Summer
Nothing like battling my fear of water in the pool—a torture I force on myself until it isn’t—to clear my head. But tonight that doesn’t do it for me.
Neither did the piles of documents I went through. There’s plenty in there Trent would find interesting. But if I give them to him, he’ll try to drag me away before I’ve done anything else. So for now, I’ll stash it all as a fail-safe.
Unfortunately, with every page I turned, my mind kept drifting to Atlas, no longer for the sake of my goal.
He hasn’t texted this afternoon, and that makes me anxious. But I won’t be the one to break the silence. I’ll let him sit in the corner of shame and regret a little longer.
Getting back to my dorm, my desolate room feels like another kind of torture.
I check for any new messages, and when there are none, I head for the shower, staying there for longer than I should, doing what I shouldn’t, with one particular man in mind.
Being mad at him has nothing to do with the simple desires of the body I decide to give in to.
My phone chimes in from the other room, as I’m wrapping myself in a towel. I stare at the mirror, trying to see a version of myself unaffected by Atlas, pretending I don’t want to rush out of the bathroom and check his text.
Fuck it!
I stride out and grab my phone, hands shaky with excitement.
Atlas
Honey, I’m home.
My grin stretches ear to ear.
Leaving the phone, I head for my dresser when another ping follows. I spin on my heels, desperate to see what else he wrote.
Atlas
Do you like my gift?
What gift?
I scan my room until I spot it. How the fuck didn’t I notice it earlier? It’s a dark blue jewelry box resting on my pillow, with a note on top.
I fly to my bed, realizing how badly I want to know what he wrote borders on me selling my soul.
With the thrill of a child on Christmas morning, I unfold the paper.
Is there a dog collar inside the box? I swear, I’m going to fucking strangle him with it if that’s the case.
Clutching the box, I’m unsure what I want to find inside.
Assuming he’s being an ass yet again is the safe bet.
Easier to swallow than a terrifying scenario of seeing a gentle side of him.
A side, willing to grovel for my forgiveness, ready to go out of his way and into a jewelry store to get me to talk to him.
I pop the lid open and . . . Holy fuck! A dazzling diamond heart necklace greets me from inside, the two sides of the shape presenting a different pattern of a cluster, one inverted in a spiral motif, bearing a striking resemblance to .
. . A fucking horn? I chuckle at the thought it might not be a heart, but my horns he’s gifting me.
A part of me tries to grapple with the practical side of things. If shit hits the fan, selling this is a way to sponsor my escape. The thought makes my chest tighten until breathing hurts. I want to keep it. I need this reminder that someone can see every fucked-up part of me and like it.
Another ping of my phone fades beneath the crescendo of my heartbeat.
Atlas
Talk to me, baby! Aren’t two days of silent torture enough?
Does my silence hit him like a dagger of torture?
An idea sparks, prompting me to jump off the bed, leaving the necklace behind and letting the towel fall to the floor.
I slip into a teal mesh bra with colorful embroidered flowers covering the nipples, worth at least a few hundred bucks, and a pair of panties.
No, I did not splurge. I snatched it from Raven’s place.
Then I scurry back to where I left the necklace.
Clasping it on, I pull some red strands of hair to the front.
Phone in hand, I take a selfie only in my bra and Atlas’s precious gift on my neck. Face—not visible, of course. I’m not an idiot. After a thorough inspection of the photo, I’m more than pleased with it.
Gorgeous bra on—check!
Perfect curves of my boobs—check! Thank you, nature!
Wet strands falling down the sides of my bra—check!
His necklace, diamonds sparkling brighter than the sun—fucking check!
I press send, and his answer finds me at warp speed.
Atlas
You’re perfect, and you’re all mine.
I love your gift, but don’t assume it means I’m yours. You haven’t earned the right to call me that.
Atlas
You screamed my name. That gives me the right to stake a claim on you.
He’s the quintessence of arrogance, but strangely, he wears it like no other.
I’m not backing down from my retaliation.
Atlas
It wouldn’t be you if you did, and I want nothing but you.
Nothing but me is a heavy package.
Atlas
And I want it all. Ask me why.
I’m not sure I want to know, scared I might dislike the answer, or terrified I might love it.
