Chapter 17 Fireworks #3
His jaw sets, and he glares at me. “So. What have you been up to since you guys broke up? What all happened between then and the Fourth of July? Phone broken? Car out of gas?”
It might be stupid, but I feel like we’re finally getting somewhere. “Whether you regret it or not, you made out with my best friend on my porch swing. Sorry if I misinterpreted the meaning of that. And pardon me if I wasn’t banging down your door the next day.”
“Pardon me if I’m still pissed I gave up my virginity for a one-night stand.”
It’s a great line, but he just opened a door I’ve been dying to see behind. “What was that about anyway?” I ask, because I don’t want to talk about West or Jayne. I want to talk about us. Just us.
He frowns at my abrupt subject change. “What?”
“Why was it so important that night to have sex? I know I wasn’t the one who talked you into it.”
His lips twist in a smirk. “Do you feel like I took advantage of you?”
“You did lie. For months.”
He nods, conceding this. “I did. You know, Archer, it’s never been easy, the way I feel about you.
I’ve never had anybody I could talk to about it.
It was hard when I was twelve, but when I was seventeen it was all-consuming.
I wanted you with my entire being. You would never have spent so much time with me if you knew how old I really was.
You would have blown me off, and I couldn’t have handled that.
You think I was wandering around in my underwear that night hoping not to run into you? ”
I examine his pointed expression, trying to gauge his sincerity.
He lifts his eyebrows like it’s my turn to say something.
I don’t know what it’s supposed to be, though. I’m a little dumbfounded in the moment by the level of his confession. It’s a lot.
He sighs. “Anyway…I’m actually not pissed I lost my virginity to you. It was perfect. It was like—that night couldn’t have been more perfect, honestly.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“No. Thank you,” he says with a deferential nod my way.
“You’re welcome? Glad I could make your teenage dream come true.”
“Well, it wasn’t prom…” His words fade out.
My heart finally calms down. I relax into my chair and regard him with less desperate eyes. He’s not exactly who I thought he was. It’s a little like I’m getting to see him in his totality for the first time. He’s sexier. More cunning. Ever the more fascinating.
“Thanks for not saying that was the first mistake,” he adds.
“Well, of all the things I regret, that’s not one of them, either.”
With a giant sigh, he asks, “So what is this about? Why am I here? Did you just want to apologize?”
“No—I mean yes—I do want to apologize, but I…” Oh God. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t deserve what I’m about to ask him for. Not even a little.
“You what?” he prompts.
I just say it. “I want another chance.”
He puts a hand on his chest. “What—with me?”
“Unless—I mean—I don’t know—are you seeing anyone? Are you even…”
Jesus, I hadn’t let myself think about that up until this second, but now that I have, my gut twists. The memory of him and Connor on the porch swing. Him and West…
“Available?” he finishes for me.
I nod.
“It’s not that simple.”
“No. Of course not. I know that.”
“I’m just saying you’re Connor’s brother.”
“Right.” I try to keep my voice level, bracing for the truth I desperately don’t want to hear. Jayne’s words coming back—He will always choose Connor.
“Like it was a bad idea then, but it’s probably an even worse one now.”
“Yeah,” I say, barely a whisper.
Neither of us speaks for a long moment. I roll my lips into my mouth, biting at them, waiting for him to confirm what turns out to be in my top three worst fears.
We could have just been a flash in the pan. His angst, my loneliness. A perfect storm.
With my head still downturned, I glance up at him. He meets my eyes.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“I’m wondering what you’re thinking about,” he says.
“Just you.”
He inhales and seems to gulp the air. Then he says, “I missed you every single day.”
The words break me. I’m crushed. “I’m sorry.”
He sits up in the chair and turns toward me. His hand rests on the table near my glass. “Archer, to be completely honest for once, I actually don’t know if you’re ready for the way I feel about you. It’s not normal. I don’t want to scare you away again.”
“You never scared me. I can handle it,” I say, daring to hope.
“Sometimes I can’t even handle it, even after all this time.”
“I’ll figure it out,” I whisper with growing urgency.
