“Are you any good at cards, Landon?” Atlas asks, turning the full force of those big blue eyes onto me.
“This guy?” Julian teases. “Not a chance.”
Julian’s playful jab seems to loosen something inside of me, and I release a deep breath before I shoot back, “I distinctly remember being better thanyou,at least.”
This earns a few chuckles, and I settle further into the group as my heart rate slows.
Everything is fine. This is okay. To these guys, I appear completely normal. I am not a shell of the man I was only so long ago—I am not broken.
Julian continues to make targeted jokes, garnering a few warranted glares from Atticus, whom I’m quickly understanding isn’t Julian’sbiggestfan.
But as the card game continues, with me just watching, I can feel another emotion building inside of me. Something different than the nervous energy I felt coming in, or the fear that these people will be able to see how thoroughly I’ve fallen apart.
No, instead it is something spiteful and envious. Every time Atticus leans over to guide Cameron’s next play, their hands brushing and eyes lingering, I want to rage.
And as Julian smiles so gently in Atlas’s direction, with Atlas batting his lashes and squirming where he sits, I want to run from this estate and never look back.
The constant reminders of what this intimacy felt like—even ifmyversion was like the coked-out, violent edition—are suffocating me. It’s making me desperate and angry.
“I’m thinking we should have some late-night snacks; what do you guys think?” Julian asks after Atlas wins yet another round.
I think I’m siding with Atticus on this—Julian is most definitely helping his boyfriend cheat.
Cameron’s head snaps up, staring wide-eyed at Julian as if the idea of snacks offends him.
But before I can comment on it, Atlas speaks up. “Sure! I’ll have some cheese and crackers, please.”
Julian nods dutifully before looking between the two others in our company. Cameron continues to stare—eyes round and his mouth slightly ajar.
“I’m fine,” Atticus says. “But Cam will have sliced apples.”
Is it just me, or is this Atticus guy a little presumptuous? He didn’t even ask if Cameronwantedsliced apples; he just assumed it!
As I’m trying to decide if I should suggest an intervention to Julian, my eyes dart to Cameron, who is sending a grateful look in Atticus’s direction.
Like he appreciates the odd gesture. As if it soothes him.
Huh. I guess helikesthe controlling, presumptuous type.
What an interesting way to live. One that isdefinitelynot for me, thank you very much.
“Want anything, Lan?” Julian prompts, and I shake my head, still trying to wrap my mind around Atticus and Cameron’s dynamic.
A moment later, Julie has disappeared, and an awkward silence cloaks the room. He kind ofisthe center of this group—as far as I know, Cameron and I were his friends first, only meeting Atticus and Atlas through him. And now that he’s gone, there’s a weird tension between us.
“How’s working at the auto shop, Cam?” Atlas suddenly asks, and knowing that they all live together and probably talk daily, I assume the question is more for my comfort than genuine concern.
Cameron lights up, leaning forward as he responds. “Good! I worked on this Ford F-150 today, and it was so cool. It’s a 1956, so it has that wraparound windshield you only ever find in vintage car magazines.”
“That’s awesome,” Atlas beams. “I want a carsobad, but Papa keeps telling me that I don’t go anywhere without Julie anyway, so there’s no point.”
He’s pouting, jutting out his full bottom lip in distaste. It strikes me again how strange I find his and Julian’s relationship. I mean, he only ever liked guys likeme, and yet here he is with the prettiest boy I’ve seen in my entire life.
But he’s happy, and that’s all I truly care about. If this is what appeals to him now, good for him.
“Father is right,” Atticus chimes in, sending his brother a pointed look. “There is no need to buy you a car.”
“Says the guy with a BMW,” Cameron murmurs, and I catch the little hint of a smile on his face.
