Chapter Five
Atlas
Irelaxedintothe small armchair in the cabin of the houseboat. Music thumped from outside, but I’d managed to keep it at a decent level. Thankfully, I’d only had to leave the peace of the cabin a few times, each trip ending in Ty trying to get me to stay and take a shot.
But I’d rather be in the dim, empty cabin. The space was roomy and comfortable for a boat. The kitchen opened to a living area with a couch and a few chairs. Big open windows surrounded the living room and even though I had the curtains drawn, when the boat was out on the lake, they provided amazing views and ample sunlight.
I closed my eyes. Memories of the days when Ty and I were younger, after we’d been abandoned by our father, surfaced in my mind. This boat had provided a lot of good times. We’d spent many weekends out on the river with the people who’d adopted us, the people whom I considered our real parents. We’d swam until our arms and legs felt like jello and our skin was hot from the sun.
Those days had gone by so fast, and I missed them. Most of all, I missed the couple I’d come to know as the only real family Ty and I had.
I cleared my suddenly thick throat. I brought the bottle of beer I’d swiped from a cooler on the back deck to my lips and took a swig. The door of the cabin jiggled, but I ignored it. After I’d kicked out everyone lingering inside the boat, random people had tried to get back in every now and then. They usually gave up and stumbled away after realizing it was locked.
The book I’d been reading was still in my other hand, and I trained my eyes back on the page. There wasn’t much to do inside the boat because my cell didn’t have the best reception out here, but I’d found one of my old favorite novels stashed in a cabinet in my old bedroom, The Outsiders.
There was a softer rattling at the door, and something metallic shifted and clicked. I glanced up from the yellowed pages, the corners of my mouth tipped down as the door opened.
Wren stepped inside, tucking something in the pocket of her tiny jean shorts. She slid the door closed behind her and twisted the lock into place. A beer dangled in one hand as she pushed a frizzy lock of hair behind her ear with the other. When she turned, her eyes snagged on mine and she froze.
Her mouth opened, her green eyes wide. “Oh, hey…” She shifted on her feet.
I glanced at the door she’d come through, then back at her. “That door was locked.”
Wren blinked, crossing her arms over her chest. “You must’ve accidentally left it open.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t think I did.”
She shrugged and sauntered over to the couch. “What are you reading?” She changed the subject as she collapsed onto the cushions.
I studied her, taking her in, from her long, curly hair, all the way down to her bare toes. I was positive she’d just picked the lock on my door and acted like she didn’t. I didn’t know why I was more intrigued by that than angry.
Wren raised her brows expectantly, and I held the book so she could see the cover.
“Stay gold, Ponyboy.” She leaned back into the couch.
I almost smiled.
She took a drink of the beer and sighed. Her thin shoulders sagged, and she rubbed one eye with the back of her hand. I wondered why she was sitting here alone with me instead of having fun outside with the rest of her friends.
“You know what I like about you, Atlas?” she asked, her expression softening with something I couldn’t decipher.
I sipped my beer, raising a brow. “What’s that?”
“You don’t ask many questions.” Her words sounded exhausted.
“You haven’t been around me long enough to make judgments,” I challenged.
Her eyes tilted to the ceiling as she scratched at the delicate skin on her neck. “If you were like everyone else I’ve met, you would’ve asked me a thousand questions already about where I’m from and who I am.”
I sat with that a moment, glancing down at my beer and picking at the edge of the label. “Not from around here, I’m guessing.”
She shook her head.
I’d known as much, considering I knew basically everyone from Cypress Falls and much of the surrounding area. Her accent gave her away, too; definitely a Northern girl, but that wasn’t too unusual. There was a college in the city across the river and we got all kinds of folks in the area.
Wren bit down on that lip again, and I suddenly had the urge to ask her every question I could think of. I wanted to know everything about her, inside and out. But of course, I wouldn’t. Apparently, when it came to her, I was rendered a little insane.
“They mean well, you know,” I told her. “Some of it is blatant nosiness, but most people want to be friendly. They don’t want to feel like strangers.”