Atticus #2
A soft, breathy moan resonates through the cool, spring air. It’s followed by various grunts and the unmistakable sound of something wet. My mind immediately jumps back in time to Cameron on his knees between the very trees that surround Chastain, my hard length sliding obscenely between his lips.
Fuck.
“That’s right, babydoll. You feel this? This is—”
I slip back inside as quietly as possible, unwilling to hear any more. And between my reeling thoughts of Cameron and how lonely I feel right now, I realize I do know a Landon.
That’s the name of Julian’s best friend, isn’t it? The tall, green-eyed man who was here with that girl so many weeks ago?
I could have sworn Julian said his out-of-state friends weren’t coming.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I head back to the drawing room, immediately finding Julian leaning against the far wall, watching Atlas with possessive, observant eyes as my brother dances with some of the guests.
“Julian,” I greet, meeting his eyes as he looks away from Atlas.
“Having fun, Young Master Atticus?” he asks, his gaze darting between me and the makeshift dance floor.
“Debatable,” I reply dryly. “I’ve come to ask you a question.”
Julian stands up straight, his shoulders squaring as his arms cross over his chest. Even like this, I’m still a bit taller than him.
“What is it?”
“Well,” I start, “I was wondering if your California friends ended up coming after all.”
Julian makes a confused face, his brows furrowing. “No? I didn’t even invite them due to the time crunch.”
“Isn’t Landon one of your friends?” I press, and at his shocked expression, I take that as a yes. “I just heard him out back with Barfred.”
“Ah.” A knowing expression crosses his features. “Yeah. I’m not surprised.”
“Are he and Barfred… dating?” I’m not sure why I’m curious, but I am. After hearing that outside, I’ll be very shocked if they’re not.
“I’m unsure. Landon hasn’t really spoken to me much, but I have a hunch.” Julian appears impressed with his own detective skills, yet also a little sad. Most likely due to Landon’s secrecy, if I’m forced to guess.
“Alright.” I turn to leave him be, but something else enters my mind. Something I’ve been forced to think of every time I enter my own quarters. “Oh, and by the way. That book? The Latin book you had when you were… helping Atlas?”
Julian’s eyes widen, and he frowns. “What about it?”
“Where did you find it? I’d like to return it now.”
“You still have it?” he hisses, crowding my space as if he’s terrified someone else will hear. Namely, Atlas.
“Obviously. Where did you find it?” I push.
With a sigh, he runs a hand through his dark hair, his eyes almost as desperate and stormy as they were the night he begged me to let him help my brother.
“In the altar room,” he whispers.
“You… you know about that?” I sound incredibly shocked because I am. Who told him? Not even Atlas knew of it.
But Julian just nods, not offering any explanation.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll return it there.”
Before I can turn and try to flee once more, Julian snatches my bicep.
“Speaking of friends,” he says, referencing our conversation about Landon, “here are some more of them. Say hi.”
I follow his gaze, finding Cameron and Cassie as they talk with Atlas.
Cassie has her arm intertwined with Cameron’s, her fingertips rubbing gently at his skin. The move feels very personal, intimate.
They haven’t… have they really started dating? I put that thought aside when I was seeing him because Cameron was clearly involved with me. But now, it’s been several years, and there’s every possibility that he’s… moved on.
As if sensing my gaze, my thoughts, Cameron tilts his head, and our eyes collide. Stormy gray widens, his lips parting as if he’s shocked that I’m here. In my own house.
I have the vague feeling that Cassie is now watching me too, but I can’t tear my eyes from Cameron’s. I can’t seem to break the stare.
“You’re not going to go over there?” Julian asks me, and I swallow hard.
He knows something. Too much.
“Why should I?” I ask. “They aren’t important to me.”
And with that, I leave the drawing room.
Since Barfred is out back, engaging in sexual activities with Landon, I know the kitchen will be empty. I slip inside the room and pour myself a cup of water, gulping it down greedily.
I knew seeing him would be hard. I knew it would hurt—so why am I so startled? My perfectly constructed control is fracturing under the weight of my pain, desire, and nostalgia.
They shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here.
I lean back against the island, doing my best to catch my breath. And just as I’m starting to calm, to collect myself, the kitchen door opens and in walks Cassie.
She peers around the room for a moment, and as soon as her eyes land on me, she grins. “Hey, Atticus.”
Her words are slightly slurred, telling me she’s already been drinking. In her jean skirt and red blouse, her long brown hair curled perfectly to frame her blue eyes, she looks like a woman on a mission.
A mission of seduction.
Did she dress this way for Cameron? For me? What’s happening?
“All the refreshments are upstairs,” I say drily.
Cassie just laughs. “I know. I was looking for you.”
“Why? Here to tell me that I’m repulsive and crazy?”
“You know I didn’t say that. Cam did. And he’s really sorry about it.” Her smile falls away as she approaches where I stand, replaced by one of longing, regret, and something close to pleading.
“I don’t care.” But I do. I really do.
“You can’t forgive me, Atticus? It was a misunderstanding,” Cassie says. “I think Cam was just looking out for me, and I didn’t even say anything.”
The image of her sitting on that bed, staring up at Cameron with a narrowed gaze, enters my mind. She’s right; she didn’t say anything. And that’s what sucked.
And the fact that Cameron thinks so lowly of me, of course.
“Come on,” she continues. “Forgive me. I’ll do anything.”
Her manicured fingers wrap around my bicep. She’s standing far too close for comfort.
“No,” I reply. Simple and efficient.
“Why not?” she pushes. “I can make you happy, Atticus. I can be nice… with the proper guiding.”
I can’t tell if she’s flirting with me or if she’s implying that someone has been teaching her to be kind.
I swear to god, if Cameron has been the one to correct her through positive reinforcement, sex, and attention… I’ll lose it. I’ll freak out.
“Cassie—” But I don’t get to finish.
The kitchen door swings open, and there Cameron stands, his chest rising and falling as he glares between the two of us.
“Cassandra,” he hisses out, his stormy eyes narrowing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him truly angry before. “What is this?”
Oh. He’s jealous. He doesn’t want his girl alone with me. Which is a hilarious turn of events, considering how he crumbled to pieces in my hands whenever I touched him before.
Hypocrite.
“I’m talking,” Cassie replies simply. “Is that a problem?”
There is a solid few seconds where nobody moves, speaks, or even breathes too loudly. And then, as if he were never angry at all, Cameron sighs and straightens up.
“Kim is upstairs. She’s looking for you,” he explains.
“Oh.” Cassie’s eyes return to mine. “I should go. But please, think about what I said?”
I say nothing as she turns and slips past Cameron, who shuts the door behind her.
It’s just him and me.
And he now looks livid.