The Retreat (The After Trilogy Book 1) (23 page)

She looked at the dance floor and felt the drumming beat of the music. Smiling in permission, she followed Atlas into the throng of Earth humans.

A
few swaying couples remained on the dance floor, but the majority of the settlement was drifting off to their bungalows, worn out from hours of eating and talking. Knot 27 sat at their table along with Nancy and Eddie, not making much conversation, just relaxing in that stupor between wake and sleep.

A loud honking noise disrupted the peace. Thrym groaned, blinking sleepily.

“He does this every festival,” Nancy grumbled.

Romy winced at another squeaking shrill in the air.

Houston had his mouth to a long wooden instrument. The band had actually trailed to a stop behind him, but the doctor didn’t seem to care. Romy giggled, watching as Atlas made his way to intercept the drunken doctor. Though the rest of them looked half asleep, Atlas remained alert and upright.

“What is that awful sound?” mumbled Deimos. Romy was surprised how long he’d lasted tonight. If Houston wasn’t so intoxicated he would have given the twin his marching orders hours ago.

Nancy chuckled sleepily. “The didgeridoo sounds beautiful when it’s played properly. Houston just sucks.”

“He’s had too much to drink.” Eddie shifted.

“No,” Nancy disagreed. “He sucks when he’s sober, too.”

Eddie rubbed his eyes. “I a-actually think h-he’s a little better when he’s pissed.”

Elara snorted, wiping away a few tears of mirth.

“How long have they been here? Atlas and Houston?” Deimos asked the teens.

Nancy shrugged. “They come and go. Usually they only stay a couple of weeks. But with you guys here I guess they’ve extended it.”

Her knot was silent.

Deimos continued. “And what is it Atlas actually does?” He jerked as Phobos kicked him under the table.

“T-Tina says it’s classified and we’re better not to notice it if we know what’s good for us,” Eddie said.

So Knot 27 weren’t the only ones in the dark.

Romy still had her eyes on Atlas. Before she knew what she was doing, her chair was pushed back and her feet were leading her to the stage. To him.

He was glaring at Houston.

“You don’t like his playing?” Romy asked.

Atlas quirked an eyebrow at her obvious amusement. “Would you rather he continued?”

She pretended to think hard before smiling up into his grey eyes.

The lanterns still burned overhead. And past their dim light, the stars twinkled far above. There were so many of them. It was one thing Romy loved down here—the stars. They were lost when you lived among them. Stars didn’t look so good through high-powered telescopes—not pretty and sparkling like they did from here.

A woman was screaming with laughter from the dance floor.

Dragging her eyes to the sound, Romy was surprised to see who the noise came from.

Tina appeared to be nearly as drunk as Houston.

The drop-dead gorgeous woman wavered on her little feet. Why did she have to be so tiny?

Atlas called to two nearby soldiers. “Officers, please escort Ms. Lyons to her room.”

That was when Romy found out that although the woman was small, she was not weak. Tina planted her feet, barking at the two soldiers when they neared her. The dancers weaving on the floor halted to watch the ruckus. This was one of their camp leaders. Romy could see their shocked looks.

Atlas searched for and held her gaze. “I need to sort that out.” He sighed.

Romy realised it was funny how she could laugh like she meant it, even as her stomach fell to her feet. “Okay,” she forced out.
There isn’t anyone else who can do it?

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s probably best.” She wished he’d see through her words.

Atlas kissed her cheek and Romy stopped breathing as his warm breath blew over her skin. “I’ll be back soon. Stay here.”

He strode across the dance floor, rolling up his sleeves. Romy’s eyes devoured the simple motion.

Tina stopped screaming immediately and the two soldiers stepped aside, relief evident on their faces.

“You’ll need to carry me, At-a-lus,” Tina drawled.

Romy ground her teeth together. Atlas sighed and gripped the mahogany beauty by the arm. For a few steps, it worked. But after two near-faceplants Atlas swept her up, trudging off through the bungalows.

Holding Tina in his arms.

Romy returned to the table with her friends.

Disquiet settled in her stomach and made her regret making it easy for him to leave. Romy didn’t even know where Atlas slept. How would she know if he kissed Tina or something?

She rested her head against the back of the chair and stared up to where she knew the orbitos sat high in space. A part of her wished to be up there, oblivious, sniggering while Deimos and Phobos got in trouble, and Thrym yelled at them, or exchanging an exasperated look with Thrym as Elara took too long to get ready for a debris clean-up. Earth was causing her to feel so much all at once. It was overwhelming, and a lot of it wasn’t pleasant and simple like the life she’d led before.

Deimos was first to leave. He stumbled over to awaken Houston from where he’d fallen asleep sitting forwards with his face smooshed into the didgeridoo.

