Page 26 of What’s Left of Us

“Not really,” he said. “Seems dumb. There’s no way that guy wouldn’t realize his girlfriend was an imposter. He would’ve known in, like, five minutes.”

“Easy for you to say.” I scoff. “You’ve seen both sides. This guy doesn’t even know she has a twin!”

“Doesn’t matter.” Atlas shifted in his chair before standing. He stood there for a few seconds, just looking down at me.

“Are you going to get the remote?” My attention was locked on the TV, but I could see him moving in my peripheral vision. Not toward the stairs, but closer to me. He sat, cross-legged, his knee brushing my hip. My shirt had ridden up, just enough I could feel his bare skin against mine.

“You were right,” he said, the words so mumbled and rushed I could barely understand them. “I was being an asshole.”

“I said you were an asshole,” I clarified. “Not just that you were being one.”

Atlas let out a startled laugh, and despite the betrayal simmering in my gut, I echoed it.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I wasn’t sure that was the truth, but he’d apologized. It wasn’t like he could go back in time and not be an asshole. I expected Atlas to get up, and go back to his chair, but he remained at my side.

I swallowed and glanced at the stairwell. Had Nat and Phoebe walked to the store to get our popcorn? Or maybe they were collecting the corn from a farm somewhere? Or were they standing at the closed door, ears pressed to it, giggling at my discomfort?

“I like the movie,” I said, just to end the awkward silence. Without looking, I knew Atlas was looking at me. I could feel those green eyes on me. “I think it’d be cool to have a twin. Switch places. See if anyone figured it out. Hopefully, my twin would be British. Like in The Parent Trap. That would be cool.”

“You can’t do a British accent,” Atlas said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “And I’d figure it out immediately.”

“You would not,” I said crossly. I turned to look at him, offering my best glare. When his serious expression didn’t budge, I rotated off my stomach and onto my knees. Atlas startled when we came face to face, but I didn’t slow my words. And even though he’d just apologized, I couldn’t hide the lingering hurt. “You’d be too busy with your new friends. You wouldn’t even notice.”

“Trust me. I’d notice.”

The blush I’d hoped to see when I first wore that bikini happened now. It was a slow expansion of red, starting at his neck and crawling all the way up to his ears. I was blushing too, and I was desperately trying to make it stop. It was impossible though. Atlas was looking at me, and there was something different in his expression. Like he was staring right into my soul.

“In the first minute,” he added. “Five, tops.”

“I highly doubt that.” I glanced at the TV. The main character had dyed her hair blue a few scenes earlier. It was one of the first things to tip off the boyfriend. His true girlfriend would never do that. Glancing at Atlas, I shrugged. “You would’ve figured it out with the hair though, that’s for sure. Something would be very wrong if I dyed my hair blue.”

“What about other colors?” Atlas smiled, and it did something terrible to my insides. Made them feel warm and soft and tingly. “Purple? Green?”

“Well, I’d never dye my hair at all.” I was rambling now, and with each passing second, I talked faster. “Nothing against it. I just like my hair how it is. And I’d look terrible with blue hair.”

“You couldn’t look terrible if you tried.” His blush got impossibly darker.

“Not even if⁠—”

Whatever I planned to say ceased to exist the moment Atlas pressed his lips against mine. I’d never been kissed before. I was sure he hadn’t either. But there was this inexplicable certainty in the way he moved, like maybe he’d been thinking about this for some time now. He held my face between both hands, lips soft and slow against mine.

I was shaking through my entire body. Nerves ricocheted around my bones, but I didn’t dare pull away. No, I pulled him closer. Grabbed his wrists to keep his hands on my face, desperate not to let the moment end.

When the door to the basement clanged open, striking the stairwell wall, Atlas and I sprung apart. His eyes were wide, cheeks flushed and lips parted. I’d kissed those lips. I’d tasted them, and I already knew I wanted to taste them again.

Phoebe and Nat laughed loudly as they descended, and I got the creeping suspicion they’d been listening after all. Atlas flashed me a quick, nervous smile before hurrying back to his spot.

By the time our sisters rounded the stairwell, two bowls of popcorn between them, Atlas was slouched in his chair and I was on my stomach. I stared intently at the TV, as if I’d never looked away.

Only once Phoebe started the movie again did I sneak a glance at Atlas. His chair was turned toward the TV, but I could see his profile. He was already looking at me, and right then, I knew I was ruined.

Chapter 11

now

Iam not the kind of person to text in class, but desperate times require desperate measures. Beneath my desk, I type out a quick message: