How do you catch a shadow?

You can't. Instead, you shine a light and hope its source is revealed.

As I watched Atlas slip past the elevator and into the stairwell, my body moved on its own across the rooftop, possessed by liquor and adrenaline and Callahan's words. I could only hope I'd catch him before he faded into the night, his shadow indistinguishable in the dark.

I threw my shoulder against the door to the stairwell, nearly slipping on the freshly waxed wood. The door to the penthouse suite floor was still swinging, and I dove into the hallway with far too much reckless abandon for someone still recovering from an ankle injury. But there he fucking was, and I blasted him with all the burning light I could muster.

"So what, you're just gonna leave without saying goodbye?" I called down the hallway. "I'm forced to hunt you down like a dog that's gotten loose?"

My words stopped Atlas in his tracks, but he didn't turn around.

"The great Atlas Vaughn is just too fucking cool and too fucking elusive and too fucking lone wolf for me? Is that it?"

The world seemed to move in slow motion when he finally turned around and looked at me - truly looked at me - for the first time all weekend. Something sad and vulnerable glazed over his features, his eyes like the sea right after a storm. I felt myself recoil in my boots. The light dimmed, but the shadow was gone. It was just him.

"Will you come down to my room? Please?"

The softness in his voice came over me like waves on a rocky shoreline, eroding all the hard layers of me until I was exposed. Vulnerable.

I gave him a silent nod and followed him down the hallway to the last room at the end, and when we stepped inside, he kept all but one dim light by the entryway off.

He gestured for me to sit on the edge of the bed while he lowered himself into a plush blue velvet chair across the room, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands in front of his chin. The purposeful space he put between us was tangible enough to inflict pain, like when you put your hand too close to an open fire but you haven't touched it yet. It still burns.

"What the hell is going on with you Atlas?" I finally spoke, not bothering to hide the hurt in my voice. "You acted like you hardly knew me all weekend."

Atlas pulled at a lock of white hair that had come free from his slicked-back style, shifting uncomfortably in the chair in the same way he did during the post-qualifying press conference yesterday.

"I know that I owe you an explanation, it's just..." he let out a heavy sigh, and I scooted as far as I could to the edge of that bed, desperate to just be even a little bit closer. "I don't know what to say, okay?"

"So then what?" I hissed. "You just expected me to wait around until you decided to treat me like a real person again? Until it was safe for you to stop pretending to be Alpha fucking Atlas? Ya know, the whole brooding standoffish bad boy thing is old and quite frankly cliche."

"I really hate the alpha thing, it's so fucking dumb, but..." Atlas grumbled to the floor. When he looked up at me, that same lost look in his eyes, I crumbled. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm...I'm trying to figure out how to explain this to you."

I couldn't be mad. Not even for just a moment. He softened every edge I'd spent the whole night sharpening.

"You know I'm a good listener, Atlas," I reassured him. "Whatever it is...I want you to trust me. So go ahead."

He sat back, tapping the signet ring he wore on his pointer finger on the arm of the chair in time with his bobbing knee. I'd never seen him so flustered, and I wanted nothing more than to reach over and steady him. I sat on my hands instead.

"I think you know by now, I keep my personal life very private. Things have happened in the past...I'm not going to get into it now, but I intentionally try very hard to keep that and my racing persona as far apart as possible. I don't need people poking and prodding for details about me or my life. It's uncomfortable, and I don't like it."

I nodded in acknowledgment, trying to take a page out of Gemma's book and handle this diplomatically, even though part of me wanted to tackle him. Out of rage or affection, I wasn't too sure - maybe it was both.

"Savannah, you are part of my personal life," he continued. "For fucks sake, that's part of the reason I like spending time with you so much. That whole lone wolf alpha bullshit doesn't exist when I'm with you. I feel normal, I feel...good. Really good."

My heart swelled in my chest.

"Atlas, you don't think I feel the same?" I scoffed. "Christ, I don't know that I would have gotten through that scare I had with my ankle without you. That's why I don't understand. Everything about last weekend..." I paused and swallowed back the knot in my throat. "To have the time that we had together, and then for you to act like I was practically a stranger to you this weekend...it fucking sucked, okay?"

Atlas leaned forward in the chair and glanced up at me with another storm brewing in his eyes. "Savannah, I truly meant everything I said to you in Monaco, and I'm trying to figure out how to say all of this to you. I just...I need you to trust me too."

I let out a weary sigh. "I do Atlas. But you need to talk to me."

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright look, if I gave you VIP box passes under my name, and you were seen accompanying me in the paddock, what do you think would happen?"

"People would poke and prod you." I nodded. "Like a fucking pinata and expect you to spit out candy."

