I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Emery’s POV

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Of all the horrifying things that could happen to a girl on moven day, forgetting your bedsheets, getting paired with a roommate who doesn’t flush, getting food poisoning from gas station sushi…walking in on Atlas Lawson naked, mid-thrust, with a redhead wrapped around him like a yoga band, definitely look the gold.

I groaned, shutting the door behind me and pressing my back to it. My heart thudded hard against my chest as I stared blankly at the wall.

“Ughhh,” I muttered, lightly hitting the back of my head against the door. “How the hell am I supposed to face him after this?”

Then I paused, scowling.

Wait…why am I even bothered?

He should be the one embarrassed. Not me.

I didn’t ask to see anything. He’s the one who left the damn door wide open like a walking, talking, sexually active welcome sign. And it’s not like I haven’t seen a man naked before. Not with that body, my annoyingly loud inner voice whispered. I rolled my eyes and groaned again, this time tugging my hoodie ver my face like I could somehow erase the past five minutes. My cheeks were definitely burning. Not from interest,bviously, but from pure, agonizing secondhand shame.

Knock knock.

My head shot up. “Shit!”

I practically jumped, heart pounding so fast I thought it was going to leap out of my chest.

“Emery?” his voice came through the door.

I squeezed my eyes shut, silently begging the universe to just rewind time ten minutes.

Nope. Still here. Still dying slowly.

I exhaled and opened the door. Slowly.

Atlas stood there in a plain black t-shirt and sweats, looking freshly showered. His damp hair was a little messy, and of course, his stupid jawline was doing everything right. He had that lazy grin on his face, dimples and all, and I immediately wanted to smack it off.

“Oh great,” I said dryly, crossing my arms. “You’re in clothes. Thank God. If only you had been like this when I walked in.”

His grin widened. “In my defense, I didn’t know you were coming today.”

Yeah, my flight had been pushed a day earlier. I had told my dad to text him, but maybe he forgot.

I brushed past him and walked toward the kitchen, tossing my phone and keys on the counter.

“Please tell me your girlfriend is fully clothed now,” I added over my shoulder.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said, voice calm as ever, like we we just chatting about the weather.

I turned halfway, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, my bad. I meant your fuck buddy.”

He chuckled softly and shoved his hands into his pockets. “She’s gone. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

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15 02 Mon, Dec 29 GG

Chapter 8

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I spun around to face him fully, pointing a finger at him. “I was worried. I was traumatized, there’s a difference.”

He just smiled like this was all hilarious to him. I hated that smu look on his face, the one that said you’re flustered and I

know it.

“Look,” I sighed, grabbing a bottled water and twisting the cap of “just… keep your circus of naked acrobatics out of my line of vision, okay?”

“I’ll keep the curtains drawn next time,” he said, still grinning.

I took a long sip of water just so I wouldn’t say something that would end in violence.

“And maybe lock your door?” I added.

He nodded, pretending to be serious. “Right. Noted. Door. Lockel. Got it.”

“So, how’s everyone back at home?” Atlas asked casually.

“Oh, you know… Washington.” I shrugged, hopping onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Great as always. Rain’s still terrible.”

“Yeah, definitely didn’t miss that,” he said, pulling open the fridg. “The best thing about being in California? Almost no rain.”

“Ugh, lucky,” I muttered, kicking off my sneakers and tucking on leg under me. “I guess that’s a plus.”

Atlas grinned as he pulled out some frozen chicken and a bunch of ingredients, then shut the fridge with his hip. He moved around the kitchen like he owned the place. Which, okay… he kinda did.

“Sorry about Braymont,” he added as he set the groceries on the counter.

“Yeah, whatever.” I waved it off quickly, trying not to flinch. Like hadn’t sobbed into my pillow for a week straight the moment I realized my name wasn’t on the waitlist.

He glanced at me and said, “Well, their loss. Cause Linchester ju gained an Olympic-level swimmer who’s about to take their team straight to the top.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the compliment, and the weird fluter it gave me.

That earned a small smile. “Thanks.”

Atlas smiled back, grabbing a mixing bowl and a cutting board. His hands moved like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“What are you doing?” I asked, watching him suspiciously.

He gave me a look. “What does it look like I’m doing? Cooking, dummy.”

I scoffed. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

He smirked. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, roomie. And if I’d known you would’ve had dinner ready.”

were gonna

show up

today, I

My jaw clenched. “Yeah, well. My dad forgot to tell you. Classic.”

Ping!

Speak of the devil.

Dad: Hey pumpkin! How’s Atlas doing? I’m sure you’re all settle in. We miss you guys over here!

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15.02 Mon, Dec

Chapter 8

Me: He’s doing okay, but… you didn’t tell him I was coming today??

Dad: Oh, dammit. I forgot, pumpkin. I hope that didn’t cause an issues.

I narrowed my eyes at the screen. What do you think, Dad? Butyped:

Me: Not at all. I love you. Say hi to Daisy. Atlas says hi, too.

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I tossed my phone on the counter and looked up to see Atlas with his back to me, moving around the stove, stirring something. His shoulders flexed under the soft fabric of his black tee. His sweats hung low on his hips, and his kitchen skills? Not too bad.

The apartment was cleaner than I expected, too. The kitchen? Spotless. Minimalist. Not even a crumb on the counter. Either Atlas was a secret neat freak, or there was a house elf hiding in the cabinets. Either way, it was impressive.

My chin rested on my hand as I watched him move around the itchen, barefoot, focused, annoyingly efficient. For someone I’d spent most of my high school years labeling as my arch-nemesis, Atlas Lawson was… surprisingly tolerable. Dare I say, maybe even bearable?

Ugh. Gross.

But seriously, I had been dreading this roommate situation for weeks. Now here I was, watching him cook like he belonged on some domestic boyfriend Pinterest board, sleeves rolled up, aw set in concentration as he chopped onions like it was personal.

Maybe I had been wrong about him…

My eyes drifted lower.

Big mistake.

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