3. Chapter 3
three
Skye
There’s a knock on the front door at exactly seven o’clock. I take one last peek in my floor-length mirror, then hurry down the stairs.
My dad beats me to the door.
“Good evening, sir,” Archer greets him, then steps into the foyer.
My dad shakes his hand. “Hey, Archer. How are you?”
“I’m great, sir. How about you?”
He looks good in a pair of dark-washed jeans and a soft-looking quarter-zip Ralph Lauren sweater.
“Fine,” my dad says. “How’s your father? Keeping busy?”
Archer nods. “Yes sir, very busy.”
As I suspected, my parents weren’t thrilled about this party.
They dove right into their usual exhaustive lecture about priorities—grades, graduation, college.
They’d just started on the supremely uncomfortable sex talk when I managed to squeeze in the most vital piece of information: Archer is Orson Longfellow’s son.
Everyone knows Orson Longfellow. He’s also a lawyer, but not in private practice like mine.
Nope. Archer’s dad is the Washington County District Attorney.
And I don’t mean some deputy D.A. He’s the D.A.
His face is on the billboards, the campaign posters, and in the news. Tough on crime and popular with voters.
Once my parents connected the dots, I suddenly couldn’t be in better company.
Archer turns to me as I descend the stairs. “Wow, Skye. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you, Arch,” I say, blushing.
Lily suggested the boots-and-skirt outfit. It was all she could talk about these last few days: Archer asking me out and her wishing Boston would ask her to go.
He didn’t, which I told her was probably because he wasn’t going to be at the party in the first place. Anything else would’ve made me a terrible friend… and date.
Archer reaches into his pocket. “I got you something.” He holds out a small blue box. Cushioned inside is a delicate silver bracelet, a sparkly S dangling from it.
For a second, I just stand there. This feels… big. Way bigger than flowers, or candy, or a teddy bear. Isn’t this the kind of thing people give when they’ve been dating for a while? When they’re serious? Or at least trying to be?
I swallow. “Archer, this… it’s beautiful.”
He beams at me. “It’s from Tiffany’s.”
My dad chuckles. “Don’t you think it’s a bit early for dowry negotiations, son?”
Oh god.
I wish my parents had stuck to their no-dating-until-you-graduate rule. That would’ve been a lot less embarrassing.
Archer, though, laughs and fastens the bracelet to my wrist. The metal is cold against my skin.
“I just thought a beautiful girl like your daughter deserves something equally as beautiful,” he says. “Or almost as beautiful. I don’t think anything actually compares.”
I blink at how mature Archer sounds.
My dad claps Archer’s shoulder. “Nicely done, Archer. Please have her home by one, okay?” he says like I’m a borrowed book. “No drinking, young man!”
“Of course, sir,” Archer says. “I’ll take good care of her.”
I’m not even a part of their conversation anymore. So I just smile and slip into my coat, then let Archer take my hand and lead me outside.
“Jeez, I’m going to need a ladder to get in that thing,” I joke when I stand in front of his lifted truck. I don’t understand why anyone needs tires this huge.
Archer chuckles. “I’ll help you.”
I place my right foot on the step rail and hoist myself up.
“There you go, good job,” Archer’s voice floats up, but I’m distracted by the feel of his hand on the back of my leg. His fingers glide to my butt, giving me a little push.
It’s quick, but I notice—both his touch and how sure he looks. Not a hint of embarrassment.
I tug my skirt down, my face hot. But I don’t say anything. He’s just trying to be helpful.
Still, I make a mental note not to wear this outfit again. Not if getting into his truck requires this much assistance.
I study the bracelet as we drive the short route to Jake’s. “So, do you always give girls jewelry on first dates?”
Archer glances at me. “Nope. But then again, I’ve never been on a date with a girl like you.”
I huff a laugh. “Oh, come on.”
“I’m serious, Skye,” he says. “I mean, yeah, I’ve obviously been with girls, but none like you. I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now, but, I guess I was intimidated.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “What? You were intimidated by me?” Archer’s nothing if not self-assured.
He nods. “You’re different, Skye. You haven’t come on to me like other girls, and I’ve never heard rumors about you sleeping around and stuff. And I like that. You’re not the kind of girl one just sleeps with. You’re the kind of girl one marries.”
My jaw drops. Is he seriously talking about marriage? At our age? On our first date?
My parents would probably love this, though. Valedictorian (fingers crossed). Tier-one college (God willing). Future Mrs. Somebody Important.
Still, as sweet as this is, it’s also kind of a lot.
Days ago, I didn’t even know he liked me. Now I’m in his truck with jewelry on my wrist, listening to him talk about marriage.
I glance down at the bracelet, twisting it lightly on my wrist. I don’t usually wear bracelets. I don’t even have a watch. And the chain feels heavy around my skin.
But it’s pretty.
And Archer is nice, and attractive, and the son of the D.A.
I’m sure I’ll get used to it.