Abigail

There’s a knock on the front door and Cora and I look at each other in horror. Time slows down as I debate whether or not to open it. Who heard the fighting? Who would care enough to investigate?

“Don’t open it!”

My step-father gets slowly to his feet as the knocking sounds again. Cora and I are completely still. He doesn’t even look at us.

Daylight floods into the front room as he opens the door. A man more nicely dressed than I’d ever seen in my entire life stands before my step-father. His clothes are clean. His face is full - like he hasn’t gone days without having a meal. His eyes are… happy?

“What the fuck do you want?” my step-father sneers.

“Abby,” Cora whispers to me, “That’s him.”

“Who?” I ask, barely audible.

“The prince.”

“Good afternoon, sir. I am here with some members of the royal army investigating-”

“Fuck your royal army!” my stepfather yells, taking a step closer to the prince. The prince backs away in alarm.

“Excuse me?

Cora tries to separate herself from me, but I hold her back. The situation seems too dangerous.

“He came for you,” she tells me, “He’s here to save you!”

I cover her mouth with my hand and shoot her a warning glance. This is not the time to interfere.

“I said fuck your army, fuck your investigation, and fuck your people! An affront to nature - that’s what you all are!”

There is a commotion at the door as my step-father lunges for the prince, but a soldier steps in front of him. He is suddenly being restrained. Cora whimpers into my hand as one of the soldiers brings a sword to our step-father’s face.

And then the prince looks directly at me. I don’t avert my eyes, even though everything inside me tells me I should. I stare right back at him - hoping he sees what my sister and I and all the others in our town have become. The hunger and hopelessness and shame.

“Let him go,” the prince says quietly, not taking his eyes off me.

“But your majesty-”

“Let. Him. Go.”

The soldiers drop my step-father and begin to walk away. The prince finally looks back towards my father. He offers him a slight nod and then turns away.

If my step-father was smart, he would have stayed silent. He would have thanked fate for being on his side today. He would have let the prince go.

My step-father is not a smart man.

“AND STAY OFF MY PROPERTY!” he screams.

The prince looks back in surprise, just as my father spits directly into his face.

Quinn

The dress was worth more than my house - of that I was certain. To touch something so silky and elegant felt illegal. I ran my hands over it gently, worrying the sweat on my palms might stain the material.

Atlas, on the other hand, was unfazed by the expensive dress. He had tossed it on my bed carelessly, still annoyed at his mom.

It was 6 pm and I was too afraid to put the dress on. Afraid my lanky arms and flat chest would strip the dress of its beauty. As the seconds ticked closer to the start time of the party, my panic grew deeper.

Atlas and I had spent the majority of the day doing homework. Or at least, Atlas was doing homework. I doodled and paced around and did everything except my work.

“Quinn,” Atlas sighed, eyeing my rapidly bouncing knee, “You can cancel. You can just stay home.”

“No,” I growled, “I said I would go so I’m gonna go.”

Atlas put his hands up in defense.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Don’t be,” he sighed, “I’m sorry again. About my mom.”

There was a knock at the door. Atlas was on his feet opening it before I’d even registered the sound.

“Your tux, sir,” a voice said.

I watched Atlas step outside and then reemerge with a black, heavy looking garment bag. I internally groaned - a tux?

“Thank you,” he said, giving the delivery guy a wave. He shut the door behind him and then turned to me, giving me a sheepish shrug.

I stood up quickly from the couch, determined to stop being a little bitch. I could feel Atlas’s eyes on me as I marched into my bedroom to get ready.

I used my best drugstore makeup to paint my face. I knew I would never hold a candle to Mrs. Ellroy or the other beauties of The Kingdom. The clock told me I didn’t have enough time to do anything special to my hair. I ran my fingers through it like I did everyday, hoping it didn’t look too frizzy.

Then it was time for the dress. I stripped my clothes off with trembling fingers. I held the champagne colored, floor-length piece of silk in front of me, sighing in frustration. It had been years since I put on a dress.

I held it low so I could step inside it, and then lifted the dress over my body. My arms slid through the champagne straps that were way too revealing for the frigid November weather. At least it fit - Mrs. Ellroy was a good guesser.

A pair of strappy nude stilettos lay at the bottom of the garment bag. I wanted to cry for my poor feet. If I was smart, I would have spent the day trying to break them in. Unfortunately for my feet, I was a fucking idiot.