Elara and Phobos stood to leave next and Romy made to stand with them, but Thrym gripped her hand, warning in his eyes. Swallowing, she looked at the pair, noticing the tension between them for the first time.
Oh.

“They need to talk.” Thrym whispered low in her ear, causing a shiver to work its way down her spine.

“Night,” Elara yawned.

She swept down to give Romy a kiss on the cheek, and Romy concealed her relief at Thrym’s timely warning. That would’ve been an awkward-ass walk to the bungalow while the two were fighting, or ignoring each other, or watching each other. Romy didn’t want to know.

Until. . . .

“And so do we.” Thrym’s soft voice washed over her.

Her spine snapped into place as trepidation eliminated any trace of fatigue. “What?” she stalled weakly.

Thrym watched her intently, fingers thrumming on the table.

“I’m actually pretty tired,” she hedged, moving to rise. Walking with Phobos and Elara was looking less awkward by the second.

“I think I love you.” The words were levelled at her, delivered in Thrym’s straightforward way.

All the tension drained away as dismay took its place. Romy froze, staring into his blue eyes, which were focused on her. Waiting for her to answer. The words rang in her mind, echoing through her.

“I love you too, Thrym,” she said kindly, wincing horribly on the inside.

“Thank you. But you know that’s not what I mean.”

Romy slid back into her seat. “I don’t—”

Thrym’s hand clenched on the table. “And part of me hates it because I know it weirds you out. I know when I stare at you and want you, you’re creeped out because you can’t see me as anything but a brother.”

“Thrym, that’s not true.”

His blue eyes softened. “It is. And I wish I could make you see me as something else. That you could love me in return, the way I love you.”

She opened and closed her mouth, unsure of what to say.

“And what’s more, you’re
infatuated
with a man you don’t even know.”

Irritation bubbled. “I do know him,” she retorted.

“What’s his last name? Where is he from? How did he get here? What does he do? Why does he disappear into that locked room three times a day?”

Her mouth dried. “He does?” Atlas was going into the fourth office that often?

Thrym shook his head. His black hair—usually shaved—was the longest Romy had ever seen it. “Yes. And that just proves my point.”

A lump formed in Romy’s throat. She squeezed her eyes shut. “No,” she whispered. “It doesn’t.” She struggled to find the words to voice her true sentiment. “I can’t help the way I feel about him. Even if it is a mistake that I may regret. But I know that right now, I don’t feel that way about you. I only see him.”

He winced.

“And even if I didn’t, I couldn’t see you in that way.”

It sounded like a garbled mess of words to Romy.

Thrym looked up at the night sky, his dark skin illuminated by the moonlight. He truly was handsome. Just not for her.

“Do you understand that I think you are so beautiful it breaks my heart to look at you?” he whispered.

Her breath caught and unbidden tears sparked her eyes.

He continued. “And it’s because when I look at you, I see
you
: the Romy I have always known. The one I would share anything with.” He looked down at his hands. “The one I respect. I didn’t feel this for you on Orbito One; I couldn’t. But relationships change. You might not want this now. But soon, when we are away from here, from him, you could change your mind.”

Romy shook her head. But Thrym stopped her with a finger on her lips. The action alone shocked her enough to stop whatever she was saying.

“I don’t want you to say anything more. My feelings will not change. So if yours do. . . .” He trailed off, his meaning evident.

He licked his lips. “But there’s one thing I want to ask you.”

Foreboding sank into Romy’s bones.

“If nothing ever happens between us, then that’s your choice. But, I just want to kiss you once. Just one time.”

During their conversation, Thrym had already moved closer. His face was still directly in front of hers.

Romy didn’t think it was a good idea. But guilt twisted her gut, side by side with annoyance that Thrym had asked her in the first place, knowing it would make her uncomfortable. Her knot mate moved closer, and she shook her head as he tilted her chin.

“No—”

It was a quick kiss—long enough, though, that Romy had time to analyse the taste and texture of him. Something she hadn’t ever wanted to do. And for some reason, she felt like it was her fault. Maybe she should have said no straightaway . . . but she’d been thinking! He hadn’t given her time to answer.

Was silence an answer? Romy didn’t think so.

She stood slowly and glared down at Thrym.

He was gasping. “Ro. I’m sorry. I just had to. Just once. You have no idea how much I’ve dreamed of that moment.”

She stepped away from him, trembling with rage, regret, hurt—all balled up in one confusing mess. “I’m glad you got what you wanted.”

Romy strode off, leaving Thrym alone in the empty clearing.

R
omy didn’t want to go back to their bungalow—Thrym would go there. Screaming was what she really wanted to do. In reality, though, she paced in front of some random house, hoping she wasn’t disturbing the people inside.

