Four walks past me and steps across the threshold, stopping just enough so he's inside. He looks quickly around, before turning to me as I shut the door. "You have a lovely home."
Thank God it was hot outside, otherwise he would know exactly how deeply I'm blushing at the moment. Damn it, why do I have to blush so easily. "Thank you." I look down taking my sunglasses off, placing them on the small table along with my keys. As I look back up at him, I'm finally able to see how good looking he really is. He's wearing khaki shorts and a black t-shit, it's tight, but not overly so. You can definitely tell he works out. His bottom lip is slightly fuller, a faintly hooked nose, and short dark brown hair. It's his eyes that seem to have me captivated though. They are a deep blue, but not like ones I've seen before. Though they are dark, they have swirls of lighter blue, almost like a stormy ocean.
He clears his throat, and I'm brought back to my senses. Shit! How long have I been staring? I look down again, and see that I've started dripping blood on the floor. I've got to fix that, and probably take care of the sweat and gasoline smell. This meeting could not have gone worse.
"Four, please make yourself at home. There's some tea in the refrigerator and glasses above the microwave. Do you mind terribly if I go take a quick shower and fix my finger?"
"No, at all." He pauses, a crooked smile starting to form. "You know, I would have called, but I didn't have your number." His statement sends butterflies into my stomach.
Unfortunately, this causes me to become nervous, and my smart ass mouth decides to show itself. "Well, I figured if you were an ax murderer, I would want my death to be a surprise. If I gave you my number, you would ruin it." I resist the urge to groan. 'Oh God, why did I say that?'
He chuckles, "Well, I can understand your reluctance then. But for the record, I don't own an ax."
Well, he hasn't run away screaming yet, so I haven't totally turned him off. "Well that's good." Trying my best to smile, knowing well the other possibilities for murder. I need to get clean before I say something far more stupid then I already have. "Um...I'm going to go take a shower now. I'll try not to take too long."
I show him where the remote is, then go down the hall to my bedroom and lock the door. I know it won't stop him for long, but at least I'll have some kind of warning that he's trying to get in. I begin stripping down, throwing the filthy clothes in the hamper. I go to the dresser and grab my undergarments, a sleeveless blouse, and I'm about to grab a pair of shorts when I remember Thursday night. I look down at my thigh and see the foot shaped black and blue bruise. "Damn you Eric." I hiss through my teeth.
Eric has been my instructor for almost six months now. I can't stand him. I know he enjoys the violence of fighting. The more blood he sees, the happier he gets. Every instructor before him, while strict, was willing to work with you, and wanted to make sure you understood the concepts so you could protect yourself. With Eric, it's completely different. I'm the lone female in my class, and while I have obviously excelled, he still doesn't think I'm ready for a black belt. Instead he makes it a very bloody, painful competition between me and everyone else, but what he didn't see is that it gave me more opportunities to fight back and hone my skills.
Eric is only now figuring out that he gave me more practice then he intended so now he has to spar with me to even get the violence he is seeking. In my previous classes, you saved the actual hitting for the punching bags, but Eric seemed to drive all of his power and frustration into that kick when he had me in the ring. It was like he was trying to show me I was weak because I'm a woman so I'll quit. He will not have the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt, well, still hurts. I'm just satisfied that I was able to get a shot at his throat to get him to stop. Otherwise it could have been so much worse. I've considered finding another place to go, but Eric is really the only problem, and the place is within my budget, so I'll stick it out. If it gets too bad, I can always go to Max, the owner.
I sigh as I realize I don't want to explain the bruise and grab a pair of jeans from the bottom drawer instead. I get in the shower and try to wash as quickly as I can. When I get out, I look at my finger to see if I need stiches now that it's clean. The cut is deep, but it shouldn't need stitches thankfully. I really wasn't looking forward to driving down to the hospital with a total stranger to get stiches. I carefully bandage it with gauze and tape, get dressed, and braid my damp hair as best I can.
I look in the mirror and notice the dark circles that are under my eyes. I sigh. I look awful. I know I'm plain, but this isn't improving my looks at all. This lack of sleep is really taking its toll on me, but I don't know the solution to my problem. I wish I knew the key since pills, while they did make me sleep, made me a zombie the rest of the day. I quickly give up, remembering the stranger in my living room, and put concealer under my eyes in an attempt to hide the discoloration. I then put some mascara on, hoping that maybe it will draw the attention to my eyes, though, they aren't as incredible as Four's.
I shake my head quickly. "No. No. No. You can't think like that Tris. You don't know him. Besides, you swore off dating for now, remember?" I say in a whisper to the mirror. Crap. Isn't talking to yourself a sign of insanity? I sigh and leave the bathroom. Great, now I'm insane. Well, he's seen me at my worst, it can only go up from here right?