I observed myself in the mirror. Everything from the neck down somehow worked. The silky champagne material combined with the 6 inch heels made me look curvier than I actually was. But my face didn’t match the attire - it was too natural and pale and tired-looking. A dead giveaway that I didn’t belong in this dress. I huffed in frustration - I needed a drink.

I sulked out of the room, clenching my knees to prevent myself from wobbling on the too-tall heels.

“Shot?” I asked Atlas, hardly glancing at him on my way to the kitchen.

Atlas didn’t reply. I ripped the freezer open to find a bottle of vodka, half empty. So the beast had been home at some point. I reached for the bottle and then two shot glasses. Atlas would drink whether he liked it or not.

I set the glasses on the counter and poured us both a shot, and then looked up at Atlas expectantly.

Atlas was staring at me, eyes wide. He’d gotten into his tux already and his hair had a fresh layer of gel to sleek it back. He ran his hands through his hair.

“Quinn, you look-”

“Just don’t,” I huffed in frustration, not wanting to hear his lies.

“I-okay,” he said, confused.

I rolled my eyes.

“Are we doing this?”

He eyed the shots, “Do you really think drinking tonight is a good idea?”

My frustration grew - I didn’t like to be told what to do. In defiance, I held his gaze while I took not one, but both shots - two in a row. My throat burned, but I kept my face neutral. He rolled his eyes in response. I just looked away and folded my arms, tapping my foot with nervous energy.

“Why did you agree?” Atlas asked me. I could tell he was trying not to sound annoyed, trying to keep his tone in control.

“Why do you care?” I shot back.

“I don’t,” he said defensively. “I mean… you’re acting like you’re being forced into this. You’re not. You agreed.”

The two of us faced each other in my cramped kitchen, the fluorescent light above flickering. I was reminded of our fight the previous day. Whoever made the prophecy about us falling in love was a damn idiot. We couldn’t go 24 hours without fighting.

I snorted at him, “Of course I was forced. You think I was gonna accept your money?”

“You could have!”

I laughed loudly this time, humorously, “How pathetic do you think I am?”

“I don’t!” he argued, “But it’s clear that this party is the last thing you want to do.”

“You’re wrong,” I spat, “Taking anything from your bitch of a mother is the last thing I want to do. The second this damn party is over, I’m throwing her dress back in her face.”

“It’s a gift,” he growled.

That surprised me - I thought for sure he would be more upset that I called his mother a bitch.

“I don’t want it.”

I kept my gaze forward as I went to sit on the couch in the living room. Atlas followed and stood in front of me as I sat down. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Quinn, can we just… can we just try to get through this without ripping each other’s throats out?” he asked, “Can you just try to be a bit more mature tonight?”

My eyes widened and I shot right back to my feet. My legs groaned in protest from the heels.

”Mature?” I yelled, “Fuck you, Atlas. Fuck your 300 year old ass.”

“Calm down, Quinn,” he yelled back.

“I can’t,” I said through gritted teeth, “I’m not mature enough. Maybe you should find someone to escort you to this party your own age, sir,” I added for good measure.

“You know what, Quinn? You’re right. Maybe I should find someone that won’t drink themselves silly whenever things don’t go their way,” he shot at me.

“Please do,” I said, not showing that his words were getting to me, “I hope you do so you can leave me the hell alone!”

“I wish I fucking could,” he growled.

We stared at each other, both too angry for words, our breathing heavy. My fists were balled tightly at my sides. Atlas’s stance mirrored mine. I opened my mouth to say something offensive, but there was a gentle knock at the door.

“Car’s here,” Atlas said quietly, breaking eye contact.

He took a deep breath and adjusted his face into a pleasant smile. I watched him strut to the door casually, still glaring. Before he opened it, he turned to me once more and said in a strained tone -

“It’s show time.”

I didn’t have time to ask what he meant as he reached for the door knob.

“Hey Williams,” he said cheerfully when the door swung open.

“Are you ready sir?” Williams asked politely.

“I think we’re good,” Atlas said, and then he turned his attention to me. All anger was lost from his eyes. He gave me an encouraging smile. “Ready, Quinn?”

I just nodded once, curtly. I didn’t trust myself to speak - didn’t know if more angry words would come or just plain, embarrassing tears.

“Then right this way, sir,” Williams said, stepping aside and holding out an arm gesturing to the black Mercedes waiting for us.

Atlas made his way towards the car and I followed him, keeping a few feet back. The driver ran ahead and opened the door for us. Atlas stepped aside so I could climb in first. I was still so angry I didn’t notice the chill outside. Didn’t admire the sleek, dark interior of the Mercedes or the black leather seats. I sat down rigidly and stared out the window.

Atlas got in next to me and the driver closed the door behind him. Within seconds, we were speeding down the street towards The Kingdom. It felt ridiculous to drive. The walk to his house was less than 10 minutes.

In the car, Atlas grabbed my hand. I yanked it away, shooting him a death glare. Atlas gave me a warning look and then looked to the rear view mirror. I followed his gaze. The driver was clearly throwing us glances every now and then, telling me that he, too, must have been a member of the East Side.

I tried to control my sigh of annoyance as I set my hand back down on the seat. Atlas snaked his fingers through mine, offering me a small smile. I looked back out the window, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a smile.

The car ride was too short. I felt my heart thudding in my chest as we made our way up the circular driveway to the too-big front doors. The driver swiftly exited the car and moved to the backseat doors. He went to open the door, but Atlas rolled down the window a small crack.

“Can you give us a moment, Williams?” he asked kindly.

Williams nodded. He stayed outside the door, hands folded behind his back. Atlas closed the window.

“We need to be in love,” Atlas said after a moment of silence.

“What?”

Atlas moved closer to me on the seat and stared into my eyes, his face serious.

“We need to be- we need to seem so in love,” he whispered, “Or they’re never going to leave us alone.”

I furrowed my brows, “I don’t understand.”

“They have expectations of us,” Atlas explained, “And we need to show them that we are… working to meet those expectations. They need to think we’re on their side, not working against them.”

“Why?” I challenged, “Doesn’t it make more sense to show them that this stupid curse is full of shit? That it’s never going to happen?”

He shook his head and said, “if they think we’re in love, but nothing changes, then they’ll know the prophecy was wrong. But if they think we’re not even trying… well let’s just say my mom wasn’t exactly overexaggerating this morning. If it were just me, I could spew whatever lies I know they want to hear. But you’re here, too, now.”

“I didn’t know I would have to put on a performance,” I muttered, further regretting my brash decision to attend the party.

“I know,” he said, “And I’m sorry. Again.”

I just nodded, looking down at my lap.

“Quinn,” he said softly, “After tonight… If you want me to leave you alone, okay. I will - I swear. Just say the word. Last night was… I don’t know what came over me. But if you don’t want it to happen again, don’t want to stay friends, okay. You’ve given me enough - I won’t ask for anything more. Not after tonight.”

I said nothing, not wanting to admit the fact that part of me - a bigger part than I wanted to acknowledge - hated the thought of him leaving me alone. Instead, I just looked at him.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He nodded and then knocked on the window twice. Williams pulled the door open and I was hit with the sound of live music from within the house. Atlas got out first, and then held his hand out for me. I took it, allowing him to help me out of the car. Williams shut the door behind me and got back into the driver’s seat.

As he pulled away, Atlas touched his right hand to my left cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

“Thank you,” he breathed, barely audible.

We were being watched. A few people lingered on the front porch with martini glasses in their hands, smoking cigars. Another car had pulled up behind us, and I heard more people get out.

Atlas leaned in to kiss me on the other cheek. Quickly, I turned my face to meet his lips - a silent notion that I would do my part. Our lips brushed together softly.

I stood up on my toes and pushed my lips to his ear. I felt him tense, his thumb frozen on my cheek.

“I don’t love you,” I whispered, a reminder.

He chuckled, “Me too, Quinn, me too.”

Atlas grabbed my hand and turned to face the house. It was lit up with fairy lights. We moved up the front steps and a man in white gloves opened the front door for us. Atlas gave my hand a reassuring squeeze that did little to slow my pumping heart.

Our silent entrance had gained the attention of the loud crowd. At first, a few guests noticed us, their conversations halting. The silence spread through the large front room like wildfire. I felt myself blushing, unsure where to look. Suddenly, the crowd broke out into applause. So many unfamiliar faces beamed at me. I tried smiling back.

Atlas was at ease next to me, as if he was used to this crowd. He laughed and gave the spectators an easy wave.

I wanted to cringe at how I must have looked next to him - tall, confident, handsome Atlas next to me - West Side trash.

The applause died and Atlas made a short speech.

“Thank you everyone, for your encouragement. I am so excited to introduce you all to my savior and spellbreaker, Quinn Callahan,” the crowd clapped again at my introduction. I squeezed Atlas’s hand, warning him that I didn’t want to speak.

“Please,” Atlas continued effortlessly, “Enjoy the festivities tonight. We will be around!”

The music and conversation picked back up at Atlas’s request. Atlas led me away from the front door. We moved to a quiet room on the side of the house, away from the crowd.

“You’re doing great,” he said.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I told him, ignoring his encouragement.

“What do you mean?

“I can’t… I mean I’m not-” I searched for the words, “I’m not put together like you. I don't know how to talk to people! Not strangers!”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Quinn, take a deep breath,” he said calmly, putting his hands lightly on my shoulders, “No one expects anything from you.”

“Right,” I snorted, “Except to be some doe-eyed girl who’s in love with you.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Atlas said earnestly.

“How? I can’t just… make up stories! Can’t just prattle on about how glad I am to have saved you and how happy we are!” I argued.

Atlas shook his head, “You don’t have to. No one expects that from you. They know you’re not from the East Side, not used to any of this attention.”

“I don’t know, Atlas,” I said shakily, stepping away from his gentle grasp, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this. Everyone was just staring at us! How do you stand it?”

I truly believed my words. I couldn’t handle staring or attention or judgment from people I didn’t know - especially these people. I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. I was going to puke all over the floor sooner than I could impress a single person at the party.

“I’m going to throw up,” I moaned, covering my face with my hands.

“Quinn, please, listen to me,” Atlas pleaded, “I promise, I’ll make sure you get through this night. I’ll take the lead on everything.”

I shook my head, keeping it buried in my hands.

“I need a drink,” I whispered.

“You don’t need a drink. Quinn, just… just focus on me okay? When people are in love it’s like… I mean they say it’s like they’re the only two people in the room right? We can work with that - we can put on that show for them.”

“I’m a terrible actress,” I said.

“Lucky for you, I’m pretty good at faking things,” Atlas sighed, “We’ll keep the talking to strangers very minimal, okay? Just… be a lovesick teenager for the night.”

“How?” I asked honestly. I’d never been in love before.

Atlas took a step towards me, placing his hand on my cheek. Again, he let his thumb stroke my cheek. I took a deep breath and met his gaze as he began leaning in - closer and closer until his lips met my neck. He lingered for a moment, his breath hot and thick. I felt my eyes begin to close and I wanted to lean into the sensation as I was reminded of the night before.

“Attraction and love can certainly be very different,” Atlas whispered, bringing his lips to my ear, “But they often look - to the outside observer - exactly the same.”

A shutter rippled through me as he pulled back. I waited to see the smug smile fill his face, but he remained serious. I took a shaky breath and nodded once.

“Okay,” I whispered.

The side door flew open suddenly, and I jumped backwards as Atlas’s mom once again appeared without warning.

“What are you lovebirds doing in here?” she asked in a voice that I assumed was meant to sound sweet, a wide smile planted on her perfect lips. “Everyone is dying to see the happy couple.”

“We were just coming out, mom,” Atlas said, his eyes still on me. I looked at him and nodded again, holding out my hand. Relief crossed his features as he quickly took it in his own. He gave me a small smile and then leaned down to kiss my cheek.

Atlas’s mom’s smile didn’t falter once as she held the door open for us. Atlas took the lead, as he said he would, walking me back out into the crowd of people. As we walked towards a table of fancy looking food, Atlas casually threw his arm around me and began whispering about the people we passed.

“That’s Morgan Alster,” he told me quietly, pointing to a gray-haired woman whose face seemed to be permanently sneering. “She was one of the people who lost her manipulation - thank god. She used to charm acorns to pelt themselves at any kids who stepped foot on her lawn. I swear I still have a scar on the back of my neck.”

I felt myself crack a genuine smile for the first time all day, the panic subsiding slightly.

“And that over there is Charles Cunningham. I’m surprised to see him today, he usually never leaves his house unless gambling is involved. He picked up the habit about 100 years ago. The sad part is, he hardly ever wins. And when he does, he throws it all back into the pile and loses instantly. Like clockwork.”

I laughed at that one, and Atlas joined me.

“Sir Ellroy,” a noble looking man in a dark blue suit stepped in front of us.

The slight man - who looked to be in his late 60’s but was definitely much older - wore horn-rimmed glasses and a thick gray mustache. He held out his hand expectantly. Atlas gave him a firm handshake, followed by a warm smile. My heartbeat picked up, but Atlas tucked me firmly into his side, brushing his fingers against my shoulder.

“Mr. Carlisle,” Atlas greeted him, “I’m so glad you could come.”

“Of course, sir,” Mr. Carlisle said, “And this is the lovely Quinn, I presume?”

“She is,” Atlas sighed, looking down at me, “my spellbreaker.”

Something like pride flashed in his eyes and I would have punched him in the arm if we were at school. Instead, I smiled back up at him.

“Nice to meet you,” I said quietly, glancing at Mr. Carlisle.

“Oh, yes. Quinn, dear, I have so much to ask you about yourself and your life on the West Side. I don’t get out much, you see, as I’ve been avidly studying the history of our own people. And - oh I should ask, how much do you know about us? Because I can tell you, I am quite knowledgeable,” he rambled on, clearly more interested in what he had to say than whatever my answer was going to be.

“Er, I don’t know much,” I admitted. His eyebrows raised with delight, as that was clearly the answer he’d been hoping for.

“Excellent! Well, you see, oh, where should I begin?” Mr. Carlisle took a small, leather bound notebook out of his back pocket and started flipping through the pages. I glanced up at Atlas, who seemed to be holding in a laugh.

But before the man could continue, Atlas reached down and placed a kiss on my cheek. Then another and another, before his lips started trailing lower. I let my eyelids close a bit as they found my neck, blatantly pretending I no longer noticed Mr. Carlisle in front of us.

“Perhaps later,” Mr. Carlisle grumbled, clearly uncomfortable from our sudden burst of PDA. He stashed his notebook in his pocket and inched towards the bar, clearly eager to find someone else to corner.

Atlas pulled away and gave me a subtle wink. I rolled my eyes, but a smile crept on my face.

“Maybe I wanted to hear the history of ‘your people,’” I teased.

Atlas snorted a laugh, “You should be thanking me. That man is bland. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Atlas leaned close to my ear, “And I’ll make it way more interesting,” he breathed.

His teasing sent chills down my spine, and I leaned in to him, furthering the act we were putting on for those around us. I caught a few people glancing at us and then looking away quickly, not wanting to be caught staring at our pretend affection.

A server walked by, offering us a flute of champagne from a tray. I automatically reached for it, suddenly feeling a bit more optimistic for this party. But Atlas caught my hand in his and shook his head lightly at the server. He dipped his head in understanding and walked away.

“Come on,” I growled under my breath.

Atlas just chuckled and placed a kiss on my palm, looking around to see if we had an audience.

“Underage drinking is not a good look,” he whispered.

“Neither is me biting your hand off,” I whispered back.

He laughed again, just as another East Sider pushed their way up to us, hand outstretched. Atlas shook it dutifully, and I followed.

The woman in front of us was another older looking character. She was covered in silver sequins, her cocktail dress shimmering with each movement.

“A pleasure to meet you, darling,” she cooed, “I’m Magdelina DuFrane - but you can call me Magda.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” I said, giving her a smile. I batted my eyelashes a bit and threw a sideways glance at Atlas for good measure.

“Well aren’t you two just the sweetest,” she chimed. “You must come have lunch with me sometime Quinn, dear. I’m sure you have so many interesting stories from your time on the West Side.”

Magda’s tone dropped when she said west, as though it was some dirty secret between us she didn’t want others to hear. My eyes narrowed.

“She’ll be sure to do that,” Atlas said, starting to steer me away before I could make a rude retort. “So nice to see you here Mag.”

Magda gave a small bow, clearly unaware of the offensive comment she’d just made. Making the West Side seem like it was some exotic, third world place I’d traveled to and not the hellhole in which I grew up.

“She means well,” Atlas sighed. I said nothing in response.

Dozens of people, all dressed to the nines, introduced themselves to us before cocktail hour was over. Most were just out of politeness, and Atlas consistently found some way to steer us away from anyone looking for a longer conversation.

“I’m surprised you haven’t come looking for me yet,” a voice said from behind us.

