Page 59 of On the Edge

I perk up at that. “My accent is adorable, yes?”

“Henri,” Atlas huffs, annoyed.

“Aye, okay, perhaps you are right. But that seems very rude to me, to do that when I am on a date.”

“He’s handsome.”

“Not so handsome as you,” I tell him truthfully. “Probably,he will spit in our food now, yes? Because you were giving him mean looks.”

Atlas snorts, sitting back in his chair. I half expect him to let go of my arm, and am surprised when he uses his grip to pull my hand into his lap. When he threads his fingers through mine, I nearly fall out of my chair.

“Can’t even blame him for trying,” he says about our waiter. “You’re so damn nice, would you even have said no if he asked you out?”

“I am only wanting to be here with you, Bärchen. I will be saying no to everyone who is not Atlas.”

He squints his eyes at me, and I take the opportunity to trail the pad of my thumb over his knuckles. Atlas has very smooth hands, without any of the rough calluses that pepper my palms.

“Bärchen?”

“It is…little bear? Kleiner Bär. Because you are cute, and a little bit mean, yes?”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t tell me not to call him that. I smooth my thumb over his hand again, enjoying the fact that he’s letting me get away with such an obvious display of affection.

“Are you excited about starting the internship in a few months?” he asks.

“Yes. Also, nervous, but that is to be expected. I am not wanting to let down Coach Mackenzie, who wrote a nice letter about me.”

“You won’t let him down. You’re the hardest worker in any room, don’t even pretend otherwise. They’re going to try and offer you a job at the end of the summer, just wait and see.”

Uncomfortable with the sudden surge of support, I shift a little in my chair. I am not one who seeks attention, and Atlasisn’t usually one to give me any. He notices my discomfort and smirks.

“And now you know how I feel when you call me beautiful,” he says.

“That is the truth.”

He’s saved from answering by the reappearance of Ty carrying our food. Atlas’ eyes snap toward him and narrow dangerously when he comes to my side to serve us. I watch him, amused with this new side of him. Even though it’s unnecessary, I’m not unhappy to see him so jealous. Thanking Ty, I wait for him to be out of earshot again before squeezing Atlas’ hand to bring his eyes back to mine.

“I am not interested in other people, in this way,” I tell him. “I am not attracted.”

“But you’re interested in me that way,” he muses. I nod. “Wow, you’ve got terrible judgement.”

Laughing, I pick up my fork and look down at my plate, trying to figure out a way I can eat one-handed. If I cannot manage it, I will just go hungry. I do not want to let go of Atlas’ hand. I worry if I do, I’ll never get it back again.

Seeing my dilemma, he squeezes my fingers before gently extracting his hand from mine. He must see the disappointment in my face because he chuckles softly.

“Eat your food,” he says testily, before muttering, “I’ll hold your hand later.”

The evening becomes steadily darker as we eat, the temperature dropping with the light. I make Atlas smile no less than four times, and after he finishes his food, he puts his hand on my leg the same way he did in the car. I’m unsure whether this is for Ty’s benefit or my own, but I feel as though I’ve won either way. He watches as I slowly eat mydinner, probably picking up on the fact that I am in no rush for the evening to end.

“Thanks for this,” he says, apropos of nothing. Frowning, he fiddles with his fork, clinking it gently against the side of his plate. “I, uh…it was my birthday, yesterday.”

“What?” I ask, abandoning my last piece of fish and looking at him incredulously. I must have misheard him.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I didn’t do anything. It’s not a big deal. Nobody even remembered.”

“Atlas, what are you saying?”

“My dad and his family—I guess they forgot. My stepmom is usually the one who keeps track of that sort of thing, because my dad just can’t be bothered, but.” Another shrug. Atlas is such a good liar, I cannot decide whether the nonchalance is real or practiced.

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