I stare after him, and something hot and achy fills my chest.What was that about?
“So? This Cassie girl?” Dad pushes.
“No, not my girlfriend,” I inform them. “Just someone I’m friends with.” I have no intention of telling the Chastains and my father that I plan to fuck her because she looks like Atlas.
“What about you, son?” Abraham asks Atticus. “Have a girlfriend?”
“No, Father,” Atticus grumbles, his glaring eyes turning to focus on the now black screen. “I’m not dating right now.”
As they continue to bicker, I watch the door. I’m waiting for Atlas to return, but as ten minutes pass, I realize he isn’t going to.
Everyone decides to split up until lunchtime, most likely to play with their new gifts and to give the master and lady of the house some time alone.
Dad and I head to our respective rooms.
“I can’t believe we got such nice presents,” he says, walking past me as I grip the doorknob of my door.
“They’re very nice,” I reply.
He nods, smiling at me before he slips into his own room. I head inside mine, taking a seat at the end of my bed before pulling out the brand-new MacBook. I have no idea what they’re going for right now, but I just know it was expensive.
I’m still in shock that the Chastains care so much about their employees. I wonder what the other staff got, if anything at all.
As I’m logging into my iCloud on the laptop, a knock sounds at the door. Assuming it’s my father, I yell for him to come in. But the door opens and reveals a lacy, low-cut top and a mop of brown curls.
Atlas steps inside and closes the door behind himself. The entire room suddenly feels suffocating, his presence taking up far too much space. All of my attention is immediately drawn to him.
“Uh,” I start, trying not to pant around the thick feeling in my chest. “Do you need something, Young Master Atlas?”
He shakes his head softly before taking a step toward me. “Well, I guess I do. How was it? Going into town, I mean.”
“Why? You’ve never been?” I ask, though I remember the stories that I was told at Checkers and know he has.
“Not in a long time,” he replies.
“It was rainy. And almost everyone was old.”
“But not the friends you made,” he offers. “They were young?”
This makes me chuckle. “Yeah, they were young. Would you like to meet them?”
It might be good for him, and it’d clear the air around theweirdrumor circulating in Port Orford.
“No,” he scoffs. “I was just curious.”
“Oh.”
We are staring at each other, but it only lasts a moment. Before long, my eyes are wandering down the expanse of his delicate neck and to the open V of his shirt. He’s showing so much smooth skin, and I can see the pink of his nipples.
He looks so beautiful standing in front of me, right here in my room, that it almost feels like a punishment. Like torture. I want to reach out and touch, and knowing that I can’t is driving me crazy.
I fear that if he doesn’t leave this room in the next sixty seconds, I might just go out of my mind.
“Are you happy with your gifts?” Atlas asks, his hands moving to clasp behind his back as he toes the hardwood of my floor.
“Yeah, I’m very grateful,” I answer, but I’m still staring at his chest. It rises and falls heavily; his smooth skin flushed a pretty pink.
“I’m glad you liked them.”
