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He is protective.
And now she hates me and I can’t even leave Dauntless to join the factionless, like I was going to, because Eric’s eye is on her like it was on Amar last year, right before he turned up dead on the pavement near the railroad tracks.
All the Divergent end up dead except me, because of my fluke aptitude test result, and if Eric is watching her, she’s probably one, too.
My thoughts skip back to the night before, how touching her sent warmth into my hand and through the rest of me, though I was frozen with fear. I press my hands to my head, press the memory away.
I can’t leave now. I like her too much. There, I said it. But I won’t say it again.”
He has his priorities straight.
“One thing I know: For helping me forget how awful the world is, I prefer her to alcohol.”
“Just as I have insisted on his worth, he has always insisted on my strength, insisted that my capacity is greater than I believe. And I know, without being told, that's what love does, when it's right-it makes you more than you were, more than you thought you could be.
This is right.”
He notices the special things in life.
“When her body first hit the net, all I registered was a gray blur. I pulled her across it and her hand was small, but warm, and then she stood before me, short and thin and plain and in all ways unremarkable- except that she had jumped first. The stiff had jumped first.
Even I didn't jump first.
Her eyes were so stern, so insistent.
“But that wasn´t the first time I ever saw her. I saw her in the hallways at school, and at my mother’s false funeral, and walking the sidewalks in the Abnegation sector. I saw her, but I didn’t see her; no one saw her the way she truly was until she jumped.
I suppose a fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.”
He is concerned for his gal.
“You okay?" he says, touching my cheek. His hand cradles the side of my head, his long fingers slipping through my hair. He smiles and holds my head in place as he kisses me. Heat spreads through me slowly. And fear, buzzing like an alarm in my chest.
His lips still on mine, he pushes the jacket from my shoulders. I flinch when I hear it drop, and push him back, my eyes burning. I don't know why I feel this way. I didn't feel like this when he kissed me on the train. I press my palms to my face, covering my eyes.
"What? What's wrong?"
I shake my head.
"Don't tell me it's nothing." His voice is cold. He grabs my arm. "Hey. Look at me."
I take my hands from my face and lift my eyes to his. The hurt in his eyes and the anger in his clenched jaw surprise me.