17. Tea
Chapter 17
Tea
To assemble their nests, mated pairs will gather twigs, leaves, and other vegetation from the lake.
A nesting pair of loons will return to the same sight each year, refurbishing the original nest instead of building a new one.
She woke up with a blinding headache, in a room that wasn’t her own.
The guest bedroom in Archer’s cabin was small but quaint, the twin bed covered in a worn quilt made with patterns of trees and boats and loons.
Tea remembered Archer telling her his grandmother made it for him when they finally maneuvered her few things to the room.
It was one of the only things she remembered from the night before.
She groaned as she turned onto her side to check her phone for the time.
Before she could tap the screen, she saw the tall glass of water by her bedside, along with a few painkillers.
She grumbled and took the medicine, washing it down with water.
Her mouth tasted stale.
She sat up as she placed the water back on the nightstand, then realized a familiar picture frame was propped up next to her phone.
She squinted at the photo of her and Archer, wondering how it got there.
Then she remembered snippets of the night before; Archer tucking her in, plugging in her phone, and fidgeting with something as she closed her eyes.
He must have grabbed it for me.
Her heart raced at the idea of him seeing that photo.
She wondered what he would think if he knew she’d kept it by her bed all these years.
That she’d driven it the eight hour and forty-seven minutes from Chicago that gray day in May.
It made her feel embarrassed.
Besides the large tattoo on his back, which was more of a tribute to her father rather than her, Archer didn’t seem to hold on to any mementos from their past. He picked himself up and he moved on.
He confused her. After that day on the boat, Tea thought Archer would make another move.
She’d certainly hoped so when he cupped her face last night.
She wanted him to dip down and kiss her.
To make up for all of those years apart.
Yet he didn’t budge, and the rest of the night, he acted friendly.
They ate frozen pizza and played Super Mario Brothers and drank way too many cranberry vodkas, laughing themselves almost sick.
Now she was in bed, unable to piece together how she even got there.
She looked down at her clothes, realizing she was in a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that weren’t her own.
Oh god , she thought.
Did he change her? She felt for her undergarments, exhaling when she found she still had on her bra and underwear.
But her clothes from yesterday were on the floor beside her, and she was wearing his clothes instead.
A soft knock broke her away from her thoughts.
“You okay in there?” Archer asked on the other side of the door.
She groaned loudly, then listened to him chuckle in response.
“Yeah, I kind of figured that would be the case,” he replied.
“Did you take the meds?”
“ Yeah ,” she croaked.
“Good.” He waited for a beat.
“Are you going to come out, or…?”
“That requires moving,” she quipped.
“Okay, well, I carried you into that bed. I’m not carrying you out as well.”
She palmed her face.
He carried me to bed?
“I think I’ll disintegrate into the sheets instead.”
“But I have coffeeeee.”
Coffee.
She kicked the quilt away and stood up, then threw open the door.
Archer was leaning against the frame.
He was in shorts and a worn white T-shirt, his hair tousled from sleep.
But his smile was wide.
He looked like he actually got some rest.
God damn him.
She scowled. “No one should look that happy hungover.”
He shrugged.
“I’m not hungover.”
Her mouth fell open.
“ How are you not hungover?”
“Practice? Tea, I work in beverages. I have a bit of a tolerance.”
She squinted her eyes.
“No more vodka the rest of this quarantine.”
He smirked, then cocked his head to the left.
“Bathroom is that way. I put your stuff in there last night, and there’s a stack of towels next to it.”
She glanced around him.
“I was promised coffee.”
He gave her that cocky smirk again, then reached for the steaming cup sitting on the desk outside her room and handed it to her.
“Someone’s grumpy.”
She flipped him off as she went to the bathroom, listening to his laugh the entire way there.
She brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth, then took a few sips of coffee before washing her face.
She leaned back as she soaked the washcloth in her hands, eyeing Archer.
He stood in his living room, eyes out the window to the dock and the sunny day that welcomed them.
She dropped her eyes to his arms, then the rest of his body.
She let them linger on his calves and his thighs; underneath all of those tattoos was a lot of lean muscle.
When he shifted and turned she jerked forward, splashing some of her coffee on the counter.
Shit. She wiped the counter, reminding herself she finally had Archer back in her life.
Was she really going to screw all of that up?
She pulled her hair into a ponytail, taking her time finishing up in the bathroom while giving herself a pep talk.
