Page 15 of Killer Confections
My suspicions from earlier? They’re growing by the seconds, but the pleasure racing through me smothers it.
He’s here.
I walk over to his table, giving him an unimpressed look. “Are you following me, bestie?”
His eyes narrow when I say bestie, like the word itself is offensive. “I don’t know what you mean. I had to change another elective and Home Ec was right up my alley.”
I cock a hip, “Really? What’s a skill you have? Cooking? Maybe sewing? Or are you into finance, Atlas?”
His face falls as he thinks, “Uh, I’m learning how to crochet. Yeah. I love… making blankets and shit.”
I laugh and he seems to relax. “You don’t really know how to crochet, do you?”
“Not a single clue.”
“Alright,” I decide. “I’m going to help you get an A in this class and you can help me get an A in gym as long as you stay off the bench for the rest of the year.”
He gives me a lopsided grin, those blue eyes shining with excitement. “You got a deal, Short Stack.”
And that’s how I made my first friend in Columbus. Atlas and I hung out every day at school, helping each other study and just talking. We would sit together in our two classes, at lunch, and during study hall. We were practically inseparable.
I couldn’t deny my attraction to him, either. As the year progressed, he continued to grow into his looks, filling out and even growing facial hair.
Other girls noticed him, long lingering looks in the hallways that would make my blood boil, but he never even gave them the time of day. It was like he didn’t see anyone besides me at all times, and I loved it.
But my worry for him only grew as I divulged moreabout myself to him and he only stuck to telling me more surface level things about himself.
I told him I wanted to own a bakery when I graduated, and he told me he already had something set up for him after high school. He never told me what that occupation was, but I never stopped asking.
Sometimes, he would show up at school with fresh cuts and bruises and I would ask about them. It was always met with a casual shrug before he would change the subject.
I knew something was going on at home, but anytime I would try to entice him to tell me, he would get this guarded, faraway look in his eyes before demanding I drop it.
I was terrified for him. I didn’t know what to do, but I wanted to help.
It’s hard to help someone when they treat abuse so lightly. To Atlas, it was just another day. But to me, my friend was hurting silently.
I offered to hang out after school countless times, but he told me his dad wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t even go to homecoming or prom because his dad forbade him.
My anger was reaching a tipping point at Atlas’s father. He seemed to enjoy controlling every aspect of his son’s life and treating him poorly at home.
It was fucking cruel.
I came up with a grand scheme to get my friend out of his dad’s house, but everything came to a standstill the last month of school. Mom finished training the staff at her new firm and she had to break the news to me during dinner one night.
Chapter Six
Loxley
Eleven Years Ago
“What do you mean, we’re moving?” I ask in disbelief. I look between my mom and dad as they eat their pasta.
“Honey, this was always meant to be temporary,” dad says gently. “We told you this before the move.”
I slam my hands down on the table, startling them. “No! You said it would take at least two years to get everything settled!”
“Loxley!” Mom scolds, her hands stilling. “The whole office is finished. The staff are trained and I’ve handed everything off to Sierra. The typical time frame is two years, but we finished early. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but the movers will be here in a week to get the furniture.”
