Page 71 of Atlas
His hand drops, and something shifts in his expression, his stare hardens, jaw tight. He doesn’t want me digging.
“It’s fine,” I say again, this time sharper. “Phone calls. Lunch. It’s what friends do.” I slide off the bike, still bare beneath my skirt, and bend to pick up his phone. I hold it out, but he stares straight ahead like the weight of my words are too heavy.
Eventually, he takes it and tucks it into his pocket.
I pass him his helmet and tug on my own, fingers fumbling. I think about asking for my underwear back, but the words stick. I’m irritated . . . at him, at myself, at the sudden shift in his mood that’s left me feeling exposed and cold.
I climb back on behind him.
A second later, his hands reach for my thighs, gently tugging my skirt down and tucking the hem beneath my legs. It’s a small thing, but it makes my throat pinch and my heart ache.
I say nothing.
We speed off, both silent, both lost in thoughts we’re not ready to share.
Then my helmet fills with the sound of ringing. I frown, confused, until I hear Atlas’s voice.
“Anita?”
My blood goes cold.
“Where the hell are you?” she demands. Her voice breaks, like she’s been crying.
Atlas tenses beneath my touch. “What’s wrong?”
“I needed you and you didn’t answer,” she almost whispers.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I was dealing with club stuff.”
He doesn’t know I can hear him.His words hit like a slap, sharp and unexpected. I force my body to stay still, my breath to stay even.
“I thought maybe you were with Rue,” Anita says, her voice trembling. “But I need you.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Atlas replies, low and tight. “I’m on my way. I just need to drop something for Axel. I’ll be ten minutes.”
The call disconnects.
He speeds up, weaving through traffic like something’s chasing him. My arms stay wrapped around his waist, but it doesn’t feel the same. I feel cold again. Hollow.
A minute later, he turns onto my road, slowing outside my place. I climb off, unfastening the helmet and handing it to him. I wait patiently while he sticks it in the saddlebag then turns to me. “Axel just called me,” he says, not meeting my eyes. “You okay if I shoot off?”
I can’t hide the pain in my eyes, my heart screams with it. “You didn’t ask me,” I say, keeping my voice calm.
“About?” he asks, his eyes flitting to his watch impatiently.
“How I knew about your lunch with Anita.”
He bristles at my words. “Like you said, she’s a friend.”
“Just a friend?”
“What is this?” he snaps. “Will I get the Spanish Inquisition every time she calls me? I didn’t even answer it.”
I offer a sad smile, clutching my hands together. “But you did, Atlas. You did.” I turn on my heel and take a few steps towards my apartment.
“What are you talking about?” he calls after me, but I don’t respond because the tears have already started to fall and I’m too proud to let him see.
“And there it is,” I whisper to myself as I head up the steps. “His flaw.”
