5. Tatum

Tatum

Chapter five

I'm so stupid and I know it. After apologizing to Atlas countless times, he just brushes it off and allows me to drink my hot chocolate in peace, allowing the warm liquid to drown away the embarrassment I'm feeling.

I take another long sip while looking up at him from the rim of the paper cup. He's leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone while I sit at the little round table just outside of the kitchenette.

I set my cup down, still not feeling one hundred percent about the reassurance he's provided me.

"I really am sorry, Atlas. I had no clue why I said what I said. I have no right to-"

"Be jealous?" He cuts me off with a smirk, still looking at his phone, and I just roll my eyes.

Jealous? Why would I be jealous?

But I can't help but realize that that is exactly how I reacted.

"Don't sweat it. Besides, I overheard your conversation with your dad earlier. You were stood up at the football game, right?" Now he focuses on me when he asks me the question, putting his phone back down and crossing his big strong arms across his gorgeous, muscular chest. I can't help but watch him as he brings his eyes to steady on me.

I'm still wearing my Saints jersey, and I know my appearance otherwise is reflective of the snowstorm I was standing in before he picked me up. I start to curl in on myself, feeling the heat from his eyes burning into me. No one, not even my ex, has ever looked at me the way he is right now.

"My love life is none of your concern," I start to say with a little bit of attitude. "And don't for a second equate me getting stood up to being jealous of a female calling your phone. You and I don't know each other," I state plainly, with little sass but more with the punctuality of facts than anything.

"Did you know the dude who was supposed to go on a date with you?" he asks, still standing in a very demanding position. Demanding in the sense that all of his muscles are flexed, and they are begging for my eyes to venture over them, looking at how handsome his perfectly chiseled face is, the small crook in his nose and the faded eye-paint still smeared under his deep blue eyes. His arms are bold and strong. And not to mention the thickness of his thighs. God, the way I would climb him like a-

Atlas clears his throat, a sexy grin stretching slyly against his lips.

Awesome. First, I insulted his sister and now, I'm caught drooling over him like a dog to a bone.

"You were saying?" He presses arrogantly, knowing damn well I hadn't even attempted to answer his question as I ogled him so freely.

"No, I didn't know the dude who was supposed to come on this date with me, but that's how most dates work, not that you'd know." I almost start to insult him and his man whoreness again, but I think better of it, still feeling the effects of my stupidity.

"Anyways, it was rude of me to assume anything. Thank you for the cocoa," I say instead, wanting to be polite if for any reason other than just show him that I'm not as much of a pain in the ass as I've been. Why should I care? Well, because he's shown me nothing but kindness and if it weren't for him, who knows where I'd be right now.

"You're welcome, Rival. I'm gonna go hop in the shower." He nods his head at me, taking his phone with him and leaving the room to head toward the bathroom.

The name that just glided off his tongue confuses me and throws me off guard, but I don't let it affect me too much before I stop him.

"Wait, do you have a phone charger I could use, please?" I ask, standing up from the small table and waiting patiently as he keeps his eyes on me, seemingly roaming my body like I did to his just moments before. Then he simply points over to his duffle, which is on the floor next to the bed.

"Should have one in there." And then he walks off.

My shoulders relax, tension I didn't know I was holding physically releasing from my body. Something about Atlas puts me on edge but I simply explain it away as nerves because I've found myself in a hotel room with a dangerously handsome football player under the biggest phenomena to have happened to this state in a very long time. Either way, I know that I have to be thankful I have a place to stay while this ludicrous storm passes through.

I walk over to his duffel and take a few beats to decide whether I'm going to go through it or not, even though he gave me the okay. It just seems weird to rifle through someone's belongings, but as I hear the water spraying in the distance from the shower, I think it would be a good time to charge my phone and call my dad.

