Addicted To You

Prologue

— sexual content —

6 MONTHS EARLIER:
Elliot's party

A C E

ATLAS LOOKS AT ME and something in my chest crumbles. I crumble. I'm dust, airborne and completely at his will. He could want anything from me right now and I wouldn't even question it. I'd throw my arms wide and say take it all, it's yours.

I'm yours.

And that terrifies me.

Before this moment, before he stared up at me with his big, stupid bluer than blue eyes, I couldn't figure out why I followed him up here of my own free will. Carter joked about some crush and suddenly, my legs moved before my mind could catch up to the consequences.

I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't, yet here I am; leaning against the wall with my arms crossed, trying my best to look unaffected as he continues to stare at me, rambling on in true Atlas fashion about God knows fucking what. I swear he doesn't even understand half the shit that leaves his mouth.

I don't even listen to him, I mindlessly flirt with him, sure, but mostly, I just watch him; his wide blown eyes, his rosy cheeks, his constant shifting from one foot to the other as if he's nervous to be in a room with me, his mouth.

I can't take my eyes off him, which is fucking insane because this is Atlas. Fucking Atlas. Atlas who ate seven crayons at Leo's fifth birthday party and claimed green tasted best. Atlas who smeared marinara sauce all his face on my thirteenth birthday and put me off pizza for a month. Atlas who has been a constant pain in my ass for as long as I can remember.

This is Atlas.

Atlas.

The same Atlas who has a hold on me right now that no one else ever has, one I can't even begin to understand let alone try to explain.

It's like we're magnetic, drawing closer and closer until the air between us is sizzles with electricity. He's so close now that I can feel his hot breaths fan over my skin. Tilting my head down to meet his gaze, his blue eyes watch me like a hawk as I lift my hand to his face, running the knuckle of my pointer finger over the nasty scratch on his cheek.

I could kiss him if I wanted to.

I think I'd like to kiss him.

Maybe.

And that thought is fucking terrifying.

I can't kiss him.

"You." Atlas replies.

I don't even know what I said to him, I was just fucking around, teasing him like I always do.

What the fuck did I say?

I don't get much of a chance to dwell on it, not really. Like someone's stuck a rocket up his ass, Atlas lunges at me like a fucking whippet chasing a ball, stealing my lips before I can even process what the fuck is happening.

His lips meet mine and I can't get over how soft they are, even when they're ravaging my mouth like I'll be his last ever taste. It's not how I imagined kissing a boy would feel, not that I have imagined it a whole lot. Or ever. I've kissed my fair share of girls before, but their kisses never felt like his.