Chapter84 – You’re not a kid
He was nearly 6 feet tall now, a living mannequin. Everything looked good on him—tailored or casual, it didn’t matter. He had that kind of build: lean but strong, effortless in how he carried himself. Dressed, he looked sharp and clean-cut. Undressed… well, Clarissa tried not to think about it too much.
He was only fifteen, but the doctor said he was a little too healthy—dense muscles, abnormally strong for his age. Probably from all the training with Phoenix. Sparring. Boxing.
Clarissa stood in front of him, buttoning a coat he’d just tried on. “This style’s new for you,” she said. “Looks good. Let’s get the next size up. You’ll grow again before long.”
Atticus bent forward slightly, allowing her to fix the buttons. “Okay. If Clarissa likes it, then I like it.”
She sighed. “You’re really not supposed to call me that.”
Every day, she reminded him. Every day, he ignored it.
After adjusting the coat, she tugged him gently over to the mirror.
The salesgirl nearby had been watching them since they walked in—her eyes practically lit up. The boy was striking, no doubt about it.
“Miss, are you buying these for your boyfriend?” she asked, flashing a hopeful smile. “This one really suits him—it’s from our new spring collection.”
Clarissa stiffened slightly. She opened her mouth to explain, but Atticus beat her to it.
“I like all of them,” he said calmly, eyes never leaving Clarissa’s face. “We’ll take everything.”
Clarissa was caught mid-breath, her protest trapped in her throat.
She blinked at him, frowning just slightly. “Alright… I’ll go pay—”
“I’ll handle it,” Atticus said, pulling her gently back.
She gave him a confused look. “You?”
He gave a rare, boyish grin. “I won a lottery last week. First prize.”
Clarissa stared at him for a second in stunned silence… then let out a breathless laugh.
Of course this kid won a lottery. His ridiculous luck hadn’t changed.
"Then go ahead. I’ll wait for you over there," Clarissa said, giving him a small smile before turning to leave.
Atticus watched her figure disappear into the crowd, the corner of his lips lifting in a faint smirk. Then he turned and headed to the counter.
The salesgirl, noticing the shift in his expression, took a chance. "Is this your first time shopping here, sir?"
“Yeah,” he replied curtly, the casual smile he’d worn earlier already gone. His face was cool, distant—completely unreadable.
The clerk hesitated, clearly thrown off by his sudden change in demeanor. “Your girlfriend is really beautiful. Was she upset about something? Or… did I do something wrong?”
Atticus knew exactly why Clarissa had acted the way she did a moment ago. He exhaled lightly, his tone staying flat. “She’s just in a bad mood. You didn’t do anything.”
Then, as if flipping a switch, he smiled—slow and deliberate.
The clerk visibly faltered, dazed by the intensity of his gaze. That smile felt like a trap, and she’d walked right into it.
“If you like shopping here,” she stammered, “maybe you’d want to apply for a membership? It comes with a 20% discount—”
“No. That’s enough.”
He glanced toward the entrance. Clarissa probably wouldn’t want to come back here anyway.
The clerk bit her lip, a bit disappointed, but seeing how much he’d spent, she didn’t push it. She arranged for the items to be delivered and handed him the receipt with both hands.
As soon as Atticus stepped outside, his gaze locked on Clarissa.
A man was standing in front of her, clearly trying to strike up a conversation.“Miss, can I get your number?”
Before Clarissa could even respond, Atticus strode over, tall and commanding.
“No,” he said coldly. “Step away from her.”
His voice cut through the air like a blade—ice cold and sharp.
The man turned to him, instantly freezing under the weight of Atticus’s stare. Something in those eyes—dark, unreadable, and barely restrained—made him instinctively take a step back. Then another. And then he turned and bolted without another word.
Atticus stood beside her, his tone gentle again. “Don’t let men like that get too close to you. What if he turned out to be some creep?”
She sighed. “This is a mall, not a dark alley. He was probably just asking for directions.”
Atticus raised a brow. “You need a phone number for that now? Come on. That was the oldest pickup trick in the book.”
Clarissa couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Alright, alright. Thank you for stepping in, brave hero. Happy now?”
“Mm-hmm,” he murmured, clearly pleased with himself.
Without waiting, he reached down and grabbed her hand again, lacing his fingers through hers. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”
His hand was nothing like it used to be. It was bigger now, strong and steady, his grip firm but careful. Years of training had left his palms roughened—calloused and textured—completely opposite to her soft, delicate fingers.
She could feel the warmth of him, the way his body heat clung to her skin. He used to feel cold to the touch, just like his personality back then. But now… now he was all heat and quiet intensity, and that warmth seeped into her bones before she even realized it.
The salesgirl’s earlier comment echoed in her mind. Clarissa glanced at their joined hands. He’s not a little boy anymore. He wasn’t that scrawny, shadow-eyed child she'd once comforted.
Without a word, she slipped her hand out of his, carefully but firmly.
Atticus stopped, caught off guard. “What’s wrong?”
Clarissa kept her eyes ahead. “Nothing. I just think we don’t need to hold hands anymore. You’re not a kid, and… well, you’re kind of big.”
Then she walked ahead without another glance. Atticus stood there for a beat, watching her.
His dark eyes narrowed slightly—thoughtful, unreadable. But then, a moment later, he smiled, and jogged to catch up.
Reaching her side again, he took her hand back without hesitation.
“Nope. Too many people here. I’m not letting go,” he said, fingers threading through hers once more. “You’re far too pretty to be walking around alone. Someone’s gotta protect you from all these so-called ‘directions.’”
Just as Clarissa was about to speak, Atticus lowered his eyes and gently cut her off.
"Sis... what's going on with you today?" His voice was soft, laced with concern. "You haven’t smiled since we started. Are you upset spending the day with me? Did I do something wrong?"
Clarissa blinked, a little caught off guard. “No… it’s not that.”
“Then let’s go eat. The food court’s on the basement level.” He didn’t give her time to argue, gently tugging her hand. “Come on.”
Clarissa let herself be pulled along, helpless in the face of his insistence.
The moment they stepped into the elevator, a crowd surged in behind them, forcing the two into a corner. Clarissa's back was pressed against the wall, and Atticus stood firmly in front of her, shielding her from the push of the crowd. His arm slid around her waist without hesitation, the other bracing against the elevator wall beside her head.
With so many people packed in, there was barely room to breathe—much less to move.
Atticus leaned closer, his breath grazing her ear. “Didn’t expect this many people, huh? Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
Clarissa gave a quiet “Mm,” trying to stay calm.Their bodies were practically flush against each other. His chest pressed to hers, his body heat seeping through both layers of fabric.