Atlas turned around, pulling me with him. Suddenly, we were facing perhaps one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. She looked my age - although I knew she was much older - and had at least 5 inches on me. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back, the ends curled neatly. She looked up at Atlas with large blue babydoll eyes.

“Octavia,” Atlas said, throwing her a genuine smile. He let go of my hand to give her a hug. She hugged him back, cupping the back of his head with her hand. I wanted to gag.

“It’s been too long,” she said when he pulled away. He was the first to pull away, I noted.

“I’ve been a bit preoccupied,” he said, and then they both laughed. Octavia laughed like it was the funniest, most darndest thing anyone had ever said. I let a fake smile come over my face and reached out to grab Atlas’s hand again. He took it in his and then glanced down at me.

“Quinn, meet Octavia,” he introduced us.

Octavia’s smile faltered a bit as she looked at me. She pursed her lips and stuck out her hand. I shook it, and couldn’t help but notice how hard she gripped my hand. I flexed my fingers behind my back when she let go, wondering if Atlas had noticed.

“The infamous spellbreaker. Thank you so much for bringing Atlas back to us,” she said with a cheeriness that didn’t meet her eyes.

“Oh, it was nothing,” I joked. Atlas laughed, but Octavia remained quiet.

“Atlas, when was the last time we saw each other? It must have been after that party at Bonner’s - oh do you remember how much fun we had?” she asked him sweetly, taking a step closer to him.

“How could I forget?” he asked. I noted the slight smile on his face, the way he almost leaned into her as she spoke. I wanted to squeeze his hand - a warning. People were watching.

But something else was eating at me as I observed their conversation. They’d clearly had some sort of close relationship prior to the Stone age. But he had chosen not to seek her out afterwards - why? Why would he choose not to continue their friendship?

I’d zoned out momentarily, and only snapped back into reality when I watched Octavia laugh and put a hand on Atlas’s chest. Anger filled me and I tried to suppress it. The charm - whatever manipulation was guiding us - clearly was making me feel some sort of possession over Atlas. He was nothing to me - maybe a friend - but nothing else. He could flirt with whoever he pleased.

But we- I - was at this party for a reason. And Atlas clearly needed some reminding. As Octavia was retelling some ridiculous memory that they clearly shared, I stood on my toes to whisper into Atlas’s ear.

“I don’t like to be teased, remember?” I breathed, letting my bottom lip graze his earlobe so lightly, nobody but him would have noticed. I knew that would wake him up.

Atlas’s attention went to me instantly, his eyes flashing. Octavia went silent as she realized neither of us were listening any longer. Atlas looked down at my lips, clearly aroused by what I’d whispered to him.

I shot Octavia a pretty smile and said, “So nice to meet you, but we have some things to attend to.”

I looked back up at Atlas who gave me a sudden, knowing smile. He turned away from Octavia and pulled me through the crowd again.

We were by the appetizer table again, although most people lingered by the bar. Atlas stopped me there and put his hand behind my neck as he leaned in to kiss me. He was clearly hungry, his fingers pressing into the side of my neck.

It was I who pulled away first.

“I think you made your point,” I said, my cheeks red. Hardly anyone was looking at us.

“I like it when you're jealous,” Atlas said, his eyes boring into mine.

I scoffed, “I wasn’t jealous. I was playing my part - something you were clearly forgetting to do!”

Atlas rolled his eyes, “Sure. Octavia is harmless.”

I threw my head back in mock laughter and put a hand on his chest, as Octavia had done just moments before.

“Ah ha ha ha,” I said with a sarcastic sweetness, “Oh Atlas, you are just so funny and handsome and princely.”

“At least she can admit it,” he shrugged.

“Oh is that how you want me to act? All ditzy and giggly and flattering?” I asked.

“Couldn’t hurt sometimes,” he said, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer.

“You’re just so funny and we have so many memories together. What a noble, high prince you are!” I mocked, “Oh Atlas, just take me into the bedroom and-”

Atlas cut me off with another kiss.

“I should make you jealous more often,” he muttered, his lips

still on mine.

“Not jealous,” I told him, stepping away from him playfully,

“just pointing out the obvious.”

I threw him another teasing glance before turning away from him and heading back towards the crowd. My confidence was beginning to resurface just a bit. And I knew Atlas would follow, or I wouldn’t have ventured alone. His hand found mine and he stepped quickly to walk next to me.

