Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
The universe clearly wants to test me because our frat boy server is suddenly all about paying extra attention to Eloise, staring at her like she's the only person at the table. My blood pressure shoots through the roof, and the little twerp's hopeful smile makes my blood boil.
"Can I get you anything else?" he asks, leaning way the fuck too close to Eloise.
"She's good," I bark before she can answer, and my voice comes out more possessive than I intended. Great. Now I look like a lunatic.
Eloise glances at me, surprised, then back at the server. "Thanks, but I’m good," she says with her sweet smile. The kid nearly trips over his own feet and bumps into Dawson on his way to the next table.
"That waiter is fantastic," Ian remarks, lifting an eyebrow. "I'm going to give him a bigger tip for his attentiveness."
I rub the side of my head and discreetly gesture at Ian with my middle finger where the girls can't see.
Over the next week, I oscillate between bubbling excitement for Atlas to move in and a gnawing terror at the intensity of my feelings for him.
What had once been a simple childhood crush has transformed into a powerful surge of longing, coupled with an emotion so profound and overwhelming that I’m reluctant to even label it.
On Thursday evening, I hurry home from school, quickly change clothes, and eat dinner in a rush. It's the first day this week that Atlas is free to move his stuff. Of course, Sage and Ian have other plans, and the other two Hot brothers found excuses not to help, so it's just the two of us.
While I'm in the kitchen washing my dinner plates, I hear the key turning in the lock. I put on a smile and walk into the living room to greet my new roommate. Atlas strolls in with a stack of boxes and a charming smile.
His gaze sweeps over me as I linger in the doorway, dressed in my favorite black yoga pants and a bright pink t-shirt. Normally, I’d feel self-assured, but with Atlas Hot about to move in, I’m suddenly back to feeling like an unsure thirteen-year-old.
"Where should I put my things?" Atlas inquires, snapping me out of my daze as I realize I've been caught staring.
I roll my eyes and place a hand on my hip. "Sage’s old room," I volley back.
My pulse pounds as I help him carry the first load inside. His black firefighter t-shirt clings to him, slightly damp with sweat. "Thanks for helping," he offers, barely breaking a sweat.
"I can’t believe your brothers and Sage all cut out on us," I mutter as I drop one of his boxes on the foot of the bed.
“Luckily, I don’t have too much.” Atlas laughs, his gaze meeting mine in a way that makes me feel warm and a bit dizzy. I laugh, too, even if it sounds like a nervous giggle.
The apartment is a minefield of memories from when Sage lived here. I’ve grown good at ignoring the empty spaces on shelves, the faint outlines where picture frames once hung, and a dog bed still in the corner. I wonder if Atlas notices the same things I do.
We're carrying another load to the spare bedroom, trying not to brush too close. But the narrow hallway means lots of squeezing by, and our hands graze more than once. Each time, we jump apart like teenagers caught kissing in a gymnasium. It's electrifying and mortifying.
"Thanks for the help," Atlas says to me. When I look up and catch the intensity in his eyes, I almost feel like melting then and there.
“You don’t have much here,” I observe, glancing around and questioning if this is truly all he has.
“I left most of my belongings in my garage while my house is being remodeled,” he explains.
By the time we’re done, I’m not sure if my breathlessness is from the heavy lifting or Atlas's effect on my heart.
I search my mind for something to say and finally come up with, “I hope you don’t feel claustrophobic in this small room.”
“It’s not bad at all.” He glances over at me and smiles. “Plus, I don’t have to worry about you eating my new shoes.”
I snort and turn to drop a box on the foot of his bed. It unfortunately hits the end and slips off, spilling his clothes and some very personal items everywhere.
“I’m so sorry.” I feel my cheeks heat as I stare down at his black boxer shorts.
For a moment, we both just stand there, stunned. The next moment, he scrambles to gather up the mess. “No problem.”
After I help him pick up his things, I need to get away before I jump his bones. "Want a quick tour?" Not exactly my best idea. It’s not exactly hard to find your way around the five-hundred-square-foot apartment.