I search through the bag and move a few articles of clothing aside before noticing something that has my intrusive thoughts screaming at me to pick it up. It's his jock strap. Extra. Large. And even though I should be grossed out that I'm actually touching his groin guard, I can't help but picture what he might look like wearing this under his football uniform. My mind flashes back to the touchdown he'd caught earlier today; a super fly trick play executed beautifully by the Panthers and an impressive team effort between the kicker and the offensive tackle, Atlas. I rewind to the vision of him jumping up on the one-yard line, catching the ball perfectly through his large hands in the air, then falling down into the end zone, winning the game. The whole scene flashes through my head like a slow-motion play by play.

I feel goosebumps start to form over my flesh at the image, really letting it sink in that I am stuck in this hotel room with that same man and I'm holding his freaking jock strap. That's when I'm brought back to the present moment. Hearing the water shut off, I snap my head toward the shower. Was I zoned out for that long? I shove the jock strap back into the duffle and quickly find the phone charger. Before he can suspect any kind of dirty daydreaming, I head back to the small table and plug my phone in at the wall while I sit and wait for it to turn back on.

A few moments later I hear the door open from the bathroom and steam billows out from the doorway, but I don't look up in hopes to avoid making direct eye contact, or rather in hopes not to be further entranced by whatever this man has decided to change into.

But my efforts don't stand their ground for much longer.

"Shower's all yours." His deep, butter soft voice says to me from a few feet away.

"Oh, no thanks," I start to say, casually looking up at him from my phone only to be knocked off my axis completely.

Atlas stands in front of me, body dripping wet, towel hung low around his waist, as he uses another towel to dry off his hair. I swear I feel my mouth drop and my stomach growl. Fuck. He's too damn good looking. And that's when my filthy ass mind traces back to the jock strap I'd seen earlier.

I look back down at my phone not missing the way I had to force myself to do so, before continuing my statement. "I don't have anything to change into, and I really don't want to impede any further than I already have." I watch as my phone's icon button lights up, signaling that it's got a small battery percentage to allow it to turn back on. But it doesn't bring me as much excitement as I thought it would because I can't get Atlas standing half naked just feet away out of my mind.

"I don't mind. And I'm sure I have a shirt or something you can wear for the night, but I understand if that's weird. Just letting you know the offer is there." Atlas moves away from the bathroom and toward the bedroom.

A shower does sound really good right now, but he's right. It is weird. This whole situation is new to me. Granted, if my date had shown up tonight, there's a chance I would have ended up at his place tonight. Not that I'm that type of girl often, but one can never predict where the night might take them.

It's in this moment that I decide we need to rectify the weirdness, get some kind of an understanding between us. Especially because he really is being so kind, even though it's only because he feels bad about hitting me with his football earlier.

"Wait," I holler before he closes himself into his room. I stand from the table and look in his direction, regretting not letting him change before I decided to talk to him, but he turns to give his attention to me. "I think I will take a shower, but I also think that we should get to know each other a little better too." I look to the ground awkwardly, feeling way too much by staring at him directly. Those two things probably shouldn't have been said together, but I hope he's mature enough to know that they had no correlation to each other and that I meant them to be taken separately. "Ya know…since we'll be spending the night together." I shouldn't have added that statement either.

I look back at him to see what could be portrayed as a smile, but it's got a hint of something mischievous behind it.

Atlas doesn't respond to me at all, he just simply disappears into the bedroom for a few moments. He returns with an article of clothing and a towel. "Here you go, Rival." He hands me the contents in his hands. "I can have room service delivered by the time you get out. Pizza okay?"

That feeling hits me again, the one where butterflies race in my stomach and my jaw falls to the floor. I know by now that Atlas is somewhat of a man of few words, getting straight to the point. It's honestly so refreshing because I have dated men who have beat around the bush more than they've probably beat themselves off, to be so for real.

"Yeah, pizza works great." I reach my hands out to take the items from him, getting a whiff of whatever body soap he lathered on himself.

He smiles at me. My heart skips a beat. Our fingers touch. He retreats. I close my eyes. He turns away. I exhale.

Then he leaves.

I suddenly feel nervous about getting to know Atlas anymore, the challenge I gave him moments ago in which he didn't seem opposed to. If my body reacts the way it does while he remains a complete stranger to me, then how will it react if I learn that I might actually like him?