Page 5 of Atlas Uncharted

I straightened, my fingers tightening around my coffee cup. “Of what?”

He grinned like he had me right where he wanted me. “Spending time with me.”

I scoffed, forcing a laugh, but the warmth creeping up my neck betrayed me. “You’re really feeling yourself, huh?”

He ignored my question. “Are you scared of being alone with me, Ki?”

“No.”

“So, dinner?” he pressed.

I should’ve said no. It would have been smart. It would have been easy.

“Okay,” I acquiesced.

“Give me your number,” he said, pulling out his phone. I did as I was told, not fully understanding why.

As Atlas stood to leave, he glanced back at me, his eyes lingering on my lips for just a moment too long. “See you tomorrow, Kairi,” he said, and there was something strange in the way he said my name—or maybe I was imagining things. I dismissed it.

I watched him walk away, my mind racing. This was unexpected, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Seconds later, I concluded that he was probably just trying to get close to Ashlen through me. Boys had done it before. One thing was clear—I needed to tell Ashlen about the encounter as soon as I got home so there would be no misunderstandings.

I finished my breakfast and headed to the library, where hours slipped by with me buried in my books. When I finally checked the time, it was already late afternoon. I packed up my things and headed back to the apartment.

When I opened the door to the living room, I was greeted by the sight of Atlas and Ashlen curled up on the couch like they were molded together. Her head rested on his shoulder, her lips parted just enough to show her teeth, her breath coming out in soft little gasps. His arm was hidden beneath the blanket, but the movement under the fabric—paired with the way Ashlen’s fingers curled into his hoodie—told me everything I needed to see.

I gathered myself quickly and backed away, step by step, slow enough that I wouldn’t draw attention, careful not to breathe too hard, because for some reason, my breath felt shaky. Unsteady.My ears were ringing, my body on autopilot as I retreated to the common area.

I should’ve known. I did know.

Atlas was like every other boy who had tried to work his way through me to get to Ashlen—only I had taken it the wrong way this time. Let myself get caught up in his attention.

I let out an exhale, but the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. The feeling that had me trapped in the moment stayed, pressed against my ribs, made me grind my teeth and squeeze my hands into fists.

I wasn’t jealous. I felt more deceived.

A bitter taste crept into my mouth.

I felt stupid. Played.

However, I decided to leave the whole thing alone. Something was telling me that if I didn’t, things might get a lot more complicated.

He got what he wanted. I wished them well.

Chapter 4

Kairi

The hardwood floor wasn’t forgiving. I felt it in my shoulders, my hips, the dull ache radiating through my back as I pushed myself up. Sleeping there had been my choice, my way of giving Ashlen and Atlas privacy. I regretted it. They had been together for two weeks now. It was going better than I had expected. Atlas and I never discussed the day in that café; it was better that way.

Yawning, I pushed myself up from the hardwood and stretched my arms toward the ceiling, rolling my shoulders as I made my way to the bathroom, then the kitchen. The air in the apartment was still thick with the lingering scent of last night—perfume, old pizza, and alcohol. I would clean later.

On weekends, cooking was my ritual. I prepared everything I needed for breakfast and got started. I cracked eggs, flipped pancakes, and let the scent of sizzling bacon wake Ashlen—she loved bacon. I enjoyed the quiet of the early morning; it had a weight to it that I could sit in and just think.

I didn’t hear Atlas enter the kitchen until he was right behind me. Just his proximity made my skin prickle. I had to force my body not to stiffen. I glanced back briefly, catching sight of him—boxers slung low, no shirt, skin still damp from the shower, and the ink on his arm seemed to catch the early light. I turned back to the stove quickly before I started staring.

“Morning,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. He stepped in closer, almost touching me but not quite, and I could feel the heat of him against my back—too near, too present. My pajama shorts were riding up my thighs, and I felt exposed. I wanted to reach down and fix my shirt so it covered more, but I didn’t.

“Smells good. Can I have some?” he asked.

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