Page 9 of Atlas & Miles
I chuckled, waving at the drink between us. “Just try it.”
As if it was a snake that might’ve bit them, Atlas picked up the oversized mug carefully and put it to their lips. After a soft blow over the surface that made me shift in my seat, they tipped the cup up ever so slightly, pursing their lips over the rim and taking a sip.
I held my breath.
In the next second, Atlas’s eyes shot wide. “Holy shit, that’s incredible!”
I laughed quietly at their a-little-too-loud proclamation. “Ah, victory is sweet.”
Their eyes sparkled over their mug as they took another more confident sip. “You were right.”
I raised a hand between us. “Whoa, no need to gothere.”
They laughed, the most beautiful sound in the world, and I wanted to sit here and bask in it. Every single part of them was beautiful, and enamored didn’t even begin to cover what I was feeling for them. I felt like a teenager again, waiting for Atlas to notice me, except now, their focus had been entirely on me for the past twenty minutes. It was a heady feeling.
Fuck, I’d been fighting the urge to grin since I’d set the coffees down. That was definitely not me.
I cleared my throat. “So what brings you back to town?”
A dark cloud crossed their expression, and I hated that I put it there, even inadvertently. “Uh, I . . . I moved back for a job.”
I quirked an eyebrow, taking a larger drink of my coffee now that it had cooled a bit. “What work do you do?”
They shifted in their seat, and I wanted to take it back, but I also wanted to learn more about them.
Fortunately, they replied before I could retract my question. “I’m in marketing.” Their eyes shifted away before gliding back to their half-empty mug. Their fingers, which were curled through the handle and around the side, tapped anxiously on the porcelain. “My mom heard of a position at Jeb’s Landscaping, and I got the job, so I moved back.”
“From Seattle?”
Their mouth popped open, just a little. “You remembered where I was?”
I flushed, cheeks heating. Dumping the full truth on them now would be too much, so I gave them a small part of it. “Of course. You were so excited when you got accepted. You talked about it non-stop for weeks.”
They tipped their head to one side and narrowed their eyes at me for a bit, and I squirmed in my seat under their scrutiny. Then their eyes shot wide. “Oh! You built sets for our plays, right?”
I nodded. For a second, I flashed back to them in the lead role of the spring play and knocking it out of the park.
“And we had senior English together?”
I grinned, pleased they’d remembered. “Yep. Mrs. Olsen.”
They chuckled, taking another prim sip of their coffee, finishing it off. They set their empty mug on the table. “Ah, yes. I’ll never forget how excited she got about Thoreau’s poetry. I still remember the way she read them—her passion and flamboyance rivaled mine.”
I laughed. “Definitely.” I caught their gaze, holding it as I said the next part. “But to be honest, no one could hold a candle to you, Atlas.”
I could’ve sworn their eyes glistened like they were starting to tear up. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” they rasped out.
I held their gaze, voice quiet but serious. “It absolutely was.”
They blinked away, glancing down at their empty cup. “Well, it seems I need a refill.” Their eyes blinked up to mine. “Want to maybe share an okay-in-a-pinch pastry?”
I froze in my seat, their unspoken questions—Are you into me? Is this a date? Should we keep this going?—clear. And that sent terror lancing through my chest. I wanted to ask them out, offer to buy them breakfast like I’d considered before, but now that the moment was here, I just couldn’t. Not right now, surrounded by my customers, neighbors, and acquaintances who were only that because I didn’t have many friends—and the one I had, Theo, didn’t really know the real me. I’d never even told him I was gay.
Seconds dragged on as the implications of what they hadn’t said skittered through my brain. I couldn’t move, though I desperately wanted to. I desperately wantedthem, but even asking them out would mean showing who I really was to the whole town, to everyone who had ever known me, and fuck, I wasn’t ready. Not even close.
The light in their eyes dimmed, and I knew I’d waited too long to respond. I fucking hated myself as they spoke. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”
I needed to fix this, so I opened my mouth, leaning forward. “I . . .” The words got stuck in my throat.