It wasn’t just the kiss with Thrym. It was that Atlas never came back.

Thrym said he wanted Romy because of who she was. Was he implying that Atlas just wanted her because of . . . what? She kicked up some red dust. It just made her angrier—not satisfying enough to relieve her fury. Nor her doubt.

Romy pulled up short with a sigh. The night had become chilly and she rubbed her arms for warmth.

She was wide awake now, reliving that perfect moment before Atlas left the festival. Why couldn’t the night have ended there? After staring up at the stars for a long beat, Romy decided there was no chance of sleep for her tonight. She had to see Atlas. Maybe it was pathetic, but she needed him. Because—and this was the main source of her misery—she might have just lost her best friend.

She crept back to the clearing, grateful to find Thrym gone. The dance floor and tables were abandoned. Most of the lanterns had gone out. She had no idea where Atlas slept, but there was one place she could check. If he wasn’t there, then she’d go to Nancy’s and sleep on the ground.

She wasn’t going back to her knot tonight. It was the first time she’d ever contemplated sleeping without them.

As she weaved between the tables, Romy saw Atlas’s office door was ajar, and a thin stream of light filtered outside into the darkness of the entranceway. She could just glimpse the door to the surgery, and to Tina’s room, while the locked room was shrouded in shadows.

Her heart beat loudly in her ears and she placed a palm on his door. It opened with a soft creak and she saw him at the window, his face expressionless.

He’d watched her cross the clearing.

“It’s not safe to wander around at night.” His tone was bland.

“I wanted to see you.”

He didn’t turn from the window. “I wonder at your self-preservation sometimes.” He was angry.

“Should a space soldier possess self-preservation?”

A ghost of a smile hinted on his face. Then it faded. “You’re no longer a space soldier.”

“No.” She rested her head against the frame. “I guess not.” She didn’t know if she even had a knot anymore.

Atlas didn’t respond. She didn’t know if he’d heard.

“Is Tina okay?” she asked.

Atlas finally turned to her. “Right now, she’s fine. Tomorrow she’ll have the hangover of her life.”

“Oh.”

His lips curled. “Oh? And should I ask if things were resolved between you and the boy?”

She frowned. “Don’t called Thrym a boy. And . . . I’m not sure.”

Atlas halted. “And that means?”

Romy looked at her shoes. “It means he told me a few things. And then . . . kissed me. And I’m not sure if we’re friends anymore.”

“Ah.” A thumb brushed across her cheek, catching an escaped tear. “I saw.”

Heat stole through her face. “You did?” He’d seen the whole thing? And after she’d been so adamant nothing was happening between her and Thrym.

His jaw ticked. “These things happen to us all. Unrequited love. He’s young; he’ll get over it. And you will be friends still.”

Romy sighed and stepped forwards into his warmth. “I hope so.”

His arms enclosed her. “And you are beyond tired. Things will present more clearly after you rest.”

She shivered as his hot skin brushed against hers. “Wise Atlas?” she murmured.

“More-Earth-experience Atlas,” he said. “I’ve, uh, had a few relationships. And someone close to me always says sleep makes things better.”

“A friend?” She pressed closer still, wrapping her arms around him, feeling the firmness of the muscles in his back as she did so.

“. . . My mother.”

She pulled back and saw his mouth had pressed into a thin line. Her curiosity would drive her mad, but the look on Atlas’s face told her he wouldn’t open up any more. “I don’t want to go back to my bungalow,” Romy said instead.

Atlas relaxed. “The longer you leave these things, the worse they fester.”

“I know. Just not tonight. C-could I stay with you?”

He gazed at her for a while, smoothing a wispy piece of her hair back in place, before nodding. “Do you need me to carry you, too?”

Romy laughed and shoved him.

He echoed the sound and grabbed her by the hand, leading her through the back of the offices. They passed out of the building down the hospital end. Romy didn’t know anyone lived out back here and she said as much to him.

“Just me and Houston,” was the short reply.

It made her nervous for some reason, or perhaps it was the fact she’d just realised she’d be alone with Atlas for an entire night.

Atlas paused at the door. “Nothing will be happening here except sleep.”

Something inside Romy relaxed. “Good.”

Atlas grimaced at the relief in her voice. “That could make a lesser man doubt himself.”

She grinned. “Sorry.”

The inside of the small bungalow was as tidy as his office. Nothing like their knot bungalow, which had clothing strewn everywhere—thanks to Elara. It was nondescript. A single bunk. A basin. A set of drawers and a closet. All encased in the log cabin.

The bed didn’t look very big. “Will we both fit in that?” she asked, slipping off her shoes.

Atlas was digging through his drawers.

“I can sleep on the floor.”

Romy eyed the floorboards. “You want to?”

“That would be a no.”

