31. Archie
Archie
P iper sets a cup of coffee in front of me, then jogs upstairs for her stuff.
When she comes back, her arms are not only filled with her sketchbook, toolbox of supplies, and iPad, but she’s also changed into trackpants.
Cheers to that. The more she has on, the easier it will be to think of her as a friend.
As attracted as I am to her—I can’t deny anymore that I am—we have too much rocky history to rush into anything.
The truth is, the more time I spend with Piper, the more I want to really get to know her.
But we’re still on unsure ground. Like the ocean floor, everything may shift with the next wave of trouble coming.
And yeah, there’s more coming. I’m not goin’ back to Brisbane—I’ve made my call on that.
But if I go up against Dad over the house, I’m in for a proper mess.
I don’t want to pull Piper into it unless what we have is something more than a passing attraction.
I suspect it is. Whether it’s a relationship or a partnership—hopefully both—I want to build on solid foundation.
Piper sets her stuff on the opposite end of the table from me, then slides into the seat and smiles.
I smile back and lift my cup. “Thanks for this. I’ve still got a lot of work to do to make this proposal presentable for potential investors.”
She looks surprised. “You’ve written off your dad?”
I lift a shoulder. “I’ll send it to him too, just in case. Who knows? He may be blown away and decide to let me use my money the way I want.”
Piper doesn’t look convinced. I don’t blame her. I’m not either.
“I’m not getting my hopes up, but I have to try every avenue.”
She watches as I sip my coffee. When I set my cup down, she asks, “You sure you want to risk the rejection, even if you’re prepared for it?”
I shift my gaze from her to my open laptop and the PowerPoint I’ve started. “Yeah, nah. But I’ve gotta do my part to keep the door open between Dad and me.”
Piper rests her elbows on the table and leans forward. “Archie, you’re not the one threatening to cut off the relationship. That’s Malcolm. Don’t forget that. His choices aren’t yours, even if you’re the one who suffers the consequences of them.”
I chew the side of my lip and think about what she’s said. I’m not responsible for Dad’s choices. There’s a weight lifted from that bittersweet realization. I huff a laugh. “Have you always been this smart, and I was I just too dumb to see it?”
“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” she says with a smirk.
“No.” I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off Piper.
She doesn’t look away either. A subtle, but irresistible pull threatens to draw us together again, and it takes all my strength to not forget everything I’ve told her and myself about building a foundation, taking things slow…all that crap I’m thinking twice about now.
But Piper drops her gaze and sets me free. “We should get back to work.”
I clear my throat and nod.
For the next hour or so, we occasionally ask how the other is doing, but for the most part, the only sound is tapping. Me on my laptop, her with her stylus on her iPad. But as the time grows later, yawning accompanies our tapping.
After a loud yawn, Piper shifts and stretches in her seat. “I need to switch things up. I’m going to move to the sofa.”
“Good idea,” I say around my own yawn.
We both carry our stuff to the couch, being careful not to sit too close together.
Piper takes one end, and I take the middle V where the two sections meet.
I could choose the opposite end—the furthest corner from her—but I don’t want to be that far away.
Not kissing her is torture enough. I need to at least be near her.
It’s not long before I notice Piper’s head dipping, then jerking back up when she realizes she’s falling asleep. She does this for about half an hour until, instead of jerking back up, her head tilts to the side, and her eyes stay closed. The stylus rolls from her fingers to the floor.
I shift my laptop to the couch, then slide the iPad from her hands and her glasses from her nose before gently lowering her head to a throw pillow.
I could carry her upstairs, to her own bed, but I like Piper next to me.
So, after covering her with a blanket, I sink into the spot next to her, tucking my thigh partially under the pillow cradling her head.
Her hair spills across her cheek. I brush it to the side and tuck it behind her ear.
Trace my finger across her profile. Count the sprinkle of freckles across her nose.
I breathe Piper in, pinning this memory and her citrus-y scent next to the one of picking oranges and lemons with Mom. Whatever happens next, I don’t want to forget this moment or the way I feel in it.
With a sigh, I pull my laptop to my legs and go back to my PowerPoint.
The next thing I know, someone is shaking me and saying my name. I open my eyes to Frankie’s face in front of me.
“Did you sleep down here all night?” she whispers.
I blink and drop my eyes to my hand and whatever I’m holding.
It’s Piper. I’m holding Piper.
Her hand, anyway.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep.
I vaguely remember Piper rolling over and shifting enough that her head ended up in my lap, forehead pressed against my stomach.
I don’t know when I slipped to the side, so my head is nearly in her lap, or how I ended up with my hand curled around the tips of her fingers, but I bolt up when I realize the compromising position we’re in.
Piper’s eyes blink open, and she stares up at me for half a second before bolting up herself.
“What happened?” she asks, wiping at her mouth while moving away from me.
“I was wondering that myself,” Frankie says with a smile.
“Nothing happened.” I glare at my twin. “We were working and fell asleep.”
“Were you working on your proposal?” Frankie asks me, nodding toward the laptop.
“Yeah.”
“Does that mean you’re staying in LA, and you and Piper are working together?” Frankie’s eyebrows creep up.
“I’m staying. Still working on the details of what Bombora looks like.” I scrape my hand through my hair. Before I can drop it, Frankie’s bent over me in a hug.
“Good on ya’, Archie. I’m so proud of you.” She tousles my hair as she straightens. “Let’s celebrate and catch some waves.” Frankie waves her head toward the back door and the ocean beyond it.
I don’t much feel like celebrating Dad cutting me off, but I’ll celebrate taking a stand—shaky as it is—in order to live my own life. Plus, Frankie and I haven’t surfed together for years, and I need a break to clear my head before I work on my proposal anymore.
“Let me do one more thing, then I’m ready.” I link my PowerPoint and research, type out a quick message to Dad, telling him to call me with any questions. I hesitate ending with anything that doesn’t sound professional, but type love ya before pressing send.
I exhale. “That’s it. Done.”
I glance at Piper and shrug. I can tell by her expression that she knows what my last task was.
“Good on ya’,” she says in an attempt at an Australian accent.
“You want in too, Pipes?” Frankie uses the nickname she used to call Piper, and Piper’s face breaks into a pleased smile.
“Thanks, but no.” Piper tosses aside the blanket and slowly stands. “I’ll make breakfast.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, while slowly shutting my laptop. “Let’s grab coffee and brekkie at Frothed after I surf.”
Piper shakes her head. “Thanks, but I’ve got to save every penny if I’m about to be jobless.”
“My treat.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “You might want to practice saving your pennies, too.”
“As soon as Dad cuts me off. Until then, I’ll spend as much of his money as I want in order to celebrate.”
She chuckles and nods once. I give in to the urge to bend down and kiss the top of her head.
When I stand again, her eyes dart to mine and Frankie’s mouth is hanging open.
“That doesn’t technically count,” I say hurriedly.
“Then do it again.” Piper grabs my hand and tugs me back.
“I’ll be in the gym,” Frankie says slowly.
I plant another quick kiss on Piper’s head. “You’ve shocked my sister. Now I’m in for the third degree.”
“Go,” Piper waves her head in Frankie’s direction. “Before you try to break any more of your own rules.”
“I’m an idiot for being so gallant.” I drop Piper’s hand and follow Frankie to the gym.
We grab our boards and wetsuits and don’t waste time getting to the water, but by the time we paddle out, the wave is in a lull.
We bob up and down waiting for it to pick up again, Frankie is patient, me not so much.
I know what’s coming, and I was hoping to avoid the question that’s been on Frankie’s face since she woke me up.
“So, what was that in there?” The smirk on her face is familiar. I see it every time I pass the “Surf City” print in the stairwell and look at my face. I’ve never been annoyed by it until right now.
I shake my head and let out a long sigh. I can give in right away or let Frankie torture the answer out of me, and I’ve had enough torture for one night holding back from kissing Piper.
“Complicated. That’s what that is.”
Frankie laughs. “Or exactly what you need to get your stuff together.”
“Possibly.” I return her laugh, then glance over my shoulder. Still no wave. “What do I do here, Frankie? I’ve gotta fight Dad for the house so I can start Bombora, but that’ll put Piper in the middle.”
The water is smooth enough and her shortboard wide and stable enough for Frankie to pull her legs from the water and hug them to her chest. She turns her face towards me and rests her cheek on her knees.
“You’re not going to want to hear this, but I think you need to take the trust fund and the house completely out of the Bombora equation.”
Her board moves up and down in slow motion, but Frankie is still. She knows this wave well enough to sense when a set is coming in. She’ll keep her balance, staying grounded on her board and in her head—trusting the ocean—until it’s time to ride.
“Why?”
“Because Dad— Malcolm— will always see both as his. He bought the house. He bankrolled ‘Surf City.’ If you want Bombora to be yours and only yours, you have to do it without him.”
I nod, soaking in the truth of what she’s said. “I hate that.”
“But you like Piper,” she flashes a smile before looking over her shoulder. “So why not make it yours and hers? The house and Bombora.”
Before I can answer, she drops her legs in the water, her belly back on the board, and begins a slow paddle, waiting for the incoming wave to catch up with her.
I watch as she takes the wave, then get ready for the next one in the set, which comes in bigger and stronger than I’d expected. I don’t know how I’ll do, but I have to take a chance. I might wipeout, but I have a feeling I’m in for the best ride I’ve had in a long time.