He leans closer. “Are you sure you want this? You barely know me. You could have any one you want.”
“You’re the only one,” I insist. “The only one I want to know.”
“Please be sure, because I have so many feelings,” he says, gesturing with an open hand to his chest.
“Like…what kind of feelings?”
“Like I wanna marry you and die the exact same time you do.”
I stare at him, startled silent, relief spilling through me like someone turned on a faucet of it.
“I told you,” he says.
“So, you’re not over it?” I ask.
“I’m not even…” He’s shaking his head. His leg touches mine. “No.”
And here is my grand gesture. The great sharing of my heart. It’s a truth I realize when the ache in my chest finally begins to subside. “You were wrong that day after class.”
“About what?”
“I have been waiting for you. For four years.”
His eyes close, and he smiles for a moment to himself. He breathes like he’s as relieved as I am. “Thank you for saying that. It’s kind of a dream come true.”
“I should have said it months ago,” I say quietly.
“It’s okay. It was so good, it might have actually been worth the wait.”
“I don’t know about that.”
He smiles at me. A real smile—the kind that lights his eyes and sets them on fire.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say.
“Thanks.”
“That wasn’t a compliment. It torments me.”
“The feeling’s kind of mutual, Archer.”
“No one else compares…” I say as I lose myself in the soft curve of his cheekbones, the striking line of his jaw.
“I know, right? I mean this nose—how can a nose be so good looking?” He reaches up to brush his fingertip down the bridge of my nose.
I smile as my own cheeks grow warm.
“Don’t even get me started on your mouth,” he says.
“I’d like to get you started on my mouth as soon as possible.”
“Then stop staring and kiss me.”
“I’m going to, I just…it’s a slippery slope. There’s a lot to—you know…this is turning out better than I thought it would.”
“What did you think would happen?”
“A few minutes ago, I thought you were gonna leave.”
“No…” He stares back at me. “I knew you’d say the right thing eventually.”
Wow. I’m not prepared for how that makes me feel. He’s saying he believed in me. That he had faith I wouldn’t fuck this up, and he’s got no reason to believe that. He just does.
He takes my hand in his. I can’t stop staring at him.
“How long are you gonna make me wait? It’s already been four years,” he says. “Or do I always have to make the first move?”
I almost laugh, but it’s more important to get him closer.
“Come here.” I sit back, and he stands. I turn in my chair, pulling him onto my lap. He straddles me, his hands on my shoulders.
“Better,” he murmurs.
“I never know what to do with you,” I admit.
The corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile, coy and amused. It probably is amusing—my wonder and helplessness.
He runs both hands through my hair—his bold touch turning me on. I grip his hips, scooting him even closer. Our noses meet as we come face to face. “How’s this?” I ask.
“You’re getting warmer.”
I give his mouth a light kiss. His lips part, attempting to latch onto mine before I pull away. His mouth tries to follow.
“Archer…”
“Shh…” Lips on lips again. Rushing breath. “Let me have this one thing.”
He sighs, and it has a soft sound that whispers over my cheek. I move my mouth up his neck, and I notice something. “What’s this?” I ask, taking a closer look at the small tattoo behind his ear.
“Look closer,” he whispers.
It’s a tiny black outline of a Gordian knot. Exactly like my necklace. For a second my vision blurs, my eyes burn, and my throat nearly closes up.
“I told you it wasn’t normal,” he says softly.
“But after everything … What I didn’t do…”
“I always tried to focus on the things you did do.”
“Is this really happening?” I ask to diffuse the surge of emotion in my chest.
“God, I fucking hope so.”
“I mean you and me…us?”
He turns his head to look me in the eyes. “It’s what you want, right?”
“Was I not clear on that?” I ask.
“I’m just checking. I’m not moving tomorrow, so you won’t have nearly as convenient of an excuse to blow me off.”
As if I ever could. He feels so much like home to me already. The familiarity of his body. The way his head tilts toward mine. The understanding we seem to have that there are no words that shouldn’t be said. “You’ll have to go a lot further than Houston to get away from me this time.”
“No, I think I’ll like it better here if you would just…please…kiss me.”