Stay Away | Eric Coulter [1]

fifteen

I couldn't sleep. I'd spent at least a couple of hours tossing and turning in my bed, waiting for sleep to claim me. But alas, even sleep has deemed me unworthy of its presence.

It's the second day in the row that sleep has evaded me. To say that training was miserable today- or rather, yesterday, considering how it's already after midnight- was an understatement.

It was the first day of our hand-to-hand combat training. Thankfully, I was paired with former-Erudite member, Myra, who was pretty pleasant to be partnered with. I think she saw the bags under my eyes and took a little pity on me, and had therefore gone easy.

With a huff, I decided that I was better off doing something that would tire me out before attempting to enter dreamland again. Maybe then sleep would have no other choice but to take over.

Shoving my covers off me, I stuff my feet into my boots and take my time lacing them up.

I make my way out of the room and into the Pit. I eyed the bright orange punching bags that were set up in the corner for training and take up the furthest one at the end of the row.

Balling my hands up, I stare down at my fists. There was something about it that unsettled me, even when I was training with Myra.

Somehow, all I could see when I looked down at them was an image of Marcus raining down his fists on me relentlessly. And I guess...something about it makes me feel too much like him.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath and remind myself that it was all part of training; something I had to do if I wanted to stay in Dauntless.

Peeling my lids open, I throw my first punch. The sound of skin slapping against the leather of the bag echoes through the mostly empty room and I wince at the pain that shoots up my arm as my fist collides with the bag.

I suck in a breath through my teeth and shake out my hand, before balling it up once again and taking another, and then another, and another.

Ignoring the pain that was stinging at my knuckles, I continue on, only pausing when a pair of hands land on my hips.

The back of my neck prickles with awareness, so much so that I wonder how I didn't notice Eric's presence behind me until he was touching me.

"Widen your stance, it'll help with your balance." He was so close that I could feel his breath against the shell of my ear as he speaks.

I don't acknowledge him, keeping my eyes on the punching back that was, frankly, a really ugly shade of orange.

He clicks his tongue and then kicks my legs apart so quickly that I would've landed on my face if it wasn't for the arm he'd wrapped around my waist.

"Never tuck your thumbs, you'll end up breaking it." He reaches out to uncurl my fingers, before rearranging them into a proper fist.

The feel of his body against mine makes it feel as if my entire body was on fire...I still can't decide if that was good or bad.

"Put your body weight into it when you punch." Eric goes on as if he wasn't aware that I was actively ignoring him.

I take another punch, hoping the guy would take the hint and leave if I just ignore him long enough. He doesn't. Instead, he only moves back enough so that he doesn't catch my elbow whenever I take a hit.

Seconds tick by. Then, a minute. And then several. The air is so thick with tension that I feel like I'm suffocating.

Eric's hand curls around my waist again when I pause for a quick second to catch my breath and he steps closer to me again, practically plastering my back to his chest and leaning in so close that I could practically feel his lips against my neck as he speaks.

"Giving me the silent treatment again, huh? Are we really doing this again?" He says, chuckling when I shiver at the slight tickle of his lips brushing against my skin. "Icing me out isn't going to work, Nessa. You should know how this is going to turn out by now. I think I've proven that the first time."

Again, I glance over my shoulder and immediately curse myself out for putting myself in a situation where I'm in such close proximity with him once again.

His gorgeous blue eyes study mine like they hold the most precious secrets and he's determined to unearth them, and if I just lifted my chin ever so slightly, I'd be able to kiss him. Just like that.

The thought sends my pulse skyrocketing through the roof.

I hold his gaze for a minute before ripping my gaze from his and fixing it on the punching bag once again.

Intent on continuing on with my practice regardless of him standing there or not, I draw my fist back again ready to take another hit when Eric's hand shoots out to wrap around my wrist.

I try to wriggle my wrist out of his hold when he starts to tug me along with him to the center of the Pit.

"What are you doing?" I demand, trying to pry his fingers off of me. "Let go of me!"

Eric glances over his shoulder at me and raises a brow in amusement, "Oh, now you're speaking to me?"

"You're such an asshole!" I yell.

"So, I've been told." He states with a casual shrug, "Multiple times. Only ever by you."

I dig my heels, "Eric! Let. Me. Go!"

Finally, he does and I look around to see that we were now both standing in the middle of the fighting ring.

I cross my hands over my chest, resisting the urge to stomp my feet like a petulant child.

"What's wrong with you?" I shoot him a glare.

Eric gives me another one of his infuriating smirks, "Go ahead, take a swing. Might help you sort out those anger issues you have going on."

"As tempting as it is, I'll pass."

I turn to leave, but Eric seems to have other plans and hauls me back against his chest.

"It's best not to ignore me again," He says, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. "Or not. I'll just be forced to find more creative ways to get you to talk to me." Eric pauses, his hands still around my waist. I'm not even sure if he's even aware of just how physical he's constantly being.

Then, as if as an afterthought he adds, "And maybe work on better insults. You can do better than just asshole."