Atlas

Fourteen

A few days later

There was only one guy that entered the bar that night. Phoebe remembered because it had happened exactly 11 months ago. January 15th. Her birthday.

She let out a slow breath as the cold night air hit her like a brick. She had already lost her way three times because she wasn't thinking. She thought the narrow winding inside-lanes to her apartment would be faster to get through, but she didn't think navigating them in the dark would be that hard.

Her heart was thumping in her chest. A cold teardrop sank down her cheek. She remembered him because of his hair, the way it fell across his forehead. His smile. His eyes.

But that was nearly a year ago. Right now, she couldn't afford to think of him.

She thought of Dusk instead. Another tear fell down her cheek, then another, then another. She had to bury him today, all alone, with a shovel in the park. Just the memory alone made her want to ball her eyes out.

No, stop. Do what Atlas does when he's overwhelmed. Distract yourself.

So instead of going home, Phoebe found her feet taking her back to the bar where she worked. She had planned to call in sick today, but maybe distracting herself would work.

It had worked before. Using boys as a distraction. She didn't care – she loved the game. She understood why Atlas was disappointed, why he sometimes worried even though he never showed it.

But sex and alcohol and weed... she was so sick of it. She was sick of her blue hair – she had dyed it impulsively – and wanted the brown back. But tomorrow she knew, when she wasn't feeling so sorry for herself, that she would love the blue again just because of how intimidated boys seemed because of it, or how one sober boy occasionally would gather up the courage to ask her for a dance, or if he was drunk he wouldn't be nervous at all.

She entered the bar. Shit, it was a slow night. She smiled forcefully at Ben, who frowned. "How'd it go?"

She breathed in. "You were there."

"No, I meant the walking home alone after it part." He said. "I thought we agreed you were gonna take a day off."

"No." she shrugged. A man yelled for a bottle of bear, and she swung it at him. He caught it perfectly.

Ben sighed. He knew when Phoebe was upset, she made dumb decisions. Well, dumb in his mind.

Phoebe worked tirelessly for the next two hours. Every time she would think of Dusk, her eyes would swell up with tears. She loved that Yorkshire Terrier to death.

At around 9 pm, when she was cleaning up the remnants of a broken bottle with a broom, the door of the bar swung open.

She turned around, and then she blinked. Her heart sank even more, if that was possible. This day couldn't possibly get worse.

"Hey." He smiled. He scratched the back of his head, almost as if he was nervous.

"What are you doing here?" She found her voice losing all confidence. That was a dumb question. She knew why he was here. "I mean, at the bar." She added.

"Well, Atlas told me what happened to Dusk, figured you'd be a little upset. He wanted to know if you wanted to have dinner at our place."

"Atlas said that?" she scoffed. "And he sent you?"

"No, Phoebe." He said softly. Even now, when he called out her name, she wanted to melt. And she hated herself for that. "I chose to come."

"I think that's a great idea." Ben cut in. Behind the bar, he'd heard most of the conversation. "How are you doing, kid?"

"Pretty good, thanks." He said. He turned back to Phoebe. "So you coming?"

Against all her will, Phoebe found herself opening her mouth and muttering a little yes. Even now, even after all these months, he had that effect on her.

"You sure?"

"Yes, Adrian."