“Then why suggest it?”

Atlas tossed her a T-shirt. “My mistake.” The half-smile appeared and remained as they looked at each other.

He pointed at the shirt in her hands. “I’ll leave while you change. I can’t sleep next to you in that dress.”

Romy looked down at Freya’s dress. She didn’t see that much difference between the dress and the shirt. Maybe Atlas’s clothing would be a little looser.

Atlas stepped outside and she tore the dress over her head, replacing it with the T-shirt—heart racing in case he came back inside.

He entered as she was placing the folded garment on top of his drawers. A muffled sound drew her attention. Atlas was staring at her as though he’d never seen Romy in his life.

“What is it?”

He closed his eyes and dragged in a breath. “It’s worse, that’s what it is.”

Romy concealed her smile.

Though it slipped off her face a second later when Atlas reached an arm up and drew his shirt over his head. Taut muscles hardened as he twisted to get the shirt off. He was sculpted, the kind that only came from vigorous training. It didn’t correlate with how often he was at his desk. His skin was smooth and there was so much of it to look at, her eyes didn’t know where to start. Warmth flushed through her.

She whipped around to face the bed when she realised she was staring and drew back the covers. Where did he want to sleep? Against the wall?

“I like to put my feet out of the covers,” he said from behind. He sounded a bit sheepish about it.

The wall it was.

She squeezed over as far as was possible. It might have worked if his shoulders didn’t take up all the space. He lifted the arm closest to her, and she snuggled into his side as he dropped the limb around her shoulders.

Romy listened to his heart pound in his chest. Eventually the sound lulled to a slow, even beat and despite the fact that the most attractive man she’d ever seen in her life lay next to her, she was drawn down towards sleep.

Warm lips brushed her forehead.

Maybe the night hadn’t ended so badly.

* * *

A
tlas was gone when she woke at the crack of dawn. Did the man ever sleep? Oddly, instead of disappointment, she enjoyed the moment, snuggled in the blanket that smelled like him, at liberty to take in his room at her leisure.

Romy walked as fast as she could through the campsite not long after. For some reason she was embarrassed to be seen wearing her white dress from last night. Her relief at reaching the bungalow was immediately overridden when she creaked the door closed behind her and turned around with a yelp.

Her knot mates.

All four of them.

“Why are you here?” Romy asked Deimos to evade their questions. The best defence was a good offence.

Elara and Phobos sat at opposite ends of the room, not looking at each other. It seemed their talk went about as well as her and Thrym’s had. Romy snuck a look at Thrym and saw him glowering at the object in her hand.

She’d stolen Atlas’s T-shirt.

“Houston kicked me out of my room so he could use the medi-tech to cure his hangover,” Deimos answered.

Romy giggled as she crossed the room to place Atlas’s T-shirt in her bag.

“Don’t have to ask where
you’ve
been,” Elara said.

Phobos and Deimos both stood. “Does he need to be hurt?” Phobos said.

Honestly
, Romy thought. Deimos was barely capable of standing right now.

She held up both hands. “Whoa. Whoa. No. No one needs to be hurt. Nothing happened.”

“Except you spent the night in a stranger’s room.” Thrym’s voice was cool and detached.

Romy ground her teeth together so hard they nearly snapped. He’d said his piece. She’d said hers. As far as she was concerned, the matter was done. Closed.

“Yes, I did,” she snapped. Grabbing a random assortment of clothes she escaped to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

A shower did nothing to soothe her frayed temper.

When she exited, everyone was gone—except Thrym.

Great.

“Romy. . . .”

Romy shoved her toiletries away. “Not
again
.”

“Look,” he said, standing. “I was out of line. . . . Ro. This is really hard for me.”

She turned to give him a piece of her mind. Hard for him? How about hard for her to be comfortable around him anymore? Why did he have to go and ruin everything?

But her anger deflated when she saw the hurt in his blue eyes.

“I don’t want you to feel strange around me. Like you can’t talk to me, or be yourself,” he whispered.

She returned his honesty. “And I don’t know how not to feel strange about it.”

He pondered it, thrumming his fingers on the table. “We could . . . go back to just being friends?”

The tightness in her chest lightened. “Could
you do that?”

The skin around his eyes was red. He probably hadn’t slept at all, and her heart broke for him. Why did this have to happen to someone so important to her?

“I can try.” He exhaled heavily.

Puberty was hell. Reproduction just wasn’t worth it.

She blew out a long breath. “All right.”

Romy held out her hand.

He chuckled and grabbed it, pulling her into his arms. “Since when have we ever shaken hands?”

“Since never.”

“Friends?”

“Friends,” she echoed, untangling herself. “Catch you at lunch?”

She pulled the door closed behind her, heart sinking at the soft “Always” from the other side.