Divergent: An Untold Love Story

Chapter 2: The Living

The bed I slept on was indescribably comfortable. It made you want to wrap yourself up in the blankets and never leave. It was like sleeping on at least a dozen clouds. I didn't want to get up, but Eric was pounding on my door and yelling at me to get up. With a heavy sigh, I got up and, though I would've loved to stay in my tank top and yoga pants, changed into my black Dauntless uniform. Once I brushed my hair and my teeth, I opened the door to see Eric standing there. His arms were crossed, but the expression on his face showed anything but anger. It looked like amusement.

"You could've stayed in your tank top, ya know," Eric said as we walked toward the Pit, "because Peter would've liked it." I stared at him as he walked, more than a little skeptical that he was spying on me. Eric carried himself with such force, yet he was so graceful. I was a little bit jealous. I was a force when I walked, but I was anything but graceful. I've tripped over my own feet. As if the universe heard me, I tripped. Over my own feet. I guess that's what I get for watching Eric instead of what was in front of me. I laid on the floor on my back, sighing in embarrassment.

"Here, let me help you," Eric said, reaching out his hand. Did I really want to touch his hand and take the chance of blushing? But I wanted to. So I grabbed his hand. He didn't have to use much strength to pull me up. Yes, my body was small, but I had muscle. When I could stand on my own, I expected Eric to let go of my hand, but he didn't. Instead he ran his hand up my arm, sending shivers down my spine. His hand came to my face and found a loose strand of hair. I should've let him brush it away, but instead I pulled away. With hurt clearly playing on his face, Eric led us into the Pit to meet an unexpected fight.

"Hey! Hey, what's going on, here?" Eric questioned a brawling Peter and Edward.

Four whispered something to Eric that I couldn't decipher. Then in a move that was as quick and swift as lightning, Eric grabbed Peter's arm and twisted it behind his back. He had a murderous look on his face, pouring fear into Peter and me.

"So do you really think that you can talk about your leaders that way?" Eric demanded Peter, who was still groaning and pain, and trying to get away but couldn't.

Peter looked over his shoulder at Eric. "I had to tell someone how good she looked in a sports bra." While Peter sent a haunting chuckle through the Pit, Eric bent Peter over his knee and slammed his elbow into Peter's back. Ad he lay on the ground in agony, Eric brushed passed me, hitting me with his shoulder with strength that made me gasp. Fine, if he was going to be like that, then so was I.

When day two of training began at 10:30 instead of ten because of the fight that apparently my lack of clothing caused, I had to cut the running time down to an hour and a half. Yes, all my Initiates were still not in shape, but they all put their best effort into it. Especially Christina. As they did sit-ups, I could practically feel Christina and Tris's eyes boring into the back of my head. I had decided to do sit-ups with them, but I was rethinking it now that the guilt of hanging Christina over a chasm descended over my entire body. After what seemed like an eternity, me and the group of tired Initiates made our way back to the Pit for some lunch.

I sat at the end of the table that my group chose as their own. As I looked around the room, my gaze went to Eric, who was, surprisingly, staring at me. He was so confusing. One day he's touching my bare skin, and the next he's bumping into me purposely. I rolled my eyes at him and turned away, pretending to look busy by putting a mouthful of salad into my mouth. From a young age I had strongly believed in healthy eating, and making my body strong. As I concentrated on my chewing, Peter walked over to my table and sat in front of me. I watched him cautiously as his eyes looked up and down my torso.

After a few minutes of silence, he broke the awkward silence, but not making it less awkward, by saying, "I meant it when I said you looked good in a sports bra." Peter grinned seductively, eyeing my breasts. I covered them up with my arms, forcing the urge to punch him away.