Page 118 of The Sixth Fraction

His arm wraps around my waist, and he lifts me into him. I’m weightless, breakable, and I don’t mind. My fingers slip under the collar of his shirt, brushing over the top of his spine.

I realize that I want more, and it startles me, the force of it, this thought that I’ve never let myself think before. I pull back enough to stare into his eyes.

He sets me down, carefully, and raises his eyebrows in question.

“Oh,” I say, because it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

“Oh,” he agrees.

He kisses me again, slower this time, so I can savor the warm press of his mouth and the way his lips cling to mine as he pulls away by fractions.

“I want you back,” he says against my cheek.

It feels impossible. I know what I am: small and certified unremarkable-looking by the Foxes, who call that a gift. Faction failure. Unsure of everything. Not brave enough to choose Dauntless, selfless enough to make it in Abnegation, or smart, honest, kind enough for the other places I might have gone.

But he looks at me like I’m not seeing the whole picture. Like instead of not being enough of all those things, I’m actually more.

So I decide to try to be the person he sees, instead of the one I’m afraid I am.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” I say. “I think she can help us both.”

Chapter 42

Four

“What’s wrong?” Shauna says as she sets down her tray. Her eyes are wide with feigned alarm. She puts her hand on my forehead, like she’s checking my temperature. “Are you ill?”

I give her a flat look. I know where this is going.

“Well? Does he have a fever?” Zeke demands, sliding his tray onto the table next to me. “I can’t think of any other reason he would be smiling at the dinner table.”

“Maybe he hit his head in the training room,” Shauna suggests.

“Maybe he’s been drugged!”

“Both of you can and should shut up now,” I say, pointing my fork at both of them, in turn. “Before I spit on your food.”

Zeke leans forward to stage-whisper to Shauna. “That’s a milder threat than usual.”

“I think it’s that girl,” Shauna says.

Zeke arches an eyebrow. “Girl?”

“The one he was walking around with the other day. Small. Blond. Wouldn’t cross her.”

I can’t help it. I grin at that description. Shauna laughs, triumphant, and Zeke lets out a low whistle.

“When can we meet her?” he says.

“Is she one of last year’s initiates?” Shauna says. “She looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure from where.”

“That’s because she’s not Dauntless,” I say.

Zeke slaps the table. “What?”

“How?”

“Who?”