Just friends. Keep it casual.
Archer stood at the counter.
Two plates of freshly scrambled eggs and toast sat in front of him.
He picked one up as she approached and handed it to her.
“Want to eat on the dock?”
“You made me breakfast?”
“Carbs and butter usually help with hangovers. So does vitamin D.”
“Is that scientific fact?”
“It’s anecdotal.” He picked up his own plate.
“Nice sweatpants, by the way.”
She looked down at his clothes on her body.
“ Please don’t tell me you had to change me.”
He grinned, didn’t respond, then exited the cabin.
“ Archer! ” She groaned, feeling mortified as she followed him out, balancing her mug and plate of eggs.
They sat at the edge of the dock, knees propped up so they could balance their plates.
She briefly forgot about her mortification as she scarfed down her breakfast, feeling better after having something in her stomach.
Archer watched her, looking bemused.
“Shove it,” she grumbled, wiping the butter grease from her chin.
“Seriously you should have let me sleep in my clothes. There was no need to change me.”
“You told me you left your pajamas at the other cabin, so I offered you some.”
She set down her fork.
“I said I forgot my pajamas?”
“Um…yes?”
Her face flushed.
“Oh. Interesting.”
“What’s interesting?”
She tucked her knees to her chest. “I can’t exactly forget pajamas if I don’t own them.”
“I am…so lost.”
“Archer,” she said, widening her eyes at him, “I don’t wear pajamas to bed.”
His mouth fell open before he snapped it shut a second later.
“No pajamas,” he repeated.
“Then why would you say that?”
“Probably because I was embarrassed?”
He shook his head.
“Why? It’s only me.”
“ Right! It’s you.”
“Tea, I’ve seen you in bikinis my whole life. I saw you in one yesterday .”
She hung her head, realizing how blissful it had been not to remember what happened to her bikini bottoms yesterday.
Then the rest of the night hit her.
Nan’s news. Driving to Ashland.
Taking a test. Agreeing to quarantine with Archer.
Archer caged her chin with his thumb and pointer finger, lifting her face to his.
“Hey, look at me.”
She blinked, then did.
“They’re okay. We’re okay.”
She cleared her throat.
“ Are you okay?”
He sighed, dropping his hand.
“I’m still a bit on edge, but I have to admit, last night helped a lot.”
“It did?”
He nodded.
“It was nice to clear my head and not focus on it so much. And…you’re probably right.”
“I usually am, but what about this time?”
“ Fucking smart-ass ,” he grumbled under his breath.
“You said last night that we should focus on the things that make us feel alive.”
Her eyes widened.
“I did?”
He grinned.
“You don’t remember, miss I had a little too much to drink ?”
She hummed, her cheeks flushing.
“Remind me. What makes you feel alive, Archer Vincent?”
He leaned back, eyes out to the lake.
“Being on the water. Making cocktails. Hearing my brother laugh. Hanging out with you.” He turned his face to hers.
“Really anything with you.”
She leaned back as well, crossing her arm over his and tilting her face to the sun, the ghost of a smile on her lips.
“What makes you feel alive, Theresa Richards?”
Her smile widened.
“Sailing.”
Archer knocked his arm against hers.
“Feeling ready yet?”
She released a long breath, letting her mind drift to her father.
What would he be doing on a morning such as this?
He’d probably be right here on the dock, sipping on a coffee with Mom, maybe even having a conversation similar to this one.
Or he’d be readying the sails, getting ready to take her out on the water.
The thought of her father and this place no longer made her feel like she wanted to scream and run.
It felt like a balm on her soul.
A patching of her heart.
A coming home.
“Almost,” she whispered.
“Almost.”
Besides the obscene amount of vodka they consumed the first night, Tea’s days with Archer progressed in similar ways.
She woke up to coffee and breakfast, which they would take down to the dock and talk about anything and nothing.
He told her more about what happened at Hermes Lounge, about how he was worried they wouldn’t take him back.
“Archer, come one. They know it’s not your fault.”
His face pinched into disappointment.
“Do they?”
“Have you spoken to them at all? Since March?”
He shook his head.
“Not really. Just a little bit about their plans to expand outdoor seating and maybe open things up this fall.”
“See? They’re keeping you in the loop. I don’t think they would do that if they were planning on firing you.”
“Yeah…I guess you’re right.”
They also talked about his plans to open up his own spot in Minneapolis.
