[completed] Nova Carter knows exactly what the next few years of her life will look like: she will work harder than anyone else (as she didn't get into New York University to slack off); she'll be keeping her head down and prioritizing getting her a...
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Chapter Seventeen | Style
♫Style by Taylor Swift
The Chrysler building, 405 Lexington Ave, stretches high overhead. It's a building I've only ever seen through a screen or from a distance, and since the top floors are closed to the public I've always considered seeing the view from it to be a distant, inachievable dream. Yet here I stand next to Atlas Wilder as he hands off his keys to a valet.
Suddenly it feels important that he's taller and older than me, as if it reflects in the way he'll look at me.
"Are you ready?" He juts out his elbow and smiles down at me, an all-too-familiar dimple appearing in his left cheek.
I nod and hold onto his elbow, my heart racing in my chest. I can't say I haven't held hands with a guy before, Logan was very quick to notice I could use support whenever possible and even Milo has allowed me to hold onto him plenty of times, but it was never like this. I've never held onto a guy as a girl rather than a person with a disability, especially not looking this dressed up.
Though the night has long fallen, it's still early by the event's standards. A deep red carpet has been rolled out at the entrance of the building and alongside of it, a few photographers have started to set up their gear. Only one of them is fast enough in spotting Atlas near to snap a photo in which I hide behind his shoulder.
"I don't think my Dad or Sergei are here yet," says Atlas as we walk inside. He ignores the photographer's calls behind him and guides us to the center of the lobby, where he swiftly pulls out his phone. "Maxwell should be here, though. He's with his girlfriend Maia, I'll introduce you two."
"Okay," I say. I try to ignore the photographers outside, turning my back on them and instead studying the space we're in. The lobby itself is triangular in shape, pulling together to a sharp corner. When I drop my head to study the shiny floor, I spot a path carved out by a different material than the rest of the floor, running from the entrances to the elevators.
I expected the lobby to be bright like tourist attractions often are, but the entire space is illuminated gold by vertical bars of light, seemingly covered in blue marble and an amber onyx. It blends with the red marble of the walls and overall makes me feel comfortable, like I'm wrapped up in something like a blanket straight out of the dryer.
"Look up."
I glance over at Atlas, confused, but he's already tipped his chin up himself, eyes on the ceiling. I follow his example, throwing my head back to look up at the detailed ceiling. A mural swallows its entire surface, shaped by geometrical forms clinging to the smooth dome overhead. The center image seems to be a muscled giant, made out of sharp angles, curved lines, patterns and ornaments.
"It's called 'Transport and Human Endeavor'," Atlas tells me. With his head still tilted back, he shifts his gaze over to me. "It's about how man applicates energy to the solutions of all our problems. I like it because you can kind of follow the story. Look at the giant right here, and how its energy affects all of this..."
