Nothing.
On my fifth retranslation, I hear the stone door open, and my heart rate picks up.
I haven’t seen Atlas since Thursday night, and we barely even spoke then. He was too busy turning me down. Then, on Friday, he didn’t show up at the altar room around 8 p.m. like he normally does, and I was out most of yesterday hunting down that priest and the psychic.
So, to say I’m nervous and antsy now is an understatement.
Only as I listen to his approach do I notice that there isn’t one set of footsteps on the staircase, buttwo.
In a rush, I grab theBlack Bookand drop behind the altar, on the far side from the staircase. I think hard, trying to remember if Atlas left any of the other books out.
Then, I hear voices.
“Do you really think we’ll find something down here?” Atticus asks.
“Maybe,” Abraham responds. “This is the room the psychic found that day she came. When she came in here, she heard the prophecy.”
I can hear them moving about, then the rustling of books being moved.
“I hope we findsomething. Atlas has been weird lately, more secretive and withdrawn. I don’t even see him praying anymore.” Atticus sounds insanely worried for his brother, his voice closer now, as if he’s standing on the other side of the altar.
“He’s probably overwhelmed. He’s dealing with his first crush, too, you know.” There’s a hint of amusement in Abraham’s voice.
My whole body heats, anger boiling in my stomach.His first crush?!Who the fuck are they talking about? I wasn’t aware Atlas was meeting other people, let alone crushing on them.
“What is that meant to mean, Father?” Atticus asks, sounding just as upset as I feel.
Abraham laughs. “You’re too protective of him, son. He’s in his twenties now; it’s totally normal for him to be attracted to others. Plus, that Julian is so kind to him—handsome, too.”
Oh, shit. Are they talking about me?
Atlas has a crush… on me?
“Julian?”Atticus all but screeches. “Please. Atlas has better taste than that.”
Alright, Ireallydon’t like Atticus.
“Let’s grab a few of these books and take them to my study,” Abraham says, changing the subject.
Atticus makes a confirming noise, and I can hear them collect a few books and make their way to the stairs.
“I don’t know, Father. I just feel weary of that Julian. I—” His words cut off the further they climb.
My mind is still reeling from thecrushcomment. Even after I hear the stone door shut, I do not move.
Only, the longer I think on it, the more it falls flat. What Abraham is most likely seeing is how we have been sneaking around doingthis, not a crush on his son’s end. Sure, he probably (and I say probably because I can’t eventouchhim) liked how I fucked him, but he surely doesn’t like me. Not like that.
Not in the way that… that I might like him.
The thought is depressing me; having to sit with the disappointment after getting so excited is exhausting. So, I stand on shaky legs and return to my book.
It’s only a handful of minutes later when the stone door opens again, and this time, when I hear just one set of footsteps, my heart drops into my stomach once more.
As Atlas appears at the bottom of the steps in a purple tank top and white slacks, the first thing I truly notice is how flushed he looks. As if he’s just run a 5k, or he’s just been thoroughly fucked.
“Are you okay?” I blurt out. All of the awkwardness and anger I felt before fizzle out in the face of my concern.
“Oh,” Atlas sounds, his eyes darting around the room nervously as he approaches the podium. “Yes, thank you. I’m just… Well, the incubus didn’t come last night, and I’m very warm; that’s all.”
