Page 119 of The Sixth Fraction

“Where, why, when?”

“I’m going to leave now,” I say, picking up my tray. I’m done eating anyway, and it’s Lauren’s night to look out for the initiates. We’ve been taking turns ever since Al’s death. “I have somewhere to be.”

I ignore Shauna’s and Zeke’s cries of protest as I walk away.

“You can’t avoid our questions forever!” Zeke calls out.

I wave without looking back.

I meet her on the train. Fourth car back, heading north along the marsh. She boards after me, and I take a moment to admire how easy she makes it look. And then to just . . . stare at her.

She’s wearing black pants that are cut close to her legs, and a white shirt. Sleeveless, so her arms are bare. Her hair is down, tossed by the wind. It doesn’t look like the kind of outfit you wear to impress a boy, but somehow I think it might be her version of it—showing a version of her I would never have seen in Abnegation.

It’s effective.

It’s been three days since we last saw each other. She told me we had to wait until Monday to meet . . . whoever it is she wants me to meet. And I’ve been busy with the initiates, who are experiencing the usual emotional upheaval of starting fear simulation training.

It’s a relief, to see her again.

Her lips quirk into a smile when she sees me. “Hi.”

I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. Abnegation courtship rituals were clearly defined, if nothing else. Find out where she volunteers and lend a hand. Ask her parents if they’ll supervise a visit. A stolen kiss somewhere along the line, just to make sure there’s a spark. All careful, distant, respectful. Abnegation members get married young.

Dauntless courtship is different. Bold and careless. I’ve never been any good at it; I always manage to say the wrong thing. Not that I spend much time trying—it’s not that I don’t notice girls, it’s just that I have to be careful. How do you date someone without telling them your real name?

So I have no idea how to act now. No rules of behavior, only instinct. Instinct makes me move toward her; instinct makes me duck my head and kiss her. Makes me run my fingers through her hair, which is soft and smooth. And then down her bare arm, slowly, carefully.

“Hi,” I say, as I pull away.

She looks a little dazed.

“That okay?” I ask. I probably should have led with that question.

“Yes,” she says. “Yes, please go ahead and do that . . . basically any time, Four.”

I grin. “You know, you can call me Tobias.”

“Really?” She tilts her head a little. “I just assumed you didn’t like it.”

“I kind of assumed that, too,” I say. “But I think it would be nice, to be called by my name again. If it’s you.”

“Okay . . . Tobias,” she says, and she pauses, like she’s tasting it.

I feel like I’m doing the same. My name sounds different coming from her mouth than from anyone else’s.

It’s a good thing.

“For the record, I’d prefer not to be called Beatrice,” she says, her tone lighter. “Beatrice had no idea how to get on and off trains, and she certainly wouldn’t have spent the day learning how to pick a pocket.”

“Oh? Care to demonstrate?”

She gives me an assessing look. “Well, you’d require a different approach.”

“Like what?”

There’s a glint in her eyes as she steps forward, poking a finger into my sternum to press me back against the wall of the train. She leans into me, just a little, her leg against my leg, her stomach brushing my hip. I stare down at her finger against my chest, my mouth going dry.

“See?” she says, and as she pulls back, she holds up a folded piece of paper. I blink at it for a few seconds before I realize she took it out of my jacket pocket while I was . . .