Page 102 of Atlas
The ride is short, maybe twenty minutes, just outside town. The road winds into a wooded trail I scouted a few days ago, the kind of place where you don’t hear cars, just wind and birdsong. I park the bike near a grassy clearing where I set everything up this morning. A picnic blanket, takeaway coffees, and a couple fresh pastries I know she likes, and most importantly, a worn copy ofPersuasion.
Rue stops in her tracks when she sees it.
“You did all this?” she asks, barely above a whisper.
I shrug, trying not to grin like an idiot. “You like quiet, and books, and coffee done right.”
She walks slowly to the blanket and kneels, fingers brushing the cover of the book. “This is my favourite Austen.”
“I know,” I say, sitting beside her. “Thought maybe you’d read some to me.”
She looks at me, and then she does something I wasn’t ready for. She crawls over and curls up in my lap like she used to. Head under my chin, knees drawn in, the softest sigh escaping her lips as her body relaxes against mine.
It’s the first time she’s touched me since everything went to hell. I don’t move, don’t speak. Just hold her, heart pounding like a war drum.
Her voice is muffled against my chest. “Can you read it to me instead?”
I swallow hard and nod. My fingers shake a little as I open the book, but I find the page and start.
“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope,”I read, my voice rougher than I want it to be.
Rue doesn’t move, so I keep going, my thumb gently stroking the edge of the page where her hand rests.
“Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.”
My throat tightens, the line hitting a nerve. She shifts a little in my lap, her fingers curling lightly into my shirt. “I hate that I still feel things when you’re near.” Her voice startles me. It’s barely a whisper but it echoes around me.
I stop breathing for a second, her honesty slicing through me like a knife. Her cheek is against my chest, and I can feel her heart pounding. Or maybe that’s mine.
I tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at me.
“I’m glad you do,” I say, low and rough, “because I feel everything, Rue. Every second I’m near you. Every second I’m not. I ache for you.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
“I hate myself for every moment I made you doubt how fucking much you matter to me. And if it takes the rest of my life to prove that, I will.”
I shift beneath her, the book balanced in one hand and the other wrapped around her protectively. I scan the words and begin to read the next line.
“I have waited for this opportunity to tell you that—”
Rue kisses me. There’s no warning, no words, just her lips pressed to mine in a slow, unsure kiss. I feel my whole body tense, scared she’ll realise any second that this is a mistake and pull away. But her fingers pull my shirt tighter into her fists as her body turns slightly more towards me. The book slips from my hand with a thud, and my fingers tangle in her hair, tilting her head back and taking control of her mouth.
She pulls back, her eyes staring wide and unsure. “I don’t . . . I don’t know why I did that,” she stammers.
My heart slams faster in my chest while I stare back at her silently, praying she doesn’t pull away with regret. “I’ll take whatever crumbs you’ll give me,” I murmur. “But make no mistake, I’m starving for all of you.”
She inhales sharply as her eyes soften slightly. I feel her pulse pick up where my fingers brush her wrist. But I make no move to kiss her, not wanting to rush her and scare her away.
“What are we doing here?” she eventually asks.
“I told you, enjoying the quiet.”
She smiles. “No, I mean us, what’s happening here?”
I pause, thinking over her words. “I’m hoping I’m showing you how things could be.”
“Atlas, you’re a biker,” she says, as if that’s news to me. “Reading Austin in the woods, dates on rooftops . . . that’s not you.”
