TRIS POV
"Four!" I call, running down the stairs. I'm going to be late to my friend Al's party, since it starts in five minutes. I took too long getting ready, so now I hurry to search the house for my bodyguard. I swear to God, if he isn't ready... "Four, we have to g—"
Tripping on the third to last stair, I gasp, throwing my arms out but knowing that I won't be able to prevent myself from hitting the marble floor. Fortunately, it never happens.
I fall into a pair of steady arms and crash into a rock hard chest. Before I can even look up, Four's low, smooth voice rumbles against my cheek as he says, "Careful, Tris."
I get a whiff of his Abercrombie cologne that makes my knees weak, yet I somehow manage to steady myself on both feet on the flat ground. He lets go of me and asks, "Don't you have a party that starts in a couple minutes?"
"Yeah," I confirm, but I can't stop scanning his body long enough to look at his face. He is dressed in a black v-neck that isn't too tight yet clings to his muscles in all the right places, and his dark jeans look skinnier than the ones he usually wears. Please turn around...
When I look back up to meet his eyes, my gaze instead moves to his hair, that always beckons my hands with its soft-looking texture and slight, natural curls. And that stubble, and that raised eyebrow, and those adorable puppy eyes.
Damn. I mean, he always looks sexy, but tonight he is tantalizing.
Why was I ever embarrassed to be seen with him in public again?
"You ready to go then, princess?" he inquires slowly, a small smirk playing on his lips. The nickname doesn't bother me much anymore now that he doesn't use it in the "spoiled brat" context.
"I—Yeah, let's go," I reply hurriedly and push past him to get to the garage, shaking my head all the way. I have to stop.
As usual for the past two months, Four slides into the driver's seat of my Ferrari, while I begrudgingly sit in the passenger seat. This arrangement is technically the best, considering he is a much more careful driver than I am, but I still tend to get possessive. It is my Ferrari, after all.
It doesn't take too long to get to the party, and in between our constant bickering over music and whether or not Nine Inch Nails is good—he is supposedly going to send me YouTube links to songs—I give him directions to Al's house. When we park along the road of mansions, I watch all the wealthy partiers head inside, surprised when I see how many girls are wearing dresses.
I suddenly feel really underdressed in my light jean jacket, white shirt, leggings, and Converse. I feel plain.
Blowing out a heavy breath, I glance over at Four, only to find him staring at me curiously.
"What's wrong?" he asks. How could he tell?
"I just..." I sigh and turn my phone over and over in my hands in my lap. "All these other girls look great in their dresses, and I didn't even know it was that type of party..."
Great. I probably sound like an insecure brat who worries about her appearance 24/7.
But he doesn't look annoyed, or as if he thinks that. If anything, he looks amused with me.
"Who cares what you're wearing?" I open my mouth to prove him wrong, only to shut it when I realize that I don't have anything to say. He's right. I doubt anybody will notice. "Besides, I think you look good, Tris. Beautiful, even."
Here comes the blush. My face turns bright red at the compliment, and I double check to make sure he isn't lying; according to his stern eyes, he isn't.
It is not as if nobody has told me that I am pretty before. Many people, friends and strangers alike, compliment me on my appearance, but most of the time I know it is just because I have money. And it is not like I really know any of them or care about their opinions.
For some reason, I care about what Four thinks. I want him to like me. I want him to think that I am pretty.
Maybe I care about him deeper than I thought.
"Thanks, Four," I stutter out. I almost didn't want to go to the party a moment ago, but his words give me a surge of confidence. With a satisfied smile, I shove open my car door to exit. Four follows me right after.
"So whose party is this again?" he asks, scratching the back of his neck as he strides alongside me up the long driveway. I have noticed him doing the habit in uncomfortable situations.
"My friend, Al's." I stop him with a hand on his arm. "Are you okay? You seem nervous."
He laughs softly and looks away. "I won't exactly fit in here."
