Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Kassie
Iran the vacuum over the same spot again, my eyes scanning for any stray bits of lint. Deep down, I knew Atlas wouldn't judge me for a less-than-perfect living room, but I couldn't help myself… I was actually nervous.
I'd spent all morning making the living room into a horror-lover's paradise. Plush throw pillows arranged just so, candles ready to cast eerie shadows, and a stack of my favorite movies perched on the coffee table. Would Atlas appreciate the atmosphere?
Or maybe he wouldn’t, and he might need to snuggle?
Because I’m okay with that.
I laughed at myself and wrestled the vacuum into the closet. The doorbell chimed the instant the latch clicked shut, sending my pulse racing. I brushed imaginary dust from my clothes with trembling fingers.
What was wrong with me?
I thought I had rubbed the jitters right out of my lady parts an hour ago, but I was still tense and on edge.
I dashed to the door, checking my reflection. My curled hair bounced at the ends, my black lipstick stayed within its lines, and my eyeliner? Damn, I'd never drawn wings that sharp in my life.
This was the only time I would ever be happy with TeaBagTitan canceling a match. Being able to concentrate only on Atlas was like Christmas in July.
When TeaBagTitan rescheduled the match, I would have to come up with some great one-liners to get back at him, though. Such as, “Is balding making you too emotional to play, TeaBag?” and then when he comes back with something nasty, I could say, “Someone clearly didn’t get their nap today.”
I rubbed my hands together. Oh, that would be good.
The doorbell rang again, knocking me out of my daydream, and I raced to the door. I unlocked the various locks, not that it would keep a town monster out of my house, and swung open the door.
There before me was the cutest thing I had ever seen.
Atlas stood tall in his usual red plaid shirt and dark-wash jeans.
He had combed out his beard, which was cool; he could change up his glamor.
It even had a nice sheen to it. The hair on the top of his head was slicked back, almost too much, but the effort was there because he also held an enormous bouquet of deep-red roses and two bottles of wine.
“I, uh, brought you these.” Atlas handed them out to me as if he didn’t know what to do with them.
Be still, boobs. Don’t jiggle in excitement yet.
And we don’t want to poke an eye out.
I grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside.
“Aren’t you the sweetest, bringing me all this?
You didn’t have to.” I grabbed the roses and took a deep breath.
The leaves were dark, also giving a beautiful gothic aesthetic.
I had the perfect vase for them, too. “They are beautiful. Where did you get them?”
No one has ever given me flowers before, unless you count the ones I received online when I got a little too excited winning a game.
Atlas shifted his weight, the wine bottles clinking softly in his hands. "There's this place just down the road, a flower shop. They've got this whole garden in the back with the strangest plants you've ever seen." His eyes brightened. "I could show you sometime, if weird flora is your thing..."
My eyes lit up. "Are you kidding? I live for weird anything! Tell me everything they grow." I carried the bouquet to the sink and rummaged through the cabinet for my favorite vase. It was a sleek black one with delicate gold trim that would make the crimson blooms pop against its darkness.
Atlas's shoulders dropped as he followed me to the kitchen, his head clearing the doorframe with room to spare. He didn't have to duck or fold himself smaller. The open floor plan appeared to be designed for someone his size.
I’m sure it was intentional for all buildings of the town because I haven’t seen homes with this high of a ceiling before. I’m used to smaller apartments.
Atlas leaned in, eyes gleaming. "They've got these mutant snapdragons—imagine the regular flower, but when you squeeze the sides, instead of just looking like a mouth, it actually has tiny, serrated teeth.
Some mad botanist crossed them with Venus flytraps.
The shop owner lets them nibble raw hamburgers once a week. "
My mouth opened into the shape of an O. Yeah, definitely needed to see that.
I reached up, trying to grab the vase that was at the top of the cabinet. My deep-purple shirt rode up, exposing the skin of my back. Atlas was there in a second when he saw what I was reaching for and easily plucked the vase for me, and setting it on the counter.
“You come in handy. I will have to keep you around.”
Atlas hummed. “You are already taller than most of the human… I mean, females in town. I’m surprised you can’t reach it.” Atlas scratched his head.
I puckered my lips. Hmm, that was a good observation. It seemed that these townhomes were intended for the paranormal types rather than humans. Or were they made for the monsters to come visit and show them they were not abnormally tall?
Something else to write in Harlow’s Strange and Probably True notebook.
“Where is your roommate? Isn’t she usually filming?” Atlas stared at the camera set up near the kitchen table. It was clean for once, and it was weird not seeing Harlow fluttering around the kitchen.
“She's holed up in her room with a nasty cold. I practically had to force-feed her some meds, but she's finally sleeping it off. She'll probably be dead to the world until tomorrow, though I should probably peek in later to make sure her temperature isn't spiking.”
I placed the flowers into the vase and arranged them how I wanted.
“You are very kind and thoughtful,” Atlas mused.
I smiled, a blush forming on my cheeks. “Did you not think I would be?” I winked at him, and Atlas shook his head quickly.
