10. Chapter 10
ten
Skye
So, Lily was right.
I’m taken.
Still wild to say.
When Archer took me home Friday night, he kissed me in his truck, soft at first, then deeper, his hand warm at the back of my neck.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re mine now, you know.”
I only managed to giggle before he suggested I change my social media status to “in a relationship with Archer Longfellow,” promising he’d change his status, too.
And he did. I checked first thing Saturday morning, smiling into my pillow despite myself. A part of me felt a little overrun. But that feeling only lasted until my phone alerted me to a text message.
Archer
Woke up and immediately thought of you. You looked so beautiful last night. I’m so damn lucky to call you mine.
Mine.
I’m his.
Warmth spread through my chest, slow and syrupy. No one’s ever wanted me like this before.
My parents approve. How could they not because when Sunday came, so did a massive bouquet. Fifty pink roses delivered directly to my front door.
At first, I thought they were for my mom. Maybe from my dad, or someone she’d helped through her non-profit. But she just smiled and handed me the little card.
Always and forever trying to give you things that are as beautiful as you. Always and forever failing because nothing even comes close. –Love, Archer.
Yeah. Giddy doesn’t even begin to cover it.
We spent all weekend together—brunch at the country club with his parents, getting a crash course in golf, watching movies and hanging out at his place.
By Sunday night, I, too, had changed my status.
“So, Archer’s parents invited my family to dinner at their house this weekend,” I tell Lily when I meet her at school this morning.
She gasps. “Are you serious?”
I nod.
“Holy… that’s, like, a big deal!” she says. “It’s like, your parents are meeting the in-laws.”
I breathe a laugh. “Not you calling me Mrs. Archer Longfellow again.”
“I mean, this is obviously serious.”
We enter the building, the warmth immediately caressing my cheeks.
“We’re high school seniors!” I say like that somehow means that Archer’s and my relationship hasn’t progressed… fast.
She shrugs. “So? My parents got married right out of high school.”
“Still,” I mutter, following her down the corridor to our lockers.
“Skye, do you think Orson Longfellow—the District Attorney—would invite your entire dang family to dinner at their place if he didn’t get the impression you and his son had, like, long-term potential?”
I blink. “I don’t know, I—”
She pulls me to a stop.
“What?” I follow her gaze.
Boston. Of course.
I almost roll my eyes, expecting her usual lovesick expression, but Lily doesn’t look dreamy.
She looks horrified.
Boston’s by his locker, and—my heart stops—his left eye is swollen, a bruise blooming across his cheekbone, temple discolored.
I move instinctively, Lily on my heels. “Boss,” I say, breathless. “Are you okay?”
He glances at me, then away. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
He looks anything but fine. He looks like he lost a boxing match. It’s horrifying.
“What happened?” Lily asks, voice shrill.
“I got jumped,” he mutters.
“What? When? Why?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
There’s a deep pain in his eyes. Without thinking, I step forward and wrap my arms around his neck.
His scent makes its way into my nose. My eyes shut, that warm flutter expanding in my chest, like a flower blooming. I feel Boston’s hands move to my low back, and just like it did at the party, my body relaxes against him.
“Hey, can you take your hands off my girl?” Archer’s voice tears through the moment.
My arms drop as Archer forces Boston around.
Archer startles, his anger faltering when his eyes land on Boston’s face.
“Holy fucking shit, Boss,” Jake says, appearing with Jonathan and Pacey. “What the fuck happened to you, man?”
“I got jumped by some assholes Friday night,” Boston repeats, voice tight.
“The fuck? After I dropped you off?” Pacey asks, his eyes scanning Boston’s face.
Boston nods.
“Shit,” Jake mutters, stepping closer. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just sore.”
“Did you go to the ER?” I ask.
The longer I stare at Boston’s injuries, the more awful they look. And judging by how little he opens his mouth when he speaks, he’s in a good amount of pain.
“No. It's fine. All superficial.”
I gently brush my fingers over the bruise on his cheekbone. “Boss, this looks really bad,” I say quietly.
Archer shifts in my periphery.
“Honestly, I’m okay,” Boston says, his voice noticeably softer. “It was just some roider assholes who thought I’d be the perfect fucking punching bag. But I promise, I’m fine.”
I nod, our eyes lingering a moment longer before Boston turns his attention to Jake. “I’m going to head to class. I’ll see you in Chem, yeah?”
Jake nods, just as the first bell rings.
I watch Boston walk away and something inside me feels… wrong.
I sigh, then adjust my bag on my shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Lil,” I say, give Archer a peck on the cheek, then start in the opposite direction.
A moment later, I feel Archer interlace his fingers with mine.
I smile. “Are you walking me to class?”
He grins. “If that’s alright with you.”
Of course I’m alright with it, just like I’m alright with the warm flutter in my chest. “So sweet of you. You’re like my own personal bodyguard,” I giggle, the hallway in front of me emptying out.
Archer chuckles, but I feel him slow. I glance at him, noting the drop in his expression.
“You okay?” I ask, coming to a stop just outside my classroom, our hands still firmly entwined.
“Yeah,” he says, brows pinching. “Just… I know maybe this is stupid, but seeing you in another guy’s arms, it’s messing with my head.”
I blink, startled. “I’m sorry?”
He nods, jaw set. “I’m crazy about you already, Skye, and…” He shrugs like he isn’t certain even of his own words. “I didn’t like seeing you in Boston’s arms.”
My breath catches. I didn’t mean to cross any lines or embarrass Archer.
“I just think it might give people the impression that you have a thing for him or something, you know?” he adds.
“Arch, you know I’m with you,” I say, moving my hand to his cheek. The last thing I want is to hurt him with my carelessness. “I only hugged Boss because he got hurt and—”
“No, I know,” he says quickly, brushing his lips over mine. “I just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about you.” His tone brightens and the tension in his face gives way to a wide smile.
“Come on, let’s get you to class.” He takes my hand, then leads me to my classroom.
And that flutter in my chest?
It’s gone.