Julian #2
As I’m turning the corner from Hall E2 and into the foyer, I almost slam straight into Atlas. He’s wearing some variation of what appears to be pajamas, which is odd for an afternoon on a Saturday.
Silk, purple pants, and a white long-sleeve t-shirt hug his small body, and over top, he wears a puffy black coat. He’s heading toward the back courtyard, his curls slightly damp.
“Young Master Atlas,” I hear myself saying. “You shouldn’t go outside with wet hair.”
“It’s raining. I’ll get wet anyway,” he counters. I’m trying to swallow the sticky-sweet sound of his voice as he looks me up and down with slow, assessing eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Um, into town,” I answer nervously, still unsure if I should be calling it the port instead.
But Atlas just nods, as if the usage of town is correct, and his cold glacier eyes meet mine again.
“What for?” he pries.
To get laid. But I can’t very well say that.
So, instead, I say, “To explore. I haven’t looked around since I got here.”
“Would you like some company?” Atlas stares at me with hopeful, wide eyes.
And underneath the plain interest in going with me, I can see the alternate invitation there. Or, maybe, I imagine it because I want it so desperately. This constant pull I feel toward him is intoxicating and just as terrifying as it is pleasurable.
“Are you allowed to venture off alone with me?” I answer his question with one of my own, and Atlas cracks a small smile.
“I could manage to slip away.”
So, no. He would most definitely get in trouble for going with me. And not only that, but I think having him by my side might ruin my plans. How can I find a fuckbuddy with him trailing behind me?
Even worse than that, how could I find anyone attractive with him in the room, making everyone else appear to be toads?
“Some other time,” I decline. “And please use an umbrella when you go watch the ocean.”
Atlas’s smile shifts into a pouty frown, his full bottom lip jutting out invitingly as his brow furrows.
“Fine,” is all he says, and then he moves past me and toward the door.
I don’t check to see if he grabs an umbrella. I know that if I do and he doesn’t, I’ll end up following him out there with one from the storage room and a lecture to boot.
So instead, I head toward Hall E1, all the way to the delivery room, where I know our truck is parked a few feet outside the door.
I don’t grab an umbrella, as I don’t own one, which means I’m running hurriedly to the truck and diving inside.
It takes about thirty minutes to drive from Chastain Castle to the little port town of Port Orford. When I arrive, I park on the curb outside of a local coffee shop, where I slip inside and order myself an Americano.
I don’t even like Americanos. I’m just not sure what else to drink, and they don’t have a big menu the way a typical Starbucks would.
There are several older folk mingling around, laughing and chatting away. The singular barista working appears to be around my age, but she wasn’t very interested in holding a conversation while I ordered.
So I sit at a small table by the large window in the front of the café, watching the rain hit the sidewalk outside. Maybe today was a bad day to come out.
But to be fair, it rains very frequently here, so if I waited for clear skies on a Saturday, I might never get my chance.
Right as I’m considering getting back in my truck and risking that wait anyway, I see a small group of people exit a bookstore across the street, huddling under the awning.
They appear to be in their mid-twenties, a mixture of men and women.
What catches my eye, though, is the girl standing at the center of the group. She has long, curly brown hair and a petite body. When her gaze slides over the coffee shop, I can make out wide, blue eyes.
She’s beautiful and most definitely not old.
I jump up from my seat and exit the coffee shop, abandoning my half-drunk coffee. If I head into the bookstore, will it catch her attention?
I hurry across the street, thankful that the awning is wide enough to cover the group already there and me when I tuck underneath it, shaking out my own damp hair.
As I’m reaching for the door of the shop, pretending to be very interested in my venture, a voice rings out.
“Hey there,” he calls, and everyone in their small group turns their attention in my direction.
Score! Plan successful.
I slide my eyes to their little group, noticing the buff, blond man who had called out to me. He’s grinning.
“What’s a young guy like you doing here in Port Orford?” he asks.
“I just moved here,” I respond, taking in the various personalities in front of me.
It appears that the youngest of them looks to be around eighteen, while the oldest could be in her thirties. One girl has a gothic vibe going, while the blond dude appears to be a total gym rat.
Then there’s the girl I noticed before, staring right at me, dressed in a pair of flared-out blue jeans and a white, flowy blouse. From up close, I realize why I thought she was so strikingly beautiful,
She reminds me of Atlas.
“From where?” the guy presses.
“California.”
