Chapter Nine
TABITHA
This is the softest bed I’ve ever laid in.
Most hotel beds are a little firm, and I can feel it the next day.
I’m left stiff and exhausted. This mattress isn’t like the others.
It’s soft and exactly what I imagine a cloud feels like if it were made of cotton and not water vapor or whatever it is that actually makes them up.
The sheets are smooth and cool against my heated post-shower skin. I snuggle further into the bedding that promises to wrap me up safely. Maybe tonight will be the first night I sleep without waking up from a nightmare—one can hope.
A chuckle has me rolling over to see Archie emerge from the bathroom. He rubs a towel across his hair, and my eyes follow the movement. His eyes find mine before he turns to hang up the towel on the hook near the door.
His chest is bare and broad. Tattoos decorate one side of his body along his ribs and biceps. His shorts hang dangerously low on his hips, showcasing the V that has me salivating.
I should not be thinking of him like this—we’re just friends—or were.
Yet, I can’t look away.
I swallow as I continue to watch him. Is it weird to think a man is beautiful? Because when did he start looking like…this? Archie has always been cute, but now he’s just make me do something stupid cute. Not to mention the muscular arms that I can imagine would feel so good to be wrapped up in.
Archie clears his throat, and my eyes snap up to his. He smirks. “Like what you see?”
“Just admiring your tattoos.” It’s not a total lie. The one on his ribs he got right after he turned eighteen. He’s added to it since then, and the others are new.
“Sure.” He climbs into the bed. “Do you still cocoon yourself? Because we need to share these blankets.” He teases.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No?” He rolls toward me.
I shake my head.
“I don’t believe you.” He smiles and then rolls onto his back.
“Well, good night.” I reach over and turn off the lamp.
I’m not sure how long I lay there unable to fall asleep. Even in this king-size bed, I can feel the heat from his body next to me. I know he’s here, but it’s also dark. I can’t see anything.
My chest grows tight, and I struggle to keep my breathing even. I count in my head, attempting to steady and control every inhale and exhale.
“You okay?” He whispers softly.
My eyes haven’t completely adjusted to the dark. I can barely make out his figure next to me. “Yeah.” The lie rushes out.
“Tab.” I feel him roll closer, his leg next to mine.
“It’s just,” I pause. “I’m not good with the dark right now, or sleeping. After—everything—I just. Can’t.” I sigh.
“Is there anything I can do to help?
“No, I just need to give it some time.” I stutter out the lie. I’m not okay.
“Tab, turn the light on.”
“But you won’t be able to sleep,” I argue.
Archie groans as he rolls over, partially on top of me. He reaches and flips the lamp on.
I wait for him to roll back over, but he hesitates.
Archie looks down at me, his blue eyes piercing mine. His gaze flickers to my lips and then back to my eyes. It’s as if he’s frozen in place, unable to move.
Just. Like. Me.
I hold my breath.
His eyes narrow at me. “We can keep the light on.” It comes out more like a groan.
I fight the urge to squeeze my thighs together and let him know the effect he’s having on me. So, I nod.
Archie slowly rolls over, but doesn’t put as much distance between us as before.
I exhale as I feel his hand near mine. His pinky twitches, then hooks onto mine.
What does this mean?
Fifteen Years Earlier - Age 17
He makes a face as he sits down across the table. I make a face right back at him. It’s the same every year on our birthdays. Our families meet in the middle of those days for a double celebration. We were born days apart, so we’re used to being around each other. Especially at this time of year.
Even with school and extracurricular activities, we make time for this day.
It’s important to both of our moms; they’re best friends after all.
His mom picks up the balloons, mine bakes the cake and brings two candles.
It doesn’t matter how many candles are supposed to be on the cake, there’s always two. One for each of us.
I always make a wish. Some years it’s different from others. I always wonder if he makes a wish too, but we never discuss it.
“Tabitha, are you ready for graduation?” Archie’s dad speaks up at the end of the table next to my own.
“As soon as I hear from colleges, I will be.” I laugh.
This has been the only stressful part of life. That, and wondering if I should just go to prom alone in two months.
“I have an idea for prom.” Archie starts, as if reading my mind. “It’s the last one, so we should go together. I mean, with our other friends too. A group of us. No stress. All fun.”
It’s not exactly what I was expecting him to say. I can’t admit it out loud, that I sort of wanted to go with him. Would that be weird? This would be the next best thing, though.
“Sure, that sounds great.” I smile before reaching across the table for the chips and salsa.
Archie’s foot nudges mine under the table, and I look up to see him making another face.
We ignore the rest of the table. Our parents and grandparents talk about what is happening lately while we stay in our own little world. We might as well be sitting at another table.
Then, his foot brushes against mine. Again.
My eyes narrow at him, and he smirks.
Is he trying to play footsie?
Our eyes remain focused on one another. His nostrils flare and his chest rises. Our feet continue to touch, moving slightly, as if we could get closer.
There have been moments like this that make me question if we’re really just friends. Realistically, I know it’s all in my head. He would’ve said something by now. We don’t keep secrets from each other.
Even though I’m keeping a big one from him. It’s too risky. His friendship means too much. Our parents’ friendship means too much.
I’d rather have him in my life as a friend than not at all.
With graduation coming up, my heart feels like it’s lodging itself into my throat. We’re not going to the same college. That was the original plan. When he told me last month he wasn’t going, I couldn’t believe it. We’d made plans to hang out in each other’s dorms and everything.
He chose the military instead. Well, the academy route. It shouldn’t have surprised me and I’m so proud of him. It’s an honor to be chosen. He put in the work to have the grades and recommendations to make it an option.
At some point, most of his family and the club have enlisted. The club is full of members from various branches. I just thought if he went to college with me, he wouldn’t join. He’d be safe from the thoughts of war or the trouble that the club might get into.
Part of me hoped something would change during those college years. That maybe—just maybe—he would see me as more than a friend.
Now, I know what will happen. We’ll grow apart, and I hate it. He’s my best friend, and now we’re about to live completely separate lives.
What if I meet someone?
What if he meets someone?
It’s only going to push us further apart—and that thought hurts.