I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Emery’s POV

“You killed it, Em!”

“Nice work!”

“Damn, you’re fast!”

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They all said it, one after the other, as they passed me by. And like always, I smiled. Big, confident, unbothered. My signature I’ve-got-it-all-together look.

“Thank you,” I said, giving a little wave, a nod, a shoulder bump. The usual.

But the second they were out of sight, that smile fell faster than my self-esteem on a bad day. I picked up the red solo cup and took a long sip, hoping the burn of whatever questionable alcohol was inside would help numb whatever the hell was wrong with me. Because something was wrong…Something always felt wrong.

I looked up… and my eyes collided with his.

Atlas.

Leaning against the kitchen doorway, red cup in hand, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes locked straight on me. No smile. No nod. Just… watching.

Oh yeah. The hockey guys were here.

After our victory.

No. Not our.

I didn’t have the right to include myself in that win. Not after the mess I made of today. Not after what happened. Ford had insisted on throwing a party after the meet. “To celebrate the queens of Linchester,” he’d said, slinging an arm around Meg while Ricky already started texting people before practice even ended.

And, of course, what was a party without the Linchester golden boys?

I smiled again, wider this time, faker, brighter. A mask made of white teeth and desperation.

Atlas didn’t smile back.

His eyes didn’t move.

Not from me.

Not even once.

And that? That made me feel a certain way. A certain terrifying way. Like he could see right through me. Like he knew my smile was cracked and barely hanging on. I hated that. Hated it more than anything.

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Chapter 49

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Luckily, just as I was about to combust, Howard stepped in front of me like a walking, breathing social life

preserver.

“Well, if it isn’t our soon-to-be Olympic gold medalist,” he teased with a grin.

I let out a dramatic groan, rolling my eyes. “Oh, please. Stop.”

He chuckled, eyes crinkling, the easy kind of smile that didn’t ask for anything more than company. “You enjoying the party?”

I nodded, adjusting my grip on the cup. “Yeah. It’s… great.”

Lie.

The music was loud, the lights too low, the alcohol too warm, and the guilt too fresh. But I wasn’t about to say

that.

Not to Howard.

And definitely not with him still watching.

“Leave it to Ford to throw the best parties,” Howard said, snapping me out of my self-loathing spiral.

We both turned just in time to catch the disaster happening in real time, there was Ford, upside down, chugging beer like his life depended on it, while some poor soul held onto one of his legs like it was a lifeline.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Someone blew an airhorn. Someone else threw glitter.

I blinked. “Is that… confetti?”

Howard nodded solemnly. “And I think someone’s filming it for his campaign ad.”

I snorted. “Of course they are.”

Because Ford didn’t just party. He turned it into a sport. And apparently tonight he was going for gold too.

“I swear he was sober like… two hours ago,” I muttered, watching as Ford finally dropped to the floor with a victorious grunt and both arms raised like he just won the Super Bowl.

“Sober Ford doesn’t exist after 7 p.m.,” Howard said. “It’s scientifically proven.”

I smiled. A real one this time. Kind of.

Howard chuckled as Ford performed a dramatic, beer-drenched bow for his new fan club, shirt crooked, hair wild, ego absolutely thriving. I watched him wobble into some blondie’s arms who looked like she had won a million-dollar lottery. Oh, the hangover that was waiting to body slam him tomorrow.

Then Howard leaned in, his voice soft near my ear. “Wanna head to the porch?”

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Chapter 49

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I nodded, my lips curling into a grateful smile. But my eyes, traitors, honestly, darted again toward him….Atlas.

Some brunette was tucked beside him, flipping her hair and laughing like she rehearsed it in the mirror. She touched his arm. Leaned closer. The whole ‘notice me, I’m hot’ routine.

But his gaze?

Still on me.

My heart did that annoying flutter thing, and I immediately scolded it. Why did I even look at him? And why was he still staring at me like he could see right through me?

Nope. I’m definitely not doing this tonight.

“Sure,” I said to Howard with a brighter smile, one I actually meant this time.

His grin widened, boyish and kind, and he gently took my hand, guiding me through the crowd and away from the noise. And more importantly, from the prying, heat-filled gaze that had been burning holes into my soul all night.

The porch was quieter. Not silent, the music still pulsed faintly through the walls, but here, under the fairy lights and crickets, it felt easier to breathe. We sat side by side on an old bench, the wood creaking beneath us. A cool breeze brushed across my legs, and I pulled my jacket a little tighter around me.

Howard turned toward me, elbows resting on his knees. “You were amazing today… I just…I wanted to say that.”

I blinked. My throat tightened. My fingers curled around my red cup.

“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile. I hoped it looked normal. I hoped I looked normal.

Because underneath it, my thoughts were unraveling fast.

Amazing? Try lucky. Or dishonest. Or just plain pathetic.

Howard didn’t notice the shift, or maybe he did, and he was just being gentle about it.

He glanced at me again. “What’s it feel like? You know… under the water.”

I was quiet. The kind of quiet where your soul pauses to think before your mouth does. Then I answered, barely above a whisper, “Peaceful.”

He stayed quiet, giving me space. So I kept going.

“It’s the only place I feel like I can breathe,” I murmured. “Which sounds ridiculous, I know, because, duh, water. But it’s true. Everything’s muffled down there. The voices, the pressure, the noise in my head… it all fades.”

My eyes drifted upward to the stars. “The water doesn’t expect anything from me. It doesn’t care if I win or choke or fall apart. It just… carries me.”

15:02 Tue, Dec 30

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