“What irritates me most about him is his natural goodness, his inborn selflessness.”

“Hearing him talk about his mother, about his intact family, makes my chest hurt for a second, like someone pierced it with a needle.”

“His fingers leave streaks of cold on my skin, invisible to the eye, and I think about wrapping his shirt around my fist and pulling him in to kiss me; I think about pressing myself against him, but I can't, because all our secrets would keep a space between us.”

“You look different." His words, normally crisp,are now sluggish."So do you," I say.And he does-he looks more relaxed,younger. "What are you doing?""Flirting with death," he replies with a laugh. "Drinking near the chasm. Probably not a good idea.""No,it isn't" I'm not sure I like Four this way.There's something unsettling about it."Didn't know you had a tattoo," he says, looking at my collarbone.He sips the bottle. His breath smells thick and sharp.Like the factionless man's breath."Right.The crows," he says. He glances over his shoulder at his friends, who are carrying on without him, unlike mine. He adds, "I'd ask you hang out with us, but you're not supposed to see me this way."I am tempted to ask him why he wants to hang out with him,but I suspect the answer has something to do with the bottle in his hand."What way?" I ask. "Drunk?"Yeah...well,no." His voice softens. "Real,I guess.""I'll pretend I didn't.""Nice of you." He puts his lips next to my ear and says, "You look good, Tris."His words surprise me,and my heart leaps. I wish it didn't,because judging by the way his eyes slide over mine, he has no idea what he's saying. I laugh. "Do me a favor and stay away from the chasm,okay?""Of course." He winks at me.I can't help it.I smile.Will clears his throat,but I don't want to turn away from Four,even when he walks back to his friends.Then Al rushes at me like a rolling boulder and throws me over his shoulder. I shriek,my face hot."Come on,little girl," he says, "I'm taking you to dinner."I rest my elbows on Al's back and wave at Four as he carries me away.”

“He turns toward me. I want to touch him, but I’m afraid of his bareness; afraid that he will make me bare too.‘Is this scaring you, Tris?’‘No,’ I croak. I clear my throat. ‘Not really. I’m only…afraid of what I want.’‘What do you want?’ Then his face tightens. ‘Me?’Slowly I nod.”

“Then I realize what it is. It's him. Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid. Or burst into flames.”

“I shift from one foot to the other, trying to get a good look at him. When I finally do, I look away. His eyes were already on me, probably drawn by my nervous movement.”