6. Chapter 6
six
Boston
It’s almost one in the morning when I decide I should probably head home.
I don’t want the evening to end. It’s been forever since I got to hang out with my friends. Plus, the thought of trudging through the cold, then catching a bus and hiking another five blocks isn’t exactly thrilling.
I do a slow lap through the house, hoping to find Jonathan or Pacey to bum a ride off them.
Jake’s in the kitchen, but I don’t bother heading that way.
He’s basically fused to the girl he had his arm around earlier.
She’s up on the counter, and he’s nestled between her legs, their lips stuck to each other like leeches.
I can practically hear the wet sucking noises over the thump of the music.
I pretend I didn’t see them and head toward the back patio instead.
It’s dark, except for the string lights hung under the gazebo roof, bathing the structure and immediate surroundings in a warm glow. It’s barely enough to see.
Voices carry over from the outdoor kitchen—yep, a whole ass kitchen, fridge, and six-burner gas stove included.
“Fuck, man, I still can’t believe you landed Skye,” some guy says, his voice full of envy.
Another dude grunts in agreement. “Seriously. She’s so fucking hot, man. You’ll have to tell us how she feels when you hit that.”
Archer’s self-assured laugh echoes through the dark.
I frown, my hands curling into fists inside my pockets.
I’ve never liked Archer. He’s a walking, talking ego-trip. He name-drops his dad—and his dad’s title—like it’s supposed to impress people. Maybe it does. The only reason I interact with him at all is because Jake, Pacey, and Jonathan play soccer with him and consider him a friend.
I sure don’t.
What he does have going for him are his looks.
Girls talk about him all the time. He’s got money, expensive clothes, a big ass car.
But it’s all so… fake. I’m honestly shocked Skye would go out with him because she’s smart.
And thoughtful. Not someone who gets distracted by looks or labels or shiny things. At least I didn’t think so.
The first guy’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “Wait, is she just a hook-up or—”
“Nah,” Archer cuts in. “Have you seen her? She’s perfect. I’m gonna bring her home with me and everything.”
Man, this sounds like they’re serious. How the hell did I miss this?
As far as I know, Skye’s never had a real boyfriend.
Not that I keep tabs. But, I mean, I notice stuff.
Skye’s hard not to notice. With that long auburn hair, those crazy blue eyes, skin so pale it almost glows.
She’s tiny—barely up to my shoulder—but, boy, when she sets her mind to something, nobody can stop her.
And she’s kind.
I still remember when she and her mom came to our house after my dad died.
We only lived a few doors down at the time.
Her mom brought food—a casserole, probably—but what stuck with me was Skye sitting on my bed.
She didn’t say much. Just wrapped her arms around me and cried.
She cried for me, because at that point I hadn’t shed a single tear.
I didn’t know how. But she did. She expressed the feelings I couldn’t even name.
Another guy pipes up. “I heard she’s still a virgin. How long do you think it’ll take you to get in her pants?” he says as if Skye’s a video game level Archer needs to unlock.
I don’t wait for Archer’s response. I have no doubt it’s going to be some shitty, self-assured comment, and I don’t trust myself not to deck him.
If she chose him, the last thing she needs is me starting a fight.