White Walls [DIVERGENT]

11. Distance

"But do you feel like a young god? You know the two of us are just young gods. And we'll be flying through the streets with people underneath. And they'll be running, running, running. But do you feel like a young god?"

Tris:

Gritting my teeth, I try not to release raspy breaths or draw attention to the heat that is flooding my cheeks. Tobias gnaws on the inside of his cheek, rapidly slipping the shirt back over his head as his father stands in front of us with crossed arms, observing me as if I'm a total disappointment.

My heartbeat is so fast that I have to take long, heavy breaths to not pass out. Marcus looks completely different compared to how I had envisioned him; his hair more silver than brown, eyes that are a rusty gray.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Tobias asks, slight gasping for air. The mirror across from me justifies that I am, in fact, blushing--so much crimson in my face I can't tell if I'm bleeding.

We could've had sex. Holy shit, we almost had sex.

Everything that Tobias and Marcus are saying is so incoherent, I can barely hear anything over the stampeding of my own breath and pulse.

"I came back for the weekend," Marcus replies, his voice hushed due to the thumping that rings in my ears, although, due to how Tobias' fists curl, I can tell that Marcus is actually talking a lot louder than what I can tell.

Shrugging, Tobias throws his hands above his head, pacing, "so you decide to show up without telling me?" The anger in his voice causes a shiver to course down my spine, the ringing in my body coming to a close as I feel more alert. Tobias has never looked so angry in his life, and I wish I could just teleport out of this conversation.

A scoff escapes his father, "Tobias I was going to, but is the real reason you wanted me to tell you because you didn't want me to watch you making out with a girl?" His attention averts to me, and I grit my teeth so hard that they squeak. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Beatrice," I mumble, watching as his lips purse. I shift in discomfort, knowing that it would be wise to say more. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Yeah, nice to meet you too," He states, a wicked smile plastered on his face, and I can already tell that he doesn't give a shit who I am, "but what isn't nice is the fact that my first time meeting you is when you're ripping clothes off of my son."

Coughing nervously, Tobias shakes his head, "dad, stop. I was the one that initiated it."

"Ah, well that sure makes me proud," Marcus continues, sarcasm dripping through his expression, "that my son is a horny teenage fucker who needs to be having sex with girls--"

"Please, Marcus, stop," I proclaim, my body convulsing, the two of them jerking their heads towards me in shock, "he isn't like that, at all really. Tobias isn't someone who dies for sex, trust me."

I don't see Marcus as a bad guy, some ridiculous beast. Though, if I was being completely honest, I do see him as a complete and total asshole. Who the hell would call out their son like that?

"Honey, what do you know about my son?" Marcus questions while stepping into the room and wandering off towards Tobias' desk, bending over to pick up a fallen textbook. He gestures towards the bed, his fingers pointing at the ripples on the sheets due to my back. "You know that he's not so good in the bed, right?"