Atlas dragged his teeth across his lower lip, and lights from the city's nightlife flickered across his stoic features. "I'm sorry Savannah, but I'm just not ready for that. People...fans, the media, whoever...they think they're entitled access to me and my life. That's just the way it is, it's the nature of what I do and I've learned to maneuver that and handle that the best I can...but that doesn't stop it from happening and right now, I'm just not sure I want to deal with all that."

He took a moment to breathe, and I decided in that moment, the tackling would probably be out of affection. "Savannah, the moment you're linked to me...you're in it too. It's like a tar pit, and it just sinks you in it. I don't want that for you either, I...I don't want whatever this is to be another thing you have to deal with. Not if I can help it."

For the first time all night, a little grin pulled at my lips. "Atlas, while I respect the sentiment, I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself."

"I know...I know you can, I just..." He let out another heavy sigh and raked a hand through his hair. "Look, I truly had no intention of hurting you, and ruining your weekend. I guess...in my own fucked up way, I was trying to protect us. Protect whatever this is."

I responded with a shrug. "I just...why didn't you just tell me this sooner? I would have understood."

"Because I panicked, okay?" he snapped. "When you texted me out of the blue that you were going to be here, I...I panicked, and I shut down because that's what I do and how I've learned to cope when I'm racing. When I feel anxious or that something is going wrong, I instinctively just shut down my emotions and do what needs to be done."

"God damn it this isn't a race, Atlas," I jumped to my feet. "Honestly, I could not give two flying fucks about who does or doesn't know about me or us." I gestured between us. "I'd never pressure you for that or try to slap some kind of unnecessary public label on us, because god knows I don't need that shit either. I just know that this thing between us...whatever it is...I like it a lot. I like you a lot. I mean it."

After swallowing my heart back down, I realized it was the first time I'd ever said it out loud. I'd given my feelings a voice, and instead of weighing me down the way I'd always anticipated it would be, it felt liberating. 

"I do too," he let out a tired chuckle, running his hand down the side of his face. "God, more than I can even put into words. I feel like...I put up this wall to keep all that shit out, but you just tear right through it without even trying, like it's paper thin. Like I'm paper thin."

I sat back down on the edge of the bed, letting the weight of our whole conversation sink me into the mattress.

"So...now what?" I asked.

Atlas sat back in his chair again, heaving out a breath and folding his arms over his chest. Silence ballooned in the air as we traded glances, and I picked spots on him to hyper-focus on instead of the quiet - the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, the way one lock of white hair refused to behave with the rest of it, the way his eyes met mine when I finally looked back at him head-on, like I was the only thing he could truly see.

"Just..." Atlas sighed again. "Come here."

He held an arm out to me, and it was like all the ions in him had been switched - I was still a negative magnet, but he was positively charged, beaming and taking up all the space in the room, pulling me right to him.

I took his hand as he situated me on his lap, using his other hand to guide me closer. I swung my legs over the side of his knee, draping my arm over the back of the chair. I felt Atlas's breath on my cheek as he traced his fingers up along my exposed collarbone and to the crook of my neck. He gently guided my head down so our foreheads touched, and the act alone sent shockwaves down my body.

"Hi," he breathed out.

"Hi," I chuckled softly in response.

Atlas reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "You looked absolutely gorgeous tonight. I was certain if I got too close I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off of you, then everyone would know I have a terrible little schoolboy crush on this badass surfer girl."

I smiled as I absentmindedly fiddled with the top open button on his silky shirt, undoing two more and pushing the fabric away to expose his chest. "Well, there's no one watching now. Your secret's safe with me."

"Then I guess you won't mind if I do this," his lips brushed mine as he spoke before pulling me into a gentle kiss, his touch like a cool rainstorm extinguishing the wildfire we'd been caught up in. His tongue swept the inside of my mouth as he tangled his fingers through my hair. When his other hand slid up the bottom of my dress, I pulled away. My brain wasn't above playing coy for a little while longer, despite the fact that my body literally shivered with anticipation of his touch.

"What is it?" He asked.

I smirked and put my hand to his exposed chest. "So you think you can say some pretty words in your pretty accent and all is forgiven?"

"Well, uh..." he chuckled awkwardly. "Yes."

"No, no," I clicked my tongue at him, lifting myself off of his lap. "Not yet."

Atlas moaned, but he allowed just the faintest smile to come through, like little beams of light poking through clouds. "Well then, how do I earn Savannah Allen's forgiveness?"

I gave a casual, one-shoulder shrug. "You could beg, I guess."

Before I could prepare myself for the consequences of my own words, he stood up and spun us around, guiding me to sit down in the chair. I couldn't help my jaw from dropping as he lowered himself to his knees and situated himself between my thighs. He traced little circles on my skin with his thumb and looked up at me through the lustful haze in his eyes.

