Chapter 14 Rule #14 Misery loves company. #2
Opening the door to the building, I walk out on the cobblestone streets, wet from the melting snow that came down this morning. Tossing the bag into the trash bin by his building, I take off toward my own apartment, choosing to walk.
When I hold up the phone to see their faces, Freya lets out a deafening gasp.
“Oh my God, Archer!”
“Jesus Christ,” Julian snaps.
“What?” I start, but then I see my face on the phone screen illuminated by the streetlight, and I realize what they’re both so appalled by. I look like someone who’s just been chewed up and spit out. The parts of my face that aren’t bruised are covered in dried blood or swollen beyond recognition.
“Have you been to the hospital?” he asks.
“Guys, I’m fine,” I bite back, wishing I didn’t feel so irritated by their reaction.
“You’re not in pain?” Freya asks.
“A little drunk if I’m honest.”
They’re both quiet for a moment, and I silently pray that they don’t push the issue anymore. I just want to enjoy a nice conversation with my two new favorite people, not be hounded about my bad behavior.
Thankfully, Julian takes the opportunity to crack a joke. “Looks like I’m the hotter guy now.”
I chuckle, pulling my coat tighter around me. “You always were.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
I think I catch a hint of a blush on Julian’s cheeks.
“I think you’re both equally hot,” Freya adds. “Even with your broken face.”
“Thanks, Chef.”
For the rest of my walk, the three of us talk about work and the restaurant and how excited we all are for tomorrow night. Not once do any of us bring up our expectations for tomorrow, because I think we’re all too scared to face what’s really happening here. This is about more than sex.
By the time I reach my apartment and the doorman winces at my appearance, Freya is nearly asleep.
Julian is playing the piano quietly, and none of us have said anything for a few minutes.
I’ve been perfectly entertained watching his face relax as he plays, staring down at the keys as if they are somehow soothing something inside him.
Freya breathes heavily, clearly asleep with her phone propped up against a pillow.
I press the button for the elevator, and it opens with a chime. As I step inside, my finger hovers over the button for my floor. I don’t know why I hesitate, but the button for the sixth floor is calling to me.
I could easily knock on his door. Let him tend to my wounds. Stare into those ocean-blue eyes and let them heal the broken parts of me. But in the end, I don’t.
Why? Because I am a mess. He is like a diamond, and I am the dirt in the mine.
When I reach my apartment, I see Julian yawn. “Get some sleep, fancy pants.”
“Are you home now?” he asks.
“I’m home.”
There’s a hint of indecision in his eyes as he stares back at me through the phone screen. It’s as if he’s thinking the same thing I am. That I’m just a few floors away from him. But I don’t want him to really see me like this.
So instead, I smile softly. “I’m gonna shower and hit the sack.”
“Okay,” he replies with disappointment. “Night, Archer.”
“Night, Julian.”
With that, I end the call and toss my phone on the counter.
Pressing my palm to the edge, I let my head hang as I tell myself that after tomorrow, everything will be different.
I’ll get my shit together. I’ll stop beating myself up so much.
They’ll make me better. It has to work, because for the first time in my life, I want it to.
Then, with an aching pain in my shoulder and head, I walk into the bathroom and start up the shower. Wincing, I strip off my clothes and step under the hot stream of water.
My shower is slow and painful, and while it washes away the blood, sweat, and grime on my skin, it does nothing to wash away the pain and shame burrowed deep under my skin.
Not bothering with clothes, I climb into bed on my stomach and try to fall asleep.
I’m nowhere near quieting the voice in my head when my phone rings again.
Picking it up off the nightstand, I see an incoming video call from Freya.
Quickly, I answer, and it takes a moment for her face to pop up on the screen.
It’s dark in her room, but I can still make out the soft glow of her skin from the phone’s light.
“Hey, Chef,” I say in a raspy whisper.
“Where’d you go?” she asks. “I woke up and you two were gone.”
I chuckle, my smile stretching across the screen. “You fell asleep.”
“Did I wake you?” she asks.
“No, I just crawled into bed,” I reply. “Want me to get Julian back on the call too?”
She yawns, and I prop my phone up against a pillow so it’s like she’s lying right next to me.
“Let him sleep,” she replies. “It’s nice being just us.”
“It is. What’s keeping you up?” I ask.
As she stares back through the phone line, I feel the connection between us deepen. She needs me, and the sensation of that digs deep in my chest. I have never wanted to be needed before, but my feelings for Freya are growing, and this craving for protecting and nurturing her is so intense already.
I’ve never met anyone as pure and real as Freya. I see the battles she’s fighting in her mind, and I may never know firsthand the struggles she faces, but I want to be the shoulder she leans on.
“I don’t know,” she says on a sigh. “Maybe a little homesick. Maybe a little nervous about tomorrow. Maybe afraid I don’t fit into this scenario.”
My brows furrow at that. Sure, things are going a little fast. And no, I’m not very good at relationships to begin with, but hearing her say that about us makes me tense.
Suddenly, I jump up out of bed and snatch my phone off the pillow.
“I’m coming over.”
“What?” she shrieks into the phone.
Snatching a shirt out of my dresser, I pull it over my head with a wince. “I won’t let you be alone.”
“Archer, it’s late. You really don’t need to—”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
She giggles sleepily while I’m getting dressed in a rush. “You’re wild.”
“Literally,” I reply with a wink. “See you soon.”
Hanging up the phone, I quickly order a ride and jog out the door. My head still hurts, but not nearly as much. The prospect of seeing her soon eases the pain a bit.
I pull up to Freya’s building exactly eighteen minutes after our call ended. The Paris streets are much quieter in the middle of the night.
Freya lives above a real estate office in Montparnasse. It’s quieter in this stretch of the city. I ring her apartment number, and the main door buzzes a moment later.
Taking the steps two at a time, I rush up to her floor and wait outside for her to open the door. The moment she does, I take in the sight of her in a long Grateful Dead T-shirt. Her hair is braided down her back, and she smiles softly at me in front of her dark, quiet apartment.
“You really came.”
“Of course I did.”
For a brief moment, we only stare at each other. Then she opens her arms, and I collide into them. With a tight grip around my neck, she leans her weight into me as I hoist her off the floor and carry her into her apartment. Her legs wrap tightly around my waist as she buries her face in my neck.
“You’re spoiling me,” she whispers as the door slams behind us.
I’m not familiar with her apartment so it takes me a moment to find her bedroom, but when I do, I carry her over to the bed and gently lay her in it.
We’re heated and passionate, but not in a sexual way. More of a magnetic way. As if we can’t keep our hands off each other, even when sex is not on the table.
Placing a soft kiss on her forehead, I whisper, “Good. That was my intention.”
Kicking off my shoes and pulling off my coat, I stare down at her before climbing into the bed at her side. She rests on my bad shoulder, but I don’t say a word. In fact, it almost feels better with her head there.
“Is this because I made out with Julian?” I ask, turning my head toward her.
“You mean me feeling like I won’t fit in?”
“Yes.”
“No. It’s nothing like that. I often feel like I don’t fit in.”
I briefly remember her talking so vulnerably in the elevator about her family and upbringing. That protective side flares up in response.
“Well, you do. I hope you know that.”
She smiles sadly through the darkness. “I wish I didn’t doubt myself so much. There’s just this little voice in my head always telling me that I’m overreacting or that I worry too much or that I’m not good enough. I can never seem to quiet it.”
“Can I try?” I ask, touching her chin and tilting her face up toward me.
She smirks as her head shifts in a subtle nod. Then I bring my mouth closer to hers, and she doesn’t shy away from the swollen, bruised state of my face. She doesn’t even flinch at the feel of my broken lips as they press gently against hers.
I lick a slow, deliberate line across the seam of her mouth, and I revel in the soft warmth of her body. When her lips part and our tongues meet, I let out a low, rumbling sound that makes her giggle.
My sore and tired body suddenly can’t remember the fight or the pain. It only feels her soft body in this cozy bed.
Shifting her beneath me, I hover over her, ignoring the scream in my shoulder as I kiss her and subtly grind my hips between her sweet thighs.
This won’t go anywhere—we both know that.
We’ve all somehow subscribed to this unspoken rule about hitting relationship milestones as a group, and dry humping to completion feels like one of those milestones.
Kissing on the other hand… Kissing is the exception.
So just like with Julian, I revel in the unhurried moments with Freya, just kissing to kiss. She is not a rough, biting kisser. Instead, her movements are slow and measured, as if she is savoring the taste of my lips and the friction of my tongue. It drives me wild.
When the kiss comes to a natural end, I tuck her gently against my side.
I consider that there might be more on her mind, more things she wants to express, but all I can do is open myself up to her and wait for her to say them.
I want to be an open vessel for this woman.
The way Freya opens up with her fears and insecurities is so admirable it’s sexy as fuck.
But I wish she’d let me carry some of this load, especially when it feels like my arms are so empty and hers are so full.
As she slowly falls asleep in my arms, suddenly more at ease than she was earlier, I realize that just a few hours ago, I was so in my head and worried about the future and my place in the world.
Now it feels as if I’m on the brink of something huge.
Something that might actually fall into place.
Something that gives me the purpose I’ve been waiting for.