Nothing

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His straight eyebrows are drawn low over his eyes. My stomach writhes, partly because I know he makes a good point but I don't want to admit it, and partly because I want something I don't know how to express; I want to press against the space between us until it disappears.
I nod.

"But please, when you see an opportunity..." He presses his hand to my cheek, cold and strong, and tilts my head up so I have to look at him. His eyes glint. They look almost predatory. "Ruin them."

I laugh shakily. "You're a little scary, Four."

"Do me a favor," he says, "and don't call me that."

"What should I call you, then?"

"Nothing." He takes his hand from my face. "Yet." 

 -Divergent

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