Julian #3
As they continue to bicker, I watch the door. I’m waiting for Atlas to return, but as ten minutes pass, I realize he isn’t going to.
Everyone decides to split up until lunchtime, most likely to play with their new gifts and to give the master and lady of the house some time alone.
Dad and I head to our respective rooms.
“I can’t believe we got such nice presents,” he says, walking past me as I grip the doorknob of my door.
“They’re very nice,” I reply.
He nods, smiling at me before he slips into his own room. I head inside mine, taking a seat at the end of my bed before pulling out the brand-new MacBook. I have no idea what they’re going for right now, but I just know it was expensive.
I’m still in shock that the Chastains care so much about their employees. I wonder what the other staff got, if anything at all.
As I’m logging into my iCloud on the laptop, a knock sounds at the door. Assuming it’s my father, I yell for him to come in. But the door opens and reveals a lacy, low-cut top and a mop of brown curls.
Atlas steps inside and closes the door behind himself. The entire room suddenly feels suffocating, his presence taking up far too much space. All of my attention is immediately drawn to him.
“Uh,” I start, trying not to pant around the thick feeling in my chest. “Do you need something, Young Master Atlas?”
He shakes his head softly before taking a step toward me. “Well, I guess I do. How was it? Going into town, I mean.”
“Why? You’ve never been?” I ask, though I remember the stories that I was told at Checkers and know he has.
“Not in a long time,” he replies.
“It was rainy. And almost everyone was old.”
“But not the friends you made,” he offers. “They were young?”
This makes me chuckle. “Yeah, they were young. Would you like to meet them?”
It might be good for him, and it’d clear the air around the weird rumor circulating in Port Orford.
“No,” he scoffs. “I was just curious.”
“Oh.”
We are staring at each other, but it only lasts a moment. Before long, my eyes are wandering down the expanse of his delicate neck and to the open V of his shirt. He’s showing so much smooth skin, and I can see the pink of his nipples.
He looks so beautiful standing in front of me, right here in my room, that it almost feels like a punishment. Like torture. I want to reach out and touch, and knowing that I can’t is driving me crazy.
I fear that if he doesn’t leave this room in the next sixty seconds, I might just go out of my mind.
“Are you happy with your gifts?” Atlas asks, his hands moving to clasp behind his back as he toes the hardwood of my floor.
“Yeah, I’m very grateful,” I answer, but I’m still staring at his chest. It rises and falls heavily; his smooth skin flushed a pretty pink.
“I’m glad you liked them.”
I can feel his eyes on me suddenly, and I know he’s catching me staring, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. My eyes are glued to his skin, to the way his clothes fit him so nicely, to how his body moves.
Nothing, and I mean nothing—not even a sudden apocalypse—could tear my gaze from him.
“Julian?” Atlas questions softly, and I make a small sound of acknowledgement in the back of my throat. “What are you staring at?”
He knows. He knows exactly what I’m staring at, so I say nothing. I have nothing to say.
My eyes trace the lines of his waist all the way to where his pants hug his hipbones, and on the way, I memorize the pattern of the white lace. It’s something floral and delicate, much like the man wearing it, and I want to trace my fingers over it badly.
So much so that I almost reach out to him. See? I’m losing my damn mind.
“Juli—”
“I should go,” I interrupt, standing abruptly from my bed. My eyes move to look at the door, eyeing my escape, as I’m too scared to meet his gaze.
What expression is he wearing? Will it crush me, or coerce me?
“Wait!” Atlas yells right as I move toward the door, and I freeze where I stand. “Are you… Are you going to meet up with your friends?” His voice is small, barely audible.
“No. I’m going to see if Abigail needs anything,” I say.
“But you’re not working.”
“I know, but I want to make sure she has everything she needs. Some of uh… some of that packaging can be hard to open.” This time, when I move to leave, he doesn’t stop me.
I leave Atlas standing in my bedroom, staring after me while I flee as if my life depends on it.
Outside, in the hall, I am suddenly cold.
If I were to stay in there, surrounded by the sweet smell of him and the way he looks so soft and lovely, I would make a mistake. A mistake neither my father nor I can afford.
This building desire for him is driving me nuts. He’s the first guy I’ve ever been attracted to who isn’t built like a gym-bro, and on top of that, I don’t think I’ve ever craved any one person this badly. So badly that I’d seek out someone similar just to get some semblance of a taste.
I need to find a way to stifle it, even if it means running from him like a coward, like I just did. I have to. Otherwise, my father's and my jobs could be at risk.
Or worse: I’d fall for a guy who holds a million secrets in his soft, elegant hands.