I pushed past people by the door, getting a few dirty looks as I amid it down the stairs.
I needed to get out.
I was a mess, my skirt slightly ripped and my combat boots untied. My eyes felt red and I knew it was stupid to have worn contacts when I wasn't used to it. I wanted to blame Solana for bringing me here in the first place, but then I remembered how I agreed to it—how I never should've agreed.
I turned around, looking out at the party and all those rich kids having a blast. I should be back in there, playing the part, but all I could think about was Marcus—his lips still lingered on mine, and it twisted something deep inside me. He came inside me, something he never did, and I let him. I let him just take me inside that ridiculous large bathroom and just fuck me on the sink.
I fucking hated myself for it.
I exhaled, trying to shake it off, but the weight of everything, including Damon Saint-Hayes' secret, bore down on me. Marcus wouldn't force me to investigate his demon of a step-brother just as we agreed, but for some reason—or maybe it was the way he looked at me in the party—I had this need to find out.
I wanted to know what the star boy of Aldridge could possibly be hiding, and I doubted it was simply a rondeau with his music teacher.
There was something else … something deeper.
A twig snapped behind me, and I turned, startled. "Hey Anna!"
My shoulders tense when I see Atlas making his way toward me. His messy hair and unbuttoned shirt told me he wasn't exactly sober, but his expression was steady, more focused than the chaos around us. He stopped a few feet away, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Good seeing you here—and shit, you look great! Like the hair."
My face heats up, from embarrassment or shame, I don't know? Maybe it's the fact that my messy hair was from being banged constantly against the mirror. "Thanks," I mutter awkwardly.
"Quite the scene, huh?" He nodded toward the cabin where laughter and music spilled into the night breeze, the faint glow of firelight casting long shadows between the trees. "Nothing like a party where everyone's either high or trying to forget we have Saturday activities tomorrow."
I find myself smiling, shaking my head. "It's a mess."
We stood there for a beat, the silence between us almost comforting. His gaze shifted from the party back to me, something unreadable behind his eyes. "Want to get out of here?"
I blinked, surprised by the offer but not entirely against it. "Where would we even go?"
He shrugged, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "Anywhere that isn't here. Come on, Anna."
I hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the party—the laughter, the blurred bodies swaying to the music. I wasn't going to find what I needed here. Without another word, I stepped forward, closing the space between us. "Yeah … let's go."
Atlas grinned, a bit more mischievous this time, and gestured toward the trees. "Follow me."
—
I've been to this school for one and a half years, and never realized there was a secret in the West Woods, hidden under two gigantic trees. "Holy shit," I whisper.
Atlas smiles as he opens the door. "Welcome to West Shack—Can't believe it's still here."
We stepped inside, and the musty scent of wood filled my senses. The walls were lined with slasher film posters, faded and curling at the edges. A narrow shelf of books stood proudly against the far wall, the titles neatly stacked, as if they'd been carefully chosen. The wooden floor creaked beneath my feet with each step, making me wonder if I'd fall into a hidden trap. I glanced at Atlas. "What is this place?"
He flopped down onto the couch, his body sinking into the worn cushions like he belonged there. "When I was a first year, me and some friends used to hang out here. After I transferred, they sort of forgot about it, but when I came back, this was the first place I checked out. Spent the first week fixing it up, making sure it didn't fall apart."
I drifted over to the bookshelf, my fingers brushing lightly over the spines of the classics. A smile tugged at my lips. "You really do like to read," I said, turning back to him.
Atlas blushed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, and for a moment, he looked almost shy. "Well, I'm not as much of a reader as you, but… I try."
I crossed the room and sat beside him on the couch, the cushion sinking beneath me. It was quiet for a moment, just the faint rustle of the trees outside. He turned to me, his eyes softening as he spoke. "Is everything okay?"
I frown. "Well of course."
He raised a brow. "You sure. You just seem so … different."
I bite my lip, averting my eye. "Atlas it's been almost two years. I was bound to change."
"Not for the worse."
My eyes snapped to him and I could see the fear in his eyes as the flush on his cheeks suddenly lightens. He was getting more sober. "Sorry," he says. "Too harsh."
I give him a tight smile. "Well you're sort of right. I don't think I've changed for the better."
"Well, we're seniors now, so I'm sure it can't get any worse," he reassures.
I shake my head, feeling the chill of the air as I drum my fingers against my thighs. "No. I think I'm at the worst part."
I expect him to brush off what I said, or let the silence fold over us until the topic changes—like what everyone does—but he grabs my hand softly. I look up at him, at those beautiful hazel eyes and those perfectly dotted freckles, and dirty blonde hair. Marcus was like a supermodel, with his perfectly structured features, height, and lean body, but Atlas was a Greek God, with a beauty that was incapable for someone like me to understand. I could only let my eyes worship him, take in those soft peach lips. "Atlas—"
He shakes his head, leaning in closer. "I missed you, Anna. Those one and a half years… I kept thinking about you. I wondered what things would've been like if I hadn't transferred. Maybe we'd be …"
"Atlas—"
"I don't care if you've changed Anna. I don't care if the girl you once were isn't even reconcilable to who you are now. That doesn't change how I feel—these feelings I have for you never changed."