He admitted the only thing holding him back was figuring out all of the logistics—applying for a business and liquor license, figuring out taxes and payroll.
Tea listened, making lists in her head on how she could make all of that so much easier for him.
Then she caught herself.
What could she possibly offer him if her plan was to go back to the east coast?
After breakfast, which was a two-hour affair every morning, they would get to work on something —anything to keep them occupied and busy and not thinking about the outbreak around them.
Archer didn’t work on the property, intent on keeping his distance from everyone quarantining, so they tackled the things in his cabin.
She sewed the ripped couch cushions while he changed the lightbulbs, swapping bright white lights with warmer golden ones.
They sanded down the spots of chipped paint, then primed his living room using paint they found in the resort’s storage shed.
They only had two options for a color so he let her choose.
She went with a muted sandy hue that she felt softened the room.
Archer clicked on one of their old shared playlists of high school hits—Ed Sheeran, Maroon 5, Mumford and Sons, Lumineers, Alabama Shakes—and sang along to the lyrics, using paint brushes as microphones.
He accidentally splattered her with paint during a guitar riff, so she got back at him moments later by rolling a streak on the back of his T-shirt.
All-out war ensued, leaving them covered in paint and bright with laughter.
Nights later, she tossed together a pasta salad.
It was far too hot to turn on the oven to cook anything—a sweltering ninety-degree sunny day, the lawn at Wild Pines still empty as everyone quarantined.
Archer lay on the floor, a half bottle of cold beer next to him, staring up at the ceiling fan that was incessantly clicking.
It’d started making that noise two days earlier, and it was driving him mad.
“You could turn it off,” Tea suggested.
“Then you wouldn’t have to hear it.”
“But then it would be hot as hell in here.”
She sighed and walked up to him, holding the bowl in one hand and her beer in the other.
“I know. But you’re acting like a crazy person staring at that thing.”
“I wish I knew what the fuck was making that noise.”
“ I know .” She turned toward the table.
“Are we eating on the floor, or—?”
“Yes.”
She waited a beat, then realized he was being serious.
He sat up and patted the ground.
“It’s cooler down here. Trust me.”
She sighed, placing the bowl down and handing him a fork.
She pulled on her beer.
Archer dug into the salad.
“Hey, do you remember that one summer we made dessert nachos?”
“Oh my god, yes. ” She took a forkful herself.
“We put so much garbage on those, I can’t remember what the chips were.”
“Graham crackers.”
She snapped.
“ Right. We melted chocolate and peanut butter and marshmallow fluff.”
“I’m pretty sure we sprinkled on every kind of candy we could find in our cabins.” Archer smirked.
“Austin was puking all night.”
“I didn’t feel too good after that either. Although it wasn’t nearly as bad as the time we attempted to make snow cones.”
He grimaced.
“ Way too much sugar. My tongue was blue for a week.”
“I’m pretty sure it was two weeks.”
“I remember your dad gave me this charcoal toothpaste to try to get it off. That shit was nasty.”
She gave him a shy smile but didn’t look him directly in the eye.
Archer was silent at first, then he cleared his throat.
“Too much?”
She dug around the pasta.
“Still not ready.”
Tea could feel the tension rolling off him, but she ignored it as she continued to eat.
Later that night, she called Nan to check in.
“I only have a cough, but still no fever,” Nan filled her in.
“Although your grandfather isn’t doing so well. He’s had a hard time breathing.”
She gasped.
“Is he okay? Does he need anything?”
“We’re going to go to the clinic and see if we can get him an inhaler or something tomorrow.” Nan tutted.
“Do not worry, angel. Your grandfather is a strong man. We will be fine.”
She called Mom right after, but it went to voicemail.
They opened all the windows in the cabin to let in the cool breeze, and both of their rooms were too unbearably hot to close their bedroom doors.
The sheets felt sticky on her skin, so she ripped them off and lay there in her underwear.
It was past midnight but she was still awake, listening to the clicking fan, and…
the sound of grunting and heavy breathing.
She sat up. “What the hell are you doing over there?”
Archer grunted and heaved a sigh.
A thump sounded . “Pushups.”
“You’re exercising right now? In this heat?”
“I do pushups every night.”
“Why?”
“Takes my mind off things.”
She pursued her lips and lay back down, listening to the creaking sounds of Archer’s bed as he climbed back in it.
“What things?”
More creaking in his bed.
“Nothing important.”
