I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Emery’s POV

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“Whatttt!!!” Laila screamed so loud I had to yank my phone away from my face like it was about to combust.

“Oh my goddess, you’re gonna burst my eardrums,” I groaned, rubbing the side of my head as her voice echoed in my skull.

She was pacing now, well, more like bouncing. Her camera was swaying all over the place as she adjusted her iPad and set it on her desk, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Hold up,” she said, pulling her giant sleep bonnet off dramatically and letting her curls spill everywhere. “So you’re telling me… your first day at Linchester, and you walk in on Atlas…” She didn’t even finish. Instead, she moved her hips in this exaggerated, unmistakable thrusting motion.

I slapped my palm over my face. “Please don’t remind me of it,” muttered, dragging my fingers down my cheeks like I could physically erase the memory. “I already need brain bleach

“Oh my gosh,” Laila gasped, flopping backwards onto her bed like she’d just heard the juiciest gossip of the century. “You are so luckyyy.”

“Ew. Laila Omar,” I deadpanned, squinting at the screen like she was some kind of deranged fangirl.

“What?” she asked, sitting up with her usual over-the-top hand gestures. “Don’t act like Atlas wasn’t the sexiest guy to ever exist at Crescent Hill. I mean, the jawline? The arms? That cocky walk that said, ‘Yeah, I know I’m hot, you’re welcome’? Like, come on.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I’m pretty sure I saw my skull. “Okay, you’re over-exaggerating.”

“Am I?” she challenged, raising a brow and folding her arms with the drama of a courtroom lawyer. “Because last I checked, Bridget spent an entire semester talking about making out with Him behind the bleachers. Said just kissing him made her GPA go up.”

I groaned, flopping onto my bed and staring at the ceiling like it might open up and save me from this conversation. “That girl would’ve bragged about kissing a lamppost if it boosted her social status.”

Laila laughed and leaned closer to her screen, squinting at me like she was reading my soul. “But you gotta admit… seeing him naked? That body? That was…. something.”

My face flamed. “Oh my God, Laila…”

“Come on, Emery. You saw what the rest of us could only fantasize about!”

I yanked a pillow over my face. “Stop talking.”

“And miss all the tea?…no way. So tell me how was it?. I need every detail.”

How was it…disgusting…irritating…embarrassing…intriguing?

The look on the red-haired woman… memories came rushing back,

Flushed face

Hands scratching his back

Mouth slightly parted.

She looked like she was feeling so good…would I want that…of course, a man who would make me feel so good, my mind

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Chapter 9

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went blank, a man who would let my screams echo off the roofd never tell me to shut it…a man that would make me literally see stars just like… Atlas? Would he make me feel good like her? Would he give me the best orgasms? Would he…hold up?

What am I even thinking about??!!

Removing the pillow from my face, I looked up to find Laila grimming at me.

“What?”

“You’re literally thinking it so loudly I can hear it.”

“What are you talking about?”

She grinned, tucking her legs under her and wiggling her brows. Back from sexstasy with Atlaaaaassss,” she sang, dragging out his name like it was a love song.

I buried my face in my hands. “Disgusting. You, Laila Omar, are disgusting.”

She gasped, scandalized. “Excuse you! I am a woman of taste and culture. And if the culture is admiring fine ass? I will not apologize.”

I snorted. “You of all people should know I can never, ever, evvv errr feel anything for Atlas.”

Laila blinked at me, deadpan. “Baby, who said anything about feelings? I’m talking about sexxxx.” She moaned.

I choked on air. “Oh my god. No. No, no, no. Not happening. Never happening.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “You know, for someone who just saw the full naked glory of Atlas Lawson, you’re not appreciating the moment enough.”

I pointed at the screen. “Can we not talk about that?! How’s CU?”

Laila perked up instantly. “Ooooh, Corvinhart University is amazinggg. Like, I literally never want to leave. Everyone’s so chill. The labs? Literal heaven. They’ve got all the latest equipment, 3D microscopes, smart incubators, temperature- controlled everything. I swear, I walk in there and feel like Tony Stark in a lab coat.”

I grinned. “Only you would compare biochemistry to the Avengers.”

She flipped her hair. “As I should.”

“And your roommate?” I asked, curious.

She groaned playfully. “Ugh, she’s ridiculously cool. She’s from orea, speaks fifteen languages, and somehow manages to look like she stepped out of a K-drama even in pajamas. Her skincare routine could cure world hunger. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying not to burn instant noodles.”

I laughed so hard my cheeks hurt. That’s the thing with Laila, I could be having the worst day, and a call from her would turn it all around.

“I do miss you, though,” I admitted, my voice softer now. “It sucks not having you here.”

She sighed and leaned closer to the screen, her chin resting on step closer to becoming the baddest Olympic gold medalist out We’re both kind of amazing.”

I smiled. “You’re gonna be the hottest biochemist alive.”

r hand. “I miss you too, Em. But hey, look at us. You’re one here, and I’m one step closer to curing cancer in Berlin.

“Duh. The tall German guys already think I’m some exotic choclate goddess. I’m eating it up.”

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Chapter 9

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re so unserious.”

“And you’re so in denial.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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She gave me a look through the screen. “Just don’t be surprised your hate turns into heat. You know what they say

enemies…”

I grabbed the nearest pillow and held it up like a shield. “Okay, goodnight. I’m blocking you now.”

Laila smirked and blew a kiss. “Love you too, bestie. Try not to stare at his butt tomorrow.”

The screen went dark, and even though I tried to fight it, a stupid grin tugged at the corners of my mouth.

about

Shaking my head, I dropped the pillow and glanced around my room, now fully unpacked. My clothes were folded neatly in the drawers, my books stacked on the desk, my diffuser glowing softly in the corner like a tiny star. I picked up the photo frame from my nightstand. My mom, young, glowing, wearing her swimmer’s gear and that proud smile after winning her first Olympic gold.

My fingers brushed the edge of the glass.

“I’m gonna make you proud, Mom… that’s a promise,” I whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of the frame.

I set it back down gently, then slid under my blanket, the sheets fool against my legs. My body sank into the mattress, nerves and excitement swirling in my chest like static. Tomorrow was my first real day. First practice. First impression.

And I needed every ounce of sleep I could get.

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