Page 5

Kairi

“Kairi, I need a favor.”

I could tell by the sugary-sweet tone of her voice that she was about to piss me off with whatever she was about to ask.

I sighed, shifting the phone to my other ear as I stuffed my notebooks into my backpack. “What now, Ashlen?”

She groaned, frustrated. “Atlas is sick.”

I paused, glancing at the time. It was after midnight.

“…And?”

She huffed. “And I need you to check on him. His mother is hounding me about making sure he’s okay all the way from Paris. I need her to like me.”

I frowned. “Why can’t you?”

Silence. Then, a fake little laugh. “Oh my God, Kairi, I would, but I’m at my parents’ house. I literally had to come home last minute.”

Bullshit.

I could hear music in the background—loud, bass-heavy, people yelling, laughing.

Ashlen wasn’t at her parents’ house.

I rubbed my forehead. “Ashlen.”

“Oh, come on,” she whined. “It’s just the flu! He just needs soup and fluids. I’ll owe you. I’ll pay for groceries for two weeks.” She rushed out.

I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to do it, but that was a good deal.

“…Please, Kairi? You owe me.”

I didn’t really owe her anything. Not anymore. Whatever debt she thought I had, I’d repaid it over and over. Yeah, Ashlen had been there for me when I needed her as a kid, but if I’d known she was going to hold it over my head for the rest of my life, I would’ve never accepted the help.

I sighed. “Fine. But don’t ask me for anything else for a while, Ashlen.”

“Love you, babe. I’ll text you the address. The code to his key entry is 0801,” she said, then hung up before I could change my mind.

My lungs hurt from the sigh I let out.

This was a bad idea.

Atlas was going to make this way worse than it needed to be—I could feel it. Over the past six months, we’d settled into some strange dynamic where we were always around each other because of him and Ashlen being together, but we weren’t actually friends. There was a weird tension between us that he fed into.

And now I was about to walk right into his space. Alone.

Yeah, this was going to suck.

I left the library. After I left Walgreens, I would head his way.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped into Atlas’s apartment was that it was too hot. The heater was turned all the way up, making the air thick, heavy. The whole place reeked of sweat and sickness. But despite it all, I couldn’t ignore how nice his place was—way too nice for a college student.

There was an open-concept living room, sleek and modern, all clean lines and expensive-looking furniture. A massive black sectional stretched across the huge space. A black glass coffee table sat in front of it, stacked with books that looked like they’d been read more than a few times. A floor-to-ceiling window flooded the room with moonlight, the city skyline stretching beyond it.

Ashlen said he was rich, but I didn’t think this rich.

This was luxury. This was generational wealth. The kind of money that made life easy, that kept people like him from ever having to stress about rent, tuition, or groceries. No wonder his ass was always so carefree.

Why was he always at our small apartment? That didn’t make any sense.

I walked down a long hallway and found Atlas lying in bed, barely half-asleep, his hair a mess, his skin flushed, his shirt damp.

I set my bag down, crossing the room in a few steps. “Atlas?”

He barely stirred, mumbling something I couldn’t understand.

I sighed, pressing the back of my hand to his forehead. Burning up.

Shit.

I sat on the edge of the bed, nudging his shoulder gently. “Atlas. When was the last time you drank water?”

His eyes fluttered open, a slow, dazed glance in my direction.

“…Kairi?” His voice was hoarse to the point it sounded scratchy.

I nodded. “Yeah. Ashlen told me you were sick and asked me to come. I stopped by Walgreens.”

Something flickered in his expression. He turned his face away. “Where is she?”

I swallowed. “Her parents needed her,” I lied, repeating what Ashlen had told me.

He sighed. “Yeah, sure.”

I ignored the sudden heaviness in the air and stood up. “You need to drink and eat something.”

“I don’t want it,” he whined like a big-ass child.

I narrowed my eyes. “Shut up. You’re going to drink it and eat whatever I give you. In this state, I could make you.”

A slow, fever-lazy smirk curled his lips. “Whatever you say, baby.”

My heart did a little flutter. I ignored it.

I left the room after grabbing the Walgreens bag, pulling out the orange juice and canned soup I’d bought. By the time I returned with heated soup, ice water, and orange juice, he was sitting up. He watched me enter the room, his green eyes half-lidded, hazy.

