15. Piper #2
But then he ruins everything by adding, “And I didn’t want you to be late for work.”
“Thanks,” I mumble and blow out a breath. “I mean…thank you. I really appreciate that you woke me up. I don’t know how long I would have slept if you hadn’t knocked.”
I glance at Archie, and he smiles. “And I’m driving you to work.”
I snort and smile back. “Thank you for that, too. I might actually be on time.”
Archie calmly presses the gas, passes a car at high speed and comes within inches of hitting it.
I grab the emergency handle on the door again and yell, “I’d rather arrive late than dead!”
Archie laughs but eases off the gas. “Everything’s under control.”
“Not my heart rate.” I loosen my grip on the handle and sit back.
He takes it easy after that, no longer gunning it through very yellow lights or swerving around cars, only going ten miles over the speed limit.
I wouldn’t call the silence between us pleasant, but it isn’t uncomfortable either.
My phone vibrates and I pick it up to find a question from my friend, Gwen, in the group chat we have with Christian, our other friend from Parsons.
After the morning I’ve had, her timing is perfect.
With my feelings about Archie all over the map, I need encouragement from someone I know will always have my back.
How is Valente? Please say you’re killing it. We miss you!
I’m so tempted to tell Gwen everything that’s been happening, but a glance at both my purple-haired driver and the clock—it's seven forty—convinces me I don’t have the time.
I quickly text back:
Day 3. Send good vibes, no fabric checks today. I’ll update you guys later. It’s been a crazy week.
Within seconds, Gwen replies with a Timmy Chalamet good vibes gif. Girl knows me.
“What’s put a smile on your dial?” Archie asks.
“My dial? Do you mean my face?”
“Obviously. It’s an Aussie saying.”
Like I’m going to tell Archie Forsythe why I’m smiling. One mention of Timothée Chalamet, and I’ll never hear the end of it. It’ll be my Rhys-crush era all over again.
“Just a gif from a friend back in New York.” I silence my phone and slide it into my purse, in case any more Timmy pics come in.
“You miss your friends there?” There’s a genuineness in his question that I’m not used to from him.
I nod but can’t say anything around the sudden lump in my throat.
I miss my friends so much more than I thought I would.
I miss having friends. I could always count on Gwen and Christian to grab a drink with me and rehash what we’d learned in class or discuss how we’d implement different techniques in our own designs, or even listen to me whine about Nightmare Ashley.
I would have lived with them if I could, but their place was more than I could afford.
“Are you happy to be back here?” Archie asks. “Happy you took the internship?”
A beat passes before I tilt my head side to side, wondering how much he’ll really want to know.
But since my besties are on the other side of the continent and Archie’s here, I tell him the truth.
“It’s too early to tell. So far, I’m not loving it, but most of that is based on the vibes I’m getting from other designers, not concrete evidence. ”
Archie lifts a shoulder. “Trust your gut. That’s what I always say.”
“Is it?” My sarcasm comes out thicker than I intended.
His eyes dart to me, then back to the road. “Yeah, it is. I coached Dex to a world championship on that advice. If you know how to listen, your instincts won’t steer you wrong.”
I want to brush off what he’s saying as surfer be-one-with-the-ocean crap, but I actually feel better.
Saying out loud that the vibes at Valente are weird and having Archie get what I mean lifts some of the anxiety I’ve felt since starting.
Maybe there is something to what I’ve noticed there—something does seem off.
I’m about to ask Archie how to “hear” my instincts and also warn him about what I’ve done to his bougie face wash, when he interrupts my thoughts.
“Listen, speaking of instincts. I’ve got an idea to share with you.” He turns left. Valente is only a few blocks away.
“What’s that?” I down the rest of my coffee and sling my bag straps over my shoulder, ready to bolt inside as soon as Archie parks. I might make it on time if I do.
“What if I can get my dad to give your mom what the house is worth instead of the house itself?”
The goodwill Archie’s built up in the last fifteen minutes slips away faster than a fast fashion trend. The conversation I overheard him have with Malcolm is still fresh in my mind, and I know that he’s trying to undercut Mom.
“No. Mom was promised the house.”
“Hear me out,” Archie rushes to say. “If your Mom had money, she could buy both of you houses and still have plenty of cash left over to invest or?—”
“She could sell the house and do the same thing.” I clutch my bag tighter. “And she’d get what it’s worth, not less than, like you told Malcolm he could get away with paying her. I heard your conversation with him, Archie.”
His head whips my way. “But she wouldn’t have to pay taxes or realtor commissions. She’d avoid the hassle of selling. She’d have the same amount of money as if she’d sold it herself, but quicker and cleaner.”
There’s a flash of something in his eyes that makes me wonder if he’s telling the truth, but I brush it aside as wishful thinking.
I can’t let my little girl fantasies of having a protective older brother or my big girl attraction to this grown-up Archie with abs get in the way of doing what’s best for Mom.
I shake my head. “Malcolm already didn’t go for it, and Mom will get screwed. Again.”
“I’ll make sure she doesn’t get screwed,” he says quickly. “I want to make this better for her, not worse.”
I’d like to believe him, but there’s too much at stake.
Archie is Malcolm Forsythe’s son and heir. It’s in his DNA to manipulate people in order to get what he—and Malcolm—want.
“And better for yourself in the process?” I scoff. “You never liked my mom, and now I’m supposed to trust you to make sure she gets what she deserves?”
Archie’s face colors. “It would be better for both of you to take the cash. I swear,” he says quietly as he stops in front of Valente.
“No. It would be better for you. ” I calmly open the door and slide out before facing him again. “Malcolm has a dozen houses. I’m sure you can have your pick. You only want this one because you can’t have it.”
His eyes flash a million shades of green as he narrows them on me. “You’ve got it all wrong, Piper. Could I at least try to explain my idea to Cynthia?”
I tear my eyes away from his and lift my shoulders in a shaky shrug.
“Even if I could get a hold of Mom to tell her your half-assed idea, I wouldn’t tell her it was a good one.
I’d tell her exactly what I’m telling you.
I’m not leaving the house, and I’m not going to get behind anything that isn’t what’s best for Mom. ”
I slam the door shut and walk toward the front doors, leaving Archie and his stupid offer behind. Happy that I didn’t tell him what’s coming next.
Or, at least as happy as I can be with the image of his eyes burning with emotion imprinted in my brain.
“Stick to the plan, Piper,” I mutter.
Now isn’t the time to let thoughts of Archie as anything other than my tormentor weasel their way into my head. No matter how tempted I am to dive into the shimmering green of his eyes.