It Starts with Us by Colleen Hoover

Atlas didn’t even step inside my apartment. We’re just standing in the
doorway, as if a hug still just means a hug. His cologne is nice. It reminds me
of summer, like he’s defying the cold. He seemed so concerned about
smelling like garlic earlier, but all I could smell was this same cologne.
He lifts a hand to the back of my head and rests it there gently. “You
okay?”
“I am now.” My response is muffled against him. “You?”
He sighs, but he doesn’t say he’s okay. He just leaves his answer hanging
in his exhale, until he slowly releases me. He lifts a hand and runs his fingers
down a piece of my hair. “I hope you get some sleep tonight.”
“You too,” I say.
“I’m not going home, I’m staying at the restaurant tonight.” He shakes that
sentence off like he shouldn’t have said anything. “It’s a long story, and I
need to get back. I’ll catch you up on everything tomorrow.”
I want to invite him in and make him give me all the details right now, but
I feel like he’d offer them up if he were in the mood. I’m certainly not in the
mood to talk about what happened with Ryle, so I’m not going to force him
to talk about whatever put a damper on his night. I just wish there was a way
I could make it better.
I perk up when I think of something that might do the trick. “Do you need
more reading material?”
His eyes glint with a twinge of excitement. “I do, actually.”
“Wait here.” I head to my bedroom and look in my box of things,
searching for the next journal. When I find it, I take it back to him. “This one
is a little more graphic,” I tease.
Atlas takes the journal with one hand and then slides his other arm around
my lower back and tugs me against him. Then, quickly, he steals a peck. It’s
so soft and fast, it doesn’t even fully register that he kissed me until it’s over.
“Goodnight, Lily.”
“Goodnight, Atlas.”
Neither of us moves. It feels like it might hurt if we separate. Atlas pulls
me even tighter against him and then he lowers his lips to the spot near my
collarbone where my tattoo is hidden beneath my shirt. The tattoo he doesn’t
even know is there. He kisses it unknowingly, and then, sadly, he leaves.
I close the door and press my forehead against it. I feel all the familiar
feelings of a crush, but this time those feelings are accompanied by worry
and hesitation, even though it’s Atlas, and Atlas is one of the good ones.