She waited for him to elaborate.
A warm wind rushed through the window, followed by the soft patter of rain.
The creaking in the bed next door slowed, followed by the sound of deep breathing.
She covered herself with her sheet and accepted defeat.
When Tea awoke hours later, she was in her own bedroom in Cabin B.
“What the—”
She heard slamming cabinets downstairs.
“Wayne! Be quiet. Our girl is still sleeping.”
“If she keeps sleeping she’ll miss the blueberry muffins!”
Blueberry muffins.
She jumped out of bed, wrapping herself in her robe, and ran down the stairs.
But when she got there, the kitchen was dark and empty.
No muffins. No coffee.
No slamming cabinets.
No Pop standing at the counter with a cup of coffee, butter and jam in his beard.
She bolted upright from her bed in Archer’s cabin, skin prickling in sweat and goosebumps.
It was cloudy outside and the heat had finally dissipated.
She threw on a tank top and shorts, then stepped out of the cabin for fresh air.
The grass was wet from the rain that swept through the night before, the clouds refusing to let go of the sky.
She looked over at Cabin B, her eyes on the dark windows, wondering how Pop was sleeping.
“Hey, you’re up early.”
Tea didn’t budge.
“Weird dreams.”
The screen door swung open, then snapped shut.
She turned to Archer as he descended his porch steps.
He was wearing gym shorts, running shoes, and a tight dri-fit shirt that hugged his biceps.
His face pinched with concern.
“Is it the bed? We could swap if you’re not sleeping well—”
She cut him off.
“No. Pop’s been having a hard time breathing. Nan has to take him to urgent care today to see what they can do.”
Archer hooked an arm around Tea’s neck and pulled her to him.
She stumbled from the motion, but he steadied her with his other hand, keeping her upright.
He pressed his lips to the top of her head.
“He’s going to be okay, Tea.”
Her chest ached.
“But what if he isn’t?” Her lips brushed against his shirt as she spoke.
“What if something goes really wrong and everything goes downhill…and I’m not there to help?”
“Wayne is active and healthy—and incredibly stubborn. Just like someone else I know.”
She harrumphed, which made him chuckle, his warm breath in her hair soothing her nerves.
She relaxed and wrapped her arms around his waist. “So you’re saying he’ll be too stubborn to get too sick?”
“Precisely.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works.”
“I’m not sure how any of this works.” His hand trailed up her back, and he tucked it behind the crook of her neck, pulling her head closer toward him, inviting her to rest her cheek on his chest. She did willingly as he placed his chin to her crown.
“If things go downhill in the next few days, we’ll handle it, all right?”
Tea squeezed her arms around Archer’s body, holding back tears.
She knew what he was saying was right.
Pop was healthy enough to fight something like this.
But so were a lot of other people who’d caught the disease—very healthy in one moment, gone the next.
She couldn’t fathom not being allowed around him if something went wrong.
She also knew she didn’t have the power to save him.
Same as the cancer that had speedily spread throughout her father’s body.
No amount of willing or praying could stop it from taking over.
Archer must have picked up on her tension because his hand was at her neck massaging her skin, his thumbs adding enough pressure to calm her down.
When her arms relaxed, he tightened his grip at her nape and moved her to face him.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded.
They stood there for a beat, his hands drawing circles in her skin, her shoulders relaxing with each motion.
She dipped her eyes to his lips.
It was hard not to. His body crowded every inch of hers.
She blinked up to look at all of his face.
His gaze was also drawn to her lips.
His breath smelt of mint from his toothpaste and the coffee he abandoned inside.
His hand moved into her hair, fingertips working at the soft space between her ears.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.
She knew he wanted to keep that firm boundary between them, like the way he shut her down last night.
But today, as the sun finally broke through the clouds across the lake, the resort quiet except for the soft call of the loons, nothing had ever felt more right.
She selfishly didn’t want him to stop.
She wanted to keep feeling this way.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he continued.
“Tell me it’s a mistake.”
Her eyes trailed back down to his lips.
“That would be lying.”
His other hand, which had found the small of her back, moved to cup her cheek, his hands cradling her head like it was a precious gift.
She moved her own hands as well, placing them on his chest, feeling his heart rattle between his ribcage, running at the same tempo as her own.
“ Arch ,” she whispered.
The tone of her voice came off more as a plea than a reassurance.