Atlas stammered, "No… that's not… I meant it as a good thing." He dragged his palm across his forehead, deepening the furrow between his brows. I reached up and smoothed the wrinkle away with my thumb, feeling the warmth of fuzz under his glamor.
“Hey, big guy, I’m only joking with you. Was it too much?” I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.
Atlas sighed. “I… have to admit, my mind is buzzing with so many things right now. It is hard to organize it and put everything into place.”
I tilted my head, wondering what on Earth he was even thinking about.
I took the bottles of wine and set them on the counter, then led him to the living room.
The living room was cozy, as it should be for this high-strung and nervous Mothman.
I had the deep purple curtains drawn, and the gold frames from pictures sparkled with the candlelight.
The couch was done up with plenty of blankets, soft pillows, and the coffee table had so many appetizers it would be our dinner.
Atlas stared in disbelief when I sat him down. He slowly sank into the couch, but before he lay back, he sat straight back up.
“Atlas, we need to get something straight here.” I took his hand and placed it on my exposed knee. I wasn’t wearing booty shorts, but the shorts were short enough to use a blanket later. That was the whole point of watching a movie, right?
Atlas visibly gulped, and his face reddened so bright I feared his real eyes might show through.
“You don’t need to be so nervous, I won’t bite. I like you. I think you are sweet and endearing, and we are just friends tonight, enjoying a movie together, eating snacks until we are so stuffed we can’t move.”
I rubbed circles on the top of his hand, they were slightly hairy, and a chill ran down my leg at how much I wanted to see what lay beneath.
“F-friends?”
I nodded. “Yeah, isn’t that what you want?”
Atlas licked his lips and glanced at mine.
I said friends because I thought it would make him more comfortable, but obviously, I said the wrong thing. He was sweating, which I didn’t know moths could do, and I could hear a whine coming from him. I don’t think he realized I could hear.
It's best if I fix this at once.
I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to fill the space between us. "Maybe I've misread things. Is 'just friends' not what you had in mind when you brought me flowers, Atlas?"
My hand ran up his arm, up into his hand, and I pulled it to my chest. He breathed heavily, and from my eyes he glanced down to my chest. I didn't mind because I was pressed against him, and I was also wearing a lower-cut top.
Atlas stuttered, “Um, I want to date you. I’m not good at dating. I’ve never dated before…” he spat out before looking away.
A smile formed on my lips as I cupped the other side of his face, turning him to face me once more. “Is that why you are so nervous?”
He nodded. “You are beautiful, and I am… Well, look at me.”
I knew what he meant, his original form, but right then, I had to pretend it was his human form. What sort of feelings did he have about his original form?
I liked that Atlas wasn't human, but not because I had some weird monster fetish, because a human man had disappointed me.
I'd watched my mom waste years hoping my dad would change, only to finally escape when I was twelve.
Maybe that was why the idea of someone fundamentally different appealed to me when I started reading monster romances.
I didn’t think a perfect male existed except in fiction, specifically monster romances. I always thought monsters couldn’t be real either, so I settled on believing that I would only ever love a monster. I’d never be tricked, never get hurt.
Well, look what fate did? They put this Mothman in front of me, who made me melt like butter on a hot summer's day.
Atlas was something else.
Clumsy, shy, sweet, a male I wanted more time to figure out.
I sighed and pressed my hand to Atlas’ heart. “It isn’t what is on the outside that matters, Atlas. It is what is within someone’s heart.”
He tilted his head to the side.
“What makes you, you? Are you kind and gentle? Quick to anger? Aggressive? Possessive?” I winked at him and heard a clicking noise. “Do you enjoy nightly walks with the moon high in the sky?”
Atlas nodded.
“What about rock concerts during the daytime?”
He shook his head.
“Me either. This is what we are going to do. Get to know each other. Find out what is in each other’s hearts, because that matters. And right now, I know I am attracted to you, because of who you are, in here.” I poked his chest.
Atlas sat up straighter. “And I like you. For what is in here.” He pointed to my chest. “Right there between your torso crack.”
I snorted and threw my head back. “You mean my cleavage?”
He nodded, then winced. "Yes. The—the word escaped me.
Your heart-area." His hand fluttered vaguely toward my chest before he covered his face.
"Lucien and the others spent three hours coaching me today.
They made flashcards. And diagrams." His voice dropped to a mortified whisper. "So many diagrams..."
I gasped in delight. I felt I was falling for him even more.
My jaw dropped as I clutched my heart. "Wait—you actually took lessons on how to date me?"
Atlas buried his face in his hands, his skin flushing scarlet beneath his fingers. "I can't believe I just told you that," he groaned. "You must think I'm completely hopeless."
He collapsed back into the cushions with a theatrical groan, and I couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Atlas, that's adorable. I think it's sweet you cared enough to prepare. And if we're sharing secrets..." I leaned closer, lowering my voice, "This is actually my first real date, too."
Atlas sat up, his eyes widening. “What? This is your first date?”
I nodded proudly. “Yes, you are my first date. I found no one else worthy. Be proud.” I nudged his shoulder. “And the best part is, I don’t have a match tonight, so it is official, official. You got me all night.”