Dauntless High School

Chapter 31

FOUR

Tris and I have stumbled into her house following an afternoon walking through the city, finding examples of trigonomic functions in the real world for a school assignment. She was offered the project when she spoke to Ms Graham again Friday afternoon to beg for extra credit. We got the photos she needed and I told her I would look over her work to make sure everything looks right after she has finished the corresponding graphing part of the project later this week. I don't really mind her getting a school project done during our date, walking around the city looking at nature and architecture turned out to be pretty fun.

Tris grabs my hand and pulls me after her to the TV room. After a couple weeks of recovery, she no longer needs the pain medications and is acting much more like the Tris I first met, full of energy and excitement. She still wears a cast on her arm, but her other injuries don't seem to bother her much anymore and the bruises have faded significantly.

Tris pulls me down next to her on the couch and grabs the remote controls. "What should I put on?" she asks me.

I shrug. "Does it matter?"

Tris grins and leaves the television on a rerun of Friends before immediately pulling me down to her, her hand at the back of my neck. I hover over her, giving into the kiss without hesitation. Thank god for our tutoring arrangement; while it's been challenging, to say the least, to stay away from each other at school (with the exception of sneaking off here and there to the secluded corners we've discovered), at least we always have an excuse to spend time together outside of school.

"Four," she sighs as I trail kisses down her neck. Not for the first time, I have to stop myself from telling her not to call me that. It just sounds wrong on her lips, but I just can't bring myself to tell her my real name, and of all the pain and secrets that go with it. I'm not ready. I'm not sure I ever will be. I push the thoughts away and refocus my attention to the feeling of her hands fondling my ass as my fingers slip under the hem of her t-shirt.

I give in to my instinct to let my hands slide up her bare skin, raising the t-shirt with them. I hold back enough to move slowly, giving her plenty of time to object, but she doesn't. As my fingers graze the bottom of her bra ― rough, like lace ― she suddenly pushes me back and I sit up, ready to apologize, thinking I've gone too far. But instead, when she sits up too, Tris crosses her arms and grabs the bottom of her shirt and pulls it over her head.

Look her in the eye, I am screaming at myself internally, but I can't drag my eyes away from her lacy pink bra. God, she's beautiful. My mouth goes dry, I couldn't speak if I tried.

"Hopefully that reaction is good?" Tris jokes and I finally look back at her face and just nod, I'm sure I've got a totally dumbstruck look on my face. Maybe the best way to avoid embarrassing myself further is to go back to what we were doing before.

I crash my lips against hers once again and lean her back onto the couch as I push my tongue into her mouth. Tris pushes my shirt up and I groan at the skin-on-skin contact. My hands slide from her waist up her ribcage and again I pause, but she places her hand over mine and guides it up higher to touch her through the pink lace.

I start to panic when her hands begin sliding from my chest to my back, where my raised t-shirt has left the scarred skin exposed. I pull back but only a little, mind racing. How do I keep her from noticing? Even without seeing my back, she will feel the uneven skin, the ridges and dips left by old wounds from Marcus's belt. This is why I have never dared get even to this point with any other girl I've dated, but with Tris I am losing control and I just can't stop.

I am saved by the bell when my phone rings. I pull slowly back and smile at her before answering. My mother's reminder that she is expecting me home will give me time to think about how to handle this problem before I am alone again with Tris.