Page 13 of What’s Left of Us

“Vi!”

I pinched my eyes shut, and moments later, I collided with a tree. At least, I assumed it was a tree, but the whole thing fell with me. I crashed into the dirt, and rolled several feet before getting caught in the bushes. The air knocked from my lungs, and it took several ugly breaths to feel like I wasn’t going to pass out.

Once the sky stopped spinning, I pushed onto my elbows. A few feet away, Atlas sat in the dirt, eyes wide and hands clasped over his nose. Blood ran between his fingers and dotted his bare chest.

I started crying before I reached him. I wanted to ask if he was okay, but I couldn’t remember how to work my mouth. I only fluttered my hands uselessly over him, too afraid to touch him in case I made it worse.

“It hurts,” he groaned. His eyes watered, and I could tell he was trying his hardest not to cry. He removed his hands from his face, and his hands were shaking. “Is it broken? Does it look broken?”

I realized his nose wasn’t the only thing bleeding. There was a gash in one of his eyebrows, so deep it made me want to puke.

“Are you okay?” I asked but my words barely sounded like words. I was crying too hard. “It’s bleeding so much.”

A broken sob cracked from his lips. He was crying, and I’d never seen him do that before. It split something in my chest, cutting deeper than I knew existed. It was that, more than anything, that made me get it together.

“You’re okay. It’s not that bad.” I wiped at the blood on his face, as gently as I could. “Don’t cry, Atlas. I’ll fix it. I’ll get you to⁠—”

“I’m not crying, Vi.” He sniffled hard then winced. “Don’t you tell anyone I was crying.”

“It’s not bad to cry. I do it all the time.” I wiped at his face again. “But I won’t tell anyone. Okay? Just…are you okay? Can you stand up?”

Atlas nodded, but he waited a minute before he actually tried. First he patted his ribs and his arms. Maybe checking for broken bones or more cuts. When he started prodding at his nose, I pulled his hands away.

“Don’t touch your face. There’s blood everywhere. You’re just spreading it around.”

“Does it look cool?”

“No, it’s awful.”

“I bet it looks cool.”

He staggered to his feet then and I stuck close to his side, ready to catch him if he stumbled. He was several inches taller than me by now, and I wasn’t entirely sure I could catch him.

“I’m really sorry.” I swallowed, staring hard at the trees in front of me. But because I was stubborn and mean and a little more guilty than I could handle, I added, “You should’ve gotten out of the way, once you realized I was coming back.”

“I had to catch you.” Atlas scowled at me. He was holding his face again, grimacing with pain. “You would’ve died if I didn’t.”

It wasn’t exactly high praise, the fact my neighbor didn’t want me to die. But the fact he was willing to risk himself to keep it from happening?

It ignited something deep in the pit of my belly, and before long, that spark consumed me whole.

Chapter 6

now

The first week of classes goes as smoothly as one could hope. My schedule allows me to sleep in every morning, and so far, I like all of my professors. I’ve made an acquaintance in almost every class, and there’s a nice guy in my Teaching YA Literature course who is definitely going to ask me out at some point. He’s cute, and I’m convinced, were my mind not so wrapped up in Atlas Blake, I’d be excited about that fact.

By the time Friday rolls around, I’m past exhaustion. I have six syllabi to read over the weekend, and because I’m a complete, pathetic nerd, I plan to do just that. I also have plans to buy a couple cacti (because I can’t be trusted to keep any other plant alive) and to re-watch the first season of The Office. It’s a tradition I’ve held since the eighth grade.

I wonder if Atlas still watches it too.

No, I don’t. Because that would be weird, and I am so far past the point of⁠—

“You’re not listening,” Hayden accuses. She’s on our couch, typing on her laptop. She’s got a pink throw pillow between the computer and her lap. It’s to protect herself from radiation, apparently, but I’m highly skeptical that works.

“Sorry, what?”

Hayden narrows her eyes and hurls a square pillow at me. Well, I assume it’s at me, but it’s hard to tell. I’m sitting on the high-top counter, and the pillow falls pathetically near the round table.