I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Emery’s POV

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“I swear,” Jazz groaned, tapping her pen. “If Professor Carson adds one more formula to this assignment, I’m transferring to culinary school.”

I grinned, scribbling down my answer. “It’s not that hard. You just have to isolate the variable, then plug in the marginal

revenue curve…”

“Okay, Einstein,” she cut in. “Some of us still cry during Econ.”

I chuckled, nudging her notebook. “You got this. Look, your mistake is right here, you flipped the signs.”

Jazz blinked at the paper, then at me. “Dude, how are you so smart? I wish I could unzip my head and swap brains with you for the semester.”

“Uh, no thanks. I like mine. Very organized in there.”

She snorted. “Bet your calendar has color codes.”

“It does.”

Of course it does.

Just then, the café door opened.

And there it was.

Chaos in the form of Ford and Atlas.

Ford spotted me and lit up like a child seeing cake. “Hey, baby doll,” he said, sliding right into the seat beside me like he’d paid rent for it.

I side-eyed him. “It’s Emery.”

“What if I like calling you that?”

“Then I’ll have no choice but to kick you in the gut.”

Jazz stifled a laugh, and Ford grinned even wider. “Fiesty. I like her. Can we keep her?” He looked over at Atlas, who had silently slipped into the seat next to Jazz.

Atlas didn’t say anything, just lifted one brow, clearly amused.

“Okay,” I said, dryly. “Still not a pet. Definitely not something you keep.”

Ford chuckled. “Okay, okay. Emmy Bear it is.”

I blinked. “Did you just…?”

Ford leaned back smugly. “Emmy Bear. It’s got a nice ring.”

I sighed through my nose, sipping my coffee like it was vodka. Aas was just watching, elbows on the table, fingers steepled like he was waiting for the show to unfold.

Ford gestured between us. “Oh, by the way, Emmy Bear, this is las. Captain of the hockey team. Hottest man in Linchester, according to the female population.”

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He paused dramatically.

“And Atlas, this is Emery. Emmy Bear. Great kisser.”

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Atlas raised a brow at me, lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “Nice to meet you, Emmy. The great kisser.”

I smiled sweetly. “Likewise, Captain Hottest Man Alive.”

I turned to Ford. “This is Jazz. Jazz, Ford.”

“Hey, Jazzy.”

“Please don’t,” she deadpanned.

Ford looked at our books. “What were you two nerds talking about?”

“Microeconomics,” I said.

Ford groaned. “Ugh, boring. Emmy, I thought you were fun.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the waitress walked up.

Tall. Blonde. Big smile. Eyes locked on Atlas.

“Hey, what can I get y’all?” she asked.

Ford turned on his charm. “Whatever you think would impress me, sweetheart.”

She giggled way too hard and then turned to Atlas like he was dessert.

He ordered black coffee. I didn’t miss the way his eyes kept flicking to me.

Annoying.

I picked up my phone under the table.

Me: You keep staring at me, and they’re gonna suspect we know each other.

He looked at his phone, then back at me.

Atlas: You’re right in front of me. Where else should I look?

I rolled my eyes and typed back.

Me: Literally anywhere else.

Atlas: I’m beginning to think there’s another reason you don’t want people knowing we know each other.

Before I could respond, Ford clapped his hands together. “Okay so, our game’s this Friday. You girls should totally come. We’ll keep front row seats just for you.”

Jazz perked up. “That actually sounds fun.”

Ford turned to me. “And I’ll need your support, Emmy Bear. Maybe a pre-game kiss for luck?”

I blinked. “You wish.”

“I do,” he winked.

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We talked for a bit…well, mostly Ford. He was doing, like, 80% of the talking. The guy could ramble for hours and still find new ways to make himself sound like a reckless Greek god.

“So there I was, steering my dad’s boat at midnight with nothing but a Red Bull and a dream,” he said, hands flying everywhere like we were on a movie set.

Jazz looked half-amused, half-exhausted. I was sipping my iced coffee slowly, mostly zoning out while nodding at the right

moments.

But then I noticed it.

People were staring.

Like, a lot of people.

Girls from the other table were whispering. A guy from the basketball team did a double-take. A blonde-haired, bless her soul, literally stumbled while refilling someone’s drink. And that’s when it hit me. It wasn’t me they were looking at. Well…maybe a little. But mostly it was the golden boys.

Atlas Lawson and Ford Kingston. Linchester royalty.

Apparently, if you sit next to them, you become interesting by association. None of the other sports teams got this kind of attention. But then again, the hockey team had brought home the win five years straight. And with Atlas as captain, they were practically gods on campus. I glanced at Atlas… who, in his usual moody, broody glory, was just sitting there quiet, sipping water like this wasn’t a big deal.

And for a second, I wondered…

Did all of this ever feel heavy?

The pressure… The attention… The expectations.

The past few days, I barely saw him. He was up before me, back after me. Always showered, always exhausted. He didn’t complain, but I could tell. Atlas wasn’t the type to admit he was in pain. He just… took it. Quietly.

I guess I didn’t realize I was staring until my phone buzzed on the table.

Atlas: Now, who’s the one staring?

I blinked. Looked up. He didn’t even glance at me. Just sat there mirking like he had me figured out. I typed back quickly.

Emery: I wasn’t staring. Was in my head. My peripheral just happened to be in your direction.

His reply came almost instantly.

Atlas: Yeah, right.

I was mid-eye roll when Jazz’s alarm went off, loud and chaotic like a mini fire drill.

She groaned. “Ugh. We gotta go. Class.”

I pushed my chair back. “Sorry, boys. Duty calls.”

Ford clutched his heart like we’d just betrayed him. “What? You leaving me? Right when I was getting to the good part about the jet ski?”

Jazz rolled her eyes, laughing as she slung her tote over one shoulder. “Tell us next time.”

“So it’s a date,” he shot back, wiggling his brows like a goof.

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Jazz scoffed and shook her head. “Keep dreaming, boat boy.”

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I grabbed my stuff and gave Atlas a quick glance. He was watching me again, eyes unreadable, like he was waiting for something.

I didn’t say anything. Just smirked, flicked my ponytail, and walked out.

Don’t forget our game, Emmy bear!” Ford called out behind us.

It was Friday night, and the Linchester hockey team was absolutely crushing it.

The energy in the rink was wild, students yelling, banners waving, people pounding on the glass like they were trying to break it. And right in the middle of it all was Atlas.

As much as it killed me to admit it, he was… incredible. The way he moved…sharp, confident, so damn focused, it was like he was born on the ice. Every time he skated past someone, they looked two seconds from passing out. He swung the puck toward one of his teammates, fast and clean. A perfect pass. The guy took the shot, straight into the opponent’s net.

The crowd exploded.

Everyone was on their feet, screaming, jumping, throwing popcorn in the air like maniacs. Ford grabbed the smaller guy who’d scored and literally lifted him off the ground, spinning him around as the team piled in to celebrate. I clapped along with the rest of the students, not really thinking. Then I felt it.

Atlas’s eyes on me.

I looked up, and there he was, helmet off, sweaty, grinning like a devil, and then he winked.

A slow, knowing, smug-ass wink.

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