Watching how anxious he is to be around a bunch of people he doesn't know makes me feel strangely admiring of him. It is cute, in a way.
But he is clearly tense and unsure of himself. He is not exactly a people person, but I am positive he will fit in just fine.
"All you have to do is stick by me, and you'll be fine," I say.
Suddenly, I step up on my toes. My heart pounds because it knows what I am about to do, but I ignore the blood rushing in my ears and press a chaste kiss to his cheek.
Something told me that I should not have done that, that it would be a mistake, that he would reject me or get mad. Instead, I see his cheeks turn a slight shade of pink as I grab his hand and lead him inside.
Luckily, we don't get the chance to talk about why the hell I just kissed his cheek—even I don't know—because as soon as we enter Al's mansion, we are bombarded with vaguely familiar faces and strobe lights and loud music that seems to shake the whole house. About a hundred people dance in the middle of the grand entryway, jumping around or at least attempting to dance.
"Here, let's go somewhere where there's less people," I shout to Four, but I'm not sure if he can hear me. However, a second later he nods and follows me through the crowd to the side of the room, where Al stands next to the drinks.
"Beatrice!" he greets with open arms. I momentarily let go of Four's hand to hug him.
"Hey, Al! Thanks for inviting me!" I respond with a bright smile. Al is the only one of my "friends" that I can stand the most. So I guess with Christina gone, he is my new number one friend.
Well, after Four.
"What happened with you and Christina?" Speaking of that hoe. "She told me she couldn't come after I told her you were coming."
I wonder if she made him say this in an attempt to get into my head; she plays games like that. He may even report back to her.
I run a hand through my hair in annoyance. "Just a dumb fight."
"Who's this?" he asks, a fake grin on his face as he gestures to Four, just now noticing him standing next to me. I bite my lip, knowing what his attitude is all about. A rumor has been going around that Al has an infatuation for me, and as nice as that is to have someone that wants me, I certainly do not return the feeling.
He is bulky but not tough, nice most of the time but still awkward. I wouldn't like him even if I didn't have a thing for Four.
Woah, what?!
"This is my bodyguard, Four," I tell him. Four straightens up next to me and politely holds his hand out for Al to shake.
"Huh. Four, like the number? That's weird." But Al still shakes his hand to please me.
Four laughs it off, but I can tell the comment bothers him. It makes me wonder why that is his nickname, how he got it, why he doesn't use his real name.
What is his real name?
"Well, I'll see you later, Beatrice." And with an uncoordinated wave, Al walks off to find another one of his friends.
I look back at Four apologetically, while he raises his eyebrows at me. I don't know what I think he is going to say, but I don't expect his reply.
"Is he always like that?" is all he says.
I giggle and pull him over closer to the table holding drinks. "Yeah. As you can see, I don't have the best group of friends."
Between both situations with Christina and Al, I bet he can tell.
Moving on from that unpleasant confrontation, I grab a plastic, red cup from the table and proceed to hold it under a keg.
"What do you think you're doing?" Four asks, seemingly entertained as he leans against the table.
My thumb hovers in mid air over the button that triggers the drink dispenser. "Uhh...I'm pouring myself a drink." Of alcohol.
"Uh-huh." He pries the cup from my hands, presses the button, and fills the cup up to the middle with beer. Pouting, I watch him swallow what was supposed to be my drink. "What?"
"How is this fair? You get to drink, but I don't?" I complain.
After another sip, he says evenly, "I'm twenty-one, Tris. You're nineteen."
I know I'm being stupid after getting caught trying to break the law, but I roll my eyes anyway and stalk off to find someone else to talk to. Four calls after me, and I push my way through the crowd to the other side of the room, wanting him to chase after me. It is fun to mess with him sometimes, especially when he thinks I'm angry at him.
Then, I unthinkingly run straight into a random man's chest. Putting my hands up innocently, I take a step back and apologize, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"
My voice stops when I look up to see who I accidentally crashed into, because I find myself gazing into green, snake eyes that harden at the sight of me. This is not a stranger as I assumed.
