CELIA

Atlas finds me on the front porch after dinner. “Ceels, can we talk?”

Glancing to my lap I shrug, “Have a seat.”

“Brought you a slice of pie.” He sets blueberry with whipped cream deliciousness on my knee and I grab it before it tips.

“Thank you. Where’s the fork?”

“Ah shit,” he mutters, raking back his hair. After a beat he reaches into his back pocket and produces one. “Ta da!”

On a reluctant smile I roll my eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“Which is why it makes no sense for you to be into me.” He leans forward while I swirl my discomfort into the whipped cream with the fork.

“It’s fine, Atlas, let’s not talk about it, okay?”

“I don’t know how you can even feel that way but it’s a bad idea.”

After a moment I sigh, “Felt that way.”

He blinks. “What?”

Tucking one leg under me I set the pie down. “I’ve been thinking about it, how I blurted that out, how you reacted. Just sitting out here by myself going over it all, because I wasn’t that hurt when you shot me down. Embarrassed, yeah, very. But I wasn’t depressed or needing to cry. It was weird, wasn’t sure if I was numb, but then…no. I just wasn’t hurt at all. And if I’m not hurt, then I must not care as much as I thought I did.”

He snorts, “Dunno if I should be relieved or insulted.”

I smile, “Both?” before staring into our long driveway, the porch light illuminating only a short reach. “Atlas, I love you very much. But you’re right. It’s more as a friend. You’re very sexy, so I think that just got mixed into things.”

“It gets weird around here,” he nods. “I’ve thought about you.”

“You have?”

Sucking his teeth he shrugs, “But it was just sexual.”

“Yeah.” My gaze drops. “I think sometimes women confuse sexual attraction for a future.”

“Everyone knows that!” Atlas reaches for the pie.

“Don’t you dare!”

He shoves a huge bite in, talking over it. “Women always think sex is love. I told you about that chick who clung to my leg, literally tried to drag me back into the hotel room in Savannah.”

“Stop eating my pie!”

“She went nuts and I just fucked her four times. How long were we there? Two nights or some shit?” Forking another huge mouthful in, he groans, “So good!”

I shake my head, “Wow.”

“What?”

“You brought me that as a peace offering!”

“Actually it was a piece of pie offering, but we’re good now, right?”

My face twists with are-you-kidding-me?

Chowing down he shrugs, “We figured it out already.”

“You’re something else.”

“Duh.”

“I’m going in to see if there’s more.”

“There isn’t.”

“That was the last slice?”

“Mmhmm.”

With extended fingers I scoop up the final sweet chunk from his plate. Atlas starts laughing as I shove it in my face. “Who got the last piece now, huh?”

“You gonna suck your fingers, Ceels? Can I watch?”

“Nope.” I jump to my feet and head inside. “Everyone sleeping yet?”

“Gone to their rooms, yeah. Who knows if they’ve crashed.”

“Damn, I wanted to slam the door on my exit.”

His laughter follows me inside.

I veer left into the grand foyer to see if Sage is hanging out in her usual place, drawing. Finding it empty I head up the hall, past our staircase and into the kitchen. Her laughter drifts in from the game room. “No, I won’t bet you actual money! You’re probably a pool shark and we don’t know it!”

I hesitate as I hear Sean’s cocky reply, “I’m fuckin’ awesome, not gonna lie.”

She asks in a tone so flirtatious I know they’re alone, “Then why are you challenging me to a bet?”

“To win, of course.”

The crack of the cue ball sending multiple balls flying across the table sends my hair on end but it’s nothing compared to the feeling when I hear her ask, “Are you good at everything?”

My breath sticks in my throat.

Why won’t he answer her?

Wait…

Are they kissing?

But then Sean’s voice reaches my ears, and there’s nothing sensual about it. It’s kind but firm. “I can’t flirt with you, Sage. I’m sorry, but I just…I can’t.”

My eyes widen.

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“Yeah you were, and that’s cool. Don’t be embarrassed. But I can’t return it.”

There’s a pause, then, “Because you’ll lose your chances of becoming a Cipher?”

“Nah, that’s not it.”

“Oh.” Her voice shifts to cold, irritated, clipped. “You’re just not attracted to me. Huh, great. Good to know.”

With kindness he chuckles, “Don’t be like that. You’re fucking adorable. But I’ve got my focus elsewhere.” I blink, heart stuttering as I clutch the wall to listen closer. “I don’t want anything blocking my training, everything I’m trying to do here.”

