I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63

Chapter 63

Atlas’s POV

Who would’ve thought there’d come a day where I’d hate the word sister.

Not dislike.

Hate.

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“Yo, I still can’t believe you kept it a secret,” Ford said, practically shouting over the music, dragging me back from the dark corners of my mind. “You and Emery? Roommates? It all makes sense now. No wonder you changed your damn door code, man.”

I barely reacted. Just stared at the untouched drink in front of me, condensation dripping down the glass like the ice was sweating for me.

Ford nudged me. “Seriously, bro. That’s next-level stealth.”

I forced a small, dry smile. “We just wanted separate lives. Keep it chill.”

“Chill,” he echoed with a smirk, swirling his glass like some kind of whiskey philosopher. “Yeah. I get it. Still, congrats. You just scored yourself a new baby sister.”

He even raised his glass like it was some kind of toast.

I stared at him, smile frozen. Sister. That word hit different now. Like it had claws.

“Yeah,” I said quietly, swallowing hard. “Sick.”

Ford kept going. “I mean, at least now Howard can sleep at night. Guy was sweating bullets thinking you were gunnin’ for his girl.”

That one landed. Hard.

I blinked. My jaw tightened. My spine locked straight like I’d just taken a puck to the ribs.

Howard, who was mid-sip, choked. “Shut

up,

asshole.”

His cheeks were redder than the hot wings on our table.

Ford cackled. “What? Everyone knows you’ve got a big ol’ crush on Emmy Bear. The way you looked at her at the swim meet? Bro. Bro. That was love at first lap.”

Before I could step in and end the chaos, Omar jammed a piece of chicken into Ford’s mouth like a savior.

“Hey!” Ford said, chewing through it. “What the he…wait. This is actually good. Give me another bite.”

“No,” Omar deadpanned, yanking the plate away.

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Chapter 63

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They broke into a playful wrestling match over chicken, completely oblivious to the war happening inside my

skull.

Our parents are getting married.

I should be happy. I was happy, for them. For how they looked at each other. For the way my mom smiled again.

But Emery….

I closed my eyes for half a second, and there she was. Her mouth on mine. Her fingers in my hair. Her breathy little laugh when I whispered something dumb in her ear. The way her eyes looked when she let her guard down.

I didn’t want to stop feeling that.

I didn’t want to stop wanting her.

Dammit.

“I-” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat. “I need to go.”

Omar and Ford paused mid-tussle.

“You good?” Omar asked, tilting his head.

“Yeah,” I said too quickly, standing and grabbing my wallet. “Just… too loud in here.”

Howard raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

I nodded, already pulling out some bills. “Since I’m heading out early, drinks are on me.”

Ford whooped like I’d just proposed to him. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

I dropped the cash on the table, muttered a quick “later,” and headed for the door before they could see through me.

The second I stepped outside, the cold slapped me awake. I needed to move. I needed silence. I needed to skate. Nothing else worked like the rink did. Not drinks. Not noise. Not talking.

Just ice. Cold. Sharp. Honest.

I slipped into the car, started the engine, and drove back to campus. And for the first time in weeks… I hoped the rink was empty. Because I was one wrong thought away from snapping a stick in half.

The cold bit into my skin, sharp and merciless, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

I skated like my life depended on it, stick in hand, cutting across the rink with every ounce of strength I had left in me. Again. Again. Again. My skates scraped against the ice, breath clouding the air, muscles aching, but

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Chapter 63

I didn’t care. The puck met the blade of my stick, and I sent it flying toward the net.

Clink.

Straight in.

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I’d lost count of how many times. Two hours? Four? The rink clock was useless to me now. Time meant nothing when my head was screaming her name.

You’d think after this long, after burning every last ounce of energy, I’d have finally managed to push Emery out of my mind.

Wrong.

She was louder here. In the silence, she was everywhere.

Every move, I saw her face.

Every hold of the stick, I remembered her hand on mine.

Every swing, I craved her all over again.

Eventually, I dropped to the ice, the impact soft compared to the chaos inside me. I lay there, arms spread out like I was making a snow angel, breath rising in short bursts, chest heaving.

The ceiling above blurred out. All I could see was her. Her lips. Her stupid, perfect laugh. Her eyes looked at me like I was something more. Like I was hers.

How the hell was I supposed to go back and look her in the eye like nothing happened?

Like I hadn’t practically fallen apart the moment her mouth touched mine?

When I stepped into the apartment, the warmth hit me harder than I expected.

She was there.

Emery.

Cozy on the couch, knees tucked under her, scrolling through her phone. She wore a gray shirt…my gray shirt, actually, and a pair of navy-blue pajama pants with stars all over them. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, golden strands spilling everywhere, and my stomach twisted the second her eyes flicked up.

She smiled, soft, sleepy, so Emery.

“Hi.” she said.

My heart did that thing again. That annoying thud like it wanted to leap out of my chest and straight into her

hands.

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Chapter 63

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“Hey.” I cleared my throat, suddenly hyperaware of the sweat on my skin, the way my jacket stuck to me, the sting of cold still in my fingers.

I turned, ready to head to my room. Escape.

“Atlas.”

Her voice stopped me. She was already getting off the couch, setting her phone aside. Her eyes met mine, curious, concerned, careful.

“Are we… are we cool?”

My mouth opened before my brain had a chance to argue. “Y-yeah. Of course.”

She nodded slowly, biting her lip. That lip. “Okay. It’s just… you’ve been kinda weird since… y’know, since the night with our parents.”

I forced a weak laugh. My hands shoved into my pockets so she wouldn’t see how they clenched.

That’s because I’m in love with you.

It’s killing me to be this silent.

It’s tearing me up inside not to touch you again.

My brain screamed the truth, but I shoved it down. Locked it away. Threw the key into the ocean and burned the damn boat.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

She didn’t buy it. I could tell. Her brows pulled together slightly, lips parting like she was about to push, but then she paused. Let it go. For now.

“Okay,” she whispered.

And just like that, she curled up again, pulling her knees to her chest and fixing her eyes back on her phone like nothing happened.

I turned to head toward my room. I made it about two steps before I stopped, swore under my breath, and turned back around.

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