Protection

Chapter 14

"Yes, sir?" I ask after clearing my throat.

"Do you know where the restroom is?" he grumbles.

Tris points him toward the bathroom. "Down that hallway and to the right," she directs.

The man doesn't even thank us, alternatively steering clear as he walks past us. When he shuts the bathroom door behind him, I let out an embarrassed laugh at being caught, which makes Tris giggle along with me.

"We should probably go back," I say reluctantly.

"Yeah. Wait!" she exclaims. I tilt my head, not knowing what she is referring to until she wipes the remnants of pink lipstick off my lips and fixes my hair. "Okay. You're good."

Rolling my eyes, I slide my fingers in between hers and lead her back to the ballroom.

The night drags on, becoming more and more boring as two hours pass. It is filled with Tris's parents introducing her, and then Tris introducing me as her bodyguard in turn. More people have begun dancing, and I severely hope that she won't want to...

"Tobias, let's dance."

Of course.

But I don't let her down. I let her drag me onto the dance floor with all the older couples, and unfortunately, right in the path of someone I wished to never see again.

I hear my screams when I look at him. I hear the metal of the belt buckle hitting my back. I feel the searing pain that was ingrained into my mind along with the phrase, "This is for your own good, you worthless bastard."

He looks almost identical as he did the last time I saw him, which was five years ago, when I enlisted. Except, his hair has passed the point of graying and has begun growing white in some places. His eyes—my eyes—scan me, and even now, even though I am a grown man, he still patronizes me with his gaze.

"Tobias," my father says, shocked by my presence. I am surprised he even recognizes me; I have passed six feet and packed on muscles so defined that I doubt he would even dare to antagonize me now.

"Marcus," I reply curtly.

Tris looks back and forth between us, confused, while I casually move to stand partially in front of her. She doesn't know what he is capable of, and I am not about to let her find out.

"What are you doing here?" He sounds polite, but I know without a doubt that his innocent-sounding question is anything but; it is a warning of some sort. If I had to guess, he does not want me associating with Andrew Prior's daughter because someday I would inherit a large sum of money if I stayed with her. I know that it would drive him insane—well, a lot more insane than he is now—to watch me become rich.

My father raised me on the bare minimum and would not let me or my mother obtain anything we desired, only necessities. He had a decent amount of money since he was and still is the mayor, but he put on this facade of a kind-of-sort-of-not-really rich man who hid his wealth to remain humble. So if I got money and could buy whatever I wanted, he would rot watching me.

Not like I care. I'm not with Tris for money.

"None of your business. Now, if you'll excuse us..." I pull Tris along with me because she seems unable to move, and I purposely hit his shoulder with mine as I pass him. It feels great to finally be able to stand up to him, to not feel any fear around him.

I am powerful now. Two years in the military and three years in Dauntless have changed me.

"Fair warning: I have no idea how to dance," I say to break the ice.

Tris chuckles and shakes her head, momentarily forgetting about the awkward, recent confrontation. "It's pretty simple. You go like this..." She guides my hands down to her waist. "And I go like this." Her arms move to wrap around my neck. "And we basically just sway. Nobody will notice."

"Right."

At first I feel embarrassed, just rocking uncoordinatedly in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by other people, but soon we fall into the rhythm of the slow music. And she lays her head on my shoulder, and I rest mine against hers, and suddenly dancing is not so bad anymore.

"How do you know Marcus Eaton?" she mumbles, only loud enough for me to hear.

I swallow, not wanting to lie to her but not wanting to tell her right now. "Can we drop it, just for tonight? Please," I beg. "Let's not ruin this." Undoubtedly, telling her about my father would wreck both of our evenings.

So she immediately agrees, and I am thankful for her understanding.

We dance for about a half hour straight, talking to each other in between until the lights are dimmed and our feet start aching from standing for so long. I couldn't care less about that though, because it is when we are simply embracing each other that I come to the realization.

It hits me like a train, too quick for me to comprehend it but still a powerful surge that consumes me. It leaves me awestruck, and I almost forget how to breathe.

"Tris." I nudge her head with mine so she will look up at me and give me her full attention. She removes her head from my shoulder, and her gaze sets me on fire and gives me the courage to say what I need to say. "I love you."

I am in too deep.

Her sharp intake of breath and watery eyes make me tense. Was it too early? Did I do it wrong? I need to explain to get her to see from my perspective.

"I don't believe that it is too early to say it," I continue. "Think about it. We have been together for about nine months—known each other for almost a year—but we have spent almost every minute of every day together. If we didn't live together, then we would have to date for a few years to be able to reach the amount of time we have spent together. Technically, we have been together a lot longer than it seems."

Tris covers her mouth with one hand as tears spill from her eyes, and now I'm starting to really think that I have scared her.

"I don't even know what love is, but if it is the thing that makes me want to spend every second with you, or makes me willing to take a bullet for you, then I love you, Tris."

This was never supposed to happen. It feels so right to say, yet I know it is wrong. I should not promise her something that I cannot stand by. If I have to leave her—

No, don't think about that. It doesn't matter right now.

"Tobias," she sniffles, and it is all that she can get out before she hugs me tightly because it is the only thing she can do in public. But it is more than enough, and I feel whole for the first time in my life when I hold her.

Should I care that her mascara is rubbing off on my expensive, white shirt? Should I care that people might be suspicious? Should I care that I was supposed to kill her, not fall in love?

No, I shouldn't. Because when she says, "I love you too," it feels infinite.

xXxXx

Okay, good news: no more huge time skips from here.