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“Nah. It’s not like you said anything we haven’t both already thought. I’m not ready for that fully yet. But I want to get there. I want to take a step forward tonight. C’mon.”
Atlas leads me around to the bed of the truck—minus the tarp—but before I can peek at what he’s set up, he covers my eyes with his hands.
“Just a sec. Need us to be in equal states of undress.”
I laugh and blindly reach for the waistband of my leggings and work them down slowly, bending to pull them off my legs from the way they cling. Atlas’ breath hitches as he takes them from me, and instead of taking in the truck, I focus back on Atlas who groans and thumps his forehead on my shoulder.
“You told me to dress comfortably,” I say, knowing exactly what’s garnering this reaction.
“A jock, Blair?”
“It’s not like you don’t wear them all the time to work out.”
A light smack on my bare ass makes my face warm, and Atlas gently nips at my neck before pushing me forward. “In the truck, troublemaker.”
I shake my ass, and he smacks it again, both of us clambering into the bed of the truck half bent over laughing. As soon as I’m up on that tailgate, though, everything around and inside of me goes silent.
There’s a couple of blankets stretched out, padding the bed with some pillows thrown up there. There’s a black insulated bag right in the middle, but it’s the little white fairy lights wrapped around the truck that I keep coming back to.
“Is this you trying to be romantic?”
Atlas rubs a hand over his nape. “Is it working?”
I lean over and drop a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a wonderful man, Atlas Huxley.”
We sit on either side of Atlas’ bag as he pulls out two plastic containers and a set of silverware.
“I snatched some of the best food on campus: Alfredo from The Creamery. Mine has chicken and yours just has broccoli because you’re weird.”
The container is warm in my hands, but I’m watching Atlas’ wide smile as he reaches into a tiny cooler in the corner and takes out two bottles of water. He presses one to my thigh, and I jolt, but his smile never wavers.
“I’m weird? Shiloh sent me a picture the other night of you lapping cream out of a bowl like a cat.”
Atlas throws his hands up—splashing water from his partially opened bottle on his face—and laughs. “It was a dare! I had to act like a kitten for thirty minutes, and I was in the middle of baking snacks.”
“Didn’t know you were into kitten play, A.”
He cocks his head, eyes curious and analyzing; his smile open and playful. “I can think of more erotic things to do with my tongue.”
“Hmm, maybe if you eat your dinner, my tongue can do some erotic things to yours.”
He drops his eyes. “I might like that.”
We both eat in relative silence, sneaking glances and throwing occasional snark as we do, but halfway through Atlas slows, staring down at his bowl with a slight frown.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just thinking that… you know, ever since I was young, I’ve had this silly dream of opening a family restaurant.”
I set my mostly finished container inside the bag that’s now sitting on the tailgate and scoot closer to Atlas. “With your family. Bold.”
He chuckles, but there’s a slight mist in his eyes. “My family, yeah. Specifically Rue. I loved his cooking. And he really tried to teach me. I’m… absolutely hopeless with real food. I can cook the basics, and I can bake a cake in my sleep, but Rue had an insane talent for it given the food stamps we had to work with.”
“With a family that big, I don’t know how you managed.”
Atlas’ smile is full of sadness, and he closes the container of his food to put it in the bag with mine, then grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me down to lay beside him on the pile of blankets. He lays there pulling each bobby pin out of my hair one by one, jaw working as he bites down on the inside of his cheek. When he’s finished, he lifts up the end of one of the blankets and stashes them underneath, then cradles my cheek in his hand.
“We had Rue. He held us together. I guess he was our Blair. I don’t think Mom and Dad ever knew how much he did for us, especially when they were busy with the twins.”
