Chapter 26 #3
Yeah. That was the one.
“That suits you.” I smiled, slow and certain.
“How?” he asked with a half-laugh, though his gaze gave him away. He liked it.
“I don’t know, Atty. It’s pretty adorable—you’re adorable.”
He chuckled. “I’m adorable?”
The dimples just kept on coming. I wondered if anyone else had ever gotten him to open up like this. Had I actually managed to make a dent in that wall?
“You are.”
“I don’t think anybody’s ever called me that before.”
I bet that was true. It was easy to focus on the scowls, and maybe sometimes the good boy shone through too—but I was guessing that the softness I could see was rare. I took a leap and made a call.
“I can tell you’re sweet.”
His brows lifted, just barely.
I grinned to myself. Bingo.
He didn’t respond. Just stared.
“How about Atty? Nobody’s ever called you that?” I pressed, curious now.
He looked away, embarrassment creeping over his face. Who was it?
“I don’t want to say.”
I laughed quietly. Old girlfriend? Hopefully an ex-boyfriend.
I reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt, giving it a playful tug. “Tell me.”
He shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek. Then he sighed, as if bracing himself. “My mom calls me that,” he grumbled.
I stared for half a second—then cracked up.
God, he was too much.
Atticus swore under his breath and rubbed his face with one of those massive hands.
How could anyone ever find this guy intimidating? He was a fucking teddy bear, and I was already ridiculously enamored.
“See?” I said. “I’m right. You’re adorable.”
His eyes met mine again, and I had to swallow.
Maybe I didn’t want to keep pushing. That bathroom handjob fantasy felt miles away now, even if he was into me. Atticus was just…pure.
I lit the joint again, taking a long drag.
“Can I try it?”
My smile spread instantly. I held out the joint, and when he reached for it, his fingers brushed mine—rough and warm. He looked up at me, his eyes Bambi-wide.
“I can already tell I’m going to be a terrible influence on you.” I stepped closer, placing my hand on his shoulder and guiding him through it.
He gave me a look—maybe two—that were pure exasperation, but I couldn’t stop grinning. I took the chance to touch him again, and every place I landed was firm, solid muscle.
Predictably, he started coughing, pulling back and pressing his fingertips lightly to my hips to shield me from it. Even that light touch had me spiraling. I wanted those hands on my skin, all of me bare beneath them.
Atticus kept coughing, and I patted his back. It seemed to go on for miles, and somewhere along the way, it just turned into me running my hand over him.
“Sorry.” He sat back up, and my hand landed—regretfully—on his shoulder.
He handed the joint back. “That was worse than beer.”
I chuckled, pulled out the flask, and took another drink. I offered it to him, but he shook his head.
“You’re right. Maybe smoking’s enough for tonight.”
My mind was starting to hum, pleasantly numb, the edges of everything softening.
I sat beside him, letting our shoulders brush, and looked back at the house, idly watching people move inside. This was better. So much better. No spiraling thoughts, just quiet—and him. His solid frame next to mine filled a little of the emptiness.
Atticus smelled like man. Not the synthetic, overly cologned kind. Just a trace of clean aftershave and whatever bodywash he used. If I could’ve gotten away with it, I would’ve buried my face in his neck.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m super, Atty. How about you?” The words slipped out lazily, lips curled in a grin as I turned toward him.
“I’m good. I don’t think that did anything, but I’m good,” he said, lips still quirking at the corners.
So damn cute.
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what it’s supposed to do.” One broad shoulder lifted in a casual gesture.
“Well, you’re not usually this chatty, so that might be something.”
That brought a laugh out of him. He tried to suppress it—just for a second—but then let it out. It was a beautiful sound. Low and quiet, like everything else about him. So fucking soft. I wanted to kiss those dimples.
I grinned, looking back at the house, but felt his gaze still lingering on me. It made my chest ache, seemingly out of nowhere. The peaceful buzz started to change into something melancholic. I’d done that to him. Did I fuck up?
“Yeah, that’s it,” I murmured.
“Do you know what you’re majoring in?”
“No fucking clue,” I sighed. “I don’t even know what I’m doing back here.” I pushed my hair back, working some of the tangles free.
“What else would you do?”
“Exactly, Atty. Exactly. There’s not much else to do.” I smiled, but I knew it was vacant.
Inadequacy. That was the feeling starting to take over. What could I possibly offer him? Teaching him how to smoke pot?
Stellar, Noah. Absolutely admirable.
