Original chapter title: Epilogue
Tobias kisses the side of my neck and smiles at me, his face illuminated by the brightly colored fireworks. I kiss him lightly and look back up at the black sky. While this firework display is nowhere near as good as Disney's, it's still amazing.
"I love you Tris." He murmurs in my ear.
"I love you too." I smile. This is the first time I've ever said it to him. At first I had been afraid of saying it, but now I don't care. Maybe it's the Fourth of July fireworks and the contagious happiness, or maybe I'm finally ready to admit it, but I'm definitely not afraid of being with him anymore.
"Say it again." He teases, his warm breath tickling my neck.
"Fine. Tobias Eaton, I love you." He kisses me hard and fast, and then pulls away. There's a grin plastered on his face.
All of our friends pick that moment to run over and tackle us, knocking us all into the cool, moist grass. Even Shauna tackles us, since she's now regained most of her walking ability. She can walk most distances without crutches or assistance. We all look at each other and start laughing like little kids and get out of the 'dogpile' we're in, standing up and dusting off our clothes.
Tobias stands behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. The air is chilly, but the warmth that radiates off of him chases the cold away. I smile to myself. I could definitely get used to this.
Christina clears her throat, earning our attention. She's got a huge grin on her face, and the fireworks reflect in her dark eyes and illuminate her features. "So guys," we all are paying even more attention now, and I don't need to look up at him to see Tobias's smile. "Who's ready to be seniors?"
/\/\/\ The End /\/\/\
ČTEŠ
Surviving Reality: Divergent | ✓
FanfikceMoving to a new school sucks. Especially when your name is Beatrice Prior. But no one would expect... well, this. Between bullying and schoolwork and some drama with her family and friends, Tris is finding it harder and harder to handle this new lif...
