Katharine McGee - The Thousandth Floor

“You okay?” Atlas asked quietly. He had a half-full bottle of atomic in his hand, and tried to pass it to her, but she shook her head. She was already confused, and the alcohol was stirring up her feelings for Atlas in a dangerous way.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before. I’m going to be terrible at it,” she blurted out, and cringed. What had made her say that?

Atlas took a long pull of the atomic, then set it down carefully. To his credit, he didn’t laugh. “Don’t worry,” he finally said. “I’m sure you’ll be a great kisser.”

“I don’t even know what to do!” Outside the cone, Avery saw Tracy Ellison, who had a huge crush on Atlas, gesturing angrily.

“You just need practice.” Atlas smiled and shrugged. “Sorry it’s me in here instead of Breccan.”

“Are you kidding? I’d rather—” Avery halted. She couldn’t let herself finish that sentence.

Atlas looked at her curiously. His brow furrowed in an expression she couldn’t quite read. “Aves,” he said, but it came out more like a question. He leaned closer. Avery held her breath …

The invisibility cone dissolved, letting reality back in.

Avery had never been sure whether that almost kiss was real, or whether she’d just imagined it. As the memory washed over her now, she looked at Atlas, who glanced up, seeming to feel her gaze. But if he was thinking of that night too, he didn’t give any indication. He just studied her for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “I’m out this round,” he said, disengaging from the game and walking over to where she stood.

“Hey.” He gently pulled the drinks from her hands and set them on a table. Avery had forgotten she was holding them. She tripped forward a little.

“Want me to take you home?” Atlas reached out to steady her. It was just like always; Atlas knowing what she wanted without her even having to say it. Except, of course, for the one thing he could never know.

“Yes,” Avery said, a little too quickly.

He nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

They walked out onto Cord’s doorstep and took the hover that Atlas had called. Avery leaned back on the seat and closed her eyes, letting the familiar hum of the magnetic propulsion system wash over her. She listened for the rise and fall of Atlas’s breathing. He really was here, she kept telling herself. It wasn’t just another one of her dreams.

When they reached the thousandth-floor penthouse Avery fell backward onto her bed, still in her dress. Everything was a little dizzy. “You okay?” Atlas asked, settling onto the corner of her enormous cream-colored comforter.

“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured. She was better than she’d been in months, here, alone, with Atlas, in the semidarkness. He scooted over a little. She closed her eyes. Right now, with him sitting on her bed, Avery could almost pretend he was just a boy she’d met and brought home. Not someone her parents adopted when she was five years old, because she was lonely and they didn’t have time for her.

“Remember when you first came here?” she asked. She’d been sitting on the playroom floor brushing her doll’s hair, and the front door had opened to reveal her mom, holding the hand of a hopeful, lost-looking boy. “This is Atlas,” her mom had said, and the boy had given a tentative smile. From that moment on Avery adored him.

“Of course I remember,” Atlas teased. “You demanded that I go straight to the park with you, and drag you along on your hoverboard so you could pretend it was a pirate ship.”

“I did not!” Avery propped herself up on her elbows to glare at him in mock anger.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind,” he said softly.

Avery leaned back on her pillows. How strange that there had ever been a time in her life before Atlas. It didn’t seem possible anymore.

“Aves?” she heard Atlas say. “If there was something I needed to know, you would tell me, right?”

She opened her eyes and looked at his face, so clear and guileless. He wasn’t suggesting the truth—was he? He couldn’t be. He didn’t know what it was like, wanting something you could never have; how impossible it was to un-want it once you’d let the feeling in.

“I’m glad you’re back. I missed you,” she told him.

“Me too.”

The silence stretched between them. Avery fought to stay awake, to drink in Atlas’s presence, but sleep was dragging her down. After a moment he stood and walked to the hallway.

“I love you,” he said, and pulled the door quietly shut behind him.

I love you too , her heart whispered, curling around the phrase like a prayer.

I’M HEADING HOME, Eris flickered Cord, not bothering to wait for his response. His apartment was emptying as the party began to slowly disintegrate, people stumbling home alone or in pairs. Everywhere she looked Eris saw the debris of an epic night, scattered cups and lost costume pieces and broken halluci-lighters.

She hadn’t meant to stay this long. She’d been flitting from group to group and lost all sense of time. She wasn’t sure where Cord was and she felt too exhausted, suddenly, to go looking for him. All she wanted was a cleansteam shower and her thousand-thread-count sheets.

Eris started toward the door, scrolling idly through her messages, and realized with a start that she had several missed pings from home. They were timestamped from a couple of hours ago—she’d been on the dance floor; she remembered tossing her head back and forth, ignoring them—but she hadn’t registered at the time that they were from her parents. She wondered what was going on.

When she reached her apartment on 985, Eris opened the door as slowly as she could, her black shoes in one hand and her clutch in the other. She knew the moment she stepped inside that something was wrong. The lights were on their brightest setting, and an awful strangled sound came from the living room. Oh god. It was her mom, crying.

Eris dropped her shoes on the floor with a loud clatter.

“Eris?” Caroline lifted her head from where she lay curled on the couch. She was still wearing her evening gown, a beautiful scarlet question mark against the white cushions.

Eris ran forward to throw her arms around her mom, pulling her close. She thought suddenly of when she was little and her parents would come home from parties. Eris would hear her mom’s heels clacking in the hallway—a sound she’d always found strangely reassuring—and no matter how late it was, Caroline had always come to brush Eris’s hair and tell her about all the wonderful, magical, grown-up things she’d seen that night. How many times had Eris fallen asleep listening to the sound of her mom’s voice?