After what felt like 100 different introductions, Atlas fell back into a golden armchair in the sitting room, and then pulled me onto his lap. I felt my cheeks turn red. We were the only ones sitting, so clearly the most informal guests. Atlas didn’t seem to mind. His fingers trailed up and down my arm again, leaving goosebumps. He had learned my weakness for the gentle tickles - how my skin seemed to melt beneath his touch.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were having a good time,” Atlas said quietly.

“My acting skills are improving - perhaps I’m learning from the best,” I told him.

“Are you saying I’m the best?” he teased in my ear.

“At being a charming, pompous flirt? Perhaps,” I whispered back.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I just shrugged, enjoying the fingers on my arm. His fingers stopped suddenly, lingering just above my skin.

“Wanna make her jealous?” Atlas asked me, a devious smile on his face. I followed his gaze until I saw Octavia, who had clearly been watching us. She shot us a too-sweet smile and then turned back to her conversation with Mr. Carlisle. Bitch.

“Who was she to you?” I asked, as his hand found its way onto my thigh.

“Easy,” he breathed in my ear, “too easy.”

“Then why-”

But I didn’t get to finish asking why. My breath caught in my throat as Atlas’s hand clamped more firmly on my leg, sliding to the more inner-part of my thigh. His thumb caressed my leg, and though a layer of silk separated our skin, my heartbeat quickened.

Fine, I would play his game. I slid back on his lap, pressing my backside against him.

“You play dirty,” he whispered in my ear.

His other arm snaked around my waist and he only pulled me closer. The thumb on my inner thigh began making lazy circles over the silk against my skin. I suppressed a moan.

I wrapped one arm around his shoulder and raked my fingers through the hair on the back of his head. He pushed his head further into my hand, clearly enjoying the contact.

His hand slid further up my thigh and I fought not to squirm under his touch. Memories of the previous night flashed through my mind. This was a game I would not let him win.

I leaned into him like I was going to whisper something in his ear. He tilted his head towards me in curiousity, but instead, I grabbed his earlobe with my teeth, gently pressing down. He did squirm, clearly not expecting me to pull that move out.

I slid my tongue over his ear and pulled away in time to hear him let our a breathy “fuck.”

I smirked in triumph. But he wasn’t ready to admit defeat. I could tell by the darkening look in his eyes. He released my stomach to brush his fingers through my hair, pulling me close to his lips.

“Have you been thinking about last night, Quinn?” he purred, “Because I have. I can’t stop. Even when you were being an absolute brat today, all I wanted to do was-”

A deep breath finished his sentence. Atlas’s hand moved dangerously up my leg - he was running out of leg to hold. I didn’t realize I was biting my lip, my eyes half-closed.

“If you play your cards right,” I told him, turning my face to meet his gaze, “maybe I’ll return the favor.”

I grinded against him ever so slightly and whispered in his ear, “but I wouldn’t want to make it too easy.”

It was then and there that I knew I’d won. Atlas let out a soft sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh and took my face in his hands. Suddenly, we were kissing. But this kiss was different - less like the sweet, performative ones we’d been giving each other all night. It was deep and passionate and urgent. So urgent, I started asking myself if it was even a game we had been playing in the first place. And if it had been, what was it now?

Again, applause erupted around us. But this time it was more enthusiastic. The greeting applause had been polite and restrained. This time, people cheered and whistled and whooped. I pulled away from Atlas, sure my cheeks were bright red. I’d forgotten we were in a room full of people. In any other circumstance, I’m sure they would have been offended by the over the top PDA - but here they were ecstatic. How in love we must have seemed to those around us. How certain they must have been that they would once again begin aging. Their immortality a thing of the past.

They would be sorely disappointed if they knew the truth - the performance we were putting on for them. Perhaps we had taken it a step too far, but they didn’t mind in the least.

I giggled like Octavia would have, not missing her reluctant claps from the crowd as well. Then, I hid my head in his neck like a blushing schoolgirl.

“I don’t love you,” I said into his neck.

He turned his head and whispered, “I don’t love you, too.”

The party guests didn’t notice our exchange. They soon went back to their drinks and cigars and gossip. We had done our job. The play was over - they were convinced.

“-will be returning to normal any day now.”

“- maybe I’ll have to start getting botox!”

