The Thousandth Floor

Atlas turned to her. “So what’s the deal with you and that Watt guy?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you see in him, anyway?”

“You said last week that you thought he was nice!” Avery snapped. Atlas didn’t answer. “Not that it’s any of your business,” she went on testily, “but we’re over. Guess it’s a night for breakups. Happy now?”

Atlas met her gaze, those deep brown eyes unblinking. “Aves. I only care if you’re happy.”

She felt her anger deflate. “The thing is,” she said haltingly, “you were right. Watt is a nice guy. It’s not his fault he’s not—”

She couldn’t afford to finish that thought.

“Not what?” Atlas prompted.

Avery was tired, so tired, of acting like the sight of Atlas with other girls didn’t bother her, of hiding her hurt behind a smile. The pretense weighed on her so heavily, she felt she might snap in two.

Yet she hesitated. If she said it, if she told Atlas what she really wanted to, she risked losing him forever.

“Not you,” she whispered at last.

The words hung there, quietly ending the world Avery had always lived in. In the silence a new world was unfolding. Avery held her breath.

And then suddenly Atlas’s arms were around her, his lips on hers.

Avery responded eagerly, recklessly, her heart almost hurting with joy. Their kisses were frantic and feverish and she would never get enough of them.

At some point Atlas swung her up into his arms and started down the hall to his room. Avery’s head was pressed against his chest and she could hear the erratic beat of his heart, its pulse matching her own. She felt it too—the exhilaration, and underneath it the thin electrifying undercurrent of fear, at the forbiddenness of what they were about to do. She shivered.

A crash sounded. She realized Atlas had knocked over the lamp by his bed. They both froze, hardly daring to breathe. Their parents were still home—asleep on the other end of the apartment, but still, they were here.

Nothing happened, and after a moment, Avery relaxed. “I’m sorry,” Atlas began, but Avery just laughed and pulled him onto the bed with her.

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters but you.” She reached up to kiss him again but Atlas beat her to it, his kisses burning her skin, obliterating all thought.

* * *

When Avery woke up, Atlas’s sleeping form was curled around hers, his arm over her shoulder and his breath soft in her ear—living proof that it was real, that she hadn’t imagined any of it. She lay still for a while, relishing the feel of Atlas so close to her. Then she turned on her side and kissed him.

Atlas stirred. “Hey there,” he said drowsily, and smiled.

“What are you thinking?” Avery asked, because she wasn’t sure how to say what she wanted to.

“Right now, I’m thinking how nice it is to lie here and hold you,” he murmured, reaching an arm around to pull her closer.

She nestled contentedly into him, but a million questions still whirled through her mind. “Atlas,” she tried again. “After Eris’s party, when we kissed … you didn’t even remember …” She looked at him expectantly, but his brow was furrowed.

“I didn’t remember?” he repeated. “Aves, you were the one who acted like it never happened!”

“No,” she said automatically—that couldn’t be true. Could it?

“You didn’t even kiss me back, up on the roof!” Atlas went on. “It terrified me. Why do you think I ran away so fast?”

“But you were just standing there eating waffles the next morning like it never happened!”

“Only because I thought that was what you wanted me to do.”

Avery shook her head. But as she played back through the events of that night, she remembered how fragile that kiss had seemed, how she hadn’t dared move for fear of breaking the spell and sending Atlas running. Maybe she’d done that anyway. “I thought you didn’t remember. Or didn’t care,” she whispered.

“Of course I remember. How could I forget kissing the girl I love?”

Avery caught her breath. “I love you too,” she said, so glad to finally say it aloud.

It was close to dawn. She should get back to her room before her parents woke up. She stole another glance at Atlas, who lay propped on one elbow beneath the rumpled white sheets. He watched the play of emotions across her face, reading her as always. “You’re leaving,” he said.

Avery nodded and reluctantly sat up. But something else was bothering her. “What about Leda?” she asked. Stubbornness, her one flaw, Atlas always said.

He looked away. “I feel terrible about how I’ve treated Leda in all this.” I should feel terrible too, Avery thought, but even though Leda was her best friend, it was hard right now to think of her as anything but the obstacle that had kept her from Atlas. “I really didn’t mean to lead her on,” he added remorsefully, and Avery was reminded of her thoughts about Watt last night.

“Why did you sleep with her, in the Andes?”

“Because I couldn’t have you, Aves.” He shook his head. “I thought being with Leda might keep me from thinking about you all the time. That’s why I went away—to escape the way I felt about you. I kept hoping that if I just ran far enough, eventually I’d figure out a way to stop loving you.”