Chapter 10 – Betsy
CHAPTER TEN
BETSY
“Fuck, she’s mental,” I murmur to myself as I shove in another mouthful of chow mein.
A loud clap of thunder makes me jump, and when I realise the room has plummeted into darkness, another loud clap of thunder sounds, followed by lightning.
As the lightning lights up a second time, Archer comes into view, his hands cupped around his eyes as he peers into my living room.
I screech, jumping out of my skin, knocking over my food and scattering noodles everywhere.
“Fuck!” I yell before storming towards the front door.
I unlock all the bolts and disarm the alarm before swinging the door open to a soaking wet Archer.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing? !” I snap.
The rain pummels the house and the porch, the sound so loud, along with the claps of thunder. He just stands there with water running down his face, his chest heaving. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, concern in his eyes.
I frown. “Huh?” He walks past me and into my house.
“Hey!” I yell after him and follow him into my living room.
He stands there looking around. “Who are you looking for?” I ask.
His head whirls around to me, those vibrant green eyes staring at me through strands of his dripping wet hair.
I look over him and down to the floor. He’s so wet he’s created a puddle.
“Let me get you a towel,” I state, moving through the house to my laundry cupboard.
I pull out one of my big towels and hand it to him.
“Thanks,” he mutters. I give him a tight smile before walking back to the front door and shutting it before more rain enters my house. Pausing, I reach over to flick on the lamp. “Power’s out,” he states. “It’s why I came over. I saw your bodyguard leave a little while ago.”
I make my way to the window and look out, and sure enough, Josh’s van has gone. I pull my phone from my pocket and see a text from Eden.
E: We got a leak at the Sanctuary. Borrowing Josh. Sent your neighbour to watch over you.
I sigh and type a message back.
B: There better be a leak, and this had better not be a booty call. I now have Archer in my damn house!
E: I swear, there is now a hole in the kitchen room. Bernie’s losing her shit, and Nyx is barking orders like a sergeant major. Is Archer being nice?
B: He’s just stood there.
E: Good. I warned him if he did anything, I would castrate him in his sleep. Got to go. Apparently, I’m on bucket duty.
B: I can send him home. He can keep watch from his house.
E: Absolutely not.
B: Fine!
I pocket my phone and turn around to see Archer just standing there watching me. “Er, you don’t need to be here, really. You can go back. It’s just my friends being overprotective,” I say with an awkward smile.
“No. I think I will stay. To make sure you are okay and that my balls stay intact,” he quips.
“Okay, well, um… You kind of scared me peering through the window like that, so I need to clear up my noodles,” I state, walking past him.
He grabs my arm, halting me as I go. “I will do it,” he says firmly. His gaze is intense, leaving no room for arguing.
“Okay,” I whisper to his retreating back.
I spot my laptop still open and quickly reach over and slam it shut.
Archer walks back in with paper towels, and he picks up as much as he can before wiping the floor clean.
I stand there like a lemon, unsure what to do.
Is he about to throw those noodles in my face and shout ‘Noodle Face’?
Maybe there is a hidden camera somewhere, and I’m being pranked.
My gaze darts around the room, looking for a little red light.
“You can sit down,” he states.
“Thank you,” I answer awkwardly and perch on the end of the sofa. Thank you? Thank you? It’s my house! God, I’m such a moron.
Sitting there, I’m unsure of what to say or do, feeling uncomfortable in my own house. I watch as Archer walks into my kitchen and comes back with matches, going around lighting all the candles like he lives here.
“How do you know where everything is?” I ask. Especially in the dark, I want to add, because I would still stub my toe or trip over something in my house in the daylight, and yet here he is, moving around my house with grace and knowledge like he’s lived here for years.
“When I put the pig in here,” he states casually.
Ah, yes, the rotting pig corpse. He’s just reminded me why I dislike him. Once he’s lit the last candle, I stand and march to the front door and swing it open, like my brain has suddenly remembered who he is and what he’s done.
“Okay, thank you for checking on me. But I’m okay now, so you can go,” I state.
He ignores me and walks back into my kitchen. I let out a loud huff of annoyance and slam my door shut before marching after him, seeing that he’s now opening cupboards, placing cups on the counter, and filling up a pan with milk.
“What are you doing?” I snap.
“Making us a cup of cocoa. I don’t know about you, but I need warming up,” he says, casually looking at me from over his shoulder.
I immediately take in his soaking wet clothes. “Why don’t you just go home and change?” I suggest, thinking that if I can at least get him out of my house, I can then lock the doors and not have him back inside. I can also tell Eden to leave his balls well alone.
“Can’t,” he answers.
“Why?” I press.
“Locked out,” he states as he stirs the milk.
“Just knock and get one of the other guys to let you in,” I point out. That place is never empty. There are always at least five members of that frat house in there.
“They have all gone home for the summer. It’s just me there,” he adds.
I arch my brow. “Yeah, right. So what? When Eden rang you, you just ran out of the house in a panic and locked yourself out? Sorry, but I find that hard to believe. You would reluctantly come over here, taking your time. This is the last place you would want to be.”
He walks over to my mug cupboard and opens it, pulling out two mugs, including my favourite one, and places them down on the counter. He pauses, stirring in the cocoa. “This isn’t the last place I want to be,” he says casually, not looking up from his task.
“Pfft. Yeah, right,” I snort. I watch as he pours the hot cocoa into each mug. Opening the jar on the counter that I keep for marshmallows, he sprinkles some in one mug and not the other before handing it to me.
“Your favourite mug loaded with marshmallows,” he states.
I take it from him, staring at him. “How did you know?” I ask, furrowing my brows.
“I’ve been your neighbour for a while. I notice things.” He shrugs.
Notice things. How did he know how I like my cocoa?
Okay, you could argue that it’s a popular way of having it, but still, and to know which is my favourite mug.
I know nothing about him. I’ve never wanted to.
Taking a sip of my cocoa, my mind is still whirling at a million miles a minute, wondering what the hell is going on.
I moan, tasting the cocoa. “That’s delicious. What did you put in it?” I ask.
He gives me a playful grin, his eyes sparkling. “Secret recipe.” He winks.
Winks?! I stop myself from taking another sip and look at the cocoa in my mug. “You’ve poisoned it, haven’t you?” I press.
“No,” he answers, the smile falling from his face.
“Drink yours,” I challenge him.
He brings the rim of his cup to his lips, his eyes on me as he takes a sip of his own cocoa. “Satisfied?”
I shrug and take another sip. “I suppose.” I catch the corners of his mouth curve slightly.
“Go and sit down,” he orders, so I comply and walk back through to the living room. I perch on a seat, not my normal spot, so I don’t relax. I feel like I’m visiting someone while on high alert, waiting for an attack.
“Why aren’t you sitting in your normal spot?” he asks, nodding to my usual seat.
“How do you know my usual spot?” I counter. Seriously, how does he seem to know so much?
“You were curled up there when I looked in. I’m guessing it’s your usual spot,” he retorts, standing there.
“Why don’t you sit down?” I ask.
“Because my clothes are soaking wet, and I don’t want to get your couch wet,” he points out.
“Ah.” I pause. “Wait there. I will grab you a clean T-shirt,” I say as I get up off the couch, placing my mug on the coffee table.
Using my torch to guide me up the stairs, I briefly hear him protesting behind me, but I ignore him and pull open one of my draws, grabbing a Black Sabbath T-shirt.
I spin and return back downstairs, the warm glow of the candles lighting his features.
“Here,” I say as I make my way over to him, not noticing the leg of my side table.
“Woah, shit!” I stumble forward, landing on the hard wooden floor with a thud.
“Ow, mother fucker.” I wince before I feel strong hands hooking under my arms, lifting me to my feet.
“Are you okay?” Archer asks with concern, his green eyes searching my face.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. Thankfully, it’s dark enough in here, so I don’t think that he notices. I clear my throat. “Yeah, just me being a clumsy asshole,” I joke, wincing when I go to straighten my knee.
“You’re not fine.” Archer hooks his hand under my knees and swoops me up, carrying me. I let out a yelp in surprise as he travels the three feet to the couch, where he carefully places me down. “I will get an ice pack for your knee,” he states.
I reach out and grab his hand. “No, it’s fine. It’s just a little tender. I don’t need anything,” I assure him with a small smile. His fingers flex against my hand, and when I realise I’m still holding his hand, I instantly drop it, like his touch has burnt me. “Sorry,” I murmur, looking away.
He walks over to where I fell and picks up the T-shirt I dropped. “Thanks for this,” he says.
I turn my attention back around to him. “Sure. I have a million men’s size band T-shirts. Just please don’t ruin that one, as it’s one of my favourites,” I state.