Atlas #2
“Julian,” I start, dropping my gaze to the dead grass below us. “Did you… Were you upset by what I said in the altar room two days ago?
“Which part?” he asks casually.
I freeze. “Uh, the kissing part. How you… you were my first kiss.”
Julian makes a small, amused sound. When my eyes meet his, I can see the twinkle of joy and admiration in them. He’s grinning softly.
“No, Young Master Atlas. I was not upset,” he tells me. “In fact, if saying this isn’t too weird, it pleased some possessive part of me in a sick way.”
A new kind of hot ache fills my body at his words, at his piercing gaze.
“Right. Okay,” is all I can manage.
Anything more, and I might ask him to take me again, right here and right now. Julian’s grin widens.
“Okay,” he repeats.
He takes a step toward me. I take a step back.
If he puts his hands on me, I think an embarrassing noise might slip out in view of anyone who could be creeping from the windows behind us.
“I should go in,” I say. “Will you come to the altar room tonight?”
Julian nods, his smile faltering for a singular moment before he turns his attention to the Pacific once more.
“Sure. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tonight, then,” I confirm.
I flee before I can change my mind. Before I can’t stop myself from falling to my knees in front of him or pleading with him to scratch the itch lying deep beneath my skin.
Slipping back inside of Chastain Castle, I hang my coat on the rack and head towards the main staircase.
Maybe I should masturbate—would that help tame my urgent need to taste him? To feel him?
I’ll never know, as my mother appears from thin air as I make it onto the second-floor landing.
“Darling,” she greets, giving me a sweet smile. Her dress flows around her ankles in comparison to a fluffy white cloud, her long hair curling around her waist.
“Momma,” I respond, giving her a smile of my own.
“How are you?”
“Good, and you?”
My mother squints her eyes, taking a step toward me and placing her palms on my cheeks.
“You… you seem different, Atty. Are you happier these days? Have you found some relief?” she asks.
I know what she means, and though in some ways she isn’t off the mark, in others she is.
“No, everything is the same. I’m the same,” I tell her.
She clicks her tongue. “Nonsense. I know my son. You seem, I don’t know, hopeful? Almost as if you’re glowing.” At this, her eyes widen significantly, and she presses in closer. “Are you… Are you in love?”
Love?!
Even if I were to tell her of Julian and my adventures, I still wouldn’t categorize my affection for him as love. I’ve never even been in a relationship!
“No, Momma. Who could I have possibly fallen in love with?” I regret asking the question as soon as it leaves my mouth.
I have opened her mind to the options, the possibilities, and there are very few in this estate. Julian really is the only option, outside of Barfred, who has never shown an interest in me.
“Atty—”
“I’m awfully tired; I think I’ll take a nap,” I interrupt.
With a disapproving look, my mother removes her hands from my face.
“Sure. Take a nap. But you do know you can tell me anything, right, darling?” she presses.
“Yes, Momma. I know. I’ll see you for dinner.” I scurry away, feeling her gaze on my back until I disappear into Hall W4.
I think of her comment for the rest of the evening.
As I flip through one of the old, dusty tomes in the altar room—unfortunately, unable to pay any decent attention to it—I find myself antsy to see Julian again.
Because now, whenever I imagine his face or his voice or what he’s done to me, all I can think of is one word: love.
It couldn’t be, right? There is absolutely no way I’ve fallen in love with a guy I’ve slept with once, who is only being kind to me out of physical attraction and pity.
When his hands were on me, I could tell Julian was accustomed to making others feel good.
He must do that often and with multiple people, considering his good looks.
I cannot take his kindness the wrong way; I refuse to have my heart broken by falling in love with a man who does not want me in the long term.
As the stone door pushes open and footsteps echo from the stairs, I tense up.
Julian appears in front of me, a few feet away, in his typical pajamas: sweatpants and a t-shirt. He looks incredible.
“Hey there,” he greets, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“Hello. Again,” I respond awkwardly.
“Are you in love?” she had asked.
Can he see it? The glow, the hopefulness that Mother claims to see? I really, really hope not.
“Yeah, again,” Julian laughs. “Learning anything new?”
“What? Huh? Why would you ask that?” The panicked words rush out of me, and I eye him wearily.
Was he listening from downstairs?! I think I’ll die of embarrassment.
Julian nods toward the book lying on the podium in front of me. “The book. Are you learning anything new?”
“Oh!” I slam the tome shut, my cheeks flaming. “No, sorry.”
He gives me a curious glance, but doesn’t press me. Instead, he makes his way to the bookcase furthest away and takes a few books into his arms.
“Well, should we continue, then?” he asks, and I nod, watching as he takes a seat on the floor, leaning against the stone altar.
I feel so jumpy that any singular move or word from his mouth will set me off. Is this how I am to operate from now on? Constantly terrified that he will believe I’m in love with him?
But I’m not!
I’m not in love with Julian Walsh.
Right?
I think I may have something new to pray about.