I walk down the hall and notice Four leaning over looking at a picture of Matthew, Zoe and I on a camping trip. It was taken just before he found out he had cancer. I really love that picture, it was one of our last happy moments as a family. "Um...I'm sorry I took so long."
He looks up in surprise. "That was fast actually. Every woman I've ever known takes at least an hour."
I'm not sure how to respond. How many women has he been with? Raising my eyebrow, "I'm not every woman, am I."
He seems to realize what he said, his cheeks turning bright. He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck, "No. No you aren't." He looks up. "Defiantly like no woman I have ever encountered. Quite incredible actually."
It's now my turn to look down and blush. My heart starts beating hard in my chest. I haven't felt like this since Matthew, but I can't do this. I can't fall for someone else, especially someone I just met today. Matthew was it, he was the one, and no one else will be able to fill the void he left behind.
"Um...would you like to sit down?" Gesturing toward the couch.
"Sure." We sit down on opposite ends of the couch, but still facing each other. It's silent for a moment before Four finally breaks it. "I guess I'll cut to the chase." He pulls the letter from his pocket, but it looks worn. Surely he hasn't read it that many times?
He places the letter on his lap, looking down at it one more time, before looking at me, "Why did you send this to me?"
I look at my hands, not sure if I really want him to know how truly broken I am. "I really don't know how to answer that Four. The night I wrote that letter, it had been a year since my husband passed. I've been trying to hold it together, but it's been tough. I guess I was hoping that if I was able to help someone else in their grief, it might help with mine."
I still haven't looked up yet, afraid of his reaction. It's when I feel him get up that I'm sure he is going to leave, my stomach sinking. This is where he leaves. The part where he must think I'm insane for writing to him.
He surprises me when he sits back down just inches from me. His voice is soft, gentle as he says, "Hey. Look at me." I look into those stormy blue eyes, not sure what he's going to say. "You have no idea the impact your letter has had on me. The day I received it, I was going through a dark point in my life. I had found out that my girlfriend of two years had been cheating on me, and felt that I was undeserving of love." He pauses, almost like he's not sure he wants to say the next part. "Your words are what pulled me through that night. I honestly thought that my life wasn't worth living. Your letter kept me from doing something incredibly stupid."
I feel my jaw drop. My letter actually helped this man sitting next to me. I may not have been there, but something guided my letter to him in his darkest hour. It actually helped him. I'm finally able to regain some of my composure and respond. "I really didn't do much Four. I only wrote down what I was feeling that night." I look down, his gaze becoming almost too much.
It's then that he takes my hand, and I feel an electricity surge through it. I have this sensation to pull away, but my muscles have a mind of their own and stay put in his warm hand. "Tris, I know we just met, but maybe we were meant to help each other. Maybe that's why you felt compelled to write to a complete stranger 700 miles away." He pauses. "Of all the people in the world, why choose someone in Chicago though? Why me?"
I chuckle, "Well, when I had decided I wanted to write a letter to someone, I wanted that person to be pretty far away. I thought Chicago was far enough away from Atlanta. I know it's pretty snowy and cold there, so I pulled up the white pages on the computer. I just then began typing random names in the search engine, but none of the names that came up seemed to appeal to me. I accidently typed four and hit search by mistake. I didn't think anything would come up, but then you came up as the only hit. I just thought well, fate obviously wants me to write to you so I did." I pause as I remember my desire to find out why his name is Four. "So is Four your real name or a nickname?"
He seems to weigh my question, trying to decide if he wants to answer. He doesn't let go of my hand, but looks down. "It is a nickname, but how I got it is a story for another time."
I don't press the issue. The way he spoke, it sounded like a touchy subject. He looks back up at me and smiles, "So back to the letter. From what I can gather, the letter really was serendipitous then?"
I giggle. Giggle? What the hell is wrong with you Tris? "Yes, I guess it was."
My stomach picks that moment to growl. I place my hand over my stomach trying to stop the sound. "Sorry, I didn't have breakfast. I was a little busy this morning."
He smiles, "Honestly, I didn't either. I was too nervous. I wasn't sure what I would find when I came here today. Though, it turned out far better than I could have hoped." I feel myself blush hard at his words.
He pauses as if he is trying to decide if he wants to add something, searching my face, before finally asking, "Would you like to go get something to eat? I know this great burger place across town."
I bite my lip. I really don't have the money to go out to dinner. Every penny I have is basically already accounted for. He must see the hesitation when he adds quickly, "My treat. It's the least I can do for what you've done for me."
I look into his eyes, trying to decide if I should do this. When I can't find any sign of malice, my fate becomes sealed with three words. "I'd love to."