Atticus was young and full of hope, just starting out his life. All I’d do is taint him.
For the first time in a very long time, I wished things were different. I wished I didn’t feel like shit most of the time. I wished I’d met him sooner as someone better. Wish I could go back in time and have a do-over.
“Are you going to join the team?”
I shook my head. “No team should have me. Trust me on that. I’m too flaky.”
He looked so disappointed; my stomach dropped again.
“Why?”
“I don’t show up. I lose motivation. Get too drunk or high. Choose one.”
His eyebrows pulled together, concern softening his expression. “You’ve been showing up.”
I shrugged.
He was so good. Straight-A student. Bright future.
And what was I? A distraction. A mistake he hadn’t made yet.
I should stop. Stop leading him on.
“I’ll stop. That’s what I do,” I said, trying to laugh it off, to ignore the sour taste that was forming in my mouth. “What about you?”
“Engineering.”
Shit. Of course.
“Get out of town.”
He laughed again. Each time, it got warmer, a little looser. “Why is that surprising?”
“I don’t know. I figured you were just muscle. Didn’t know you were smart too.” The words slipped out before I could catch them.
He frowned, but the smile was still ghosting his mouth. “Well, fuck you,” he said—no venom, just a grin.
I laughed through the sudden pressure in my chest. He really did look like a god when he smiled like that.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think that came out right.”
“You mean you weren’t trying to tell me you thought I was thick?”
“No. I’m sorry. I meant I thought you were putting your money on the athletic scholarship.”
“I’m still slightly offended,” he said, but his voice was teasing.
I chuckled. “You’ll get used to that too.”
“What?”
“I say a lot of things I don’t mean.” My eyes drifted back to the house. And wasn’t that the truth?
Just like her. You’re turning into her.
He was too bright for me.
I should’ve known better. Should’ve known I’d end up hurting myself. Pretending there was even a chance with someone like him.
If he really knew you, he’d run.
We kept talking, voices low, but with every passing minute my heart sank deeper.
It had been a good fantasy. I hadn’t let myself dream like this in a long time—of being someone’s person, of being wanted like that.
But he and I? We were different species. He’d probably be embarrassed to take me to meet his parents. Or refuse to call me his boyfriend. Or avoid going out in public with me.
Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Such a fucking waste of space.
Still, when his friend came looking for him—and before I could talk myself out of it—I asked for his number. And he gave it to me. Without hesitation.
Even though his friend was already looking at me differently. Like he knew. Like he could already tell. He’d probably tell Atty to stay the fuck away from me.
And who’d blame him?
The spiral hit hard this time. Fast.
Two days had passed since I’d managed to get out of bed. Not that I’d left the apartment. Mostly, I just stood in front of the mirror, staring at myself.
Then down at the orange plastic bottles.
They sat there, still and silent, like they were mocking me.
Both were full. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken them. I stared, knowing the truth behind it—it wasn’t forgetfulness. It was cowardice. If I took one, I’d take them all.
I’d been trying to talk myself into it for months.
Nothing’s stopping you now. What do you need? A big show? Of course you do. It’s always the Noah Show. Everything has to be about you. Worthless. Can’t even do this right.
Stop it.
Nobody cares. Nobody’s going to come find you. Come and stop you. Nobody. Fucking. Cares.
Stop it.
Why?
It’s never going to stop. It’s never going to stop until you make it stop. So just make it stop.
I uncapped one of the bottles. The sound of the lid twisting off echoed through the bathroom like a gunshot. Full to the brim.
Let’s just make it stop. Please.
It was halfway to my lips when my phone buzzed, jolting me. A notification.
I lowered the bottle slowly, set it down, and brought the phone to my face.
Atticus King started following you.
I read it once.
Twice.
Four times.
Then I sank to the floor, phone clutched close to my chest, and let the words settle into me like warm water on cold skin.
My fingers trembled as I pressed the screen to open the app. There was a big button under the notification indicating I could follow him back.
I held my thumb over it, hesitating—then pressed it.
And suddenly he was everywhere. Images of him filled my feed. His face. His smile. His eyes.
Lying on the cold tile, I curled in on myself and scrolled, greedy for him. Each image was a piece of light I hadn’t realized I’d needed. I took in every detail—the slope of his jaw, the dimples in his cheeks, the way his hair curled when it got too long.
I kept going. Over and over. Again and again.
Until time dissolved.
Until the buzzing in my head dulled.
Until I forgot why I’d come into that bathroom in the first place.