Page 30 of Claiming Atlas
His gaze is heavy, firm like a hand on my chin, turning my face toward him again. I meet his eyes and my breath catches in my throat. His stare make me feel exposed, vulnerable, like I’m naked and he can see all of me. He smirks, then the blonde beside him slides her hand over his crotch and his eyebrows fly up into his hairline. He shrugs at me and laughs as he turns to her.
When their lips meet, I shake my head and look down at my glass. Empty again. How much have I had to drink?
“Looks like you missed your chance,” Des whispers with a frown.
I shrug. It’s fine. Atlas Reynolds is known for being a completely insatiable manwhore, even more than any of the other guys in the band, and I do not have any desire to be his flavor of the week.
Flavor of the day? Hour?
Besides, I said yes to Collette, which means I’ll be meeting him tomorrow night anyway. As Kincaid. Kayla sure as hell doesn’t need to get caught up with a guy like Atlas Reynolds.
I’ll ignore that pit of disappointment in my stomach.
I glance back over and he’s making out with the chick on theotherside of him now.
Okay, so, his flavor of themoment.
His eyes open and he looks right at me.
While her tongue is in his mouth and her hand is on his crotch.
I stand, shaking my head. He’s exactly the slut they say he is. It’s not a surprise, but it is disappointing that someone so musically creative is such a stereotype. “It’s good to know his reputation hasn’t been inflated.”
“What?” Des asks, looking up at me.
I shake my head, then roll my eyes as I set my glass on the small table. Leaning down so she can hear me, I yell, “Little girls’ room,” then motion with my clutch toward a long hallway. “Back in five.”
She nods, then returns to chatting with the rest of the girls, Brandon, and his friends.
I slip out from the roped off area and make it a point not to look at Atlas as I pass his booth. He’s obnoxious and I’m disappointed. I wish I wasn’t, but that telltale ache has settled in around my heart, and there’s no denying it. I’d hoped that upon meeting him, I’d discover he’s this amazing human who doesn’t whore it up with any chick that will bang him just because he’s famous. That he’s above the bullshit trappings of fame.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not looking for love, and he’s just a random guy in a band. A band I love, sure, but I’m not one of theirBangers. I don’t go to shows and wait with the other groupies for a chance to get backstage, or send them my used underwear...
I shudder at the thought.
“Hey,” someone calls behind me.
I turn around and stop as Atlas’ giant security guard approaches me.
He smiles, so I smile back. His green eyes nearly disappear into plump, bright red cheeks. “Hey, I’m Red.”
Of course his name is Red, with that mop of fiery red hair. “Hi.” I tilt my head. “Can I help you, Red?”
He runs his hand over the sweat on his forehead. “Yeah, actually, my boy Atlas was hoping you’d join him at his table.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Thanks, Red, but he looks pretty busy. I’m not sure there’s room for me.”
Red shakes his head. “Who, those chicks? Nah.” He waves his hand in the air. “I can just boot them.”
My eyes widen and I shake my head. Exactly my point. “Tell your boy thanks but no thanks.” I turn and walk into the bathroom.
Like I want to be just another girl who eventually getsbootedfrom his table.
After tomorrow night, our paths will never cross anyway. When I wash my hands, I look in the mirror, and one of the girls Atlas was just making out with steps up to the sink beside mine. She meets my gaze in the mirror and smiles.
There’s bubblegum lipstick on her teeth. “Hey, you look familiar,” she says.
I force a smile and laugh it off. “I get that all the time. I just have one of those faces, you know?”
