He folds his tattooed arms over his chest, glowering. “I was a good boy, now stop being mean to me!”
“You left the hospital because I made you promise me that if either of us got injured, we had to leave the other so we could sleep. Hanging around in an emergency room does no one any good. You promised that if you didn’t listen, I could rip one of your rare Batman comics from ’42.” And if I refused to leave him, Atlas was allowed to throw away the puck I got when I was thirteen from Doug Massey, my all-time favorite player on the Otters and the man who’d made me want to become one.
“Have sympathy for me. I had to sleep between Oli and Andre that night.”
“I thought the rooms had two beds?”
“I don’t understand the question.” Atlas unfolds his arms. “Andre snores so much, I don’t know how Oli deals with it.”
My head’s throbbing. I just want to be left alone. “Are you done? I’m not in the mood for visitors right now.”
“I’m not a visitor, you dick. I’m your best fucking friend, and I’ve been feeling a little bit neglected. If you stop being difficult and go to PT, you’ll be good as new in no time.” He looks down at my knee. “That looks gross, actually. It’s so angry. All purple and veiny.” He recoils. “Like a mutant Grimace.”
“Get out of my house.” I only have a limited amount of time before this new person moves in with me, and then it’s back to being on edge all the time.
“What are we having for dinner? I’m thinking Thai.”
“No.”
Ignoring me, he flips through his phone. “Do you want to see the dick pick? I have extras.”
“Atlas, if you don’t fuck off?—”
“Now pick a place that won’t kill me via peanut.” He blinks at me, that shit-eating smirk on his face.
“That’s not funny.” Not when I’m the one who’d had togive him his EpiPen when his throat nearly closed up one evening because he didn’t tell me about his nut allergy.
“Come on, Grey. Please? Just one dinner. Just one.” I watch him a moment, his eyes fixed on me. They don’t look real. When I first met him I’d thought they were contacts.
They’re not. I’ve woken up enough times next to this man to know they’re real. Woken up together, not in a sexual way. Atlas is practically family to me. “Fine, dinner, then you leave. I’m beat, okay?” I struggle to walk across to my sink. I feel his eyes on me, and I think it’s this I hate the most—the watching, the waiting for me to fall and hurt myself, as if I’m incapable of doing things alone.
“Need help?”
“Need me to change my mind about dinner?”
He shakes his head looking away from me. “Dick.”
“Order pizza from the restaurant on Merlin Drive. They’re a nut-free place. I don’t trust the one on Dietz.”
“You got it. The usual?” I nod, and he skips off to the living room. God he’s ridiculous. I reach up into my cabinets to grab a glass, my hand shaking on the counter. I can do this. The thing is, the pain sucks, but it’s manageable. No, it’s the fact that I can’t put my weight on my leg. I feel so weak. I can’t even hold my own body weight upright.
Shimmying over to the sink, I rest my elbow on the edge to turn on the tap. Atlas is there a second later. “Let me, okay.” The softness in his voice douses any anger I feel.
I don’t have it in me to fight him, so I concede, and limp toward the table. Atlas brings two glasses of water, sliding me one. We have about half an hour before the food will get here, and normally it’s easy to fill the silence, especially with him. Words choke in my throat.
“You should ice it. Elevation is key, and walking around like this won’t help. It looks really swollen and fucked up—nooffense.” I look down at my knee. It’s nearly impossible to wear pants; they’re not worth the effort. Boxers it is until further notice. Atlas sets his hand gently on my knee. “Shit, that’s fucking hot. I can stay tonight and?—”
“I’m fine.”
“Really, I have nothing to do tonight, I can?—”
“I said I’m fine!” I grit, my teeth clenched, barely containing my irritation.
“Alright, damn. Relax.” Atlas’s fingers slip from my knee. He taps on the table, taking tiny time-consuming sips of his water. “Oh! Oli is proposing to Andre soon. Did he tell you?”
“Yeah, he texted me. During break, right? They’re doing a redo Christmas or something.” I know he came here to tell me personally, but I was still too much of a dick to let him in.
“Isn’t it weird?” I cock my brow. “Not like that. I mean like Oli, our Oli, a married man.”
