I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 172

Chapter 172

Emery’s POV

“What?!” Gia yelled so loud half the bar turned to look at us.

I winced and shot her a glare. “Maybe yell it louder so the whole building knows.”

She pressed a hand to her chest like I was the dramatic one.

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We’d just finished shooting and headed to the hotel bar for drinks, ninety percent my idea, because I needed alcohol to drown out the disaster that was my life. And, apparently, I also needed to make terrible choices, because somewhere between the first drink and the second, I decided to tell Gia what happened with Atlas.

Now, sitting beside her while she looked one second away from dimbing on the table from excitement, I realized maybe that had been a mistake.

A very big one.

The bar itself was expensive-looking, all soft amber lighting, velvet chairs, polished wood, and people pretending not to stare at Gia while very obviously staring at Gia.

And honestly? I got it.

She looked unreal.

Her hair fell in glossy waves over one shoulder, her dress clung in all the right places, and she wore confidence like jewelry. Men kept glancing over from the bar, from the lounge seats, from literally anywhere they had functioning eyes, but Gia didn’t give a single one of them even half a look. Not one. She was too busy leaning across the table, fully invested in ruining my peace.

“I’m sorry,” she said, raising a brow. “Let me get this straight. You were snooping.”

“If you wanna call it snooping, fine,” I muttered, dragging my glass toward me.

Gia ignored the attitude completely.

“And Atlas got back from Canada early, and you hid in his closet”

“Walk-in closet,” I corrected.

“Girl, that is not the part to clarify.” She waved her hand. “You got a front-row seat to a strip show slash jerk-off session from a hot guy like Atlas, and you stayed through the whole damn thing?!”

I stared at her. “Okay, what?”

“Opportunities like this come once in a lifetime, Em. How could you flop it?” She leaned back, crossing her arms under her chest, pushing up her cleavage in that effortless way that had another dude at the counter doing a double-take, poor guy nearly spilled his beer, but Gia didn’t even clock him, her focusser-sharp on roasting me alive.

I blinked at her slowly. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Loud and clear.”

I grabbed my shot and knocked it back, hoping the burn would rase at least ten percent of my humiliation.

It did not,

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Chapter 172

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Gia pointed at me with one manicured finger. “Baby, don’t act like you weren’t dying to ride him like a horse,”

I nearly choked. “Really? Ride him like a horse?”

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She grinned. A deep, evil, gorgeous grin. And despite my best effort to play cool, I felt the heat rush right into my face. My cheeks were probably bright red. My stupid face always told one.

Gia’s grin widened.

“Thought so.”

I pressed my lips together and looked anywhere but at her, at the bar, at the chandelier, at the poor bartender polishing glasses at least his life wasn’t as complicated as mine.

“So what happened next?” Gia asked, lowering her voice this tim, though her eyes were sparkling with way too much joy. I bit my lip, then reached for my drink again. “You better not laugh.”

She put a hand over her heart. “I won’t.”

Liar. I could literally see her fighting a smile. I took a deep breath and told her. How Atlas finished losing his mind, how he headed toward the closet, how I, like the absolute fool that I am, ried to hold the door shut. And how that ended with the door flying open, me hitting the floor, getting mildly concussed, and complimenting his dick like my mouth had been possessed by demon of lust.

Gia slapped a hand over her mouth. Then made a tiny squeaking sound. Then failed miserably at not laughing.

“Awww,” she said, still grinning. “He took care of you? That’s actually kind of Hot.”

“How is me getting a concussion in his closet and being carried into my room like some psycho hot?”

“Caretaking is hot. Medical concern is hot. Men saying ‘easy’ is hot. Men carrying you is hot.” She counted on her fingers. “Basically, your life is a romance novel and you’re ruining it with fear.”

I stared at her. “You make zero sense.”

“I make beautiful sense.”

“Giaaaa,” I groaned, dropping my forehead onto the table with a soft thunk.

She laughed and reached across to tap my arm. “Okay, okay, that’s enough. Don’t knock yourself out again. Your forehead has been through enough.”

I lifted my head slowly and stared at her like I was reconsidering our friendship.

Then I sighed. “What do I do?”

Gia took a slow sip of her espresso martini, looking way too pleased with herself. “Maybe fuck him.”

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