A loud crash boomed outside of my bedroom, shocking my body awake. I scrambled out of bed and rushed towards the freshly installed door, trying to see what all the commotion was about.
I spotted Atlas a few feet down the hallway, seated with his head between his knees and with what looked like the remnants of a glass frame scattered all around him. The normally polished and put-together man looked completely out of sorts. His grey suit was wrinkled, his hair was disheveled, and there was a half empty bottle of scotch grasped in his right hand. He took a swig and smiled bitterly to himself, unaware that I was watching him.
“Atlas?” I hesitated, approaching him with caution. “Is everything okay?”
“Well, look who it is.” He sneered, taking another swig. “The girl of the fucking hour.”
The sarcasm on his tongue stung. His anger combined with the alcohol on his breath was a volatile combination, reminding me so much of Malcolm during his benders. This wasn’t the man I knew. Not in the slightest.
“You know what? I’ll leave you to it.” I said, retreating to my room. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, but you obviously aren’t in the mood for company.”
“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head.” He sneered, tipping his head back with a smug smirk. “I’m fine. Besides, I don’t need your kind of help right now.”
I couldn’t ignore the blatant jab. I should have. In his condition he was liable to say anything to get a rise out of me, but I was tired of standing by while the strings that once tied us together slowly frayed. It was only a matter of time before everything imploded on us.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I challenged, staring him up and down.
“It means that unfortunately for you, my cock is off limits. I’m engaged and the type of healing you’ve used on my brothers won’t work for me.”
I suspected my relationships with his brothers bothered him, especially after the fight with Cyrus, but it hurt to hear the words come from his lips.
“That’s a fucking low blow and you know it.” I said, swallowing hard as our eyes locked.
“It’s the truth.” He hissed, getting up to his feet. “I’m sorry if you can’t fucking handle it.”
I couldn’t deny that there was a spark with each of his brothers. I tried to fight it. Hell, I even physically ran from it. But the connections proved too strong to deny. I could tell it upset Atlas, but what he was saying was bullshit. His words made my feelings sound cheap and wrong. Like I was toying with each of them just for my own sick amusement. There was nothing amusing about falling for four men that you know you should hate.
“Don’t talk to me about the truth okay?” I said, shaking my head with a sneer. “Let’s talk about the fact that you fucking lied to me for over two years!”
He squeezed his eyes shut, saying nothing in response, so I continued.
“Gee, I wonder why that was? Could it be because you had a fucking fiance you wanted to keep hidden?”
It was something I wanted to ask him since the day I saw them together. I knew it wasn’t my place to be jealous. That he and I had only ever been friends. But I hoped for more, and it pissed me off to know that he had kept me straggling on like some idiot while he went home to his fiance every night. Confronting him felt cathartic and once I started releasing all of my pent-up frustrations, the questions just wouldn’t stop.
“Why the secrecy? That’s where you’ve been the last couple of nights, right? Why hide the only fucking thing you seem to care about from someone you considered a friend?”
His movements were swift, like a bolt of lightning striking through the sky. One minute he was on the floor and the next, he was hovering over me and pinning my body to the wall. The sweet smell of scotch mixed with his heady scent of amber and sandalwood had mouth watering and I hated myself for wanting him, even while I hated him.
“We,” he hissed as he caged me in with his arms. “were never friends. What I divulged to a fucking stranger is entirely up to me.”
“You’re an asshole,” I said, biting my lip to hold back my tears, “And a fucking liar.”
“Yeah,” he said, with a half-hearted smile, “well that makes two of us.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “I never lied.”
“The shiner you rocked at the shop.” He replied with a rigid expression. “You didn’t honestly expect me to fall for the whole ‘I fell into a door’ thing, did you?”
“I…”
He wasn’t wrong. I was mad at him for lying, but only because his truths had come out sooner than mine did. And I still had secrets he knew nothing about.
“You had your secrets and so did I.” He hissed, baring his teeth. “Let’s not pretend you’re holier than thou just because my shit came out before yours did.”
I blinked at him, not knowing what to say.
“Who hit you that night, Stevie?” He challenged, looking into my eyes.
His nostrils flared as he waited for an answer. I had nothing to say. He was right. I was as much of a liar as he was.
“Who the fuck hit you?” He snarled, slapping the wall next to my head.
I bit into my lower lip and flinched, expecting the pain. His eyes flashed to my mouth, and I held my breath, too terrified to move. Fiery heat radiated between us as I stared into his unsettling deep brown eyes. If nothing else, he deserved one truth.
“Malcolm,” I breathed, averting my eyes, “okay? It was my fucking step father. Is that what you wanted to hear? The fucked up girl got beat by her parents so now she fucks anyone that will give her attention.”
The pain on his face sliced through my chest. I never wanted to see that look on his face. Pity. Tears welled in my eyes and this time I let them fall freely. Even if I wanted to, I was too far gone to stop them now.
“Fuck, Stevie.” He said, trying to wipe away the tears that kept coming. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so fucking sorry.”
He pressed his lips against my cheeks repeatedly, desperately trying to catch the salty tears as they fell, and for a moment, I let him. Basking in the embrace of the first man who made me feel and the only man that had ever broken my heart.
His chaste kisses grew more intense as he held my trembling body in his arms. I warred with myself. Too selfish to stop it, yet also too scared to let it go any further. Atlas was off limits, despite what my greedy heart wanted. I knew that once he was sober, he’d regret it and end up hating me even more if I let it go any further.
“No.” I said, pushing him away after finally talking some sense into myself. “Atlas, we can’t do this.”
He immediately let go, and I fought the urge to cry out at the emptiness I felt without his arms around me.
“This isn’t right,” I said, trying to reason with him. “you’re drunk and you have a fiance.”
A bitter smile formed across his lips as he grabbed his bottle of Macallan and took another swig.
“If only things were that simple. Keep running from the truth, little girl.” He warned as he walked towards his room. “It’s safer for everyone involved if you do.”
