17. Piper #2
“Double, please. And I guess an elbow-shiver? Britta said I should order it.”
“Able-skeever,” Diva repeats slowly—I think she does this a lot. “Mitzi’s already on it.” She flashes me a smile, then turns to Archie. “Your usual, Mr. Boring?”
“I prefer Mr. Knows-What-He-Likes,” Archie replies.
“I’m sure you do, Mr. Boring.” Diva turns her back to him and goes to the espresso machine.
I stifle a laugh. I like her.
While Archie stays at the counter, bantering back and forth with Diva, I wander through the crowded café, checking out the pictures hanging on the walls. I stop at one of Archie, Dex, Rhys, and Frankie, all together—an old Surf City photo not much different from the ones at the beach house.
I look back at Archie just as he carries our drinks toward me.
“I guess I should expect to see pics of you everywhere I go,” I tease, trying to ignore that he’s close enough for me to smell whatever cologne or body wash he’s used.
He leans over my shoulder to study the old, framed photo. I ignore the shiver his breath sends up my spine. “Not everywhere, but around here, yeah. It’s embarrassing.”
I take my drink from him and check my watch. “I’ve got a little time. Should we sit for a minute?” I’m not ready to leave the calm, friendly vibe here for the sterile, unfriendly one that seems to be standard at Valente.
Archie moves to a table, and I take the seat across from him.
“Before I left for New York, your picture was all over the place out here.” I pick up my espresso and blow on it. “Especially when the show was on—I’d see your face more in magazines than in person. I guess I forgot, living in New York, what a big deal you guys are around here.”
Archie’s face flushes, and he shakes his head. "I’m not a big deal. Dex and Rhys are. Frankie too. I’m nobody beyond the guy who’s friends with or related to them."
I look at Archie—really look at him. This isn’t his usual self-deprecation. Does he really believe that his value comes from who he knows? Who he’s related to? Not just from being who he is?
That makes me kind of sad. No one should feel like that.
But I’m not sure how to say that to him.
Anyone else, I’d know exactly what words to use; but not Archie—there's still the deed between us and...something else. Past resentments, maybe? Lack of trust? I’m not sure, but we circle each other as though we’re holding spears.
Yeah, he can be a total jerk, but he can also be really sweet.
As much as Archie teased, bullied, or ignored me when I was a kid, I still saw hints of a tenderness in him back then too—a sweet side.
Especially with Frankie. He was protective of her in a way I always envied.
I wanted a brother or friend like Archie who was aware of my needs.
Not just physical needs like food and shelter and clothes, but emotional needs.
Someone who could see when I was hurt. Someone who would stand up for me.
As much as I love Mom, that wasn't her. Her goal in life has always been to keep us as comfortable as possible.
But there's no way to avoid discomfort. It's a part of life. And I've had to figure out how to get through hard things by myself. I'm still figuring out how to do that.
I sip my espresso and smile. “This is delicious. How long has Britta owned this place?”
“Almost a year now.” He glances at a server with beautiful black, curly hair who sets something in front of us that looks like donut holes covered in powdered sugar. “Mitzi, this is Piper.”
“Hi,” I say. “I love your hair.”
“Thank you! I heard what you did to Archie’s.” She sends him a sly grin.
“You’re on her side, too?” He glares at her, but there’s no real anger in it.
I chuckle as Mitzi walks away. I like this place.
“You must spend a lot of time here. They all seem to know you really well.” I use my fork to cut one of the donut things in half and lemon curd spills out.
“Oh! I wasn’t expecting anything inside.
” I pop it in my mouth for another surprise.
“I was expecting a donut texture, but it’s closer to a pancake. ”
“Yeah. You like it?” Archie’s grin makes me glad I’ve covered my mouth with my hand, so he can’t see my own smile fighting to come out.
If he knows he’s made me smile, he’ll think he has an advantage.
“Ebelskiver is a Britta addition, but this coffee shop has been around for as long as I’ve been in South Bay.
It used to be called Annie’s, after the lady who ran it.
I practically lived here then. Dex, Rhys, Frankie and I all did.
” Archie sips his coffee, then runs his tongue between his lips, snagging my gaze along the way.
He has full lips—the kind of full that makes it impossible not to notice when he smiles, or worse, when he smirks. Unfairly symmetrical and just this side of too kissable, they’re the kind of lips that threaten to make you forget you’re supposed to hate him.
“Annie looked out for us when we first moved here,” he continues, and I drag my eyes away from his mouth back to my ebelskiver.
“We filmed at the beach right here and the high school up the street. She made Australian treats just for us. She could tell by looking at us how homesick we were, me especially. When we weren’t filming, I was here bugging her. ”
I set down my fork and look at him. Archie being homesick when he first moved here is news to me. That’s not how it looked from my perspective.
Archie and his friends moved to LA when they were sixteen, mostly to surf professionally, but also because Malcolm had put up the money for “Surf City High.” Dex only lasted a couple of episodes before focusing totally on surfing.
The show lasted about four seasons, but it launched Rhys’s music career and Frankie’s acting career. I’m not sure what it did for Archie.
While Archie and Frankie lived in the beach house, Mom, Malcolm, and I lived in Beverly Hills so that I could go to school and stay out of the way of the demands of filming.
Those few miles may as well have been an entire continent.
I watched Frankie and Archie on TV every week—sometimes I even dreamed about being on it with them—but I only saw them in person every few months.