This is Peter Hayes, my ex-boyfriend.
I haven't seen him in nearly half a year—the last time I was with him, he smacked me across the face and left a bruise that lasted a couple weeks—and the sight of him causes my stomach to clench in fear. His lips turn into a smug, malicious smirk as he towers over me.
"Beatrice," he drawls, taking a step closer. Frightened, I back away, but he follows me. "Oh, come on. Haven't you missed me?"
"No, Peter. Please leave me alone," I plead, scanning the room for Four. I shouldn't have left him. I should have stayed by his side the whole night.
Now here I am, getting cornered by the only boyfriend I ever had, who was supposed to take care of me and treat me with respect. Well, that didn't last long.
And I am worried because I know how Peter is; he is persistent, works to get what he wants, and I am afraid that what he wants is to hurt me. I not only humiliated him by breaking up with him, but I also permanently damaged his reputation by spreading around the truth about how he treated me.
He clicks his tongue and shakes his head disappointedly. "Why did you never call me back? Don't you want to give me another chance? We were good for each other, Beatrice," he stresses, grabbing my arm harshly when I step back.
"You're kidding, right?" Now I am angry. My frustration helps me push back the slight fear that had been building. "You hit me after I refused to do something I wasn't comfortable with." Red creeps into my face, and I don't have to look into a mirror to know it is there.
His grip on my arm tightens. I am sure it will leave a bruise, but I only care about getting out of this situation at the moment. Desperately searching for an escape, I don't notice when an arm wraps around my waist from behind. Peter releases my arm before I can even register that Four has pulled me to his side.
"Is there a problem?" he asks innocently, but there is an underlying threat in his voice.
"No, there isn't," Peter assures, putting his hands up in surrender. Narrowing his eyes, he scans Four's intimidatingly muscled body, most likely deciding that it is not worth it to pick a physical fight with him. Yet it doesn't stop him from running his mouth. "Who are you?"
Four answers calmly, "Her boyfriend."
I have to stifle a laugh at his unexpected words and the annoyed look on Peter's face. Funny, although Four may not be my boyfriend, Peter told me that I would never find anyone else when we broke up. This must be a smack in the face for him.
He glares at both of us and scoffs before walking away. A huge weight leaves my chest, and I turn to look at Four incredulously with my arms folded. I am hyper aware of his arm leaving my waist.
"Boyfriend? Really?" I say, acting as if that title bothers me.
He shrugs, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "It worked, didn't it?" I hit him playfully in the shoulder. "Who was that anyway?" he questions.
Oh, God. I knew this question would come.
"Um...that was my ex, Peter."
Lifting his head a little, he proceeds to drop it in an extremely slow nod. "Why did you two break up? If you don't mind me asking."
I bite my lip, contemplating my answer. This is embarrassing; am I really going to tell him?
"Well, I'm scared of...intimacy," I breathe out, trying to will away the heat in my cheeks. "He tried to force me into having sex with him, and when I refused, he hit me."
Expecting to see him with a judgmental look on his face, I am pleasantly surprised to see that he just looks straight up confused.
"Oh," he replies lamely after a moment.
"Oh, what?"
"According to your reputation, I thought it was the opposite. That you liked...that stuff, a little too much."
My mouth falls open on its own when I realize what he is insinuating. "You thought that I slept around with a bunch of guys?"
Confirming my suspicions, he nods. I have not heard this rumor before, and I am not going to grill him on where he heard it from, but it does piss me off. Christina was probably behind it or something, now that I know what she is really like.
Maybe this is one of the reasons why Four had been more cold toward me up until the last couple weeks. Once again, he still has much to learn about me—and I him—so he could have heard anything about me and believed it all, as ridiculous as the speculations in news articles are. He could be under the impression that I am a completely different person from who I truly am because of all the gossip that circles around about my family.
