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Those pictures…
As I pulled into the gravel driveway, I looked at the old beach house and the old car, and I caught myself smiling.
Atlas called me.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m okay, love. I have some time to kill before the game.”
“That’s right. You have an early game.”
“I like it. I’ll be done and home early. Then you’re all mine.”
“Are you flirting with me over the phone?”
“What if I am?”
“I think it’s kind of sexy,” I said. “I wish you’d called me earlier.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, if I was home right now. And you were flirting. I just might have to touch myself.”
Atlas laughed. “Why can’t you touch yourself right now?”
“I’m sitting in a driveway,” I said. “I’m at Charles’s house.”
“Oh, I can see how that would be weird.”
“Very weird.”
“I’m going to think about that though, love. You touching yourself.”
“What if you get hard during the hockey game?” I asked.
“Then I’ll have two hockey sticks to use.”
I burst out laughing.
“I love you, Hazel,” Atlas said. “I’m happy you’re there.”
“Me too,” I said. “Without you. No need for perverted comments.”
“Your grandmother was the pervert,” Atlas said. “Not me.”
“Love you too, Atlas. Good luck at the game. Score a goal or break someone’s jaw.”
I climbed out of my car slowly. Without a choice.
My stomach was in the way every second of my life now.
I took a few steps and paused.
I touched my back.
Everything ached.
Head to toe.