His words hit me like a wave, and I felt my heart skip a beat. I wasn't prepared for this—especially not after what had just happened with Marcus. I shifted slightly, suddenly hyper-aware of the space between us, feeling self-conscious. My mind was spinning, caught between the past and the present, and the way Atlas looked at me made it even harder to breathe.
"Anna … I think your well-aware of what I mean."
"I—" I started, but the words seemed stuck in my throat. "I don't know if it's a good idea?"
"To want you?"
"To even be here with me," I snapped out. "I'm not …I'm—"
He leans back. "Is it someone else?"
"No!" I blurted. "It's … I'm in a tight spot and I … you deserve someone better."
Atlas's gaze didn't falter, he stared at me with same intensity, the same yearning. "I wish things were different, Anna. I really do. But whatever you're afraid of, don't let that stop you from what you want."
I open my mouth to speak, but I couldn't utter a single word. I should be reeling at this opportunity, to be with a boy that likes me, that doesn't taunt me or treat me as his servant. Being with Atlas could be a shield. Maybe if I tell him about Marcus he'd protect me. Atlas's family may not be as rich as the Crawford's but his fathers a damn football star with boundless money. Marcus wouldn't be able to touch me.
But if Atlas knew would he even want me anymore? If he knew that a few minutes ago I was being fucked by my biggest tormentor, would he still look at me the same? Or will I just be a money-hungry slut.
Atlas begins to move away, his eyes narrowing in disappointment. Without thinking, I grab his arm. Shit. I was going to regret this.
He stares at me confused. "Anna—"
My kiss was slightly aggressive and forceful. I didn't give myself the chance to comprehend what I was doing before my hands grabbed the back of his nape and pulled him toward me. Not a moment long after hesitation, I felt his lips soften against mine, feeling the warmth of his body as my hands slid to his back, and his slid to my waist.
I fisted his shirt, feeling the slip of his warm tongue and the hardness of his muscles as he deepens the the kiss. That's when I retract. I break away from his lips, breathing for air as my body begins to shake. "Oh shit Atlas that was … I'm sorry I didn't mean to—"
He chuckles and my heart stops. "Are you?"
I frown. "What—"
He leans in. "Are you sorry? Cause I'm not." He kisses me softly against my lips, and I bite the courage to grip his shirt again, or tear it off to feel his skin against mine. He pulls back slightly, looking into my eyes. His expression shows both surprise and relief, mixed with the lingering heat from the kiss. "I've wanted to do that for so long." His voice is low and husky, filled with so much want. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. But if you're okay with this …" He trails off, his gaze flickering between your eyes and lips.
I smile. "I'm okay with anything Atlas. I just … I just don't want to hurt you."
He cups my face gently, his thumb brushing my cheek. "You couldn't hurt me if you tried, Anna." He leans in, pressing his lips against my skin in a soft, tender kiss on the cheek. My heart instantly melts.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching me. "I know things aren't simple. But I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what." He presses his forehead against mine. "Tell me what's going on, Anna. I know there's something you're not telling me?"
My heartbeat quickened, and I fought the urge to tell him everything about Marcus—the weeks of school after Atlas transferred, how everything became hell when he left. But I couldn't bring myself to say it. I couldn't face the truth. For a year and a half, I gave myself to a rich bastard, one I enjoyed having sex with. I did his homework after giving him head, I let him drag me around like a maiden, let his friends walk over me. I was doing it to keep my mother and Solana safe, but I still felt ashamed every time I came when he told me to, when I'd scream when he told me to. Marcus wasn't entirely the villain … I enjoyed his punishment.
I was sick.
I knew Atlas would hate me if I told him, so I stayed silent. Instead, I kissed him, let his lips touch mine and cleanse my sins. I kissed him with fury, angry—angry that if I had said yes to Atlas all those years ago, his lips would be the only ones I knew, instead of the devil's, who forced them on me. I lifted his shirt and kissed his skin. He gasps softly as my lips trail along his neck, his hands instinctively moving to my hips. He tilts his head back, exposing himself to me.
His breath comes in short, quick bursts, desire and concern evident in his voice. "Anna, are you sure about this?" he asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
I don't reply. I didn't need to. For the first time I wanted this, and I didn't feel ashamed for it. But I felt myself stopping, feeling the warmth disappear, and then I feel his muscles tensing. I stop myself.
He doesn't push me away, instead letting his hands slide up my back, holding me close. The warmth of his body seeps through my clothes. He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers. "I want you, Anna. So much. But not like this. Not when something's clearly bothering you." He pulls back slightly.
"Atlas," I whimper. "Please."
