, but I can try to make her strong.

"If you flinch, Al takes your place, Understand?" I say it slowly, carefully. Hoping that she understands what I'm saying.

She nods.

Eric stands close to me- too close- tapping his foot on the floor in some pattern. I have to do this correctly. I can't throw this at the edge of the board, because Eric knows that I can hit the board dead-center. He knows that she could be running back and forth as fast as she can in front of the target and I could still hit her and have it be a deathblow. A clumsy throw, an inch in either direction, could hurt her. There goes your pretty face.

For once, Peter is right. She's not pretty, that word is too small. She's not like the girls I used to stare at, all bend and curve and softness. She is small but strong, and her bright eyes demand attention. Looking at her is like waking up.

I keep my eyes on hers and throw the knife. It hits the board near her cheek, and she closes her eyes, obviously relieved. My hands almost shake.  I know that I need to remind her again of her selflessness, why she's doing this.

"You about done, Stiff?" I say.

Stiff. That's why you're strong, get it?

She looks angry, and I know that she doesn't understand. "No."

Why on earth would she get it? She can't read minds, for God's sake.

"Eyes open, then." I tap the skin between my eyebrows. I don't need her eyes to be on mine, but I know that it gives her something to focus on, and I feel better when they are. Eric inches closer to me, and I have the urge to swing my arm up and hit him in the face.

My view narrows until I only see the part in her hair. I exhale and throw, the knife hitting the board right above her head. "Hmm." Eric says behind me.

"Come on, Stiff," I say. "Let someone else stand there and take it."

"Shut up, Four!" she says, and I want to yell back that I'm as frustrated as she is, with an Erudite vulture analyzing my every move, serachimg for my weak points so he can hit them as hard as he can.

I hear that 'hmm' again and I'm not sure if it's Eric or my imagination, but I know that I have to convince him that she's just another initiate to me, and I have to do it now. I breathe deep, and make a quick decision, staring at the tip of her ear, the quick-healing cartilage.

The fear does not exist. My beating heart, tight chest, and sweating palms do not exist.

I throw the knife and look away when she winces, too relieved to feel bad for hurting her. I did it.

"I would love to stap and see if the rest of you are as daring as she is, but I think that's enough for today." Eric says. To me, he says quietly, "Well. That should scare them, huh."

I think- I hope- that means he's not suspicious of me anymore.

Eric touches Tris's shoulder, giving her a metallic smile. "I should keep my eye on you." She doesn't return his smile. I watch the blood trickle down her ear and onto her neck, the blood a bright crimson against her light skin. I feel sick that I'm the one that did that to her.

The room empties and the door shuts. I wait until there are no more footsteps before I approach her. "Is your-" I start to reach for the side of her head.

She glares at me. "You did that on purpose!" She shouts.

"Yes, I did," I say, my voice quiet. "And you should thank me for helping you-" I want to explain about Eric and how badly he wants to hurt me and everyone I even remotely care for, or about how I know where her strength comes from and wanted to remind her, but she doesn't give me a chance.

"Thank you? You almost stabbed my ear, and you spent the entire time taunting me. Why should I thank you?"

Taunting? She thinks I was taunting her? I scowl at her.

"You know, I'm getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on!" I say, frustrated.

"Catch on? Catch on to what? That you wanted to prove to Eric how tough you are? That you're sadistic, just like he is?"

The accusation makes me feel cold. She thinks I'm like Eric? She thinks I want to impress him?

"I am not sadistic." I lean closer to her, and I feel my stomach twist in nervous knots. We're almost as close as we were after the Ferris wheel last night. "If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I would have already?"

She's close enough that I could easily touch her- and I want to reach out and touch her- but if she thinks that I'm like Eric that can never, and will never happen.

Of course she thinks I'm like Eric. I just threw knives at her head. I screwed it all up. Permanently.

I have to get out of this room. I have to get her out of my head. I cross the room and, right before I walk out the door, I slam the point of my knife into the table. I slam the door on my way out of the room, and I can hear her frustrated scream from around the corner. I sink into a crouch with my back against the wall.

Why did you come to Dauntless, Tris? I wonder. Why did you have to catch my eye, if nothing else? I can't leave Dauntless. Not now, not ever. After these initiates I was going to leave, going to join the factionless. But I can't. Eric is watching her like a hawk- like how he'd watched Amar last year, right before he was found dead by the railroad tracks.

All of the Divergent end up dead. Tris has to be Divergent. And even if she isn't, Eric will still kill her. I know he will. I press my hands to my forehead, wanting to shove away the memory of last night, of how she'd made my fear almost disappear, of how my fear of her falling to her death surpassed my fear of heights, of how I was willing to take a stupid risk to keep her alive.

I can't leave now. I like her too much.

There, I said it. But I won't say it again.