Page 27 of Dash to Me
The movers rush in after us, dropping off the boxes in their respective marked rooms. It takes all of twenty minutes for them to do, and then we are alone. Atlas wraps his arms around my waist from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder. “So? What do you think?” He’s cleared out half his closet, rearranged the living room to make space for my reading chair, and there on the kitchen counter is a vase filled with sunflowers, my favorite. “It’s perfect.”
I walk around, trailing my fingers over the furniture, mentally placing my things among his. The bookshelf has been reorganized, leaving empty spaces for my collection. The coffee table has been cleared of his sports magazines.
“I thought maybe we could hang your landscape photos in the hallway,” Atlas says, following me. “And I cleared out the second bedroom so you could set up your office however you want.”
I peek into the spare room—previously his “man cave” with gaming equipment and sports memorabilia. Now it’s empty, waiting for my desk and art supplies.
“You gave up your game room for me?”
Atlas shrugs. “I can game in the living room. Besides, you need a proper space to work.”
I throw my arms around him, overwhelmed by how thoughtful he is. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he says with a laugh. “Wait until you see what I did to the bathroom.”
He leads me down the hall, and when I step into the master bathroom, I gasp. He’s installed shelves—actual built-in shelves—for all my products, and there’s a new vanity with two sinks.
“When did you do this?” I ask, running my hands over the smooth countertop.
“Last weekend, when you visited your mom. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
I turn to him, eyes welling with tears. “This is why I love you.”
“Because I installed bathroom shelves?”
“Because you make room for me in your life. Not just physical space, but—” I gesture vaguely, searching for words.
“I know,” he says. “Same here.”
We start unpacking the essentials—toiletries, clothes for tonight, kitchen items. Atlas puts on music, and we fall into an easy rhythm, moving around each other as if we’ve been doing this for years. By noon, we’ve made decent progress. The kitchen is fully functional, my clothes are hanging in the closet next to his, and we’ve merged our book collections on the shelves. It feels surreal seeing our lives physically intertwining like this.
“I’m starving,” Atlas announces, closing the empty box he’s been unpacking. “Want to grab lunch before we tackle the rest?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” I admit, setting down the photo frame I’ve been trying to position perfectly on the mantle. “That little cafe around the corner?”
“Perfect.” He grabs his keys and wallet. “We deserve a break.”
The cafe is bustling with a Saturday lunch crowd, but we manage to snag a corner table. Over sandwiches and iced tea, we plan the rest of our day. “So after lunch, we’ll finish the essentials, then get ready for dinner at my parents’,” Atlas says, ticking off points on his fingers. “Tomorrow we can tackle the rest at a more leisurely pace.”
“Sounds good. I want to make sure your mom’s cake is perfect before we head over.” I take a sip of my tea. “Is thereanything I should know about your sister’s new boyfriend? Topics to avoid?”
Atlas chuckles. “Just don’t mention politics or his failed startup. Otherwise, he’s harmless. A bit pretentious, maybe, but Ellie seems happy.”
“Noted.” I make a mental note to steer clear of those topics. Meeting his family still makes me nervous, even though they’ve always been welcoming.
“Hey,” Atlas reaches across the table to take my hand. “You know they already adore you, right? My mom has practically adopted you.”
I smile, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders. “I know. I just want tonight to be special.”
“It will be,” he assures me. “It’s a celebration of us moving in together. Plus, there’s cake.”
We finish lunch and head back, renewed energy propelling us through the remaining unpacking. Atlas sets up the entertainment system while I organize the bathroom, arranging my products on the new shelves he installed.
Around four, we take a break, collapsing onto the couch that now sits at a slightly different angle to accommodate my reading chair, but I find his eyes drinking me in.
ATLAS
Her body is sprawledacross the couch like a fucking feast laid out for my starving eyes. Every curve, every dip, every inch of her is screaming for attention, and my brain is a feral animal, rabid with lust. Fuck, why am I so goddamn horny? We are living together now, but something about seeing her perched on our couch, in our place, has me throbbing like a jackhammer in overdrive. She is wearing a thin little sundress. Her nipples are already hard, poking through the fabric like they are daring me to suck them. Her legs are spread just enough to give me a glimpse of paradise.
