CIRCUS

All the while, Atlas acted as if he didn’t give a shit about our conversation, keeping his eyes focused on the road and his hands tight around the steering wheel, which was now slightly bent, but he couldn’t fool me. He might not have been watching me, but my eyes didn’t stray from him for too long.

I saw each time his knuckles turned white, like when Amy asked me about past boyfriends a subject I avoided answering just yet or the way his shoulders strained against his shirt when I talked about being on my own for the last eight years without anyone to have full conversations with.

When Atlas yawned for the third time, Amy placed a hand on his seat, less than an inch from his shoulder. “Do you want me to drive so you can rest?”

His jaw tensed. “No.”

“Then do you trust me to give you a zap of energy?” she asked. I tilted my chin, curious how that would work, because I was getting tired as fuck, but I didn’t want to sleep and miss anything.

“Ido,” I replied when Atlas didn’t, then I hel