So I was reading some of my old stories on here and decided to update this one. Hope you enjoy.

It's strange how quickly life can change. A few days ago, I was consumed with curiosity over Tobias Eaton. And now, as I stare right into his eyes, I feel as if I know him. Or at least, a small part of him.

There are still one hundred questions that race through me as soon as our skin touches. There are still one hundred stares that we give each other every time that Marcus steps a little bit closer. There are still one hundred confused looks from Caleb, who has not quite pieced together the nickname Four yet. But I suppose that I can't blame him. I still have yet to discover the origin of it.

The kiss in the bathroom, as much as I wish that I can say it did, did not, in fact, drastically change my life. There is no sunset placed perfectly for us in the distance. There are no quotes from Emily Bronte that can perfectly describe our budding romance. There is just Four and I- confused as ever, backs pressing against the cold, concrete wall.

It's been three days since I kissed him for the first time. And it's been three days of craving that warmth again.

But it's the three days of silence from Marcus that scares me the most.

He watches the two of us like a bird stalks its prey, sometimes even circling. Darkness clouds his vision. He might've been painted to be rather foolish, but I swear, he can notice a spark. It's hard not to notice a fire. It's even harder to keep it contained.

"This isn't going to work, Tris," Four mumbles, watching me with careful eyes. The cold air of the basement sends chills up my arms.

"Come on, the odds of us both getting electrocuted is slim to none. Just grab the-"

"Not the heating system. This. Whatever tension is between us, alright?"

I instantly turn around to face him. My eyebrows crease. He looks at me as if I'm wounded, and the stare makes me feel rather uncomfortable. I don't appreciate feeling weak.

"And why not?" I question, challenge laced in my tone. This seems to surprise him. My arms cross defensively across my chest. I know that I don't look very intimidating, but I'll be damned if I don't at least try.

"Marcus will know. He probably already does. And he'll hurt both of us to make it stop."

"You've kept a box hidden in your bedroom for ten years," I say, raising an eyebrow, "-and you expect me to believe that we can't kiss each other without the world crumbling apart?"

Four makes the concentrated face that I have slowly begun to memorize on him. He arches his back. His eyes grow a few shades darker. He studies me like an unknown subject- trying to figure out my next move.

"I'm saying that I'm not going to let you get hurt because of me. Especially not over my own goddamn selfishness."

Selfish. As if my company makes him selfish. The thought makes me want to laugh and cry, but I do neither, instead choosing to hold my ground. My eyes slowly trace his figure in front of me.

"Remember when I asked you if you'd rather be smart or brave? You said brave."

"So?"

"Selfishness and bravery go hand and hand. You can't have one without the other."

He seems to consider this for a second. And I notice, without a doubt, that it makes sense to him. But he keeps the stern look on his face - why the hell do people constantly insist on being noble? Why can't they just indulge?

Is that selfish of me?