Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Things take a turn for the worse, and I almost pass out when Atlas Hot's voice booms outside the door. Freaking hell. I’m suddenly thirteen again, a blushing disaster dressed like a tomboy, gaping at the former star quarterback.
Ian opens the door, grumbling to his brother, “About time you showed up.” I don’t have to see his tousled dark hair or intense blue eyes to know it’s Atlas. Hearing his commanding voice is enough to send me into the embarrassing, awkward spiral I've tried so hard to forget. I dive behind a stack of boxes and busy myself with some haphazard packing. I’m sure someone else can greet him without hyperventilating. What is happening to me? Pull up your big girl pants and act like the confident woman you are.
I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, waiting to hear Atlas's response. “I had to go buy new tennis shoes since Beans decided to eat my other ones,” he grumbles back.
“You’re the one who wanted to move in with me until your house is ready,” Beckett reminds his brother.
“When I asked, I had no idea your goddamn pot belly pig seems to live on a diet of Nikes and Adidas.” The brothers start another round of bickering.
Atlas walks in and gives Sage a hug, which causes Ian to grumble about his brothers not touching his woman. The sly look on Atlas’s face tells me he did it to get a rise out of his brother.
My heart nearly stops when he turns to me and holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m Atlas, the good-looking brother.” He commands attention with a sweep of his intense eyes, making me nervous in all sorts of uncomfortable ways. His black t-shirt hugs his broad shoulders and yummy, muscular frame. I try to pretend he's not suddenly this unbelievably hot and confident man, but it’s an impossible undertaking.
"Eloise." Is that really my voice? I clear my throat and clarify, "Sage's roommate."
"Nice to meet you, Eloise." He doesn’t even remember me, which might be for the best, considering the last time he saw me, I was a chubby, timid thirteen-year-old with braces and thick glasses.
He exudes the same magnetism I remember, only now it's intensified. Even his dark hair seems more rugged and stylishly tousled. I take a deep breath and try not to appear like a giddy schoolgirl.
"You too." I lower myself further behind the bookcase, pretending to be utterly fascinated by Sage's collection of little dog statues. Anything is better than facing Atlas right now. His attention makes me uneasy, even if it's just in my imagination. Which, judging by my complete lack of composure, that's likely where it all is.
“Eloise is Coach Martin’s daughter,” Ian blabs.
My heart stops, and I suddenly wish I could duck even further behind my box, preferably all the way back to last week when none of this was happening. I don’t dare look in their direction, or even breathe. My usual carefree, self-confident attitude seems to have flown right out the damn window when he walked in the room.
"Oh!" Atlas sounds as if everything suddenly makes sense, which is exactly what I didn't want. Recognition floats in his voice, in his footsteps, and in the way I feel his attention swing back to me.
"Small world," he mutters, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. His gaze travels slowly, lingering for a moment that feels electric, and I feel a flutter deep in my stomach.
I’m unable to stop myself from anxiously tugging at a stray curl, my fingers trembling with an awkward panic that feels all too familiar. It's as if I'm suddenly thirteen again, that awkward stage of adolescence when I was hopelessly pining after a guy who seemed light-years out of my league. The flutter of nervous energy in my stomach and the heat rising to my cheeks remind me that some things, despite all the time that's passed, never really change.
Time trudges along with the slowness of a snail inching across a vast expanse. My cheeks are ablaze with such ferocity that they could easily warm the entire apartment. Atlas continuously casts curious glances my way, each one intensifying the flames of my embarrassment. This, without a doubt, is my worst nightmare unfolding.
I can sense that recognition has dawned upon him, yet there's an unfamiliar quality to it, something intriguingly different.
Being noticed is not nearly as fun as thirteen-year-old me imagined. Instead of hearts and flowers, it's anxiety and lots of sweating. I have no idea why I want to bolt to the nearest bathroom and stay there until he's gone.
“Be right back!" I shout over my shoulder, slipping away from the crowd, feigning urgency as I escape to pull myself together in solitude.
Atlas's gaze follows me as I retreat to the kitchen, where I busily rummage through the first cabinet I encounter, desperate to distract my hands and mind from this crazy situation. One look at grown-up Atlas and I’m ready to jump his gorgeous bones. Fudge. Now that my best friend is marrying his brother, I’m pretty sure I’ll be seeing more and more of him. How in the world am I going to keep my heart safe from him?