But I am 95% sure it’s Atlas, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Erm, should I be making bug jokes?
Was that offensive?
I needed to confirm my suspicions before letting myself get too excited about a potential Mothman admirer, so I tidied up my bedroom and arranged my collection of books and figurines on the bed.
The doorbell rang, and I raced down the stairs to find the door already open, with Harlow standing there, one hand on her hip as she looked Atlas and Lucien up and down.
“Geez, you guys are tall. You really ate your vegetables, huh?”
She was not subtle at all.
“Do you eat lots of carrots so you can see well at night, too? I heard if you eat a lot of carrots, you can see in the dark like cats and rabbits, orrr maybe even a…”
I slapped my palm over Harlow's mouth and yanked her backward. "Ignore her," I said with a forced laugh. "Please come inside.” As they maneuvered through the doorway with my new, oversized triangular shelf unit for empty corners, I gestured toward the stairs. I might have picked it out because Atlas chopped down the tree for it and helped carve it out. I was flirting hard yesterday, and I don’t think he even knew it.
I think that was why I liked him even more…
“Just over here,” I pointed as they came up the stairs and down the small hallway. They didn’t even grunt as they brought it in. They set it down in the corner, and I admired their work.
The wood was so dark it bordered on black, perfect for my bedroom's aesthetic. I ran my fingers over the surface, tracing strange swirls I'd never seen in mahogany before. They glimmered, catching the light as they spiraled into knots, as if there were enchantments trapped beneath the surface.
“This is quite a setup,” Lucien put his hands on his hips as he looked around the room. “You moved in quickly, didn’t you?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “My bedroomismy office, I had to set it up. One day away is money lost.”
Atlas kept to himself, his body trying to scrunch up into himself like a ball.
“Atlas, you wanna see what I do?”
Atlas looked to Lucien as if to ask permission.
“Go on, big guy, go see what the lady does!” He pushed Atlas over to my desk. The desk wobbled, and one of my stress balls started rolling off the top shelf.
Atlas caught it and squeezed it in his hand.
“You might like this.” I walked up to him and grabbed his abnormally large hand. When I took his hand, I tried to feel anything unfamiliar, like fur, feathers or claws. Mostly, I felt just skin, but as I began to move his fingers to close them up into a ball around his palm, I could feel that there weren’t five digits.
The butterflies in my stomach continued to flutter.
Four digits, maybe claws, were on his hand.
“Alright, now squeeze. When I get nervous or anxious, I take this ball and squeeze it. It makes me feel better by putting my concentration into something else. First, I watch it change shape, second, I listen to it squish, third, I feel it with my touch, and this one is extra special…”
I held the stress ball up to my nose, cupping both of my hands underneath one of his. “Smell. This one smells of coconuts and sunscreen. Like the beach.”
Atlas tilted his head. I lifted his hand to his nose, and he took a breath.
“It’s nice.” His voice was a high-pitched squeak, and his face turned a pretty pink.
“I want you to have it for when you get anxious or flustered. Maybe it will help you.”
Atlas squeezed the ball several times and nodded. “Thank you. I will use it.” He smiled, under all that facial hair.
I then showed him the rest of my desk. He wasn’t much for talking, but I wanted him to become comfortable with me; otherwise, we would not get anywhere. I showed him my computer, the camera, the ring light, keyboard, and what I did for a living.
There weren’t any comments of, “You dowhatfor a living? Is that stable enough income for you? You play games?” He just nodded and touched things delicately, as if they were glass. He hummed when he thought something was more interesting than others, and even had me turn on the computer to see what a few of my favorite games were.
