Page 11 of Echoes of Us

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I said.

His laugher bubbled, the sound vibrating between us. “It’s fine, Atticus.” His eyes drifted upwards, biting the side of his thumb, thinking. “Atticus, Atticus,” he repeated.

“What?” I asked, baffled.

“What do your friends call you? Att, right? That’s what Col calls you,” he said.

“Yeah, that or by my last name, I guess,” I told him, trying to focus on anything other than how close he was.

“What’s your last name?”

“You’ve heard the team call me by my last name,” I pointed out.

“No, I haven’t. I’ve heard the guys on the team call youAtt and King, but that’s like a volleyball thing,” he said, dismissively waving his hand.

“No, that’s it,” I told him.

He gaped at me. “Your last name is King. Your fucking name is Atticus King?” he asked and howled with laughter.

The corners of my lips pull upwards. “Yeah, that’s my name,” I told him, and he kept laughing. I couldn’t help myself. I joined in.

“You’re unreal,” he said as he calmed. “I’m not going to call you King, that’s for fucking sure.” He ran his eyes over my face, licked his lips, and tilted his head. “Atty,” he let out softly.

Shit. That hit a nerve somewhere, and my whole body flushed at the familiarity of it.

“That suits you,” he said with a slow smile.

“How?”

“I don’t know, Atty. It’s pretty adorable. You’re adorable,” he said, shrugging.

“I’m adorable?” I asked with a laugh.

“You are,” he told me, his tone sincere.

“I don’t think anybody’s ever called me that before.”

Noah stood there, just looking at me with a slight smile, his eyes soft. “I can tell you’re sweet.”

I knew my eyes were wide. Nobody had ever made that assumption about me, especially having talked to me only a handful of times.

He ran his tongue over his lips and tilted his head. “How about Atty? Nobody’s ever called you that?”

I looked away. “I don’t want to say.”

His hand tugged at my shirt collar, and I faced him again. He had the joint pressed between his lips, unlit. The tip of his thumb touched the skin of my collarbone, and it felt electric. It was such a small thing.

“Tell me,” he insisted.

I shook my head. “My mom calls me that,” I said quietly,but he heard it, because he erupted in laughter again. “Fuck’s sake,” I said, closing my eyes and rubbing one of my hands over my face.

He let me go and laughed. “See? I’m right, you’re adorable.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a lighter. He pressed the joint against his lips again and lit it. He seemed so relaxed. He took another drag and breathed away from me. He held the joint between his thumb and forefinger.

“Can I try it?” I asked him.

His smile was catlike. I felt like I was falling into a trap, but I didn’t care. He held it out to me, and I reached for it, my fingers brushing his as I did.

---