My spirits sink, but how selfish of me. I was sitting on the porch after dinner, ruminating on my feelings, how they weren’t what I thought, and it occurred to me that Sean has snuck into my thoughts more and more often without my realizing that as the days have passed I look forward to training him more than anything else, even Melodi’s cooking. That maybe meeting someone who was so admirable, with such a strong moral compass had beckoned my heart to turn toward him.

But am I really that fickle?

I don’t want to be.

I want to be steadfast like he is.

Explaining to Sage, he continues, “Look, this is my whole life we’re talking about. Everything changes for me if I’m let into your club. My training is crucial.”

“You sure you don’t just want Celia?”

I hold my breath at the pause.

His voice is deeper, thoughtful now. “Celia’s a beautiful girl. And I’ve never met anyone like her before. But she…”

But she told me she likes Atlas.

Is that what he’s going to say?

“She what? You do like her, don’t you.”

“I’m keeping my mind on one thing, Sage.”

I straighten my back and walk in with a smile. “Hey guys. Who’s winning?”

Sage shoves her pool stick into my hands. “I’m stripes. Take over for me. I’m gonna go to bed.”

We watch her leave. Grabbing the chalk I dull the end of my stick. “I’m so going to whoop your ass.”

His brows clear and a smirk replaces his frown. He wasn’t sure if I overheard, but my friendly attitude removes any doubt. “We’ll see about that. It’s your turn.”

I aim and miss, smile evaporating. “Dammit!”

Sean strolls around the table like he’s got all day to size his options up. We look over as Scythe walks into the game room with Denita, saying, “Thought we heard someone in here. You guys down for doubles?”

With concentration locked on the yellow one-ball, Sean whispers, “Let me just clear this table first.” He bends, sapphires intense, muscles taut, thick fingers wrapped around the stick like they’re right at home. He smoothly knocks it into the side pocket, which are always the hardest for me.

Denita murmurs, “Good shot.”

“I’m gonna get us some drinks,” Scythe announces, heading out.

Sean aims and shoots another solid, this time in the corner pocket. He touches the side pocket near him, indicating his next target. He bends over, jeans tightening, t-shirt pulled across broad shoulders and hanging away from his flat abs, leaving a slice of flesh exposed—soft, curly, happy trail visible and making my stomach clench. He aims, bouncing his shot off the wall at the perfect angle. It flies smoothly into the hole it was meant for, and I sigh.

Sean glances to me, “Oh, did you want a turn?”

I’m not talking about pool as I smirk, “That’d be nice.”

“Tough.” He aims again, and in four more shots clears the table, leaving only my five stripes and the eight ball. I exchange a glance with Denita, see her laughing eyes watching me. She shakes her head that I am toast. And sure enough, he calls it, “Eight ball, side pocket,” pointing with his stick.

He walks right in front of me and I move to get out of his way, but not too far. I’m behind him now, watching his precision as his muscular body bends forward. Biting my lip I try not to check out his ass, the confident stance of his legs, but it’s impossible not to sneak a lingering peek.

Denita and I lock eyes. She raises her eyebrow. I give her a mischievous smile. As the eight ball disappears, she clears her throat, “Lookin’ good, Sean.”

He straightens up. “Thanks. I used to have a lot of free time. Spent too much of it in bars.”

Scythe strolls in with four glasses, salt, lime, and a bottle of Herradura añejo tequila. An appreciative glance scans the table. “Hell yeah! This is gonna be fun!”

As she accepts the glass from her husband Denita flicks an amused look to me. For a heartbeat I think she’s going to rat me out for the fun of it and tell Sean I was admiring more than just his form, but she lets me off the hook to ask him instead, “Ready to have your ass handed to you on a platter?”

He grins, “Can’t wait,” then glances to me. “You on my team?”

Scythe hands us glasses while I make a face at Sean, “I missed the only shot I took!”

“Yeah, but you did that to throw me off.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think that?”

“I watched you play with your dad a few nights ago. And with Atlas last week. It’s your thing, get their ego up and then pummel it into the ground. I just didn’t give you that chance.”

Scythe pours tequila for everyone, chuckling in his deep throaty way, “The kid has got your number!”

I mutter, “I wish he’d lose it.”

Sean gives me a wink that makes me bite back a smile as we each lick the back of our hands, shake salt onto them, passing the shaker for the next person to use before we grab lime wedges.

Denita raises her glass. “To family seeing things that you don’t want them to see.” Her gaze lands on me. The guys assume she means Sean learning my bait and switch strategy.

They smile knowingly, even though they’re wrong.

So I add, “To family keeping their mouths shut.”

And we all clink glasses to completely different things.