Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Ripley
“You need to go.”
I don’t even look at him when I say it, just search for a fresh shirt and jeans in my laundry basket.
For the thousandth time this month, I remind myself to set a reminder on my phone to fold and put away my clothes.
Just as quickly as the thought enters my brain, it floats right out as I realize the man in my bed is not moving.
I nudge his foot with my knee as I put on my shirt. “I’m serious.”
“Dude, I just laid down. Let me catch my breath before you toss me out.” My eyes slide over a spread out, unabashedly naked Archer, his slick abs contracting with each of his pants, colorful tattoos stretching over his muscles.
“Okay, Mr. Pillow Princess. I’m pretty sure I’m the one who just got a full hour-long workout. Up. Out.” I punctuate the words by tossing his T-shirt and jeans at him. The same ones I peeled off him not too long ago. “Thea’s coming.”
Archer lets out an exaggerated sigh but gets up and slips his pants on. He’s zipping his fly when he asks, “Does she not know about… you?”
I turn to him, giving him a bit of a pitying look before I push up my glasses. “She doesn’t know about you.”
I’m such an asshole, I don’t know why he keeps coming back. He’s a good looking guy, I’m sure he has other options. He can’t possibly be so desperate he wants to deal with my bullshit.
Unbothered, he chuckles and shakes his head. Then as if he can read my mind, he says, “You’re lucky you know how to blow my back out. Otherwise I’d call you an asshole and ghost you.”
After putting on his T-shirt, he kisses me on the cheek as he strolls by and out the door.
Fuck, I wish there was something between us besides the sex.
He’s cute and charming and refreshingly uncomplicated.
But I’m just so uninterested beyond what we have going on.
And even that’s starting to lose its appeal.
I refuse to think about why that is and why it suddenly got worse when a certain nerd with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen blew into town.
I rip the sheets off my bed and throw them on the floor, getting rid of the evidence of my afternoon indiscretions.
Not fifteen minutes after I got the text from her, Thea breezes in without knocking. She kicks off her sneakers into the pile of shoes by the front door and drops her purse on the couch before finding me scrolling on my phone in the kitchen.
“Hi, babe,” she says and plants herself at the small table in the corner, the term of endearment a remnant of when everyone in Indigo Hill thought we were dating.
Shortly after we both made our ways back to our hometown, we became inseparable, drawn together like magnets. From day one, we clicked and understood each other on some unknowable level. We were aware of each other in high school, but being in different grades, our paths crossed only a few times.
But in a town as small as ours, naturally, a man and a woman cannot be close friends without romantic rumors flying. So we leaned into it. And by leaned into it, I mean we started calling each other “babe” and changed literally nothing else.
At least for a while it made people stop setting Thea up with their cousins and nephews and ended the incessant questions about when I was going to meet a nice girl and settle down.
Now I’m pretty sure they all think I’m still pining after Thea.
The pitying looks they give me when they see us out together are getting really old.
But I guess pity is better than disgust.
“He hates all of my ideas,” she says, laying her head on her hands on the table.
“He said that?”
“Well, no.” She picks up her head and looks at me. “He said they were good, and he was impressed.”
“I… don’t get it. Was he being sarcastic?” I ask.
“No, I don’t think so. But then he brought up all these other ideas—stuff I should have thought of. Stuff that made a lot of sense. I hate that it made so much sense,” she says, her shoulders slumped, defeated. “Water views. Why didn’t I think of the fucking water views?”
“It’s annoying how smart he is, isn’t it?” I know the negative feelings she’s navigating right now aren’t aimed at Seth because of his good ideas. She’s just pissed she didn’t come up with them first. He makes good points sometimes, it’s annoying.
Really fucking annoying. Yet somehow endearing. And incredibly hot.
She nods in agreement, and then her demeanor changes. She looks around my kitchen like it’s the first time she’s seeing it. “Wait, why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be helping someone move… something?”
I shift my gaze away, trying to come up with a lie to cover the fact I spent the afternoon fucking Archer instead of helping Brooks. Thankfully, Thea gives me the out I need.
“Brooks flake again?”
“Uh yeah,” I say, though I have no idea what Brooks is actually doing, and then redirect with, “What did West suggest?”
Thea doesn’t say anything, just looks at me. The slip of the nickname hanging between us.
“This is really weird for you, huh? West turning out to be Seth. How are you holding up?” My heart swells with how much I love this woman. Even when she clearly came here to vent to me about her fiancé’s best friend meddling in her business, she’s a supportive friend to me about the same man.
And I can’t even be honest about who I’m fucking these days.
I wish I knew how to be completely open with at least one person in my life.