It gets too personal. Or maybe it did some time ago, and I allowed it.
I type the question and stare at it like it might send itself, but it stays on the screen, mocking me and my shaky resolve.
Atlas
I’ll tell you anyway.
I almost slap my own hand to stop myself from chewing on my nails, a nasty habit I’ve never had before, because letting a nerve-racking sensation consume me is not on brand for me. But that’s exactly what it feels like waiting to hear what a man like him might find in someone like me.
Atlas
Where others see your destructive side, I recognize a woman strong enough to fight for what she wants, not letting anyone push her around.
You are a force of nature nothing compares to.
Don’t let anyone tell you the darkness you possess is something bad.
It’s the best part of you. A unique kind of darkness that brings light to me every time I think of you.
I’m so fucked!
Why does the necklace now feel heavier than it should?
Rereading the text, I memorize every word in case one day it’s no longer in my possession. I went radio silent on him, but I have no idea what to say. A pack-your-bags-and-leave kind of panic tries to settle inside me before another text pulls me back.
Atlas
Do not mistake the shape of the necklace for a heart. Those are your horns.
A heart would be cheesy. I knew those were horns.
Atlas
Just like you knew who you were kissing that night at the club, didn’t you?
Why is he asking this now? Of course, I knew, but he was nothing more than a target. Yet, when the memory of that night resurfaces, my thoughts are clearer when I close my eyes, reliving it as if it’s happening all over again.
His rough grip on my waist and hips—perfect.
The way he balanced that roughness with a gentle kiss on my neck.
How he took my punch and asked for more, reaching a delicate equilibrium between my assaults and his responses.
The bite that made my whole body shiver in excitement, and my chest heave, unable to hide the pleasure coursing through me.
My fingers in his hair being right where they belonged, awakening fire inside and refusing to leave me unscathed.
And that kiss . . .
I dreaded the moment I pulled away.
I did. And all I was thinking was that I’ll drag you to hell so you can see it feels like heaven compared to me.
Atlas
Drag me harder. All I want is your batshit crazy ass by my side.
That’s the thing, Atlas—once this is done, I’ll no longer be at your side. I’ll have to run, because in all likelihood, you’ll want to kill me.
You’re such a romantic.
Atlas
I know. That’s why your panties are soaking wet for me.
They are. But that’s one more truth I’m not going to admit to him, resenting how the small lies will pile on top of the big one. In the end, he won’t know what was real and what wasn’t.
Atlas
Have a horrible night without me, Succubus!
He keeps calling me that and seems to be on the right track. I’ll give him happiness, only to end up sucking it away at the end.
Have a horrible night without me, my handsome Chocolate Bar Thief!
My eyes drift back to his note, and arrhythmia sets in once more.
Falling back on my bed, not even landing on my pillow, I move the jewelry box on my nightstand, propping the note on top.
It’s not framed, but it might as well be.
My phone stays in my hand while I stare at the ceiling.
For the first time in a long while, I can’t fall asleep fast. Going along with this plan and hurting Atlas .
. . That collateral no longer seems right.
What kind of person would I be if I hurt him?
The kind that does the wrong thing for the right reasons.
There’s a single line I’d never cross—killing an innocent. For anything else, I’ll bend the shit out of my moral compass to make it work.
Keeping my head in the short-term plans can be the answer to my qualms. I might not get to live long enough to complete the long-term ones anyway.
I drift to sleep with nothing but payback for my public humiliation on my mind, and I’ve never woken up this eager for the night to come. No caffeine needed today, for the adrenaline from what I’m about to do could keep me wide awake for days in a row.
Atlas texts me again at noon, letting me know he won’t be on campus, but that he’ll see me tonight. He keeps himself accountable to me, which should put a bright green tick on my checklist, not a warm feeling inside my chest.
When the late afternoon comes, I take my phone out, doing what I should’ve done by now.
Eli will always have a place in my heart, but keeping a reminder of what never was is not healthy.
I never really had his love when it was reserved only for bits and pieces of me.
That makes those texts on my phone obsolete—a keepsake I no longer need.
Atlas will come looking for me in my room, and when he doesn’t find me, he’ll head back to his place, where I’ll be waiting.
Happy hunting to me!