I knew Archie and Frankie weren’t happy about Malcolm marrying Mom, but I assumed the main reason they stayed away was because they were going to parties, signing autographs, and hanging out with other famous people. I’ve never once thought of Archie as being lonely during those years.
But it makes sense.
His mom was on the other side of the world. And his dad might as well have been.
And I hate that this information makes me want to tell him how I felt when I moved to New York. Far away from Mom and my friends, working as many hours as possible when I wasn’t in school to keep from going into even more debt than my tuition loans had already put me.
I can’t tell him that I understand how it feels to be lonely, too.
Finding common ground with Archie is uncharted territory.
I’m not prepared for that journey. It’s too dangerous for half a dozen reasons, not the least of which is that I don’t know how to undo what I’ve done.
We’ve been on this enemies road for too long to turn around now and start over.
But it hurts not to tell Archie I understand him. Part of me aches for that kind of connection with him. The other part, however, doesn’t believe we could ever have that sort of relationship.
Archie reaches across the table and forks a piece of ebelskiver.
“I didn’t know we were sharing,” I say, reflexively. Old habits die hard.
But a week ago, I would have seen him stealing a bite as a sign of his entitlement. Now, though, I’m wondering if I’ve had him all wrong.
“We share everything now, remember?” He stuffs the pancake into the mouth I’ve been struggling all morning not to stare at.
“For now.” I take a big bite.
The smile that sent my pulse racing before reappears. He reaches for another bite, and I block his fork with mine.
His eyebrow arches.
My breath hitches.
I’m slipping into even more dangerous territory than I was before. This isn’t having something in common. This is flirting.
I sit straighter and push the plate to Archie. “You can have the rest.”
His smile disappears, and he sits back with his arms crossed. “Yeah, nah. I’m stuffed.”
I wipe my hands on my napkin and stand. “I should get to work.”
Archie practically leaps to his feet and calls out a goodbye to Diva and Mitzi, and I wonder if he senses the same danger I do.
I wave my own goodbye to the baristas, both sorry I have to leave and relieved I only have to endure this awkwardness with Archie for a little longer.
On my way out the door, I notice a sign that says: Thank you for supporting our mission to end homelessness.
I study it for a second before catching up to Archie.
I’m tempted to ask him what it means, until I remember Britta is coming over tonight.
I have to tread carefully with Archie. If talking about hair can lead to an intense moment of vulnerability and eating a stuffed pancake can turn into flirting, I’m not sure any topic is safe to talk about with him.
Neither of us say much on the way to Valente, except when we stop at the light parallel to my bus stop. I peek in the side mirror and see my bus a block behind us. I check the time and make a split-second decision. “I’ll take the bus from here. Save you the trip.”
I reach for the door handle as Archie looks past me to the bus stop, his brow furrowed.
“Are those guys usually there in the morning?”
I follow his gaze to the two totally jacked bros standing uncomfortably close to a nervous-looking woman. Their face tattoos hint that they might be prison-swole rather than gym-swole.
“Yeah, I think I’ve seen them before.”
“Well, then you’re not getting on that bus this morning. Maybe not ever, if it’s up to me.” The light changes, and Archie presses the gas.
“Archie! I’m fine on the bus—it's a block behind us,” I protest as the bus stop grows further away.
“Not with those guys, you’re not. They’re fresh outta lock-up, and the other tossers waiting there don’t look much better.” Archie sits up taller, as though he might intimidate them from half a mile away.
And every conflicting emotion I’ve been wrestling this morning returns with a vengeance.
I let out a short laugh. “They’re just regular people, Archie. You’ve been traveling by private jet and luxury van for too long. Everyone looks like an ex-con when you’re surrounded by billionaires who can buy anything—including perfect bodies, hair, and teeth.”
Archie scoffs. “I don’t surround myself with people like that.”
“Okay, multi-millionaires, then. My mistake,” I tease.
“You’re one to talk. All your mates were regular blokes at the fancy design college my dad paid for?” He shoots back with a smirk.
I jolt, caught off guard. “ I paid for that fancy design college. Malcolm didn’t give me a dime.”
Archie looks directly at me. “What about that college savings account he set up for you?”
“He’d only let me have access to it if I got a degree in business administration so I could take over for Sybil when she retires. I didn’t want to do that.” I shrug. What happened next should be obvious since he’s seen it play out with Frankie.
“But he paid for your expenses. He didn’t cut you off.” His insistence surprises me.
I shake my head. “He did. Malcolm hasn’t given me a dime since I went to Parsons.”
A car behind us honks, and Archie presses the gas. A silence falls between us until we’re close to Valente.
He pulls into the drive and stops in front of the building before turning to me. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”
“It’s not your fault. It was good Malcolm cut me off. I learned to take care of myself—or, at least—fill out student loan applications.” I scamper back to the safety of sarcasm. That’s familiar territory. This apologetic, concerned Archie makes me dizzy.
He doesn’t laugh. “I don’t want to be that way.”
“What way?”
“My dad. I don’t want money to be the thing I love most.”
The worry and honesty in his voice threatens to wipe away my resolve to keep my distance from Archie. To stay away from common ground. To keep from getting to know him better. That’s the safest thing to do.
If Archie isn’t the mini-Malcolm I’ve painted him to be, I’ll want to forgive him. I’ll want to believe he’s a better man than he was a boy. Worse, I’ll have to admit I want to know the man he’s become better.
And then I’ll have to steel myself for the inevitable goodbye when all of this is over.
As much as I’d finally like to get to know Archie…I can’t.