I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 83

Chapter 83

Chapter 83

Emery’s POV

“So who was it?”

I blinked.

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I stared at my two best friends, both perched on the edge of my bed like eager puppies, eyes wide, grins huge, practically bouncing with excitement to dissect my sex life.

We were deep in classic girl-talk mode you known the whole giggling, spilling tea, no filter, and damn, I wished I could just blurt it all out. Tell them it was Atlas. How I wished I could tell them it was Atlas. That he was gentle and intense and stupidly sweet. That he’d gone out of his way to get me meds because he thought I was sick. That he looked at me in a way that made me feel so special…like I mattered….But I couldn’t.

Because what Atlas and I had? It was forbidden. Messed up. Some people would straight-up call it disgusting. And that reality punched me right in the gut.

“Some random guy I met at Ford’s party,” I said, shrugging like it was no big deal…like I had not just once again liked to my best friends.

“Ooooh,” Sam drew out, waggling her eyebrows like an idiot. “What’s his name?”

Name. Shit.

“Uh… I don’t know.”

Jazz’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t even get his name?!”

“I was kinda drunk, okay? Things just… happened super fast.”

Wow Emery Collins you are getting so good at this lying shit might add a middle name lyina.

Sam groaned dramatically. “Emery. Babe. Rule number one, get the guy’s name.”

“Or his number,” Jazz added.

I shook my head, staring at the floor. “Didn’t get that either.”

They both stared at me like I’d just confessed to a crime.

I shrugged weakly. “Maybe if it’s meant to be, we’ll meet again.”

Sam sighed. “Hopeless romantic. Tragic.”

Then Jazz tilted her head, studying me more closely. “Wait… I thought something was going on between you

and Howard.”

My chest tightened.

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Chapter 83

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I bit my lower lip, avoiding their eyes. “He… told me he likes me.”

“Yeah,” Sam said flatly. “That was obvious.”

Jazz’s voice softened. “But you don’t feel the same.”

“I’m just… all in my head right now,” I said, which was the softest way of saying I’m emotionally wrecked and confused and possibly in love with a guy I shouldn’t be kissing.

They exchanged a look, no teasing this time.

“That’s okay,” Sam said gently. “You can’t force feelings.”

“Exactly,” Jazz nodded. “Your heart doesn’t run on logic.”

“Yeah… the crazy part is-” I rubbed the back of my neck, voice quieter now. “He said he’s going to fight for this.”

“Awnnnn,” they both squealed in perfect unison.

I groaned, shoving a pillow into Sam’s face. “Guys!”

“Sorry, Em,” Jazz giggled, “but that is so romantic. Like, low-key Notebook energy.”

“It was romantic,” I admitted, pulling my knees to my chest. “But I’m worried, you know? I don’t want to break his heart. I’m not even sure where my own heart’s standing right now.”

They exchanged a look. Jazz reached over and squeezed my knee.

“Don’t overthink it,” she said. “He made his decision. Let him be brave about it. Let’s just see what fate has in

store.”

Before I could say more, a knock echoed at the door.

“Come in,” I called.

And in walked Ford. Wearing a sky-blue apron… and a chef’s cap that was definitely way too small for his head.

“Ladies,” he said in the worst British accent I’d ever heard, “your royal meal is ready.”

Sam narrowed her eyes. “Should we get a backup plan?” she asked in a horrifyingly bad British accent of her

own.

Jazz laughed and reached out her hand like we were forming a protest circle. “Okay, no. You two and your butchered accents? Never again. I’m begging you.”

I laced my fingers with hers, grinning. “Seriously. That was offensive to British people everywhere.”

Sam tossed her hair. “Jazlyn…Emeryland how dare you two.”

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Chapter 83

Jazz blew her a kiss and batted her lashes. “Love you too, darling.”

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Ford puffed his chest like a proud idiot. “You’re just jealous because my accent was sexy as hell. Right, babe?”

He shot Sam a wink.

“Oh, for sure,” Sam said dryly. “I’m all hot and bothered.”

“Careful,” he teased. “Keep talking like that and we might need a little royal roleplay later.”

Jazz gagged. “Okay, Gross Ford.”

We all laughed as we walked into the kitchen, and that’s when I saw him.

Atlas.

Wearing a red apron and a matching chef’s hat, standing beside Howard they all looked like they were auditioning for some weird Cooking Channel frat show. Howard had on a yellow apron and was holding a spatula upside down. But I didn’t care about either of them.

My eyes found Atlas instantly…because of course they did…and my stomach did that stupid flip thing again.

He smiled at me.

A soft, slow, smirk-meets-wink kind of smile that felt like it was just ours. And I swear I could feel the heat rise up my neck all the way to the tips of my ears. I quickly looked away, pretending to admire the kitchen tile like it was fascinating.

“Okay, Chef boys, we see you,” Sam said, hopping up onto the kitchen island stool.

Jazz and I slid into seats beside her as Ford clapped his hands together with way too much excitement. “We decided to make breakfast for our favorite girls. You know-three guys, three plates, three hearts full of love and hands blessed by the breakfast gods.”

Howard snorted. “You mean one guy.”

Ford whipped his head around. “Excuse me?”

“You and I almost set the fire alarm off trying to fry bacon. Atlas saved everything.”

Jazz choked on her laugh. Sam grinned. “Damn, exposed like that.”

Ford waved them off dramatically. “I’m trying to impress my girl here, bro. Can you not?”

“It’s okay, baby. We’ll just hire a chef and call it a day.” Sam said with a wink.

“You are so cool…how is she so cool” Ford said.

Okay they were really sweet and obviously insane about each other. I wanted to tell at their heads PUT A

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