“- I don’t even care that she’s from the West Side. I just want my life back.”

Our fake love was the talk of the party. But I could only eavesdrop on their conversations for so long - knowing sooner or later they would say something offensive about me and my side of town. And then the facade would drop. I couldn’t handle the judgment. Would surely lash out at anyone who dared insult what they didn’t know.

“Well played,” Atlas congratulated me as we made our way to the dining room.

Circular tables filled the room and guests began taking their seats. Food to feed an army piled the tables. I balked at the exorbitant variety. I had never been poor enough to starve, but had also never seen this much food in my life. My diet consisted of pizza and cheap sugar. I couldn’t even name most of the dishes beautifully plated before us.

“The worst part is,” Atlas started, clearly noting the surprise on my face, “most of this won’t get eaten. There’s enough here to feed thousands of people - but there were only 200 on the guest list.”

“What will you do with the rest?” I asked

“It gets thrown out.”

“Disgusting,” I whispered, low enough so only he could hear.

We sat with Atlas’s mom and step father at dinner, as well as some other people their age that I had met but already forgotten the names of.

Atlas’s mom didn’t look totally pleased when she saw us. I thought I heard her whisper “try to maintain some degree of decorum” in her son’s ear as we sat down. He only shrugged her off. Perhaps our PDA had been a bit too much for some people at the party. I bit my lip to hide my smile. Pissing his mom off was an added bonus.

The adults surrounding us became drunker and drunker as the night went on. The wine continued flowing until dinner ended, and then the drinks became darker and heavier. Atlas and I drank none of it, although I wanted desperately to throw back a glass or two.

Atlas kept one hand on my thigh throughout dinner, whispering gossip about one person or another. I had to choke back my food a few times to keep from laughing at the outrageous secrets he revealed of the elite.

The drunker those around us got, the less they noticed us. I felt like I could breathe a sigh of relief without having all those eyes on me.

“Want to go somewhere else?” Atlas asked me quietly.

I nodded without a second thought. I’d done my part. And leaving the party early together - well that would only reinforce their beliefs.

Atlas took my hand and led me from the large dining hall. We were once again in the main entrance where servers were cleaning up the mess. Away from the party, the house felt unusually quiet. Atlas led me through the large foyer and up the stairs. Down one end of the hallway, I saw the entrance to the room I’d spent two nights in. Atlas’s room was at the other end. He opened the door for me and stood aside so I could enter first.

“This is your room?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

The room was nearly identical to the guest room. The color scheme was similar, the furniture was oriented the same. It didn’t feel like a teenage boy’s bedroom. It was too clean. There weren’t any personal touches.

“It is now,” he said, kicking his shoes off. “We had a - don’t laugh - palace before the Stone Age. My room was a bit homier before then. This was a guest room until a few weeks ago. My mom gave it to me because it was the biggest one.”

“No naked pictures of supermodels on the walls?” I asked.

“I haven’t gotten around to it. I’ll take any recommendations you have though.”

I just laughed and watched him sit on his bed. I debated where to sit, stalling by saying, “Octavia is going to be upset you didn’t say goodbye.”

“She’ll live.”

Atlas tugged off his tux jacket and flung it to the foot of the bed. He rolled sleeves up. I tried not to glance down at the arms beneath - even his forearms were toned and muscular.

I said nothing, biting my lip and looking down at my feet. I wasn’t sure where to go from here - what to say. I felt Atlas’s eyes on me from the bed.

“You’re beautiful,” he said simply.

I laughed, “The shows over dude, you don’t need to say that.”

“I’m not just saying it,” he told me earnestly, “you, I mean… you always look beautiful but… that dress.”

I opened my mouth to protest. To tell him to shut up. That I didn’t want his complements. But instead, I held my tongue and just said, “Thank you.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” he asked.

“I’m… confused,” I shrugged.

“Confused?”

“By… us,” I admitted, looking up at him sheepishly. It was the truth - our relationship was tumultuous. Toxic even. But despite the fact that we’d fought all day and then spent the night pretending to love each other, I didn’t want to leave his bedroom. And he didn’t seem to want me to leave either.

He nodded in understanding, “Me, too.”

“So… now what?” I asked.

Atlas thought for a moment.

“Can I show you something?” he asked.

“Show me what?”

Atlas took a deep breath and said, “I think it’s time for you to read the prophecy.”