I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Emery’s POV

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“Okay, Sammy, give us yours,” Jazz said, her voice laced with way too much excitement.

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Sam didn’t miss a beat. “Easy fuck, Atlas…..sorry, Cap, no offense, but that man’s got a body sculpted by the Greek god himself to ruin every woman’s clitty. Kill jerkass Gavin.”

Jazz choked on her drink. “Gavin?!”

“Yup,” Sam nodded. “Tried to ghost me last semester, then popped back up like a crusty pimple trying to act like we were chill. I hope he steps on a Lego barefoot.”

“Yikes,” Meg muttered. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“And marry Fordy,” Sam finished with a dreamy sigh. “That boy brings me cupcakes on Tuesdays. That’s husband material right there.”

We all giggled. Even Sophie let out a reluctant snort, sipping her drink to cover it up.

Next up were Jazz and Meg, and, as expected, Atlas’s name kept flying across the table like shuttlecock in a badminton court. Whether it was “marry” or “fuck,” the guy had a monopoly on everyone’s hormones.

Apparently, he was everyone’s fantasy.

Except mine.

Or… well, at least that’s what I was about to claim.

“Emmy Bear,” Jazz turned to me, grinning like she was about to throw me to the wolves. “Your turn.”

I felt six pairs of eyes zero in on me.

Great.

I picked up my straw and swirled the melting ice in my drink like it held the answers. “Um… okay. Fuck Ford, marry Howard, and kill Omar,”

Sorry Omar, nothing personal.

They all stared at me. Blinked. Processing.

And then-

“OH WOW,” Meg gasped. “Emery breaks the record of not mentioning Atlas.”

Sam clutched her imaginary pearls. “Scandalous!”

Jazz leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. “Wait, wait…are you being serious right now?”

15:03 Tue, Dec 30

Chapter 54

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I shrugged, trying to sound casual even though I could feel heat creeping up my neck. “Yeah… he’s not exactly my type.”

Silence.

The kind of silence that made you want to slide under the table and live there forever. They looked at me like I had just declared I hated puppies and oxygen.

“Wait,” Meg said slowly. “So, if Atlas, like, actual Atlas, was standing in a room… naked… just waiting, you’re telling me you wouldn’t wanna jump him?”

I coughed. “What?! No. I mean…why would you even…of course not!”

LIE.

Big, fat, flaming, neon-colored LIE.

I stirred my drink faster. Maybe if I stirred hard enough, I’d teleport out of here.

Because the truth? Yeah, I’d seen Atlas naked. And not just seen. We’d kissed, we’d touched, he’d made me melt like warm caramel, and given me the kind of orgasm you write songs about. But that didn’t mean I liked him like that. Right?

I mean… he was just good at what he did. An expert. A really… hot… annoyingly perceptive… maddeningly good-at-kissing expert.

That was all. Definitely all.

I could still feel their eyes boring into me.

“Okay, can we stop looking at me like I’m a lunatic?” I huffed, throwing my hands up. “Garbi, your turn!”

“Sure thing,” Garbi said, thankfully taking the heat off me as she dove into her picks.

I finally relaxed and took a sip of my drink. But as I lowered my glass, I noticed Sophie looking at me from across the table.

Her expression wasn’t teasing. Or smug. It was… knowing.

Like she could see right through me.

I offered her a small, awkward smile.

She returned it, just barely, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes, curiosity, maybe. Or quiet judgment.

I wasn’t sure.

****

I really, really need to stop drinking.

15:03 Tue, Dec 30

Chapter 54

Like, seriously, somebody tattoo that across my forehead.

,,(69),

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I had no clue how I got to my room, let alone my apartment, but here I was, sprawled across the bed in a giant pajama shirt that’s barely hanging on by two buttons. Maybe one. Okay, it’s one. Definitely one. My head was foggy, my throat was drier than the Sahara, and I think I might be dying just a little.

With the grace of a wounded giraffe, I pushed myself up, groaning as the room tilted like I’m on a damn cruise ship. My hand fumbled over the nightstand until I found my alarm clock.

3:00 A.M.

Ugh. I should be unconscious, not…this.

I wobbled toward my desk for water…or a prayer, and that’s when I saw it: a bowl of something. Soup? Noodles? Puke? No idea. I don’t remember making anything, which was either terrifying or sweet, depending on who was responsible.

I should put on pants.

I should button my damn shirt.

I should not be standing here like some hot mess exhibitionist.

But of course, I do none of those things.

Because in my mind, the chances of Atlas being out in the hall at this exact ungodly hour are slim to none.

Which is why it makes perfect sense that the moment I got into the kitchen, he was right there.

Atlas.

Taller than necessary. Shirtless, of course. Hair mussed, water bottle in hand, looking like hot model that stepped straight out of my worst timing ever.

And me? Standing there in messy hair, no pants, nipples doing the most, shirt barely clinging on. Just… peak humiliation.

I freeze.

He freezes.

My brain screams, “Say something! Do something! Run! Apologize! ANYTHING!”

Now, Rational Emery would apologize, Flee. Maybe dive headfirst out the window.

But drunk Emery? Drunk Emery apparently thinks, “Hey, what’s the worst that could happen?” and proceeds to do the one thing standing between me and rock bottom…

I unbutton the last damn button.

The one holding the entire disasterpiece of a shirt together. Yep.

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