Without thinking, I block his path as he starts to walk past me. He stops, his eyes wide as he sucks in a startled breath. “Atlas?”
I don’t know why, but I like hearing my name on his lips. Even though I didn’t tell him that was my name. “You going over there?”
He looks over his shoulder at where Holden and a couple of other people are already having a damn good time and then back at me, his shoulders squared. “I . . .” He looks embarrassed, and I don’t like that.
I want to see that confidence I saw the other day.
“Yeah, I decided against it tonight too.”
He cocks his head to the side, studying me closely as if trying to decide whether I’m fucking with him. “Really?”
I give a quick nod. “Yeah. I thought a walk sounded better. You want to join me?”
I have no idea why I asked. I shouldn’t. I don’t get close to the guests. Not ever. Some of the staff have no problem mingling with them and showing them a good time. But that’s not me.
I keep to myself for the most part, but something about Elijah calls out to me. Yes, he’s a brat and a pain in the ass, but there’s something else there. Maybe vulnerability.
“Ummm . . .” He looks around nervously, with much less fire in his tone than on the first day I met him. He looks tired and unsure. “Okay.”
Relief sweeps through me. I don’t know what the hell is going on with me. Really, I should just recant and go hang out with Holden. But instead, we begin a slow walk on the beach.
“Why didn’t you go to naked night? It sounds like you’ve been a lot of times before,” he asks absently, looking out at the sunset.
I shrug. “I have. I don’t know.”
“And why did you invite me on a walk? I could have sworn you hated me.”
That catches me off guard, and I almost laugh at his boldness. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles, and I don’t like that at all.
When we reach a part of the sand far away from anyone else, I plop down, facing the ocean. He watches me for a minute and then does the same.
“I don’t hate you,” I say, not looking at him, but I feel his eyes on me. “I don’t hate anyone.”
“Could’ve fooled me. I know that floor didn’t need vacuuming.” There’s that snark. I smile to myself.
“You were being a brat,” I say simply, expecting him to argue.
He doesn’t though. I feel him shift, staring straight out at the ocean. “Most people don’t call me on that.”
I’m sure they don’t. “Don’t you get tired of that? People pampering you? Pandering to you? You’re a grown man.”
He sits up a little straighter next to me and huffs, but he doesn’t get defensive like he did the other day. “I do. Maybe.” He shrugs as I turn to look at his profile, noticing his sharp cheekbones and the stubble growing there. His prominent nose and puffy lips. No wonder the camera loves him. He’s beautiful. There’s no denying that.
“I guess, being a child star, you become pretty accustomed to that life.”
I try to put myself in his shoes for a moment. He was famous at a young age. Always had someone taking care of him. “So you do know who I am.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement, and he sounds surprised, like the whole goddamn world doesn’t know who he is.
“I may have lived on the island for a while now, but I still have internet access and am alive. So yeah, I know who you are.”
“You didn’t act like you did when you showed up at my place.” He turns to face me, and I look at him head-on, unable to hide the grin playing on my lips. He thought I didn’t know who he was, and that pissed him off.
I huff a small laugh and shake my head at him. “Just because I know who you are doesn’t mean I’m going to kiss your ass. Celebrity and money, that stuff doesn’t mean a damn thing to me.”
He looks me over, searching my eyes with his own intense ones. “It really doesn’t, does it?”
My grin is small but unavoidable. “No. It doesn’t.”
I’m surprised when he smiles too, looking back out at the waves. “You think I’m one of the lucky ones, don’t you?”
No sense in being dishonest now. “Yeah, I do.”
“That I’ve had everything handed to me.”
“Haven’t you?” I ask, but I keep my tone from being bitter. I’m more curious to hear his answer than angry that he’s been so damn privileged and may not even notice it.
“I started acting when I was two.” I know if he was looking at my face, he’d see shock there. I mean, I knew he was young, but two? Holy shit. That’s really young. “My parents only saw me as a meal ticket. They put me in commercials. Drug me to every single audition, and then I landed that fucking role.”
At the mention of the super cheesy family show he was on, the goddamn theme song starts playing in a loop in my head. “Yeah.” I manage, grimacing as I try to get that song out of my head.
“That was my life. And yeah, I’m one of the fortunate ones. Never wanted for anything. My parents grew up so poor. My mom was only fifteen when she had me. My dad was just sixteen.”
I drag my fingers through the fine sand, making nonsense patterns. “That’s something we have in common. Teen moms. I didn’t know my dad,” I say absently.
He starts to play in the sand too, his big hand and lithe fingers dragging along between our bodies. “I wonder if they ever loved me.”
I look up at him, blinking in shock. This is heavy for our first real conversation, but when he looks into my eyes, I see vulnerability in his. The ache deep inside. I never had to wonder about my mother’s love. I knew she loved me and only wanted the best for me, but Elijah . . . It seems he’s never had that.
And suddenly, I feel like shit for assuming he was just another spoiled brat. “Where are your parents now?”
He shrugs, looking back down at the sand as he draws with his finger. “In California. They have a house there, but I don’t see them too often.”
I’m guessing he bought that house, and he doesn’t see them until they need more of his money. I want to apologize for judging him so harshly, but I keep quiet and stare out at the sunset.
Maybe I was wrong about him, but trust is too difficult to give right away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Elijah
Well, this night went differently than I expected. I wanted to go to naked night. To march up to Holden and Atlas, stripped bare and uncaring. To prove to Atlas I could do it. That I can relax sometimes, but of course I chickened out.
I’ve been taught my entire life to keep my head down. To never have a scandal that can ruin my career. To be polite but never say too much. To smile but not give too much away.
It’s a well-choreographed dance I’ve been playing well for so long, I can’t seem to let it go.
So I was quickly retreating and getting the hell out of there when I bumped right into Atlas. I was so ashamed—so embarrassed—that he was right about me. That I’m uptight and unable to relax most of the time, but he surprised me when he didn’t call me on it.