Atlas Hands

Ever since I was very young, I had always liked old, vintage type things. I used a walkman a lot longer than most other kids, which resulted in some snarky side comments from my classmates who had upgraded to iPods. I grew up using my mom's polaroid camera from the nineties instead of my dad's brand new Nikon. I preferred handwritten letters rather than standard emails or text messages. Seeing as my love for vintage had not passed during my eighteen years of existence, it was no surprise that I was currently sitting in some cute little coffee shop nestled on the corner of Pine and Cumberland, tucked away from the regular inhabitants of the Starbucks a few blocks down.

"Morning, stranger."

I didn't need to look up to know it was Casey's voice. He started working here during our sophomore year of high school, much to my approval. We had become friends with benefits, you could say. Casey Daniels benefited me by providing me with free coffee and cinnamon chocolate chip muffins (two things I just could not live without), and I provided him with my company when business was slow, like right now. I smiled, watching as he removed his coffee bean brown work cap and ruffled his hair with one hand before taking a seat on the stool next to me. "Good morning."

It was quiet for a little while. Casey scrolled through pictures and messages on his cell phone while I picked apart the heavenly, free muffin in my hands. It was no exaggeration to say that these muffins were absolutely orgasmic, and it was quite difficult to contain the moans of pleasure and satisfaction that threatened to spill out of my mouth.

The thing I liked about this type of quiet was that it was comfortable, it always was with Casey. Maybe because we knew each other inside and out, having grown extremely close over the past four years. Maybe because we were both just content with the silence and not having anything to talk about. Either way, it soothed me, almost as if it were therapeutic.

I broke the silence. "What time does your shift end?"

"I'm working a double today," Casey groaned. Having to work a double shift at a coffee shop that was just a few blocks away from a Starbucks was rough. Nobody ever really came here after eleven in the morning, and working a second shift basically meant eating leftover bagels and sweeping the floors out of boredom. "Why, did you wanna take me out?" How cheeky.

"Not a chance," I smirked, playfully shoving his shoulder. "I just wanted to see if you wanted to go down to Cider Point or something." Cider Point was a solid twenty-five minute drive away from the center of town, and while there were five beaches located much closer, Casey and I always went out of our way to hop into his faded black 2004 Jeep Wrangler and take an extended drive down the backroads to get there. Though Cider Point was just like every other beach along the way, it was different for us: It was the location in which we first met as grumpy seven year old children.

"Oh, so you want to fuck me on the beach? I must say, Micah, that is awfully bold for someone like you."

"I hate you," I muttered, biting my lip to hold back my smile. Shoving the laste bite of the cinnamon chocolate chip muffin into my mouth, I stood up and dusted the crumbs off of my lap. "Well, since you're busy later, I'll just go find something else to do. Maybe I'll go to the record store or something." The thing was, I never actually listened to the records I bought. Instead, I just kept them in the casing and hung them up on my wall. Like I said before, I dig vintage.

Grabbing my clutch and my iPod, which I had upgraded to in middle school to stop the untrue comments about how poor my family was, I brushed my fingers through my hair and rested my eyes on Casey. He had a crooked smile on his face, obviously lost in his own thoughts. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," He said, snapping out of his trance. Before I could say goodbye, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the front of the counter. "I think I'm going to ditch the second shift."

I groaned. "You're going to get fired one day, you know," I warned, part of me wishing he would stop doing shenanigans like this. As selfish as it sounds, I just wanted to keep my coffee and muffin deal. But Casey didn't seem to care. He pulled his work shirt over his head, leaving him in the white t-shirt he wore underneath. Man, was I a fan of that white t-shirt. Since our second encounter in second period algebra, Casey had developed these perfectly toned muscles out of nowhere. He didn't work out. He worked in a coffee shop and ate a bunch of bagels and muffins throughout the day. I was jealous of his genes, but I'm not complaining.

Casey disappeared behind the back door, only to return wearing some red, unbuttoned plaid shirt. "Relax," He cooed, still wandering around the empty building and gathering his belongings, "If I ever do get fired, I'll just come here with you and buy your damn coffee and muffins myself."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.

He cocked an eyebrow at me with a smirk. "I know you, Micah. You would work here just for the coffee and muffins if you didn't have to interact with the customers."

I shrugged. He had a point. "Shouldn't you at least finish this shift?"

"Nah, let's go." Casey grabbed my hand and lead me out of the coffee shop, not letting go until we got to his Jeep parked around the corner. Casey and I had a very close relationship. We held hands, we flirted, he held me when I cried - but we weren't together, though anybody passing by us would assume otherwise.

I'd be lying if I said I've never thought about what it would be like if we were dating. I would sometimes catch myself thinking about how his lips would feel against mine or how I would feel if he told me that he loved me. I dreamt about him sometimes, too. But every time these thoughts crossed my mind, I pushed them back into the darkest, deepest corners of my mind and reminded myself that Casey Daniels was my best friend. He was also not interested in a relationship. He hadn't been ever since I had formally met him, or at least that's always what he told me. Casey dated a few girls here and there over the years, slept with some others, but never wanted anything serious. Whenever I questioned him about it, he would just say, "I dunno," or, "I'm just not feeling it right now, I guess," so I never pushed for a real answer.



"Get in the water!"

