Page 37 of Atlas
“Cuddling cows all afternoon.”
Holy shit, if I wasn’t already married to him, I would propose.
I’m in heaven.And, if this isn’t heaven, then I don’t want to go there. I am resting under a shady tree against Mocha while her calf, Moose, rests on my lap. I’ve only cried and hugged every cow I could reach four, okay, maybe five times. I’m filthy, I stink, I’m tired and I’ve never been happier in my life. The sun is setting, and besides a small break for lunch and my multiple pee breaks, we’ve been in the pasture.
Atlas hasn’t talked as much as I thought he would. He’s just been taking pictures and letting me enjoy this moment. I have no idea how to thank him. I will probably have to start by detailing his car after the long ride home in these clothes.
As we say our goodbyes to the cows and the lovely older couple that allowed me to live out my greatest dream in their pasture, I head to the Tahoe, only to feel Atlas’ hand on mine.
“If you want to say no, it’s completely fine but, I did rent out that cabin over there for the night. I thought at the very least we could get cleaned up and some fresh clothes on.” I blink at him and look at the small, lit cabin behind the farm. It’s cute, quaint and I can see from the window it has modern upgrades inside. Though, I guarantee it only has one bed. I am tired though, and god, do we stink.
“I didn’t bring any clothes.” I sigh apologetically, even though I couldn’t have known.
“I got you covered.” He squeezes my hand. “You wanna stay? Because if so, I’m calling for food and then I’ll rock, paper, scissors you for a shower.” I laugh at him and nod quickly. I really, really did want to stay. Atlas seems pleased with my answer and tugs my hand as we begin the walk into the cabin.
I was right; it is small. A very tiny, but modern kitchenette, a flatscreen tv and oversized loveseat–or undersized couch, I’m not quite sure what to call this in-between piece. If you climb a small wooden ladder, there is a loft with a bed. I win the game of rock, paper, scissors, though I think Atlas lets me win, so I take the shower first. I don’t stay in there long as I’m feeling a little shaky and need to get some juice or something in me and I know Atlas has to want a shower, too.
A knocking on the door startles me as I shut the water off.
“Hey princess,” Atlas says as he cracks the door. “I’m not coming in, listen your sugar is dropping, I brought you an apple juice from the Tahoe, and our food will be here soon, alright?” He cannot be real. How is hethisperfect?
“O-Okay, let me get dressed and I’ll be right out. Thanks.” I slip my grey pajama shorts and blue tank top on that Atlas had packed for me and put in the Tahoe this morning, and groan upon staring at my reflection. I really need a bra if me and my very generous chest are going to be in Atlas’ company while eating. Reaching over, I grab the bra I had been wearing all day and bring it to my nose.
“Oh god, no.” I hold back a gag as I place the offending garment and my clothes in the towel I used to dry off before walking out. “Hey, does this place have a washer?” I ask as Atlas looks up from his phone. His eyes go wide and his phone falls from his hand, landing on the floor with a thud.
“Fuck,” He curses as he reaches under the table for his phone. “Y-yeah in the kitchen- ow fuck!” He growls as the back of his head hits the underside of the table.
I wince as he stands up, rubbing the back of his head, a pink hue over his cheeks. Is he blushing? Why is that the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen?
“Are you alright?” I giggle lightly.
“Yeah, I’m going to go shower,” Atlas mumbles, while grabbing his clothes. “There is your juice, also that bag there is for you.”
“What is it?” I ask as I stare at the blue gift bag.
“Nothing much, it’s just some stuff that made me think of you the other day when I had to run to the office store to get more markers for the shop.” He shrugs as he walks to the bathroom, cheeks still red and muttering about his head.
I grab the bag and look inside and I nearly cry at the contents. Annotation tabs, highlighters, and post notes. All in muted colors. He remembered I hate the neon colors. My bottom lip pouts out as I bring the supplies to my chest. Why does this bag of office supplies touch me almost as much as him bringing me to pet the cows?
I go to put the items back in the bag when my hand hits something hard. Pulling the item out, I realize it’s a picture frame. I turn the frame over to look at the front and I gasp. It’s a picture of him and I when we were married. Our first kiss. My eyes are wide and I am sure I am in mid-squeak while Atlas has his arm around my waist, eyes closed and he’s laughing against my mouth.
I pull the frame to my chest and hug it like I did the supplies. This day, this man, it’s all so overwhelming, but surprisingly, not in a bad way. I’ve just never felt so cared for before. Everything today has been so meticulously planned in order to make me have an amazing day.
There is a knock on the door, pulling me out of my thoughts. I stand up and open the door, smiling at the delivery man before taking the pizza from him and telling him to have a good night.
Atlas walks out just as I finish my small bottle of juice and I spit the contents in my mouth out in a comedic mist all over the kitchen.
Atlas is shirtless, in grey pajama pants hanging low, very low on his hips, and his tattooed skin is still damp from his shower. Water droplets slide over his pecs, down his chiseled abs and get lost in that fucking dark trail of hair that I am so desperate to–
“Are you gawking at me, Princess?” I scream at his voice. Literally, scream. I was so deep in my fantasy that I forgot I was laser focused on his crotch.
My face heats up, and I look away. “No!” I snap and walk to grab a piece of pizza as he laughs.
“I knew you found me hot.” He beams as he grabs a slice, too.
“Obviously, I find you attractive, Atlas,” I roll my eyes before shoving a large mouthful of pizza into my mouth. “I jerked you off in your car, sort of.”
Atlas temporarily chokes on his pizza, and after several coughs, he settles down and looks at me. “Must you be so vulgar?” He asks, his voice full of mock indignation.
