Protection

Chapter 3

TRIS POV

So, my new bodyguard is actually really attractive.

He is over six feet tall with dark, mysterious eyes that look like they have seen too much. His face naturally curves into a frown, and his hair looks so soft that it makes me want to run my fingers through it. The slight stubble on his face makes him even more handsome.

This complicates things. I'm supposed to hate him, to be against him tailing me everywhere. But instead I want to get to know him.

I want to know why he looks unhappy all the time, what secrets his alluring eyes hold. I want to know why he prefers to be called a number instead of his real name, whatever that may be. I want to be around him for some unexplainable reason.

I guess it could be worse; I could be guarded by that one bald guy in his forties that came in last week, or that creepy guy with the mustache, whose sly gaze made goosebumps rise on my skin. Four was really my only option in this case.

And I barely know him at this point, as he moved in a couple days ago, but we have already butted heads several times. In truth, we are opposites; I am outgoing, while he is laid back and has a quiet nature. Mostly we just tease each other but...he seems to have a real, underlying problem with me. I don't understand it.

That is my new goal: to figure him out. It may prove to be difficult.

All I know about him is that he used to be in the Marines, since my dad brought it up at dinner one night. He served in Afghanistan for two years, from when he was seventeen to when he was nineteen. I suppose that partially explains his closed-off and brooding behavior; I can't imagine what he must have seen over there, how it all affected him.

Now I feel pity for him. While I was worrying about my image and having a perfect senior year of high school, he was across the world, fighting for survival and being forced to grow up too fast. I wonder if he volunteered or if his parents forced him for some reason.

I'll have to ask him sometime. If he'll let me.

xXxXx

As quietly as I can, I tiptoe out of my room and down the hallway to the stairs, but it is challenging to keep my running shoes from squeaking on the marble floor. I barely make it down the first step when a gruff voice asks, "Where are you going, Tris?"

Responding to the odd name that resembles mine, I huff in annoyance and turn around to see Four leaning against his bedroom doorframe. In the dark, I can barely make out the outlines of his lopsided smirk and messy hair.

I haven't been on a run for a while since he got here because I haven't been in the mood. Being attacked left a bad taste in my mouth, and I was hesitant to continue running like normal.

So it's not like he knows my schedule, that I get up early in the morning to jog. Does he have the hearing ability of a bat? I thought I was being careful, yet he still caught me.

"I'm going for a run," I say flatly. "And you can't stop me."

"You're right, I can't. But I'm still going with you," he says sternly.

The idea is awful. Technically I know he is supposed to go with me, but running with a partner? Not my thing.

Four tells me not to move, and I roll my eyes when he walks into his room to change into suitable clothing. I consider leaving without him, but it only takes him a couple minutes to get ready, and he emerges wearing gym shorts, a tightly fitted t-shirt, and Nikes.

"Let's go, Tris," he says as he passes me, his voice less strained now that he has fully woken up.

I shake my head and follow him down the staircase. "My name is Beatrice," I growl. Of course, he knows this. Why won't he just call me by my name?