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I know he mentioned it for a laugh, but I’m glad to know he’s getting out there and having some fun. And his explanation of his clever tutoring process—that I’ve apparently underestimated—fills me with confidence. I can actually imagine acing this test. Holy fuck, what will Atlas do if I win?
I can’t celebrate prematurely. I need to get to work, so I listen carefully as Ash walks me through where I’ve fumbled on the practice test. His explanations sure make a lot more sense than they did when we started, but I’m skeptical. What if I’m just kidding myself? Then I guess a C is better than an F, and I’m Atlas’s servant for a night.
No. I won’t settle. If I go down, I’ll go down fighting.
After Ash and I finish up, he takes his swivel chair with him down the hall to his room.
I toss my shirt off and fall onto my bed. Just need to relax.
As I check my phone, I notice an Instagram notification. A DM from Atlas. We started chatting on Instagram shortly after Mom’s birthday party. He must’ve noticed I was active earlier.
Atlas: Shouldn’t you be studying?
Me: Just finished my study session with Ash. Hope you’re stretching those masseter muscles.I throw in a tongue emoji to really dig it in.Now stop stalking me on Insta.
I start to put my phone down, when it buzzes.
Atlas: Is there somewhere else you’d prefer to be stalked?
Now he’s got me laughing.
Me: If you want another boner, I suggest you check out last summer’s lake pics.
Atlas: I can do my own stalking, thanks.
I know he’s not actually drooling over my photos, but I kind of wish he were.
What a fucked-up thought to have.
We have such a strange relationship. After our wrestling match in my old room, I thought things might be awkward, but now we just tease each other about giving each other boners. It’s so fucking us, it’s scary. Our relationship has always been a wild, unpredictable mess. One minute we’re fighting or goading each other, the next I feel like he’s the only person in the world who sees beyond my facade—this performance I put on to make everyone think I’m all right.
I’m not all right, though, and neither is he. We’ve always known that, and even when we’re giving each other hell, we’re always there for each other, sometimes just needing a wrestle to get out all our rage.
I set my phone down and eye my nightstand. For some reason, I lean over, slide it open, and retrieve Atlas’s shirt.
I’ve had chances to give it back to him. I could have taken it with me to Mom’s birthday party. Or the dinner we’ve had atGlen and Mom’s since then. Or when I saw him around school or at our last party. Or when he came by the shop with another part he bought for me.
But I haven’t even told him I have it.
I pull it to my face and inhale, and I realize as I do it why I was compelled to pull it out. A wave of relief washes through me, helps me let go of all the tension I had while Ash was scrambling my brain. What about smelling Atlas does this to me?
I fist it in my hand, burying my face into the cloth. As I take my next breath, I practically gasp. It’s like someone held my head underwater, and now I’m coming up for air. Funny to think that, when Atlas would be the guy most likely to be holding my head under.
As my dick hardens, I bite into the fabric.
What the hell am I doing?
I snatch up my phone and pull up Instagram again, returning to the photo Brenner had of him.
I zoom back in to Atlas’s pretty, pouty face.
He’s got this cocky expression for the photo. I bet he knew how hot he looked that night, his lengthy locks like a dirty-blond wave crashing on the shore. His open button-up reveals his necklace resting between the ridges in his pecs. Never thought I’d be envious of a necklace.
And that mouth on him…God… With my free hand, I press my finger against his lips and trace them.
I remove my gym shorts and boxers, tossing them to the bottom of the bed. Then I position a pillow near me and rest the phone against it so that his image is looking at me. I lick my palm and grab my cock, stroking.
As I pull his shirt back to my face, my dick pulses in my grip.
