We don’t talk. We usually don’t, but I can feel her stare penetrating me the whole way there and back. By the time we arrive back at the house, the car is still there and so is he.
Why is he here?
Tina comes to a stop next to me and clutches my hand in hers. “Who is that man?” Her voice is raised a little louder than a whisper.
I can’t blame her for wanting to know.
Atlas isn’t dressed as he was last night, he’s dressed in ripped jeans and a white shirt showcasing a lot of his ink, and not just a flower up his arm, no his arms are covered in black ink. I thought he had some tattoos from the ones I saw peeking up his neck, but I did not expect this many.
Risking a glance, I see his eyes lock onto mine.
Tina nudges me again as we walk closer. I totally think about ignoring him. The last thing I need is for him to be a fixture in my life, and my co-workers and friends knowing about him. But I know Tina will not let this go either.
“Tina, this is Atlas.”
I watch as she steps forward, her chest rising and falling as she walks toward him offering him her hand. He looks to it, then looks at me. I raise an eyebrow, waiting to see what he will do. He’s the one who’s showed up at my place on a Sunday morning with no warning after leaving me to fend for myself last night.
“Tina.” He takes her hand, leans down, letting his lips brush against her knuckles before he stands and offers her a small smile.
“Oh my God, if you don’t marry him, Thea, I will.” Tina turns, walks over to me, kisses my cheek, and whispers, “I hope you’re hitting that. Hard.”
I can’t help but giggle at her words before she waves and disappears to her car.
I focus back on Atlas who is now leaning against his car again with his arms crossed over his chest and his lips puckered.
I wonder what he’s thinking. What is flying around in that head of his that makes him keep coming back? It can’t just be what my sister owes him. If he thought I was going to run, I would have done so already. And I like to run.
“You haven’t been running this week.”
I wipe a stray piece of hair from my face as he watches me. “I’ve been busy. You’ve kept me busy.”
“That I have,” he agrees.
“Now, if you would kindly tell me why you are here, that would be great.”
Atlas pushes off the car and steps to me, looks up at my door, and then back to me. “You should run more,” he says, as if he knows everything, then he turns back to his car.
“What do you need me to do?” I ask.
“Relax. I won’t need you until next weekend, Theadora.”
Scrunching my eyebrows, I shake my head. “So why did you come?”
Opening the car door, he looks me up and down. “Have a good day, Theadora.”
“Fuck you, Atlas,” I say with a smirk. And those words make his lips twitch.
He nods, then gets into his car and drives off.
I stand on the side of the road watching his car head off in the distance, wondering what on earth he wanted. For what reason did he come here?
Atlas is a mystery, and one I’m not sure I want to figure out.
Chapter Ten
Theadora
Flowers still come every day when I’m at work. All from ‘A.’
I don’t see him that weekend, and when the next weekend comes and goes, I am beginning to get angsty. He was a no show again, and I don’t understand how he went from so many times in one week to no contact at all in two weeks.
The following Friday rolls around three weeks after I last saw him, and when I get home that afternoon, he’s leaning against his car, looking at his diamond watch when I walk up to him.
“You’re late.”
“Didn’t know I was meeting you,” I answer.
He looks up at me from his watch, and his eyes scan me.
“How is my sister?”
“She’s fine. Mouthy as usual.”
I go to smile at his response, then quickly shake my head and remember we are not friends. This man had me kidnapped and is using me to his own advantage.
“Will I get to see her again soon?”
His eyes narrow. “I have work for you tonight. You’ll be my date.” Turning, Atlas reaches into the car and walks over to hand me a dress.
“I already have two good dresses. I don’t need another.”
“Take the dress, it’s cocktail.”
“Am I allowed to speak tonight?”
He holds out the dress, and I take it from his hands. Atlas shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at me. “When asked to.” He turns, walks to his car and looks back at me.