I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Emery’s POV

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My skull felt like someone had replaced my brain with a jackhammer. I groaned, turning my face into the pillow. My mouth was dry. My limbs heavy. And the sun-god, the sun was personally attacking me through the window.

I sat up slowly, blinking at the ceiling. I was in bed. In my pajamas.

Wait.

How the hell did I get home?

And who the hell changed me?

I reached for my phone with one eye open. The screen lit up with a flood of notifications.

Laila: YOU DID WHAT!!!?

Emmy baby don’t you dare leave me hanging.

I swear I’m booking a flight there.

Call me when you’re sober and take some hangover pills.

What??

I scrolled up and…ohhhh

Drunk me had apparently sent her a half-written message. A whole rant about “kissing a blonde god,” “winning the war,” and then just… stopped.

Jazz: Hope you got back safe. I wanted to help get you home, but Atlas said he had it.

Dad: Morning, pumpkin. Just checking in. Hope you’re doing okay.

Swimming Team Group Chat: Video Message… 1 minute long

Caption: “Our girl came to PLAY”

I didn’t even have to press play. The thumbnail already showed he wrapped around Ford like a koala. His hand was very much on my very kiss-drunk ass.

Tossing my phone I dragged my zombie self out of bed, I shufflel to the kitchen, bare feet dragging against the floor. The smell of coffee hit my nose, and I looked up.

Of course. Atlas was there, perched on a stool at the island, scrolling his phone all kept together while I looked like a messy who just happened to roll out of tsunami.

He glanced up, smirk tugging at his mouth. “Morning, Goldie.”

I collapsed onto the chair across from him and groaned. “I’m so lone with alcohol.”

He chuckled. Just a little. “You said that last time.”

“I’ve never said that before.”

“Well, your eyes screamed it last night.”

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I lifted my head just enough to glare at him.

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Without a word, he stood up, walked to the cabinet, grabbed a bowl, and poured something from a pot on the stove. Then he placed it in front of me along with a glass of water.

“Thanks.” I picked up the spoon and took a sip. It was warm, salty, and tasted like life.

“Welcome” he returned back to his seat.

“Jazz told me you brought me home,” I said between spoonfuls. thought you left when…”

“You started sucking lips with Ford?” he cut in, raising a brow.

I paused. “Okay, ew. Don’t say it like that. It was just a kiss.”

“A very hot kiss,” he mimicked, smirking.

I rolled my eyes and instantly regretted it. Pain shot through my skull. “Ugh. Why is my brain trying to leave my body?”

“That’s what tequila does to you,” he said, sipping from a Gatorade like the responsible adult he wasn’t.

“Look. Ford’s a great guy, but he’s…. let’s say, a professional heartbreaker. I just don’t want you thinking it’s more than what it

was.”

I snorted. “Pfft, don’t worry. He’s hot but not my type.”

Atlas tilted his head, studying me. “So why kiss him like that? Right in the middle of the party?”

I shoveled another spoonful of soup, shrugging. “It’s this dumb swimming team tradition. All the newbies pull a dare. Mine was kiss a hockey player. And I couldn’t kiss you-obviously-that would be so gross.”

His brows shot up. “Ouch. Okay, rude. For the record, no woman has ever kissed me and regretted it.”

I laughed into my spoon. “Please. You’re so in your own head.”

The stool legs screeched against the floor and before I knew it, he was off his chair and at my side.

I froze. “What are you-”

“Why don’t we give it a try?” His voice was low, teasing but stead. His hazel eyes were so close now I could see flecks of green I’d never noticed before.

My heart pounded against my ribs. “W…what?”

“I’ll kiss you,” he said, leaning just a fraction closer, “and you tell me if I’m a terrible kisser. But I should warn you, Goldie-it might be hard to stop once I start.”

His hand brushed my cheek, warm against my skin. My breath ched, and my brain officially stopped working.

Then-he smirked. Stepped back. “Relax. I’m kidding.”

I blinked, heat rushing up my neck. “I wasn’t planning on kissing you anyway.”

“Mmhm.” He smirked wider. “You sure? ‘Cause you looked nerves. Almost like you wanted me to.”

I scoffed, grabbing the bowl and gulping the soup just to have something to do. “Screw you.”

He chuckled, heading back to his stool.

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I stormed off toward my room, heart still hammering.

“Kiss him, my ass,” I muttered under my breath. I shut the door, pressing my back against it, palms clammy.

Nope. Not thinking about that.

“I need a shower.” I said to myself, stripping and heading straigh into the bathroom.

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Okay, so maybe the shower didn’t cure world hunger or anything-but it did bring me back from the dead. My headache had backed off, my skin felt like a baby seal’s, and I could finally ook at my reflection without cringing.

After toweling my hair and changing into an oversized hoodie and biker shorts, I plopped onto my bed and gave Laila the

tea.

Me:

Okay, yes, I made out with a very attractive human.

No, I don’t remember much.

Yes, he had hands.

No, I’m not in love.

Yes, my dignity is hanging by a thread.

She spammed me with crying emojis, a meme of someone being thrown into a dumpster, and a voice note screaming “YOU’RE LIVING MY DREAM!!”

I laughed and tossed the phone aside, pulling out my laptop to get something productive done. A bit of econ reading, a few YouTube videos on freestyle stroke technique, and finally, my ten minutes of guided meditation-which felt more like a nap with breathing.

By the time I emerged from my cave, I was feeling human again

Atlas was in the living room, legs kicked up on the coffee table, bodie bunched around his elbows, watching some Viking show like it was the last series on earth.

I flopped onto the couch beside him, stretching my legs across the cushion. “What’s this?” I asked, tugging the blanket from the back of the couch and throwing it over both our legs like it was our blanket or something.

He didn’t protest.

“Valhalla Hearts,” he said. “It’s about this girl who time-travels back to the Viking age and falls in love with a warrior or something”

I blinked at the screen. “You have horrible taste.”

Atlas arched a brow. “Coming from the girl who voluntarily watches Bachelor in Paradise.”

“That’s a cultural reset,” I said, smirking. “This is just, you know what, never mind. It’s giving dollar store Outlander”

But somehow, three episodes later, I was sitting there fully invested, blanket tucked under my chin, fingers clutching a half- eaten protein bar.

I gasped. “OH my gosh, I can’t believe that just happened!”

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Atlas turned to me with a smug smile. “I thought you said this was boring and I had poor taste in movies.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, in my defense, the first episode was literally a snoozefest.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Goldie.”

Just then, the doorbell rang.

“That’s our pizza,” Atlas said, hopping up.

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From the couch, I could very clearly hear the delivery girl laying it on thick. Her voice got all pitchy and flirty, like she was auditioning for The Bachelorette.

Atlas’s voice? Purely polite. Zero interest. Not even a chuckle.

He walked back in, balancing the box like a prize, and handed me my slice.

I took it, squinting at him. “You do know she was totally flirting with you, right?”

He shrugged, settling back beside me. “Was she?” he asked with a smirk that said he definitely knew.

I gave him a look. “Don’t play dumb. Let me guess, she wasn’t your type?”

He took a bite, chewing slowly like he had all the time in the world. “I don’t really have a type. I’m more into personality than appearance.”

I scoffed. “Yeah right. Like you wouldn’t fall head-over-heels for a girl with big tits and a fat ass.”

Atlas grinned, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I mean… if she’s got a good sense of humor and doesn’t steal the blanket during Viking shows, maybe.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling too. “You’re so full of it.”

He leaned back, hands behind his head. “And yet, you’re three episodes in, snuggled under my blanket, eating my pizza.”

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