A collection of ‘ooo’s’ rings out among the others, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the brown-haired girl. She peers back, her eyes assessing and curious, and I find myself desperate to hear her voice, too.
Will it be sticky-sweet?
“You’re far from home. Want to get some food with us? We’re heading up the street to Checkers. It’s pretty famous for its cheese fries.” This time, it’s the lady who appears to be in her thirties who speaks.
“Sure,” I answer, giving her a smile.
“My name is Hailey,” she says, extending a hand.
“Julian,” I offer.
On the short walk to Checkers, I get the names of almost everyone else in their group. The blond-haired guy is named Cameron, the goth girl is Kimberly, and the guy who looks to be freshly eighteen is called Michael.
As we approach what appears to be a cute little diner, the brown-haired girl looks at me and finally speaks.
“I’m Cassandra. But Cassie is fine,” she says, and her voice is, unfortunately, not sticky-sweet.
It’s a nice voice; don’t get me wrong. But it’s not Atlas’s, and I find myself mildly disappointed.
I smile at her anyway, shaking her small, warm hand. “Nice to meet you.”
We head into the diner, taking our seats around a large booth that’s shaped as a half circle. I sit on the very edge of one side, right next to Hailey, with Cassie on the edge of the other side.
“So, what are you doing all the way out here?” Cameron asks from his spot next to Cassie, and for a moment, I wonder if they’re dating.
“Work. Do you know the Chastains?”
“The rich family who live on the outskirts of town?” Michael pries. “Yeah, we know them. They hardly come out, though. Even the kids were always homeschooled.”
“You work there?” Cassie asks with wide, curious eyes.
“Yeah, I help with the youngest and assist the older sons when they need help,” I explain.
“Oh, are they weird?” Kimberly asks, grinning as she leans over the table in search of any morsel of gossip I might give.
“Weird?” I parrot.
“Yeah! Like, they used to come into town pretty frequently, especially the eldest, though he’s not very talkative. But a few years ago, they just… stopped. And we’ve all heard of how weird the middle child is; how they all talk funny.”
They all think Atlas is weird? I mean, to be fair, he is very eccentric in his own way, and he does have that mysterious condition, but I wouldn’t say weird.
And they’re just proper in how they speak, that’s all.
“Why do people say that?” I pry, my curiosity and unsensible, slight protectiveness kicking into overdrive.
“Well,” Michael begins. “The one time he did come into town in the past few years, it has been rumored that a granny from the grocery store tried to hug him or something. The guy freaked out, and his older brother got super defensive for him. It was weird. Like, she’s an old lady? Get over it.”
That is kind of weird, looking from the outside in. But having lived in the castle for over a month now, seeing how he won’t even let his family touch him when his ‘symptoms’ get bad, I understand him. And Atticus… he’s so concerned for Atlas that it doesn’t surprise me that he’d freak out.
“They’re not weird,” I finally supply. “They’re actually really nice. Especially the youngest, she’s adorable.”
“You should take us to see the castle sometime,” Cassie says casually, giving me a soft smile.
I don’t respond to that; that’s not something I can do.
But Cameron grins, almost as if he’s happy with my original response, his fingers fiddling with the silverware on the table. “Guess you struck gold with your job, then, Julian.”
“Yeah,” I say, my mind still stuck on the Chastain kids. “I guess I did.”
An hour and a half later, we’ve all eaten dinner. I’ve learned some interesting things about the group, such as the fact that Michael and Kimberly are brother and sister, and Hailey actually works at the bookstore where I met them.
Kimberly, Cameron, and Cassie are all in their early twenties, around my age.
As we’re all getting up to leave, Michael claps a hand over my shoulder. “Come hang out again soon, Julian. I’m sure you get tired of hanging out in that big castle every weekend. Unless you’re working on weekends too?”
“I’m not,” I respond, chuckling.
“Here,” Cassie says, extending her phone to me. “Give me your number. That way, we can all hang out again. We’re even throwing a Christmas party on the twenty-ninth.”
She’s smiling softly, her eyes warm and inviting as she peers up at me. Something hot swarms in my lower stomach, and I grin as I take the phone from her and punch in my number.
“Here,” I respond, handing it back after sending myself a message. “I’ll text you.”
“I’ll be waiting,” is all she says, and then she’s trailing behind everyone else as they leave the diner and head in the opposite direction from my truck.
I may not have gotten laid today, but I have a feeling Cassie just might be interested in giving me my opportunity another day.