Page 37 of What’s Left of Us

“My parents will be devastated. Phoebe too.” He’s smiling as he says it. “They’ve missed you too, you know.”

I swallow. I know he’s teasing me—at least, I think he’s teasing me—but the guilt clenches all the same. Before I spiral too far, Atlas speaks again.

“Maybe you should add something for number eight. I mean, she had the number there and everything.”

“Maybe…” Adjusting her list was one thing. Unavoidable, really, since I couldn’t stop hanging out with someone I’ve hardly met. Adding to it feels like a betrayal somehow. “Let’s just start with the seven.”

“Well, Bumbershoot will be easy.” Atlas moves the list on top of the folder, making room for his tray in front of him. While I opted for pasta with red sauce and a salad I probably won’t eat, he got two hamburgers and a heaping of French fries. “I checked the dates. That’s at the end of this month.”

“Yeah, I was thinking we’d do that last.” I take a bite of pasta and quickly regret my choice of food. I’m not cultured enough to eat pasta without looking like a doofus. It takes me three times to get the spaghetti on my fork properly, just to avoid slurping the noodles.

Salad it is, I guess.

“That’s only a month to do everything else.” Atlas glances at the list again. “You think that’s enough time?”

“I mean, we don’t want to go skinny dipping in October.” My cheeks heat, because, duh, I’m talking about us doing something naked together. Not a big deal. We’re both twenty-one, and well, we have seen each other naked. We’ll go at night too, no need to actually see Atlas’s penis.

Stop thinking about his penis.

“We can plan a weekend trip for Cannon Beach,” Atlas says, tapping the third item. He doesn’t seem at all flustered by the fact we’re going to swim naked together.

Maybe because I made it clear we’ll never go there again.

Maybe because he’s sleeping with that girl from our piano lecture.

Or maybe because he doesn’t want to sleep with me anymore.

“What sport are you thinking?” he asks.

Naked swimming, I want to say. What I actually say is: “I don’t know. Maybe basketball? Since you already know how to play, you could teach me. Right?”

He stares at me, unblinking. The slight dusting of pink is back, but he doesn’t break eye contact. Even when I’ve lowered my eyes to the list, his remain on me. He used to play basketball all the time in high school with Ryan. The boys’ coach desperately wanted Atlas to join their team, but he always refused.

People have been asking whether I play basketball my whole life, he’d told me once. I’m tall so they assume I’ll be good at it. It’s too much pressure. Besides, I like swimming.

Back then, I’d teased him. I thought his explanation was silly. Now, for whatever reason, I get it. I swallow, trying to shake the past off like an itchy blanket. I’m not certain it works, but I look up at Atlas with the most unbothered expression I can muster.

“Or should we pick a sport you haven’t done too?” I ask. “We could try golf, I guess.”

“Basketball is good,” he says with a decisive nod. “I’ll teach you how to play, and I won’t hold it against you when you lose your temper.”

“I won’t lose my temper. I’m not that competitive anymore.” I roll my eyes. “Believe it or not, I’ve evolved since we were sixteen.”

“Trust me, I’ve noticed.” Atlas mutters. His attention briefly moves over me, eyes dark with desire. Even once he’s returned to the list, the tips of his ears are tinged pink.

My stomach swoops. This is the closest he’s come to acknowledging he’s still attracted to me. I force myself to focus on Nat’s list. Flipping it to its blank side, I quickly jot out a timeline.

Week One: Try a new sport

Week Two: Cannon Beach road trip (plus skinny dipping?)

Week Three: Do something we’ve never done before (ideas??)

Week Four: Bumbershoot Music Festival

“What do you think?” I slide the list across the table. Atlas has already devoured his first burger and he’s a decent way into his second. Meanwhile, I haven’t had another bite. My salad has only grown less appealing the longer I’ve sat here.

“Looks good.” He pauses to eat a fry, chewing slowly. “Plenty of time to figure out what you want to do for week three.”