My Book Boyfriend: Four

It's WEDNESDAY! And you know what that means! My Book Boyfriend day!!!
For those of you who don't know, MBB is a weekly meme hosted by Missie over at the Unread Reader--if you're interested in making your own MBB post, check out the intro post here!  

....Sometimes, I find it a tad disconcerting how excited I get for making a fictional-boy-oriented post....Because I get really excited...


But you should get super excited right now too because I'm going to be talking about Four! AKA Tobias Eaton. 
AKA The Hottest Guy in Dystopia. 


It's actually a little weird that I think Tobias is super swoon-worthy because if you think about it, he's kinda like a male Tris. But, you know, tougher.... and the thing is, I don't really like Tris. But I'm sort of in love with Four.... so. Yeah. Weird. 
ANYWAYS...

• Tobias Eaton
• from Divergent and Insurgent and whatever other -ergent book that comes out next year
• nicknamed Four because he only has four fears
• born Abnegation--but chose Dauntless
• is Divergent
• is Dauntless--and Divergent
• 18-years old
• dark hair + blue eyes = me swooning
• is a crazy good strategist
• is super tough and kicka$$, but has a fear of heights
• has some tattoos--including one on covering pretty much his entire back, made up of all the faction symbols
• "He is not sweet or gentle or particularly kind. But he is smart and brave, and even though he saved me, he treated me like I was strong. That is all I need to know."

"Fine." He leans his face closer to mine, his eyes focusing on my chin, and my lips, and my nose. "I watched you because I like you." He says it plainly, boldly, and his eyes flick up to mine.

“You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong."
He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife? My skin tingles at the point of contact, like he's transmitting electricity through his skin. 
"My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press." he says, his fingers squeezing at the word break. My body tenses at the edge in his voice, so I am coiled as tight as a spring, and I forget to breathe.
His dark eyes lifting to mine, he adds, "But I resist it." 
"Why..." I swallow hard. "Why is that your first instinct?"
"Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up. I've seen it. It's fascinating." He releases me but doesn't pull away, his hand grazing my jaw, my neck. "Sometimes I just want to see it again. Want to see you awake.” 

"Fine. You're not pretty. So?" He kisses my cheek. "I like how you look. You're deadly smart. You're brave. And even though you found out about Marcus..." His voice softens. "You aren't giving me that look like I'm a kicked puppy, or something."


“I have something I need to tell you," he says. I run my fingers along the tendons in his hands and look back at him. "I might be in love with you." He smiles a little. "I'm waiting until I'm sure to tell you, though."
"That's sensible of you," I say, smiling too. "We should find some paper so you can make a list or a chart or something."
I feel his laughter against my side, his nose sliding along my jaw, his lips pressing my ear.
"Maybe I'm already sure," he says, "and I just don't want to frighten you."
I laugh a little. "Then you should know better."
"Fine," he says. "Then I love you.” 


“Sleep,” he says. “I'll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you.” “With what?” “My bare hands, obviously.” 


“We're all right, you know,' he says quietly. 'You and me. Okay?' My chest aches, and I nod. 'Nothing else is all right.' His whisper tickles my cheek. 'But we are.”


“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.” 

“I think he came to die with me," I say. I clamp my hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. If I can keep breathing, I can stop crying. I didn't need or want him to die with me. I wanted to keep him safe. What an idiot, I think, but my heart isn't in it.
"That's ridiculous," he says. "That doesn't make any sense. He's eighteen; he'll find another girlfriend once you're dead. And he's stupid if he doesn't know that."
Tears run down my cheeks, hot at first and then cold. I close my eyes. "If you think that's what it's about..." I swallow another sob. "...you're the stupid one.” 



~Le swooooon