7. London
Chapter 7
London
G race is great.
She's sweet, but not too sweet, not in an annoying way. She's classy, even though I can tell it's borderline from necessity. We sat there for a while, chatting about brands and places we had traveled. She was in Milan last spring; I was there the fall before. Our paths have almost crossed quite a few times, but not enough for us to have run into each other.
I vaguely told her I was new in town, and I love that she didn't ask too many prying questions. I could tell there was a part of her that wanted to, but she refrained. It's like she knew when to persist, and when not to. She's very sensitive to the delicacies of knowing when to ease off, and if I had to guess, she's had training on the matter.
She gave me her phone number, despite me telling her I didn't have a phone at the moment, but insisted I get ahold of her when I got mine up and running, and that we should get together again. Grace mentioned that she comes to that same coffee shop every other morning around the same time, and that if I'm ever free, I could join her.
It was nice talking to her, refreshing even, to say the least. Better than the conversation I've had with Archer so far. He's hilarious to mess with, but he's frustrating, and I can tell we have nothing of quality to chat about. Plus, it's different having a girl as a friend, as opposed to a guy.
Awkwardly, I do what I can to carry the bags the few blocks back to Archer's, keeping my chin held high while walking past the store with the bitchy clerk.
Every inch of my body aches and yet I carry on, because what other choice do I have? It was my idea to go shopping a split second after I arrived, so if anyone is to blame for my shitty recovery, it's me.
Well, and my asshole dead father who did this to me.
I smile at the thought of his death, knowing I'll never have to speak to, engage with, or even just exist around him ever again. The world became a better place the second that man met his maker. If only I had been the one to do it, but despite the lifelong torment he put me through, I have no regrets about not being the one to end him.
My thoughts flicker to Cora, the girl who was the catalyst in ending his life, and how she must be doing. I wish I could reach out to her, but Silver's warning overrides that idea every single time. She's better off without me, and if I want to keep her safe, I must leave her, and my entire life, in the past.
Maybe one day things won't be like this, but I can't hold out hope that I'll ever truly escape the fate my father sealed for me when he sold me to Joe Vito. A fucking business arrangement, one that never even came to fruition. It was all for nothing, and somehow I'm supposed to honor the end of the agreement even though I had no say in it.
"Fucking bastard," I mutter to no one but myself and continue on my way to Archer's building.
It's strange to see it in daylight, the cityscape is much nicer when it's not dark. The street is relatively clean, and the buildings aren't as decrepit as I thought they were. It's sort of pretty, really, in a different way than things were in Los Angeles. There are more honking cars here, but the energy feels alive, nothing like it was back home. Plus, it was always so hot there. It's warm here, but comfortable, although I could do without the humidity.
I chew at the inside of my lip and trek the last few feet to Archer's place, loosening a breath and taking the entire thing in. It is much nicer than I thought it was, the details Charlotte gave me about rental prices coming back to me as I study it over.
Archer said he was in tech, but what does that mean? It's something illegal, which would explain how he can afford such a lavish place. Charlotte made it sound like a tiny studio was hard to come by, but Archer's is rather large for a one-bedroom. And everything appears to be new, like it was recently remodeled with the latest state-of-the-art everything. He claims he's been there a few years, but I beg to differ.
Hobbling, I make it up the steps and find the button I'm searching for. I press it and say, "Hey, it's me," into the receiver. It buzzes loudly a second later, Archer granting me access at record speed. Was he waiting for me? Or maybe one of his windows overlooks the sidewalk and he saw me coming.
In the time it takes me to finagle my bags through the front door, a large figure rushes down the steps and meets me.
Standing there, dark hair spilling over his forehead, his tattooed arms exposed in a tight-fitting white t-shirt, is Archer. He snags my bags out of my hands before allowing me to protest and turns around, making his way back toward the stairs.
"Uh, thanks?" I follow him and glance around. "Why aren't we taking the elevator?"
Archer barely tilts his head in my direction. "I don't trust elevators."
I narrow my gaze at his back and shake my head, not even wanting to dig into that one right now. Who doesn't trust elevators? How does that even make sense?
Archer practically leaves me in his dust as I all but crawl up the stairs. I'm slow, but eventually, I scale the last remaining ones. It's pathetic, I'm aware of that, but honestly, there's no point in rushing. It's not like Archer's apartment is going to disappear if I don't make it there in time.
But once I reach the top, I find Archer standing there, all my bags in one of his hands.
"Oh. I didn't know you were waiting for me." I have half a mind to add an apology, and yet I don't.
Archer opens the door with his free arm and holds it in place for me.
"Thanks," I tell him and cross the threshold, a strange sense of safety returning to me that I wasn't aware I was lacking until this very moment.
Archer drops my bags in his bedroom and returns a second later, completely ignoring me and going to his computer. He pushes a few buttons and starts typing away like his fingers are on fire.
"Are you giving me the silent treatment?" I ask him from my spot near the door.
His keystrokes pause and his jaw tenses. "No."
"Oh wow, he speaks." I make my way toward him, and he grabs his mouse and clicks something away. "You've got to stop being so weird about your porn, big boy." I stop at the edge of the desk and cross my arms over my chest. "What is it? What's your weird kink you're too embarrassed I'll find out about?"
"I'm not watching porn," Archer says, his voice weirdly monotone. Finally, after what feels like a small eternity, his gaze meets mine. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."
I stare at him, unflinching. "Do you hate everyone, or just me?"
"Everyone."
"Cool, okay, so I'm not special."
"You're not."
I draw in a breath and exhale. "Another woman might take offense to that."
"Do you need something?" Archer ignores my remark and I'm not at all surprised.
I shrug. "What happened?"
"What do you mean what happened ?"
"This just doesn't feel like your normal level of grouch. It seems like something else."
"You've known me less than twenty-four hours, London. Why are you pretending you know what my normal is?"
"I suppose you could be right." I pause and then add, "But I'm not convinced I'm not right, either."
"Persistent, are you?"
I relax my arms and place one hand on my hip. "Does that surprise you?"
Archer maintains eye contact for a long moment and then breaks it, pinching his eyes shut temporarily before staring at his black screen. "I really do need to get some work done."
"Do you need any help?" I ask him, wondering if maybe this will get him to open up.
Archer's jaw tenses, his entire body following suit. Do I get under his skin that badly? I try to read him, to figure out what he's thinking, what he's going to say next, but he's impossible. Maybe I really should just leave him alone and stop poking at the theoretical bear.
"I don't want you leaving the apartment anymore," he says, his words catching me completely off guard, so much so that I can't even control my mouth from dropping open.
"Excuse me?"
"You're in no condition to be wandering around in an unfamiliar area. It's dangerous, careless, and unnecessary."
I laugh, like a full-on blunt chuckle. "You can't be serious."
Archer shoves his feet backward and rises from his computer chair, his stature towering over me.
I hate how fucking tall he is, it's rude.
"Are you trying to intimidate me, big boy?" I ask, tilting my head toward him. "Because it's not working." I point to my arm. "You see this?" And then my leg. "And this?" My nostrils flare. "This is nothing compared to what I've been through, what I've fucking lived through. If you think for one second I'm going to let a man dictate any aspect of my life, you're sorely mistaken."
Archer shakes his head. "Don't put words in my mouth, I'm not trying to control you."
"Are you serious?" My eyes widen. "You just told me I couldn't leave your apartment. Fucking watch me." I march to the door, each step hurting worse than the last. The shopping trip took more out of me than I expected, both physically and financially.
"The fuck you are." Archer rushes past me with ease and puts his back to the door, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
I tug at him. "Get out of my way, let me out of here."
He remains firmly in place, my attempts to move him not even budging an inch. "You can try all night. I'm not going anywhere."
I give him one final shove and slump my shoulders, my breath ragged. I hate how my body betrays me in its weakened state. Suddenly, my vision blurs and my head spins. "I don't feel so…"
"I'm not buying it, London. That's not going to get me to…" But Archer doesn't finish his sentence, and the next thing I know, his arms are catching me as I sway uncontrollably.
Archer scoops me into his arms like I'm weightless, his dark gaze scanning my face.
"I'm fine," I mumble. "Put me down." But I don't wiggle out of his grasp, I don't move at all, I just succumb to his embrace and lean my head against him.
"I told you that you shouldn't go out." Archer carries me into his bedroom and manages to hold me with one arm as he drags back the blanket before laying me on his bed. "You need to rest, little tornado."
I blink up at him. "What did you just call me?"
Archer sighs, takes the shoe off my good leg, and covers me up.
"I feel fine," I lie, my eyes heavy, my head throbbing. I kind of want to throw up, but I'm too tired to care. I reach out lazily and graze his hand with my fingertips. "Don't go," I whisper, the two words coming out of my mouth without my consent.
Why would I ask him to stay? He's a stranger, and he hates me, and I can't deny that the feeling might be mutual. Still, I can't ignore that for the first time in what might be forever, a sense of safety washes over me when he's around. Maybe it's his apartment, or simply being thousands of miles away from home, or perhaps my father being dead—but whatever it is, Archer is attached to it whether I want him to be or not.
"I…" Archer's deep voice trails off like he's unsure of what to do.
"Please," I add. "Just until I fall asleep."
"You look like you're already asleep."
I let out a grunt and drop my hands, turning over onto my side. "Whatever."
A long silence fills the room, and I convince myself that Archer disappeared out of thin air. Once I've accepted this fate, he moves.
I expect him to leave me behind and return to his mysterious work, but Archer does the opposite and shuffles around the other side of the bed and climbs in next to me. I blindly reach for him, my hand landing on his solid torso.
He tenses but doesn't move me off him. He doesn't even complain that I'm touching him.
I reposition my face on the pillow, breathing in and basking in the scent of him that remains from when he was in here last.
Sleep calls to me, so close yet so far away.
This is really stupid , I think. The idea of lying with a stranger and finding comfort in it is beyond me. It must be the pain coursing through me to result in something so foolish.
Maybe a few hours of sleep will return me to my senses, and I can go back to pounding on his chest and bickering with him to let me out of his apartment.
Until then, I'm going to play pretend and act like we don't despise each other.
Because if I'm being honest, fighting with him is better than facing the reality that nothing will ever be the same again, and my life as I knew it is over.