Summer
He was here!
A tremor runs through me at the sight of the tape unstuck from the doorframe. And he stole my fucking chocolate bars?!
Though expected, the invasion of my personal space still stings. In theory, I am fine with it, but it’s a lot less fun when I don’t know exactly what he did inside my room. I’m definitely replacing my body butter and face cream now. I blame Link for that trauma—what he did with Raven’s skincare when he broke into her place still gives me tics.
But stealing chocolate bars?Really, Atlas?!
I’m supposed to pretend I want nothing to do with him. Now the next time I see that petty thief, I’ll picture him sneaking off with my chocolate bars. How am I supposed to not laugh in his face?
For the next couple of days, I lie low, avoiding campus. I’ve got work to catch up on, so a little time off from the hunt is necessary. I need money for the day-to-day expenses, and to properly fill the “emergency flee fund”—the stash I’ll use if I makeit out of this alive. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth the effort, but I have to cling to at least an ounce of optimism.
When Atlas doesn’t break into my room again, that leaves me both disappointed and relieved, unsure which emotion prevails.
He won’t give up until he gets what he wants, but by the time he does, he’ll never want to let go. Not if I play my cards right.
My mother was a poker hustler. Of course, I’ll play them right.
Monday, the game’s back on. No doubt I’ll see him around campus today.
Dragging out the horrendous sweater I’d rather burn than wear, I glare at it, hoping I might set it on fire like that. If my calculations are right, today might be the last time I’ll need this monstrosity.
Come on, Chocolate Bar Thief, make a real move so I can get rid of this itchy thing!
Gagging, I put the gray eyesore on, braid my hair, and don the wide-rimmed glasses—a full-on Clark Kent disguise. Atlas has seen what hides underneath, but that doesn’t make the outfit obsolete. Correction—he hasn’t seen it all.
Did he peek under my blanket? I shake the thought away before it can bug me.
What I need is for him to have another puzzle to solve. Why am I dressing like this when I have nothing to hide—body-wise, anyway. The more I push back, the more he’ll crave the chase. I’ll occupy every corner of his mind before I give him anything. Not to mention, he’ll never suspect me being after him if, on the surface, he’s the one chasing me.
Exiting the building, I realize that in the last two days, the thought of what could’ve happened to Will hasn’t crossed my mind. But he should be okay... ish.
While heading to my ECON 101 class, I spot Atlas and his friends loitering nearby. He strides toward me like I’m prey, and my pace quickens instinctively. I won’t get away, but I’ll be damned if I don’t make him chase me.
“You look familiar. I think my tongue was inside your mouth a couple of nights ago.” His deep voice drips with mockery as he walks alongside me.
I fight the blooming smile begging to break free, speed-walking like it’s a competition, yet completely aware he’s still on my heels, ready to pounce.
“Summer Night!” he calls, yanking on my arm. Fucking ouch! “Did your parents conceive you on one and lack the imagination for a better name?”
Mentioning my parents—off-fucking-limits!
“Did your parents fail to teach you how to take a hint? Like when someone’s not interested in you.”
“But you were interested in making out with me.” His grip on me tightens.
I don’t do confessions, sucker.
“I didn’t know it was you.”
“Oof! You hurt my feelings.” He clutches his chest.
“Too bad you can’t die from that.”
I try to leave, but his strong hold keeps me in place. His other hand darts for my glasses, pulling them off before I can react.
“Those aren’t even dioptric,” he mutters upon a close-up inspection, like the words are meant only for himself. “Why? Why hide under this ugly fuckin’ sweater, put on fake glasses, and braid your hair? You hate wearing this shit, yet you still do. Who the fuck are you hiding from?”
