I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97

Emery’s POV

I didn’t ditch them….I couldn’t. Ugh. Stupid conscience. So, instead, I texted Atlas while pretending not to feel like the worst girlfriend ever.

Me: Out with the girls. Don’t wait up.

Atlas: Kinda hard not to when the only person I wanna see is you.

Cue the emotional damage.

I sighed, locking my phone like it was my greatest temptation. The guilt sat on my chest like a dumbbell, but before I could spiral too deep…

“Okay, you have to tell us what’s so important you can’t get off your damn phone,” Sam slurred, swaying dramatically with her third margarita as she pointed a finger at me.

Every eye turned toward me.

“It’s no o…”

“Ouuuhhh, could it be your boyfriend?” Max said in a sing-song voice, wiggling her brows like she’d just uncovered a national scandal.

My heart legit stuttered. “It’s not…it’s just…he’s a friend. From high school.”

The weakest lie I’d ever told. Even I didn’t believe it.

They all gasped like I’d just said I was texting Santa.

“A friend, huh?” Jazz asked, her smirk practically screaming liar alert. She leaned forward, chin on her palm like she was watching her favorite soap opera.

“Yes. Just a friend.” I threw my hands up, shrugging way too hard, like the extra movement would sell it.

“Uh-huh,” Sam drawled, clearly not buying a damn word. “And MJ hasn’t stopped texting either.”

Oh, thank God.

I spun toward MJ like she was my ticket out of interrogation. “That’s so true. Girl, you’ve been glued to your phone all night.”

MJ froze mid-text, looking like a deer caught FaceTiming in headlights.

“Wha…no I haven’t.”

Max gasped, eyes wide. “Wait, I saw you sneaking around last week to take a call!”

And just like that, the spotlight shifted.

Jazz leaned in. “Okay, MJ. Spill.”

MJ blinked, cornered. She looked at each of us before sighing like a deflated balloon. “Fine. You caught me. I’ve been… seeing someone.”

The table exploded.

“I knew it!”

“Who is he?”

“Omg, is it someone from the team?”

MJ bit her lip and held up her hands. “You guys have to swear you won’t tell anyone.”

“We swear on my great-granny’s grave,” Sam said dramatically, one hand on her chest, the other holding her drink like it was a mic.

“It’s George.”

The excitement paused.

“George?”

“Who’s George?”

MJ exhaled like she was about to drop a bomb. “Professor Miller.”

The whole table went dead silent. Like, you-could-hear-a-pin-drop silent.

“Oh,” Sam said, eyes wide.

“Holy crap,” Jazz whispered, nearly choking on her drink.

MJ held up both hands like a lawyer defending her client. “Y’all swore. And if this gets out, I’m taking all your dirty secrets down with me.”

“Girl, relax,” Max said, raising her hands. “Your secret’s safe. And honestly? Congrats. That’s so forbidden and kinda hot.”

“Wait,” Wendy piped up, dead serious. “Does Miller talk biology when you guys are getting freaky?”

“WENDY!” we all yelled in chorus.

She shrugged, totally unbothered. “What? Y’all better not act like you’re not curious.”

The whole table erupted in laughter, and just like that, the tension cracked like a soda can on a Friday night.

MJ buried her face in her hands but laughed anyway. “Y’all are the worst.”

“Boomer you’re stuck with us babes,” Sam said, draping her arm around her.

And maybe I wasn’t wrapped up in Atlas’s arms or curled into his hoodie on his couch right now… but this moment, laughing with my girls, drinks clinking, secrets flying, this was still pretty damn good.

Still, I couldn’t help glancing at my phone under the table.

Just one more text.

Maybe two.

Okay, maybe I did have a problem…and it began with L and ended with E, but not the Love, no way… Like…totally just like…yeah?

***

I really tried not to get drunk. I swear.

But when Sam’s involved? Yeah, that plan didn’t stand a chance.

According to her, it was her sworn duty, as the self-proclaimed Life of the Party, “to get my boring ass high.” Her exact words. And, well… she succeeded.

We stumbled up to my apartment, giggling like toddlers with secrets. Thank God for Wendy’s boyfriend, who had been our poor designated driver all night. The man deserved a medal for listening to us scream-sing One Direction for the last hour like we were auditioning for The Voice: Drunk Edition.

“My boo needs some help?” Sam slurred dramatically, gripping the car door like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to Earth.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, waving her off as I tried to prove I could stand without swaying like a leaf in a windstorm. I was… semi-successful.

“Are you sure we’re dropping you here?” Jazz asked from the back seat, peering at me like I was a baby deer about to wander into traffic.

I nodded quickly. Yeah, I’d asked them to drop me a block away from my apartment. Why? Because drunk- walking the pathway usually helped me sober up. Kinda. Maybe. In theory.

“If you need a partner,” Max chimed in, voice way too loud for 2 a.m., “I’m right here, boo.”

“Shut up,” Sam groaned, tossing an arm dramatically across Max’s shoulder. “She’s just tryna see Atlas and flash him her boobies.”

“Am not!” Max shrieked, nearly falling over laughing. “Okay, maybe I am, but like, look at them. They look amazing tonight. Don’t they?”

Sam burst into cackles. “Yeah, bitch, you’re serving Victoria’s Secret runway right now.”

I giggled, hand covering my face. “Okay, byeeee bitches,” I said, waving them off as they piled back into Wendy’s poor boyfriend’s car. The guy deserved a peace prize for surviving this chaos.

шng like a drunk ninja prepping for a

I took exactly two steps.

And missed the third.

“Oh shi…”

I was seconds from a full-on meet-cute with the concrete when…

Two strong arms caught me mid-fall, wrapping around my waist like they were made to be there. I gasped, breath catching as I blinked up…

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify