Grenade {{DIVERGENT}}

V

Tobias Eaton (Four)

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I never stop staring at some part of her beautiful body. Her ass, her breasts, her thighs. I think about how my hand fit so perfectly in between them, how my mouth fit oh so perfectly on her breasts. I think about how her wonderful chest heaved as I pleasured her.

I think about how much I want her.

She sits out in the garden alone, her phone in her hands. She groans, flopping back into the grass as it rings.
"Italian sucks."
"No, not the food. I'd suck twelve dicks for garlic bread any day of the week."
"Not his dick."
"I am not at all into him."
"Nope."
She hangs up, and I sit next to her, sliding my nose along her jawline. Her sharp, sexy jawline. "I can help you, amore."
She snaps her head away from mine, standing. "I don't want anything from you. I never will. I HATE you."
I stare up at her, amused. "It didnt seem like you thought that when you came all over my hand."
She glares daggers at me. "Just leave me alone!"
She goes to walk away, but I call her back.
"Tris!"
"What?!" She shouts.
"You're hot when you're mad at me, amore."
She chucks an apple at me.

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Dinner rolls around and I notice she's not here. It was my turn to make dinner, so I made some fancy bullshit and garlic bread.
I walk into her room, where she lays on her bed, staring at the ceiling. "It's time for dinner, amore."
"I've decided to die of starvation."
"You can insult me," I say. "You can go after my mother, my grandmother, and even my funny accent, but you will not insult my cooking."
"I'm not going down there."
"Would you like to go down somewhere else?" I say. She grunts, chucking a pillow at me. I catch it, tossing it back at her
"I did make garlic bread."
She looks up at me. "I don't want garlic bread."
"You're American. You people are like human vacuum cleaners. Except for you, you seem to be quite in sha-"
She rolls her eyes, getting up and shoving me over, running down the stairs.
I follow. Zeke throws a rag at me.
"I did your dishes. Loser."
"I hate you." I toss the rag back at him, letting my hand graze Tris' ass as I walk by.
She swivels around quickly. Our lips are mere inches from each other.
She grins, a big, toothy smile. Then she turns around and acts like it never happened.
I stare at the back of her head for a second and then I pick her up, setting her in a chair and setting a plate in front of her.
Marlene slides into the chair next to her and looks up at me. "Ti piace lei?"
"Non adesso." I quip, setting food in front of her.
She sighs. Tris throws her phone across the room.
"What's wrong?" Marlene says.
She just shakes her head.
"I have many a hit man," I say.
She looks up at me with a sigh.
Zeke plops into the seat next to me with his food. "When are you going back this year?"
"March or so." I say.
"That's pretty soon."
"Yeah, well, a few of my family members are sick."
"Damn." He says. "Like, sick sick?"
"Probably not. It isn't 1832." I sigh. I look over at Tris, who picks at her food lightly.

I can't tell if she truly likes it here. I can't tell if she's making friends. Maybe I can find something.

I go up to her room and search. I look under her bed, in her closet, through her drawers. Until I find it.

Her journal.

I have no idea where I actually am. I'm surrounded by people who all seem to know this other language and how to do things. They say I'm part of a mafia. They say they need me. I have no idea what that means. What do they need me for? What do they WANT me for? What does HE want me for?
I'd be lying if i said that he wasn't one of the most attractive people I've ever seen. But he seems so fucked up. There's got to be a reason that this man is the leader of a mafia. I dont actually know what a mafia does. I don't want to hurt people. I don't want to kill them. I don't want to rob people. This isn't for me. This isn't me. This isn't what i want to do with my life.
But is it better than the life i was living? Is it better than being a loser with no friends working for minimum wage and still barely making rent every month? Is this place helping me mourn the loss of my parents, and my brother, wherever they may be? As much as I hate it here, should I be thankful?
These questions plague me. I need someone to answer them.

Maybe HE can help me.

I stare at the tear stained pages until words bring me out of this daze.

"What the hell are you doing?"

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TRANSLATIONS!

Ti piace lei= do you like her

Non adesso= not now.

I AM SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE MY GRANDMA DIED LAST NIGHT BEFORE I COULD PUBLISH

LOVE U

ALIYAH