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A spike of envy worms through my chest. I wish I had a Carter or a Zeke to text me. I wish I had someone who was my own.
I’m certain the real Atlas behind the walls is worth knowing, as long as I can get past the Atlas guarding the gate.
“Carter is easy,” I say, waving a hand. “Carter is like…he is like a rose. Thorns, yes, but also a flower. Atlas is only the thorns.”
“All right,” I say, turning my face into the pillow. It’s a nice pillow, and it doesn’t seem to be moving. I like this pillow. “But tomorrow maybe we could try the kissing.”
“Did I hit on you?” His gaze snaps back to mine and I shrug. “I’m a flirty drunk and you’re hot.”
“I think I am mostly wanting someone that I might like to talk with, and maybe lie under a blanket with to watch hockey, and also touch my hair.”
I like seeing the way Carter’s face has become softer these last two years, and his mouth is quicker to smile. I like seeing how animated Max has become, as though Luke is a battery he’s drawing energy from. I like how happy they all are and I like that I am a part of it. I love them.
“I have never been interested in kissing before, until I met you,” he says, head tilted and eyes contemplative on mine. His gaze drops to my mouth. “But I like your hair, and I like talking to you even though you can be rude and think I’m strange. I like looking at you.”
“I am only wanting to be here with you, Bärchen. I will be saying no to everyone who is not Atlas.”
It’s a terrifying realization—knowing that I care for Henri enough to give him that kind of power to hurt me.
I’ve seen the man’s dick, for fuck’s sake, I should not be nervous about asking to spend time together in a classroom.
“Ich habe dich mehr vermisst,” he says, barely getting the words out before his mouth presses against mine with greater urgency.