"Well, I'm on my knees," he breathed out. "Begging."

Something so vivid and so alive stirred in me, I was almost sure I would need an exorcism after this. I lifted my left leg and placed my boot on his shoulder. "I'm unconvinced."

A soft moan betrayed me as he moved my leg to rest completely over his shoulder, letting his lips gently caress my skin and working his way up until the hem of my dress met the fold of my hips. Past me knew what she was doing wearing her best lacy underwear set as Atlas ran a finger along the seam and tugged it aside, gently slipping his finger inside of me.

"Forgive me now?" he spoke into my thigh, sending a wave of lust rippling through me as he slid another finger in.

I let my eyes flutter closed for just a moment, losing myself to the feeling of him stroking every sensitive nerve ending in me. "Not quite."

"Then I have a question."

"What?" I moaned in response.

He pulled his hand away and gave me another squeeze, sliding me closer to the edge of the chair. "How attached are you to this dress?"

"Um, somewhat," I exhaled, struggling to catch my breath under the choking heat of his touch. "I bought it for this weekend."

"I'll buy you another one."

"What? Why?"

There wasn't the slightest hesitation in his next words. "Because I'm about two seconds away from ripping it off with my teeth."

I scoffed. "You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Bet."

"Fine."

With one hand pressed into my thigh, he bit down on the hem of my dress and tugged upwards, slowly tearing apart the little seam that ran up the side of the dress until his head was almost in my lap. He moved both of his hands up my body, pulling and ripping until his ragged breath danced across my bare stomach as he unclenched his jaw and let go of the dress. It slunk off of me in utter defeat.

"I could keep going," he mumbled into my torso.

I put my hand on his shoulder and pushed him back until he was sitting on the floor.

"No," I shook my head. "My turn."

I slid myself off of the chair to meet him on the floor, my dress still hanging off me like limbs on a freshly turned zombie, craving a taste of him. He sat back onto his elbows as I leaned over him and tore the rest of his shirt open, sending buttons ricocheting around the hotel room.

"Well, that was naughty. I liked that shirt." he shook his head, his grin curling up into something more devilish. Maybe we'd both need an exorcism by the end of the night.

"Now we're even," I grinned back. I pushed his torn open shirt off of his shoulders, and the way my heart rattled at the sight of him told me I'd probably never get tired of seeing this man shirtless.

He scooped me up into another kiss, cradling my face in his hands as we laid back onto the floor. Clothes were unfortunate collateral at this point, and we took the rest of our pent-up frustrations from the weekend out on them as we continued to claw and tear at every seam and every stitch. For once in my life, I wanted to be unraveled.

Somehow, we'd eventually made it to the bed, though not before collecting our fair share of rug burns, bumps and scratches the way Atlas collected racing trophies. He'd gotten his P1 at the Miami Grand Prix, just maybe not the way he'd envisioned it. The only thing missing was the champagne.

"Your flexibility still astounds me," Atlas said as he shifted under the sheets beside me, letting out a breathy sigh.

"Your stamina still astounds me," I retorted, feeling my chest clench and heave desperately for air. I fanned my face with my hand. "I need oxygen."

Atlas rolled onto his side to face me, scooting closer until the tip of his nose brushed mine. "I could give you mouth to mouth."

"I'm not entirely sure that would solve the problem." I reached up and traced his lips with my finger, feeling the raw places I kissed him too hard and too long, treating every kiss like it would be the last one.

"Worth the trouble though," he smiled.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him, his body warm like the morning sun that began to creep through the windows.

"Why do we never actually sleep when we're together?" I mused with a soft chuckle.

Atlas smoothed my hair back out of my face and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Sleeping seems like a waste of our time together, yeah?"

"It does." I let out a weary sigh as I nuzzled myself further into his chest, and I felt the steady beat of his heart pick up slightly.

"I mean I know this sounds crazy..." he mumbled into the top of my head. "But we could try and actually plan ahead of time to see each other."

I scoffed out a laugh. "Oh, very scandalous."

He paused, and I felt his heartbeat quicken against my cheek pressed to his chest. "Well...you know, we haven't actually been on a proper date."

"Go ahead and ask me then," I said softly into his chest, and I was sure he could even feel the smile that was stretched wide across my face.

Atlas cleared his throat dramatically. "Savannah Allen, would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a date?"

I giggled, and god damn it I do not giggle. "I would love to."

Atlas's chest buzzed as he pursed his lips and hummed. "We could go to this little restaurant in Nice next weekend after I get back from all my Porsche meetings in Germany, it's sort of tucked away and overlooks the water, and...has really good pasta."

"That sounds amazing," I let out a wistful sigh. "But I'm leaving for Australia next weekend. It's the biggest event of the season before final cuts take place, and I'll be there for ten days."