I am glad I could clear this up for starters, as sheepish the topic makes me.
"Seems like I still have to get to know you better," he says, and I almost don't hear him over the blaring music, despite how close we are. His head bends down so that his mouth lines up with my ear. "And by the way, there is nothing wrong with being afraid of that. It was disgraceful of Peter to treat you the way he did."
I cling to his words, as they give me a sense of support. For the first time, I don't feel ashamed that I rejected Peter, that I am not like other girls in that way.
Looking up at Four, I can tell that he sees the fragile, insecure parts of me, but he only seems to embrace them rather than judge me.
He is finally seeing me for who I am.
I can't seem to find a way to raise my voice above the music, so I mouth, "Thank you."
xXxXx
This party sucks.
Normally, Christina would be here—trust me, she knows how to get a party going—but she isn't, of course. Then there is Al, who has been avoiding me like the plague since I introduced him to Four.
That leaves me to hang out with a bunch fake friends whose names I barely remember. It's fine. I don't mind partying with them.
However, as the night goes on, I find myself getting more and more bored. They all begin to separate into groups to gossip about so-and-so's new hairstyle and someone else's breakup on different sides of the room. I could care less about these people, let alone their acquaintances, and eventually I just leave their little chat circles altogether.
To make things worse, when I go to find Four, I find none other than Nita Ramirez twisting her hair around her finger as she giggles and tries to make moves on him. I have never really had a direct problem with her before, but I do know that she sleeps around, has about two brain cells, and gets in everyone's business by spreading lies to start drama.
Unexplainable jealousy flares in me at seeing the two of them, and I find myself marching up to them. I don't know what I will do, but I decide to figure it out when I get there.
"Oh hi, Nita," I say sweetly, leaning against Four when I make it to them. She stands up straight—she was previously leaning forward to show off her fake cleavage—and squints her eyes as if to say, "Go away."
"Beatrice," she responds tersely. "I was just getting to know Four here. I don't think you've met him—"
Bitch, please. "Actually, he's my bodyguard," I tell her patronizingly. "So go find some other guy to fail at seducing, okay?"
Scoffing, she crosses her arms before stomping away in her ridiculously high heels.
"So I see you've met Nita, the town slut," I say to Four once she is gone.
He chuckles next to me. "Really? I couldn't tell. I thought she was just being nice."
I elbow him for his teasing. Hey, at least he sees right through her. Other guys aren't as fortunate. I don't believe I have ever met someone so low-maintenance as Four.
Turning to him, I say what I wanted to find him for in the first place. "I'm ready to go."
He tilts his head. "Are you sure? The party isn't over. I thought you said you wanted to stay the whole time."
I blow out a sigh and lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder as we fall into an embrace. This feels right. It is like coming home after a long, stressful day. When did everything start becoming natural with him? "Yeah, but this night turned out to be pretty terrible."
Between Al's crush on me, Christina's unavoidable drama, Peter's appearance, and Nita's seduction, I am worn out. From now on, I think I will avoid going to parties with people who aren't my real friends entirely.
Instead, I will focus on building a friendship with Four. He is the only one I seem to be compatible with lately, though at the beginning I thought we would never get along. He has become the person I turn to for all of my problems that arise. I have seen how humble, how down-to-earth he is; I love how he sees the beauty in the simple things, and yet he is so complex that it should be considered an oxymoron.
Those attributes are only part of who he is. In addition, he is rough around the edges and closed off, only opening up bit by bit to people because being untrustworthy is in his nature. He is obstinate and opinionated. He is a mystery that I have only just discovered, and the need to find out more consumes me. The more that he reveals, the more I fall.
Four is a drug, and I am addicted.
Even now as we decide to leave the party, it is a feat to pull away from him. I want nothing more than to be close to him.
I wonder if he can feel what I feel between us.
xXxXx
Next chapter will be in Tobias's POV, I promise. The wait is killing me too.😂