Page 28 of What’s Left of Us

His cheeks are pink from the wind. He doesn’t look surprised to see I’ve followed him, but he doesn’t smile either. He waits for me, a curious expression on his face, as I cross the open field. The girl waits too.

“I need to talk to you,” I say. Then, with a pointed look at his new fan, I add, “alone.”

“I’ll catch up with you later.” Atlas offers the girl a warm smile, and she just about melts into the grass at his feet. With a quick wave, she turns and continues for the cafeteria building. I wait until we’re alone before crossing my arms and stepping closer.

“What the hell are you doing, Atlas?”

“Before you interrupted?” His lips tilt with infuriating amusement. “I was walking to get some lunch. Did you want to join?”

“You’re copying my schedule now?” I ask, ignoring that stupid little smirk. “Stalking me to Aberlena wasn’t enough? You had to enroll in my classes, too?”

That earns me a full grin, and my heart flips. It’s a muscle memory, a reflex more than anything else. Despite everything Atlas did, there’s a disconnect between my logic and my emotions.

“I’m a music minor.” He looks down at me with such fondness I want to knee him in the balls.

“You weren’t in my class last week.” I squeeze my arms tighter around myself, and it’s the only thing holding me together. I don’t let myself dwell on the fact Atlas is interested in learning music. Years ago, I was the one who got him into it. “Obviously you had to learn my schedule first. Should I expect you in Music Theory with Rhodes tomorrow?”

He laughs, the same over-the-top way he used to. It’s deeper now, but it’s the same, goofy sound I used to write songs about.

“No. I’d started in the beginner class—that’s all my minor requires. I requested the change. I wanted something more challenging, you know?” When I don’t respond, he sighs. “Look, I swear I didn’t copy your schedule. I know you’re annoyed I’m here, but I promise I’m not planning to disrupt your life.”

Too late, I think bitterly.

“Okay. So you’ll drop the class?”

“No.” He tilts his head, eyes dancing with amusement as he looks over me. “Is my simple presence that distracting?”

He’s phrasing it like I’m the delusional one. As if I moved colleges from two states away and then started attending his classes. Not just that, but he’s acting like I’m distracted because I’m smitten. Because I can’t help but drool over him if he’s in the same room.

“You’ve already ruined my life,” I snap. Because I’m too exhausted for this coy back-and-forth. “What more do you want, Atlas?”

His expression shutters, just for a second. When I blink, the look of devastation is gone, and I’m convinced I imagined it.

“I’m going to stay out of your way.” He glances over his shoulder toward the cafeteria building. I realize then that the girl he’d been walking with is standing by the door. She’s playing on her phone, but it’s clear she's waiting for him. “When you’re ready though, I have something to give you. Phoebe found it. I guess it was Nat’s.”

My throat goes dry.

How dare he say her name?

How dare he use something of hers against me?

How dare he wait this long before mentioning it?

“Let me see it.” I stick my hand out.

“I don’t have it with me,” he says. I must make a face because he holds both hands in surrender. “In my defense, I didn’t realize I’d see you today. Or that you’d want to talk to me.”

“Want is a strong word.”

“You’re kind of mean, Violet Elizabeth.” He laughs again, but it’s softer than before. Impossibly, his accusation sounds like a compliment.

“When can I pick it up?”

“Atlas!” His class buddy is walking toward us. She gestures with broad arm strokes for him to hurry up. Apparently, her tactic of playing it cool was taking too long.

“I’ve got to go,” he says, walking backwards, watching me. “Text me, Violet. I’m at the same number.”

With one final, infuriating smile, he turns away, leaving me alone to wonder what he could possibly have.