I set the tray I was carrying down and sat beside him, spooning up some soup. “Eat,” I instructed.

He obeyed, barely swallowing before I brought the spoon up again. Once the bowl was empty, I grabbed the orange juice and handed it to him. “Drink all of it.”

He huffed but did as he was told. I could see life coming back into him.

“Good,” I said, standing up. “Now get up and take a shower while I change your sheets.”

He groaned. “Can’t I just sleep?”

“No, you stink, and the shower will help bring your fever down.”

He let out a raspy chuckle but slowly pushed himself up, swaying a little as he got to his feet. I went about stripping the bed. I found clean sheets and a comforter behind one of the many closet doors that lined his hallway.

Ten minutes later, I was fluffing a pillow when the bathroom door swung open—and Atlas stepped out, buck-ass naked.

For a second, I forgot to move. I didn’t breathe.

He was built so fucking well—all lean muscle and broad shoulders, his skin covered in tats of demons and skulls and women on motorcycles. His damp strands of red hair curled at the ends, giving him this TV surfer look. My gaze flicked down before I could stop myself.

Oh.

Wow.

He was big everywhere.

I swallowed and jerked my eyes back up, whipping around so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.

“fuck, Atlas, what the hell—”

He let out a low chuckle behind me. “What? You told me to shower.”

“I didn’t tell you to walk around with your whole dick out,” I snapped, still facing the opposite direction. “Put some clothes on.” My voice came out higher than I intended.

I heard him pad across the floor, drawers opening.

“You can turn around now.”

I didn’t. No matter if he put on clothes, from now on, I would always see him as naked. I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. “It’s almost three in the morning. I’m sleepy. Ashlen should be back tomorrow, so if you need anything—”

A warm hand wrapped around my wrist.

I turned.

Atlas had slipped into a white t-shirt and basketball shorts. “Stay.”

I blinked. “What?”

His grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough that I knew he meant it. “Stay with me.”

I hesitated. “Atlas—”

“Please, I hurt so bad, and I can’t sleep. I need the company,” His voice was softer than I’d ever heard it.

I knew I should say no.

That was my problem—I didn’t know how to say no to people.

After my mother died, I became the girl who made things easier for everyone else. My father shut down, drowning in his own grief, and I learned quickly that asking for too much, needing too much, only made things worse. So I stopped asking. Stopped needing. Stopped pushing back when people took up too much space in my life. I was well aware of my own shortcomings, but I didn’t know how to fix myself yet.

I sighed, rolled my eyes, and gave in. Just like always. “…Fine,” I muttered. “But I’m sleeping on top of the covers.”

He grinned like he’d won something. “Whatever you want, Ki.”

I rolled my eyes and settled onto the bed, as far from him as possible. Within minutes, I was out.

Something woke me. My eyes shot open. The sun was up and burned the fuck out of my retinas. My brain was sluggish, caught between sleep and reality. It took me a minute to feel the warm lips pressing against my neck.

Then suddenly I could feel there was a body pressed against mine. Breath on my skin.

A hand. Under my shirt.

Fingertips ghosting over the flesh of my hip, slow, teasingly. My pussy thumped.

I almost melted into it, almost let myself sink into the comfort of it—

Until I remembered where I was.

And who was touching me.

I went still, the realization locking my spine straight. My voice came out low. “Atlas.”

He didn’t stop. If anything, he got bolder, his nose grazing the spot where my shoulder met my neck, his voice rough from sleep. My nipples tightened to the point it was almost painful.

“I feel better now,” he whispered, like that explained everything. “Thank you.”

I swallowed hard, every nerve in my body alive. I felt myself lean into him before I could stop it.

I let myself indulge for just a moment.

Then I snapped out of it.

I jerked back, putting inches between us. His fingers slid from my skin.

I turned to face him.

Atlas smiled at me, slow, knowing.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

I opened my mouth to ask him why he kept playing with me. What was his endgame? Did he expect me to fuck him while he was with Ashlen? But then I decided it didn’t really matter.

I pushed myself up from ed. I had to pee, I didn’t care. I was leaving.

Atlas stayed where he was, half sprawled across the mattress, watching me with that lazy, unreadable expression.

He was such and arrogant, beautiful, asshole.

I exhaled. “Good.”

Then I got up, grabbed my bag, and walked right out.