Page 7 of Atlas Uncharted

“Kairi, I need a favor.”

I could tell by the sugary-sweet tone of her voice that she was about to piss me off with whatever she was about to ask.

I sighed, shifting the phone to my other ear as I stuffed my notebooks into my backpack. “What now, Ashlen?”

She groaned, frustrated. “Atlas is sick.”

I paused, glancing at the time. It was after midnight.

“…And?”

She huffed. “And I need you to check on him. His mother is hounding me about making sure he’s okay all the way from Paris. I need her to like me.”

I frowned. “Why can’t you?”

Silence. Then, a fake little laugh. “Oh my God, Kairi, I would, but I’m at my parents’ house. I literally had to come home last minute.”

Bullshit.

I could hear music in the background—loud, bass-heavy, people yelling, laughing.

Ashlen wasn’t at her parents’ house.

I rubbed my forehead. “Ashlen.”

“Oh, come on,” she whined. “It’s just the flu! He just needs soup and fluids. I’ll owe you. I’ll pay for groceries for two weeks.” She rushed out.

I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to do it, but that was a good deal.

“…Please, Kairi? You owe me.”

I didn’t really owe her anything. Not anymore. Whatever debt she thought I had, I’d repaid it over and over. Yeah, Ashlen had been there for me when I needed her as a kid, but if I’d known she was going to hold it over my head for the rest of my life, I would’ve never accepted the help.

I sighed. “Fine. But don’t ask me for anything else for a while, Ashlen.”

“Love you, babe. I’ll text you the address. The code to his key entry is 0801,” she said, then hung up before I could change my mind.

My lungs hurt from the sigh I let out.

This was a bad idea.

Atlas was going to make this way worse than it needed to be—I could feel it. Over the past six months, we’d settled into some strange dynamic where we were always around each other because of him and Ashlen being together, but we weren’t actually friends. There was a weird tension between us that he fed into.

And now I was about to walk right into his space. Alone.

Yeah, this was going to suck.

I left the library. After I left Walgreens, I would head his way.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped into Atlas’s apartment was that it was too hot. The heater was turned all the way up, making the air thick, heavy. The whole place reeked of sweat and sickness. But despite it all, I couldn’t ignore how nice his place was—way too nice for a college student.

There was an open-concept living room, sleek and modern, all clean lines and expensive-looking furniture. A massive black sectional stretched across the huge space. A black glass coffee table sat in front of it, stacked with books that looked like they’d been read more than a few times. A floor-to-ceiling window flooded the room with moonlight, the city skyline stretching beyond it.

Ashlen said he was rich, but I didn’t think this rich.

This was luxury. This was generational wealth. The kind of money that made life easy, that kept people like him from ever having to stress about rent, tuition, or groceries. No wonder his ass was always so carefree.

Why was he always at our small apartment? That didn’t make any sense.

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