Dauntless High School

Chapter 18

FOUR

Last time I came to Tris's house, we mostly stayed in the garage. But today I am here to work on our English paper, so I am in her kitchen waiting for a bag of microwave popcorn to cook. Her house has this sort of eerie quiet... this place should house a family and be full of laughter and warmth, because Tris deserves nothing less. Instead, it feels hollow and empty. I grew up in a house that felt hollow and empty like this. At least in this place, I don't feel the familiar staleness that constant fear brings to the air.

Tris comes back into the kitchen carrying the pizza that was just delivered. "Pepperoni and olives," she states. I nod and smile, it smells delicious. I watch Tris as she opens the fridge and stacks a few cans of soda on top of the pizza box. Then she crosses the room and begins pulling plates and glasses out of a cupboard. She has to stretch to reach them and my eyes are drawn to the strip of bare skin at her waist when her shirt rides up. "Sounds like the popcorn's done," she prompts me without turning around. I jump, mumbling something as I rush back to the microwave; I hope she didn't realize that she was what distracted me from my task.

I've been trying to keep my distance from Tris these past couple of days, but it is harder than I imagined it would be. I am drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Once I have poured the popcorn into a bowl, I gather up the cans of soda in one arm and the bowl of popcorn in the other, and Tris carries the plates, napkins and pizza. I follow her through the entry and down the stairs to the basement. The room is simpler than Zeke and Uriah's, with a medium-sized TV, a worn but comfortable-looking couch, and a simple wooden coffee table. There are some big pillows tossed in a corner that are probably used when the gang comes over. We set all the food on the coffee table and I help myself to some pizza and a can of Sprite while Tris searches Amazon Instant Video for the movie.

The silence between carries a tension that hasn't been there in the past. I clear my throat. "So... you and Uriah..." I trail off.

"Yeah," she says. "It just wasn't working any more. We kept having the same fights again and again, and never really working anything out."

"I'm sorry I didn't sit with you in Spanish the last few days," I blurt out.

"It's okay, I get it," she says. "It's a guy code thing or whatever." She picks at a loose thread on the couch cushion next to her.

"Something like that," I mutter. Both yesterday and today, seeing her sitting alone, across the room from us, guilt gnawed at my stomach the whole time. Even Zeke admitted that he's only sticking by Uriah because Uri is his brother. In the short time I've known them both, Tris has done more to earn my trust and loyalty than Uriah ever has. I've only been sitting with him because I need to conceal my feelings for Tris.

"It's just... I've never been that close with the girls," she tells me. "It was always the Pedrad twins and me. I just feel so... so disconnected from everyone right now." More guilt, like a knife to the gut. She must notice it on my face because she hurries to reassure me. "Four, it's not your fault...don't start sitting with me out of pity or something now, I couldn't stand that."

"I don't pity you, Tris," I say, my words rushing from my mouth. "And if you ever need to talk about anything...I'm not so good at advice, but I can listen."

Tris offers me a weak smile. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind," she says. "Let's just watch the movie."

As the opening credits begin, I realize something. "Tris...you did read the book, right?"

Tris laughs. "Of course I did. I couldn't leave all the work to you; what kind of friend would I be?" I smile, relax back into the couch and start eating my second slice of pizza. While it was a little awkward asking her about her break-up, I feel like the tension has dissipated from the room since I did.

But soon I begin to feel a different sort of tension building. It starts when we both reach for popcorn at the same time, and our fingers brush together. My fingers tingle with electricity at her touch and she pulls her hand away and blushes. I wish she hadn't. I want to feel that again.

Eventually Tris sets her plate and soda on the coffee table and curls her legs under her, getting more comfortable on the couch. She's just inches away from me now with this change in position and all my senses are heightened at her being so close. I can smell a hint of something flowery from her shampoo, hear her gentle breathing. I sit on my hands to be sure that my arm won't take on a mind of its own and wrap itself around her shoulders.

By the time Myrtle Wilson is struck and killed by Gatsby's yellow car, Tris is yawning frequently. She slouches further into the couch and then it happens. Those few inches between us are gone, and she is leaning into me, her head on my shoulder. I wish she was on my right instead of my left, because as she's positioned now I'm afraid she might be able to feel how quickly my heart is pounding. If it weren't for the complications of her newly-ended relationship, this would be heaven. And it still is... but I have no idea what to do. Am I breaking the guy-code if I put my arm around her, or am I just making her more comfortable.

I debate for a minute before deciding that I don't care. I may never get the chance again, so I'm going to take it. I carefully and gently settle my arm around her shoulders, and she doesn't say anything. She just keeps her eyes fixed on Robert Redford and the old, grainy picture.

It feels amazing to have her resting her head against my shoulder, her side pressed up to mine, my arm around her. At the same time this is so much worse; I keep glancing at her, I can't help it. And every time I do my gaze settles on her lips. It takes every bit of self-control I have not to lean in and kiss her.

I hope Tris was paying close attention to the last bit of this movie, because when the credits roll I realize that all I could think about for the last half-hour was her. Tris seems unfazed by the whole situation as she gets up and stretches her arms above her head, arching her back. The position showcases her chest and I have to look away and take a deep breath. Keep it together, Tobias, I tell myself.

"You didn't fall asleep, did you?" Tris teases, smiling at me, done stretching now thank God. I shake my head and smile back at her. "Good. Wanna help me bring these dishes up? My backpack and laptop are up in my room."

Right. The English paper.

After an hour outlining our paper—which Tris looks to me to take the lead on, but is helpful once we get going on it—Tris emails the document to me and closes her laptop. "Well," Tris smiles, "thanks, Four. I usually hate homework but that wasn't too bad."

"Same to you," I say.

We stare at each other for a moment, then Tris jumps up. "I'll walk you to the door," she says quietly. I nod and scratch the back of my neck, then grab my bag and follow her downstairs.

We stand in the entry, by the front door. "Well, guess I'll see you tomorrow," Tris says. Then she steps forward and wraps her arms around me. I freeze for a moment, shocked that she has initiated contact again, but soon my brain catches up and I wrap my arms around her, too, and revel in the warm feeling that spreads through me from the inside out.

After a couple seconds, Tris lets go and steps away, and I reluctantly drop my hands. Tris opens the front door and smiles, but doesn't meet my eyes. "Good night, Tris," I say as I step onto the front porch.

"Good night, Four," she replies before slowly closing the door.

I get in my car and at first I can't wipe the smile off my face, then I lean my head against the steering wheel and groan when I think of Uriah and Zeke.

Staying away from Tris, ignoring my feelings for her, only seems to get more and more complicated.