Sorry, but I’m done with all of you, Nadia interrupted, and then the link was broken as Nadia blocked her permanently.
Leda didn’t know what the hacker meant by “all of you,” and she didn’t particularly care. She felt blindsided. Everything was pressing in on her. Losing her best friend, then Atlas, and now Nadia on top of everything else … god, she just wanted to talk to someone … not to mention all the weirdness lately, about her dad … Leda felt cornered, panicked. She wanted to lash out. Think, she told herself, but her thoughts weren’t coming. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
She pulled up the unsent flicker to Ross, still waiting there in her drafts box, and sent it under her breath. It’s me. What have you got?
AVERY
AVERY SIGHED AS she pulled her feet up onto the soft gray couch in the living room. She waved halfheartedly, the gesture scrolling through the thousands of channels on the holoscreen. But all she could think about was Watt, and the look on his face when she’d kicked him out of her room.
Avery felt terrible about how she’d ended the night. She really hadn’t meant to lead Watt on. The moment he turned up on her doorstep, looking so magnificent in his tux, she’d felt a little thrill of excitement. And that feeling had only grown as the night wore on.
Maybe it was the way he tried to talk to her, really talk to her, and paid attention to things that mattered to her. Maybe it was the warm, clean scent of him, when she leaned her cheek on his shoulder on the dance floor. Or maybe it was just that something in Avery’s life would have to change, drastically, if she had any hope of getting over Atlas, and this was the most drastic change she could think of. Whatever the reason, standing there at the end of the night, she’d decided to follow Jess’s advice—to do it, and get it over with. She was going to have sex with Watt.
Yet when the moment came, Avery froze up completely. She liked Watt, she really did, and still she couldn’t do it. She knew it was messed up, but she’d always imagined that moment with Atlas. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself, she couldn’t bear the thought of being with anyone else.
She thought of what Watt had said earlier, about how she was always looking backward while he looked forward. She wondered, suddenly, if part of why she was so interested in the past was because it was easier than thinking of the future—of her future. Because a future with Atlas was impossible, and yet a future without him would be unbearable.
Avery glanced at her messages again. Still nothing from Watt. She’d sent him a brief flicker saying she was sorry for the way things ended, and she hoped he got home okay, but she hadn’t heard back.
If only she could talk this out with Leda. But she had no idea if Leda and Atlas were still at the gala, or at Leda’s place … Avery swiped at the holo channels again, trying desperately not to think about Leda and Atlas. Better to focus on the lesser hurt, of how royally she’d screwed things up with Watt.
She heard the telltale beep of the front door and sat up, startled, tucking her stray wisps of hair behind her ears. Her parents had come home hours ago and were asleep in their master at the far end of the hall. It had to be Atlas.
“Avery?” He stood in the doorway. “I didn’t realize you were home.”
“You’re back,” she pointed out, stupidly.
“Yeah.” He settled on the couch next to her.
“I thought you were with Leda,” Avery couldn’t help saying.
“I was, but I dropped her off.” He paused. “I told Leda we shouldn’t go out again.”
“Oh.” Avery felt a surge of triumph at the news and hated herself for it, for rejoicing in her friend’s suffering. Part of her knew that if it weren’t Atlas, Leda would be calling her right now, to vent about the whole thing and scheme some Leda-esque revenge.
They sat there for a moment, both of them staring straight ahead at the holoscreen, where a commercial for a new dragonfruit snack pack was playing. Animated dragons flew around the screen in circles, batting their long eyelashes.
Atlas turned to her. “So what’s the deal with you and that Watt guy?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you see in him, anyway?”
“You said last week that you thought he was nice!” Avery snapped. Atlas didn’t answer. “Not that it’s any of your business,” she went on testily, “but we’re over. Guess it’s a night for breakups. Happy now?”
Atlas met her gaze, those deep brown eyes unblinking. “Aves. I only care if you’re happy.”
She felt her anger deflate. “The thing is,” she said haltingly, “you were right. Watt is a nice guy. It’s not his fault he’s not—”
She couldn’t afford to finish that thought.
“Not what?” Atlas prompted.
Avery was tired, so tired, of acting like the sight of Atlas with other girls didn’t bother her, of hiding her hurt behind a smile. The pretense weighed on her so heavily, she felt she might snap in two.
Yet she hesitated. If she said it, if she told Atlas what she really wanted to, she risked losing him forever.
“Not you,” she whispered at last.
The words hung there, quietly ending the world Avery had always lived in. In the silence a new world was unfolding. Avery held her breath.
And then suddenly Atlas’s arms were around her, his lips on hers.
Avery responded eagerly, recklessly, her heart almost hurting with joy. Their kisses were frantic and feverish and she would never get enough of them.
At some point Atlas swung her up into his arms and started down the hall to his room. Avery’s head was pressed against his chest and she could hear the erratic beat of his heart, its pulse matching her own. She felt it too—the exhilaration, and underneath it the thin electrifying undercurrent of fear, at the forbiddenness of what they were about to do. She shivered.
A crash sounded. She realized Atlas had knocked over the lamp by his bed. They both froze, hardly daring to breathe. Their parents were still home—asleep on the other end of the apartment, but still, they were here.
Nothing happened, and after a moment, Avery relaxed. “I’m sorry,” Atlas began, but Avery just laughed and pulled him onto the bed with her.
“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters but you.” She reached up to kiss him again but Atlas beat her to it, his kisses burning her skin, obliterating all thought.
* * *
When Avery woke up, Atlas’s sleeping form was curled around hers, his arm over her shoulder and his breath soft in her ear—living proof that it was real, that she hadn’t imagined any of it. She lay still for a while, relishing the feel of Atlas so close to her. Then she turned on her side and kissed him.
Atlas stirred. “Hey there,” he said drowsily, and smiled.
“What are you thinking?” Avery asked, because she wasn’t sure how to say what she wanted to.
“Right now, I’m thinking how nice it is to lie here and hold you,” he murmured, reaching an arm around to pull her closer.
She nestled contentedly into him, but a million questions still whirled through her mind. “Atlas,” she tried again. “After Eris’s party, when we kissed … you didn’t even remember …” She looked at him expectantly, but his brow was furrowed.
“I didn’t remember?” he repeated. “Aves, you were the one who acted like it never happened!”
“No,” she said automatically—that couldn’t be true. Could it?
“You didn’t even kiss me back, up on the roof!” Atlas went on. “It terrified me. Why do you think I ran away so fast?”
“But you were just standing there eating waffles the next morning like it never happened!”
“Only because I thought that was what you wanted me to do.”
Avery shook her head. But as she played back through the events of that night, she remembered how fragile that kiss had seemed, how she hadn’t dared move for fear of breaking the spell and sending Atlas running. Maybe she’d done that anyway. “I thought you didn’t remember. Or didn’t care,” she whispered.