One of the things I admired the most about Casey was how carefree he was. Despite the fact that it was only the beginning of June, and the ocean water was probably still freezing, he did not hesitate to strip down to his boxers and jump right in. I, on the other hand, did not find the idea of swimming in cold salt water in my sheer underwear very appealing, so I stayed sitting on the small cliff which Casey had jumped off of. "Keep dreaming."

Casey splashed water in my direction, though there was no chance of it hitting me. "You're killing me, Elliot!" He brushed his wet locks out of his eyes, then proceeding to step out of the water and climb back up the cliff.

"Whatever you say, Daniels," I said jokingly, though there was a little extra venom in my voice that I had not intended to include.

Casey stood behind me and I could feel the water dripping off of his body or his boxers or whatever else. "Aw, does somebody need a hug?" I actually heard the smirk in his voice, which caused me to bolt up from my seat on the edge of the cliff and spin around. It was getting dark, which meant it was getting colder, and I wanted to stay as dry and as warm as possible. Looking around frantically for options, I realized I only had two: Jump, or receive a wet and uncomfortable hug.

I didn't even have a choice, really. All at once, his arms were around me and half of my body was soaked in ocean water. "I still hate you," I mumbled into his chest, not making an effort to pull away from the embrace. Casey didn't say anything for a while, he just held me as we rocked back and forth slightly. Even though he smelled predominantly of seaweed and salt, I could still catch hints of his cologne.

"What are you going to do now that we've graduated?" He asked after a while, letting go of my semi-less-wet figure and taking a seat on the edge of a cliff, patting a spot next to him for me to occupy. I did almost instantly.

I took an unnecessary deep breath, gazing out into the seemingly endless ocean. "I told you, Case," I started quietly, "I just want to get out of here. I want to go to England and just work some odd jobs and work on my photography until I get somewhere with it."

Casey didn't say anything, which happened every time we had this conversation. I stole a glance at him through my peripherals and noticed he was gazing out at the ocean in the same way I was, but I couldn't read him. I never could when it came to things like this, or anything serious actually. "What are you going to do?"

"Go with you," He replied, smiling slightly. I knew he was joking, he knew that too. But the thought of just disappearing and wiping the slate clean with Casey never sounded like a bad idea to me.

I turned towards him, waiting for him to look at me, but he didn't. "You could, you know," I began wearily, watching his body shake once in a silent chuckle. "I don't see why you couldn't."

"There's nothing there for me," he protested, furrowing his eyebrows. I still couldn't tell what he was feeling, but it was clear that he didn't quite know, either. "What am I going to do in England, Micah? Just chill out and hook up with British chicks in the apartment we'd share while you were out doing your own things? I know you'll miss me, Mic, but you don't need me. You're probably better off without me, all I do is hold you back," he rambled, coming to an abrupt stop.

If only he would understand how inaccurate that was. Sure, I probably didn't need him. People stray from their best friends all the time. But that wasn't the point. The point was, I didn't want to stray from Casey. I didn't want to forget the sound of his laugh or how his whispering sounded on the phone when we were talking much later than we should have been. More importantly, I didn't want him to forget about me.

I chose to drop the subject. It was a crazy thought, anyway, wanting my best friend to pack up everything and leave this town behind and never look back, even if he didn't know what he was doing with his own life just yet. I subconsciously nibbled on my bottom lip and dropped my gaze to my hands clasped together in my lap. The tension in the air must have been obvious, because Casey sighed loudly and took one of my hands in his much larger one.

"If you do end up going, I'm not going to forget you, you know," he started, and my eyes widened at how easily he could read my mind. I was an open book to him; it had been so easy for him to crack my spine. "I'll write to you. I'll write you letters all the time, even though I'd rather call you, but I know how you feel about handwritten letters and all the jazz," he stopped to laugh a little, but continued on with his speech. "Even though it'll feel like we're on two different worlds, we'll still share the same sky, and that's how I know I'll never forget you."

"What do you mean?"

It was his turn to take a deep breath and avoid eye contact with me. "The stars make me think of you. It's just, you're always talking about how much you want to travel and get out of this shitty town because it has nothing good to offer you. The stars are distant, and if you ever do get out of here, you will be, too. But I know that no matter where you are, or where you end up, we're going to be looking at the same sky. The same stars. The same planets that look like stars. I just..." his voice trailed off, but I didn't make him finish his uncollected thoughts. Instead, with my hand still in his, I stood up.

"Come on, it's getting late, we should be getting back home."

The ride home was a little quieter than usual, but I didn't mind. Casey's hand was still in mine too, but I didn't mind that either. I caught myself looking at his lips. I kept paying attention to the slightest contraction of his muscles. I couldn't help but to match the constellations in the sky with the ones I found on his cheeks, made out of freckles and small scars. Casey had a way of making me rethink every decision I've ever made with just one word, or one simple look. Maybe I wasn't meant to go to England, maybe I was meant to stay in this shitty town because it did have one thing to offer me, and that was Casey.

A slow song came on the radio and I could feel my eyes droop, so I decided to stop thinking about everything that was rushing through my mind and fall asleep in the passenger seat. It was only June. I still had three months to make my final decision. What was currently set in my mind was this:

I would go to England, with or without Casey Daniels. I would just have to make the most of my time with him while we were still together.