"Understood," he mumbled into the top of my head. He must have heard the hesitation in my voice, although I wasn't sure if it was for the reasons he thinks.

"What about the weekend after that?" I looked up at him, letting hope light up my eyes.

But he shook his head. "I have back to back races that weekend and the next. Austria and then Japan."

"And then I'm in London the last week of October with Gemma," I sighed out.

Sensing my frustration, Atlas pressed another kiss to the top of my head. "Hey...we'll figure it out, alright?"

Maybe Malia was right. Maybe I did have tunnel vision. Maybe I cared too much about looking ahead, and I couldn't see the little streams of light that filtered in from all the little cracks along the way. Streams of light like Atlas.

"I bet nobody's on the roof right now," I said. "Do you wanna go watch the sun rise?"

Atlas smiled like I'd given him the world. "I'd like that very much."

I didn't feel like going down to my room and waking Gemma and a potential dark-haired, French-speaking guest, so I grabbed a sweatshirt from Atlas that was long enough to pass as a dress and threw my hair up in a messy, slept-in bun. I couldn't fathom how Atlas still managed his cool, effervescent look at the crack of dawn, but even in dark grey joggers and a white t-shirt pinched with wrinkles at the bottom hem, I wanted to tackle him back into bed.

We tip-toed down the empty hallway, my arm hooked through his, like this was something we did every damn day. We took the stairs up the one flight to the rooftop, greeted by silence and crisp morning air. It was weird seeing Highbar so empty after last night, the pristine white chairs that lined the pool still glistening with drops of water from a hose-down cleaning and all of the potted palms pushed into the corners. I closed my eyes and took a deep inhale, relishing in the silence of the morning...until Atlas decided to be...well, Atlas.

"Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me."

I followed Atlas's steely gaze to the far end of the rooftop, where leaning against the railing and overlooking the ocean were Gemma and Callahan.

"Oh, bonjour les enfants," Callahan turned to greet us, gesturing us over to come and join them.

Before Atlas had a chance to bail, I looped my arm around his again and pulled him towards Gemma and Cal, where I caught Gemma snickering behind her perfectly manicured hand.

"Bonjour mes meilleurs amis," I replied with a smile.

"Best friends, plural?" Atlas leaned over and whispered through his teeth.

"Don't be a dingus," I warned as I jabbed him in the side.

"Where do you find the energy to be so hostile so early in the morning?" Callahan asked Atlas. "I ask out of genuine curiosity."

Atlas turned to Callahan with that same stony gaze, although something that might have resembled amusement flickered in his eyes. "It's my default setting."

"How do I change your settings?" Callahan reached over and poked at Atlas's arm. "What's your password? Do you have a firewall?"

I broke away from Atlas and stood beside Gemma, leaning my head on her shoulder and feeling her reach down and take my hand in hers. We looked over and grinned at each other while Atlas and Cal took turns taking jabs at each other like they were two kids on a playground.

"Hooligans," Gemma shook her head, the faintest grin tugging at her lips. "So I see you ended up having a nice night."

"Oh I had a very nice night, thank you," I wiggled my eyebrows at her.

Gemma held up her hand to stop me before I began recounting my night in regaling details. "Well, I'm pleased you sorted things out."

The I told you so was implied, Gemma was just above gloating...usually.

"I need a drink already," Atlas broke away from Cal and stalked over to the closest bar hopping over the thick slab of white marble to assess the aforementioned drink situation like he owned the damn place.

"Screwdriver?" He asked me after ambling around behind the bar for some clean glasses, and I replied with an eager nod.

He gave Callahan a bored glance. "I don't even need to ask you."

Callahan laughed and nudged Gemma. "She'll have one too. I just hope this little stunt doesn't get us kicked out like that one time in Belgium."

Atlas scoffed as he produced a bottle of orange juice from a little fridge under the bar and a frosty bottle of Grey Goose. "I'll have you know I'm the one who advised against going to that pub. Olsen started it."

"And you finished it," Callahan retorted with a coy smirk.

Gemma and I exchanged another grin. In that moment, something settled inside me, and all the tension dissipated into the morning like mist after the sun warms the air. Maybe this was just my life now. Maybe I didn't need to worry about having tunnel vision anymore, because I was just out of the tunnel.

maybe i'll just let you down
but look at those eyes, i'm thinking too loud
maybe i'll just bide my time
so when it feels right, you can be mine
didn't know it'd be so late
drinking all night and numbing that shame
guessing i'll be careful now
i'm holding your past, i'll carry you out

paper thin / illenium, angels & airwaves

i maked dis, worked v hard on it, pls love and appreciate

also pls be nice, i don't really write "spicy" and this is truly my first go at it.

i know y'all missed them, was this worth the wait? say yes.