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“How can you think about food after what I just saw come out of you in there?” He gestures back toward the house.
“Exactly, my belly’s empty now. Ergo, it needs food.”
“Well, I guess I can’t argue with that logic.” He chuckles, grabbing my hand when I slide my arm out of his and make a move to walk away. “Where are you going?”
“I thought we just discussed that?” I give him a questioning look, trying my darndest to ignore the tingle that slides up my arm at the feel of his hand around mine.
It’s fine. Totally fine. Everything is fine.
Only if that were true then why do I feel like I’m about to explode right out of my skin at any moment?
“Yeah, we kind of need my car to get there.” He nods his head, drawing my attention to his Jeep that’s parked on the curb a few feet from us.
“If you drove, how will Brennon get home?” I ask, having assumed they took an Uber for whatever reason.
“He’s a big boy. He’ll figure it out.” He grins when I give him a pointed look. “I texted him, he said he’s good.” He reassures me.
“Oh, okay.” I shake my head, allowing him to pull me toward the car.
He tugs open the passenger door and guides me in before shutting the door.
I watch him make his way around the front of the Jeep, momentarily mesmerized by the way the dark strands of his hair blow across his face in the light breeze that whips around him.
He really is so beautiful it hurts.
But you know what they say, beauty is only skin deep. Something I remind myself of as he slides into the driver’s seat, his scent settling around me, making me feel even dizzier than I already do.
——
“God, I’m so full Ican’t even take a full breath.” I groan as I flop down on the couch and throw my arm over my face.
“Serves you right for eating like you did. That fucking burger was the size of your head.” Atlas laughs, kicking the door closed before locking it.
If you had asked me a week ago if I could have gotten through a meal with Atlas Keaton without ripping his face off, I would have said not a chance in hell. But as it were, tonight was quite enjoyable. We laughed and joked, reminisced on shit from our childhoods, some of which I had completely forgotten about. Like the time Atlas and Brennon stole Zoe’s bra from my room while we were swimming in the pool. When we finally found it in the deep freeze in the garage it was frozen solid.
All of our catch up was enough to make me question why I’ve spent so many years hating him. Sure, he’s a playboy. And yes, he’s also arrogant and egotistical and all the other words that describe someone who’s basically in love with themselves. But he’s also funny and surprisingly sweet in a way I didn’t expect.
“It really was. But damn did it taste good.”
“Greasy food usually does after a night of drinking. Or in your case, a night of drinking and puking.”
I drop my arm and give him the death stare, momentarily distracted by those freaking dimples of his.
“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Probably not.” He chuckles, dropping his keys onto the coffee table before kicking off his shoes.
“Is Brennon here?” I ask, too tired to go check for myself.
“Nah, he texted me while we were at the restaurant.”
“And?”
“I guess he and your friend...”
“Rita,” I interject.
“He and Rita were on their way to get something to eat. Then knowing your brother, he’ll want to make sure she makes it back to her dorm safely. My guess is he won’t be home for at least a couple more hours.”