Everything else about her life may not make sense—where she would live or work, whether this pandemic would truly upend everyday life like all of the scientists and newscasters predicted, thrusting them into a new normal—but at least she could rely on this.
On the constant Archer Vincent had always been for her.
And how much she needed him to close the distance.
He brushed his nose against hers.
For a moment, she was convinced that was all she was going to get, and she accepted in her heart that she would be okay with it, that having Archer in her life as a friend again was enough.
But then he dipped down and took the plunge, his lips soft but the pressure firm as he kissed her for the first time in years.
And Tea admitted the truth: Being just friends with Archer Vincent would never be enough.
Tea lifted to her toes and wound her arms around his neck.
Without breaking the kiss, he moved a hand to her waist and lifted her to him, his other hand lost in her unruly morning hair.
He gripped a fistful and tilted her head back, deepening the kiss as he slid his tongue into her mouth.
A low growl escaped his chest.
It made her go molten all over, and too soon, she wanted every part of her body touching his.
She dipped a hand inside the collar of his compression shirt, running it against his warm skin, and the tattoo that covered it.
The thought of it—of all of it—had tears welling in her eyes.
She broke apart from him and stepped down to the grass, wiping her tears.
Red cheeks, swollen lips, and fear in his eyes, Archer looked at her with concern.
“It’s okay,” she sputtered.
“I’m—I just feel—” She couldn’t say the rest, the words stuck, unable to break free.
Archer leaned in and caught her tears with the pad of his thumb.
“I can’t be your friend, Tea.”
She blinked up at him with watery eyes, still tongue-tied.
“Not when this is how I’ve always felt about you.”
It’s like he read her own thoughts out loud.
She swallowed, unsure of what else to say.
“Like you always wanted to kiss me?”
“Like I want everything with you.”
She fisted his shirt, bringing him closer.
“You are a very special person to me, Archer Vincent.”
He smiled then kissed her again, this time soft and slow and full of unspoken words.
Similar to the last time she kissed him, enclosed by the dark, surrounded by pine trees and away from prying eyes, Tea let herself get lost in him.
She dialed up the intensity, biting his lip as she fused her body firmly to his, moving her hands to his neck.
“Take me inside, Arch.”
He moaned, slipping his hands to the backs of her legs.
He lifted her in one swift motion, then carried her up the porch steps.
Tea trailed kisses down his neck as he swung the door wide.
He sat down on the couch, shifting Tea to the center of his lap, then wrapped her hair with his hand and yanked her toward him.
She gasped.
He grinned.
“You like that?”
“V-very much,” she breathed.
“Good.” He released his grip and hooked his thumb inside her spaghetti strap, guiding it down her shoulder.
He dipped down and gently bit her neck, then licked her skin.
Dear god. “That too,” she whimpered.
He laughed into her neck, his warm breath and the stubble on his chin leaving goose bumps dotted across her skin.
She clenched her thighs around his hips.
“You are needy, aren’t you?” He chuckled again.
“I have to admit, I’m really into it.”
She flushed.
“You already knew that about me.”
The words slipped out of her mouth too quickly.
The flush of her cheeks deepened into a bashful ruby red.
He didn’t seem to notice or care.
He hummed, dragging his lips up her neck and back to her mouth, his hands squeezing her waist as his thumbs dug into the tender spots above her hips.
She was the one to moan this time.
The last time Archer touched her like this, it was all desperate, with nervous hands and shaky breaths.
This time he was certain, his hands firm against her body as he held her to him.
She sucked on his bottom lip, the other strap of her tank top falling past her shoulders.
A phone buzzed on the table.
Tea broke apart from Archer, turning around.
“ Jesus ,” he whispered.
She felt his hand on her collarbone, his thumb dipping into her cleavage.
“You are…”
Another buzz.
Then another.
“Arch.”
His hand kept exploring her skin.
“ Archer .” She popped up and went straight for her phone, fixing her straps on the way.
She fumbled as she swiped it open.
“Hello?”
“Tea? I saw you called. Is everything okay?”
It was Mom.
“Y-yes.” She shook her head.
“Actually, no. Nan says she has to take Pop to urgent care? Apparently he’s having a hard time breathing?”
“Oh honey, he’ll be okay. It’s only…”
She was unable to focus on her mother’s words, the sound of her heart hammering in her ears drowning them out.
Tea turned to face Archer, but found an empty seat instead.
A full cup of coffee sitting on the end table.