There's a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but also undeniable desire. Maybe if I beg more he'd give in, but I knew Atlas wasn't like that. I had to convince him I was fine.
"You come from money," I tell him.
He frowns. "What—"
I roll my eyes, backing away. "Atlas, you're rich, I'm not. I think you can see why I'm being hesitant. I like you and I don't want you to think I'm … a gold-digger."
His eyes open wide, and I almost chuckle at the face he makes. "What the fuck Anna! Why would you even think that!? And no, I don't care if you have less money than me." He grabs my hand. "Liking someone shouldn't be materialistic," he says. "I mean were seventeen for fucks sake. Who cares who are parents are? Lets just be—"
"Together," I tell him.
He smiles. "Yeah. Let's be together."
I kiss him, letting my body melt in his again. He's quick to take off his unbuttoned shirt, revealing his toned body. I'm grinning at the sight, remembering that Atlas is a literal fucking star athlete. My hands graze his abs. I don't get to admire him as much before he's kissing my again, taking off my leather coat and flinging it across the wall.
He groans softly, his resolve weakening. His fingers dig into my skin, pulling me closer as he presses a series of heated kisses along my jawline. His voice is rough with need when he speaks. "Fuck, Anna. You're driving me crazy." He attacks my neck with his lips, sucking and gently biting. His hands slide under my shirt, calloused fingers tracing patterns on my skin. I'm seeing stars, those warm lips like medicine against the skin Marcus used to ravage. He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his own dark with desire. "Tell me what you want," he demands. He's giving me control, letting me decide how far this goes. But the tension in his body, the way his hands grip me possessively, shows just how much he wants this.
I breathe against his lips. "I think... I want you to fuck me on your couch."
He moans low in his throat, all pretense of control gone. With a swift movement, he lifts me onto his lap, so I'm straddling him on the couch. His hands slide up my thighs, pushing my skirt up to reveal my underwear—ripped, though he doesn't seem to notice. He leans in, nipping at my lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. He grinds against me, letting me feel his arousal. His eyes are dark with desire, pupils blown wide.
"Fuck," I hiss as heat pools in my core. I grind against him hard, my mind slipping away from all my worries, letting my hands graze over his muscles as I ride him, still clothed. "Fuck."
I look down at him, catching that cheeky smirk. Suddenly, he stands, lifting me with him. I yelp when he spins me around and presses me against the cushion, his body pinning me there. His hands slide under my shirt, tracing patterns on my soft skin. He nips at my earlobe, soothing it with his tongue. One of his hands slides down to cup my ass while the other teases the underside of my breast. He grinds against me, letting me feel the hard length of him pressed against my stomach. His breath comes in short, quick bursts, desire and impatience evident in every movement.
He makes quick work of my shirt, leaving me in my bra. He stares at my chest with indescribable lust but doesn't give himself time to linger. He unzips his pants, a fierce intensity in his gaze, a hunger that feels almost primal. His hands slide down to my hips, gripping tightly as he positions himself at my entrance, sliding my underwear to the side. He leans in, his lips brushing against mine as he whispers, "You're so fucking beautiful, Anna."
He thrusts into me right after. I stiffen, biting his shoulder as I let him fill me. It felt different with him. With Marcus I forced myself to not enjoy it as much as I did, and held myself back each time. With Atlas, I let myself moan, crying out without being told to. I was on cloud fucking nine.
Atlas groans loudly, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he starts to move. His hips set a gentle pace, each thrust driving me deeper into the couch. His mouth roams my body, leaving marks wherever they touch. He peppers kisses along my neck and collarbone, each one punctuated by a bite just hard enough to leave a mark.
"Atlas!" I hiss as I feel a nip at my collarbone. He wraps his arms around me as he continues to thrust. My legs wrap against his sides, letting him take my even deeper. Sex with him felt like a warm embrace, and I let myself fall into that comfort. As the first few tears fell down my face, I simply let him kiss it away.
—
Atlas walked me to my dorm, a wide smile plastered on his face. For someone I always thought of as humble, he looked surprisingly cheeky. I couldn't judge—I couldn't stop the grin spreading across my own face either. For once, I had done something I wanted to. I did something for me.
I was an idiot for it.
Atlas held my hand as we stopped in front of Evergreen Dorm—deserted, since everyone was still at the party. He kissed me, that familiar peachy scent drifting up to my nose. My heart fluttered but turned cold the moment he pulled away. "Have a good night, Anna," he whispered.
He left me standing by the lamppost, and I watched him walk away. He was just heading back to his dorm, but I still felt a wave of nervousness wash over me. What if this was it? What if, by tomorrow or Monday, he acted like none of it ever happened?
It wasn't until I entered my dorm that the heart-piercing thoughts really sank in. I had slept with two boys in one night—barely two hours apart. I should have felt ashamed, disgusted. But I had already hit a high point of self-hatred, and there was no room left for guilt. The fatigue hit me, and I collapsed onto my bed.