And the feeling doesn’t leave, even as we grab a few pre-made sandwiches from the grocery store to eliminate clean-up.
Everything he does causes a great fire to ignite within me, burning my insides until nothing is left but desire and irritation; until I am nothing but yearning and self-loathing.
As I park outside of the sporting goods store in the strip mall, I close my eyes to focus on his weight as he slips off the back seat, his skin grazing mine and filling my senses with the scent of his flesh, his sweat.
“You coming?” he prompts, sliding his helmet off for the second time today and ruffling his silky hair, making him appear as a beautiful, debauched bike bunny.
I huff, hooking our helmets over the handles of my bike so we can head inside. Our food is stashed in my backpack, the one Landon threw on before we left the house.
Getting a Frisbee is pretty childish, but otherwise we’ll be forced to talk to each other, and I’m not really mentally prepared to dive into that kind of afternoon with him.
“I think we should get one that can fold up, considering space limitations,” Landon rambles, leading the way into the store without a single care in the world.
I half listen, a little distracted by the priest fleeing from one of the aisles and toward the checkout. He must be late for something.
But as we pass the aisle he fled from, my eyes spot none other than Atticus Chastain as he searches different workout equipment.
I snatch up the back of Landon’s collar, forcing him to head toward the mentioned aisle instead of moving on to the outdoor toys. He squeals quietly at the abrupt move, but otherwise says nothing.
“Young Master Atticus?” I call out, eyeing him suspiciously.
What is he doing here?
His head snaps in our direction, the fabric of his white button-up straining and his brown hair shifting slightly. But he looks… different.
“Hello, Barfred,” he greets, his tone bored as his gaze flickers between the two of us. “What are you doing here?”
What amIdoing here? Funny.
“Shopping for a frisbee,” I explain. “What areyoudoing here? If you needed something, I’m sure Hannah would have gotten it for you.”
Other than the occasional bookstore run, Atticus is more than comfortable using the resources given to him. The ones that prevent him from leaving Chastain Castle, or his brother’s side.
“I like to get out of the estate sometimes,” he answers awkwardly.
And there’s something…weirdabout his entire presence. He’s hesitant and looks awkward in his own skin. Those are two things Young Master Atticusneveris, so I’m startled to see them.
It’s also a bit similar, too. Though the bright glow and healthy appearance are not comparable, the way hefeelsreminds me of how Young Master Atlas used to feel, back before he was cured.
“Oh,” I mutter. But I can’t help it—I’m protective and nosy as all hell. “What’s going on with you? Are you alright?”
A brief expression of irritation passes over his features, his body becoming tense, as if he’s experiencing fight or flight right here in the store.
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?” Hedefinitelysounds annoyed, but there’s something… off.
“You look… different. You look unlike yourself,” I tell him, taking in his appearance once more just to make sure I’m right.
I am.
“I feel fine,” he answers, tone final.
But Landon, who has been silent beside me so far, stands up straight. Like a dog hearing the wordwalk, he’s at full attention.
“Let me ask him,” he offers, and confidence and anticipation are dripping from him so steadily that I justknowhe means coercion.
He wants to use his gift to force the truth from my boss’s son.
On instinct alone, I shove my fingers into Landon’s soft hair and yank his head back to stare into his eyes, all of my attention focused on him.
