He slides his hand over my cheek, one finger anchored behind my ear. Then he tilts his head down and kisses me, sending a warm ache through my body. I wrap my hands around his arm, holding him there as long as I can. When he touches me, the hollowed-out feeling in my chest and stomach is not as noticeable.

If someone offer you an opportunity to get closer to your enemy, you always take it.

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.

Oh for god's sake. I'll just carry you.

I used to think about giving my life up for things, but I didn't understand what 'giving your life' really was until it was right there, about to be taken from me

Or you can stay frigid," says WIll, his green eyes glinting with mischief. "You know. If you want." Christina throws a roll at him. He catches it and bites it. "Don't be mean to her," she says. "Frigidity is in her nature. Sort of like being a know-it-all is in yours." "I am not frigid!" I exclaim. "Don't worry about it," says Will. It's endearing. Look you're all red.

He doesn’t scowl, but his mouth is so tense that I know he’s angry with me. 'Don’t be an idiot,' he says. 'An idiot?' Is he talking about the blanket? 'You were lying.