I thought I had that for a while, but he relegated me solely to the role of secret fuckbuddy and then showed up as my best friend’s fiancé’s best friend a couple of days ago.
I shake the thought away. “I’m fine. He’s just so…
” I trail off looking for the right word.
“And I’m still so…” I can’t find the words to encompass all of my emotions.
“Just so much fucking anger, you know? All he cares about is who knows about us, about him—I told him you know, by the way.” My words come rolling out of me, filled with more hostility than I realized I harbored for Seth.
“I figured,” Thea says, standing and walking over to my small pantry. She rummages around and comes out with a bag of Fritos. She opens it as she makes her way to me. Handing me the bag, she goes back to sitting at the table. “I tried to talk to him about you, but he shut me down.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” I take a chip out of the bag, stuff it in my face, and chew.
I know what she’s doing. She thinks I’m hangry, so she’s doing the thing where she subtly hands me food, hoping I won’t notice.
I’m a quarter of the way through the bag when I have to admit to myself it’s working.
My mood is lifting as it always does when I have a snack.
I should probably get my blood sugar checked.
“He suggested all the rooms should face the lake,” she says, a note of defeat in her voice.
I’m silent for a while when I say, “It’s dumb how much sense that makes.” I go over to the table and sit down across from her.
“Right?” She reaches over and shoves her hand into the bag of chips. For a while, the kitchen is silent save for our munching sounds. “You really didn’t know about him?”
“Not a clue. We always kept it vague in texts. I mean, we dove deep into the important stuff like family and insecurities and hopes and dreams, but never said anything that could identify us. He didn’t even know where I lived aside from one of the Carolinas.
The mystery was part of the fun. I could tell him anything with no preconceptions, no judgment. ”
I reflect back on our text exchanges and the video calls that would just as often result in him talking me through a mind-blowing orgasm as us staring at each other in bed until we fell asleep or our phones died.
I told him everything over the years. I didn’t sugarcoat anything or wrap it up in humor and sarcasm like I usually would. I opened up and poured out every secret and vulnerability to him one text at a time, and I thought he had done the same. But now I don’t know if any of it was true.
I guess he could say the same about me.
“I don’t get it though,” Thea says, smiling, pulling me out of my head. “He’s blonde—you don’t even like blondes.”
My mind drifts to Archer and his head of sandy hair—now that I think about it, there’s probably something to unpack there, but nope, now’s not the time.
“I know, but he reminds me of Captain America with that hair and the jawline, and it just really does it for me. Did. Did it for me.”
Her face goes through a range of emotions, contemplative, agreeing, and then settles on unconvinced.
“He’s different, you know? From what I remember in Seattle.
Less… hostile, less cold toward me. He even apologized for how he used to be.
It seems like he’s trying. Maybe just for Cary’s sake, but it’s something. ”
For Cary. Of course. How many times did he tell me he’d do anything for his best friend?
It only took a few weeks of texting to realize West was in love with his best friend. The way he described their friendship hinted at unrequited feelings, and now it makes sense. Falling for your straight best friend—what a cliché.
Not sure if that’s much better than falling for the guy who’s in love with his straight best friend, who’s in love with my best friend.
I rub my forehead, a tension headache building from all of this bullshit. I look to Thea. “I promise not to let this affect your wedding in any way. I’ve made it my life’s mission to make this your most perfect day.”
For a second, my mind strays to thoughts of Seth potentially doing something to ruin it for her, but I push the idea away. He wouldn’t do that… would he?
“Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’m getting to marry the love of my life with my best friend at my side.
It’s going to be perfect regardless of who’s standing on the other side of Cary,” she says, a wistful smile lighting up her face.
I know she means it. The woman seems to be happier by the day since she and Cary reconciled.
“Oh, and he’s going to be coming by again tomorrow,” says Thea, and with a wince, she adds, “And Cary thought it would be a good idea for him to work alongside you to get the full scope of the distillery.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” The pressure builds behind my eyes. How am I supposed to get anything done with him around? He’s… distracting, to put it lightly. Each time we’ve been in the same room over the last few days I’ve either wanted to punch him or maul him. Neither is a good option.
“I shit you not. But it’ll be great. He’ll help infuse some new ideas, make some changes.
Change can be fun.” I’m not sure if she’s trying to convince herself or me, but I don’t think it’s working on either of us.
There’s only one place I like taking directions from West, and my distillery is not it.
“I just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.
I know you guys were close. What all does he know exactly? ”
“He knew everything but my name,” I reply.
Thea looks me over, her previous joy replaced with concern. “Even about your parents?”
“Even that.”