Untitled chapter 1
#CHAPTER 1
I hadn’t planned to stay long.
These events always felt like performative art to me, everyone dressed up like they had something important going on, talking in circles, flashing fake smiles and business cards.
I told Juno I’d stay for one drink.
Two if the room felt bearable.
It didn’t.
But then I saw him.
Dark red suit..
One hand in his pocket, the other around a glass of something amber and expensive.
He stood near a wall like he was trying not to be seen but still couldn’t help being looked at.
There was somethingabout him.
Like he had nowhere to be, but he belonged everywhere.
Still.
Calm.
I didn’t recognize him.
That’s what made it easy to lie..
He was watching the room when I walked up.
I could’ve turned left, headed to the bar like a normal person.
But I went right, straight to him, pretending like I had a purpose.
Pretending like I knew exactly who he was.
“Jayvon?” I asked, tilting my head, doing my best wide-eyed oh my God I think I know you face.
“You’re Jayvon, right? The trap artist who’s been trending for a few days now?”.
He looked at me slowly.
Calm, unbothered.
No spark of recognition of course.
Jayvon was a smaller-time artist I’d seen once or twice on social media.
Not in person.
Definitely not here.
But he didn’t correct me.
“You’ve worked with King Rell, right?” I pushed.
“I saw your handle on his last single.” A pause.
His mouth curved just slightly.
“I know Jayvon.” Oh.
I blinked, playing it off with a soft laugh.
“Shit.
You’re not him, are you?”
“No.” He tilted his glass toward his lips.
Took a sip.
“But you’ve got the right circle.” I wanted to crawl out of my skin, but I smiled instead, slowly and flirtatious.
The holy trinity.
“Well, that’s embarrassing,” I murmured, brushing a stray curl off my shoulder.
“But… maybe not a total loss?” He raised a brow.
Just a little.
“That depends.” “Can you connect me?” I asked, leaning in slightly.
Not too obvious.
Just enough for him to smell my perfume.
“I’m a writer.
Nothing major.
Just curious about the space.
Research. You know.” I was lying again.
I just didn’t want to walk away.
He handed me his phone without a word, screen already open to the contacts app.
His fingers brushed mine as I took it.
Warm.
Intentional.
“Go ahead,” he said.
I typed my name, just Maze, no last name.
If he wanted more, he could ask.
I added my number.
Hit save.
Handed it back.
“And you are...?” I asked, letting my voice drop just a little, the way I do when I want to be remembered.
“Atlas.” My stomach did something stupid.
“Strong name,” I said.
“Heavy.” His expression didn’t change.
Someone called his name from across the room, it was a woman, tall, polished, laughing like she belonged.
He gave her a nod, quick and familiar, then looked back at me.
The spell broke, but he didn’t walk away.
He just stayed there, watching.
“I’ll make sure Jayvon gets your info,” he said simply.
“Thanks,” I replied, cool as I could manage.
“Appreciate it.” I turned to go, heart thudding in places I didn’t know could thud.
But when I reached the edge of the room, I couldn’t help it.
I looked back.
Atlas was still watching
Like I’d started something I wouldn’t be able to finish.
I reached the bar and ordered the strongest thing they could legally pour.
Not because I needed a drink but because I needed something to do with my hands.
My fingers were still tingling from that ridiculous, tiny brush of his.
Atlas.
Even his name sounded like a burden.
Like a promise.
I turned the name over in my mind the way I do with characters I haven’t figured out yet.
The kind of man who says little and sees everything.
I’d met men like that before.
Stoic.
Distant.
Usually not worth the unraveling.
But this one… something about him pulled.
The bartender slid me a glass so clear, cold, pointless.
I thanked her, took a sip, and pulled my phone out of my clutch like muscle memory.
Juno: You alive? Don’t tell me you bailed already, this party is literally your future husband waiting to happen.
I smirked and typed back with one hand.
Me: Just seduced a man with a lie.
Might’ve accidentally networked.
So, progress? Juno: You what?? Who? What kind of lie? Is he hot? I didn’t answer right away.
Instead, I scanned the room again.
He wasn’t where I left him.
Atlas was gone.
Swallowed by the crowd or slipped out entirely.
I tried to tell myself I didn’t care either way.
But my body was still humming.
Me: Tall.
Quiet.
Looks like he fucks with the lights off and never calls back.
The good kind of mistake.
Juno’s typing bubble came up immediately, then stopped.
Then again.
Juno: So… your type.
Send a pic or it didn’t happen.
I locked my phone.
There was no picture.
No proof.
Just a name and a stare that still clung to the back of my neck like smoke.
I hadn’t even asked what he did.
If he was married.
If he had a kid.
But that’s what I did sometimes, ran face-first into attraction without checking for sharp edges.
Built men into stories before they even said two sentences.
I sipped my drink and told myself it meant nothing.
Just a look.
Just a name.
I told myself I wasn’t looking for him again.
But my eyes betrayed me every time the door opened, every time I caught a glimpse of a broad back in a dark suit.
I hated that.
The pull.
The wondering.
The what if before anything had actually happened.
I finished my drink and pretended to be social.
I smiled at people I didn’t know and nodded at names I forgot as soon as they were said.
A few industry types circled me, curious when they heard I was a writer.To
