14. Chapter 14
fourteen
Skye
It’s been almost four months.
Four months with Archer, of morning wake-up calls and Sunday brunches, of movie dates and steamy make-out sessions.
And it’s been four months without Boston.
He never came back to school. None of us have heard from him. Our texts and calls go unanswered, and with each passing week, the notifications fade into a void that doesn’t send anything back.
Winter melted into spring like nothing had happened, and despite the way Boston vanished—literally from one day to the next—it doesn’t seem like anyone outside of our group is concerned.
No announcements. No social media alerts.
No missing person flyers tacked to telephone poles or the school’s bulletin board. Nothing.
Like Boston never existed.
I brought it up with my parents a few times. Each time, they gave me the same vague reassurance.
His family probably moved, Skye. These things happen.
Even Pacey, Jonathan, and Lily have started to let it go.
What used to be a near-daily conversation slowly stopped coming up at all.
Teachers stopped calling his name for attendance weeks ago.
His seat in English got taken by a new transfer from Duluth, while his desk in Calculus is collecting dust.
Jake and I, though, haven’t moved on.
We still check our phones compulsively. Jake gets this desperate look in his eyes when he walks by Boston’s locker, and mine drift to his empty seat every time I walk into a classroom we used to share. But we don’t talk about it anymore. Not when Archer’s around, anyway. Not since that day.
March 27th. Boston’s eighteenth birthday.
I mentioned it, and Jake spiraled—how weird it was that Boston hadn’t reached out. How something must’ve happened. That maybe—
Archer cut him off.
“Look, man, you gotta let this go,” he said like it really was that simple.
“Nothing bad happened to Boston or we would’ve heard about it.
There hasn’t been any news about a body getting fished out of the river.
Boston moved.” Archer shrugged. “He didn’t care enough about you to tell you. Time to move on.”
That was that.
Jake hasn’t brought up Boston in a group conversation since, though I know he hasn’t stopped thinking about him.
And neither have I. About how someone like Boston could disappear without a trace and no one seemed to think that was strange. I’ve secretly texted him more than a dozen times.
Hey, are you okay?
We’re worried about you.
Please just let me know you’re alright!
My last message to him just said I miss you.
Each time, I hit send, then delete the message.
“Graduates, baby,” Pacey yells and slams his glass on the table like he’s trying to break it.
Someone whoops from the kitchen. Music drifts out from the house, and people spill into the backyard, shouting over a chaotic game of water volleyball in the pool.
“We’re done,” Jake repeats for the tenth time tonight, like he still doesn’t totally believe it.
Lily nods. “Done done.”
“So, uh, something kind of weird happened today,” Jonathan says, leaning forward in his chair.
“What happened?” Lily asks.
Jonathan looks first at me, then Jake. “On my way over here… I think I saw Boss’s mom.”
The words land like a lit match dropped in a haystack. I stiffen. Jake shoots upright.
“Wait, what? Where? When?” Jake blurts, frantic.
“I was driving. I’m not a hundred percent sure it was her, but—”
“What the fuck, J, was it Boss’s mom or not?” Jake snaps.
Archer frowns at the heat in Jake’s tone. “Whoa, man, chill.”
“I’m pretty sure it was her,” Jonathan says. “But like I said, I was driving. Couldn’t exactly throw my car in park and go confirm it.”
I take a deep breath. “Did you see Boss?”
Jonathan shakes his head. “She was walking with some dude. Bald guy. Didn’t look like someone I’d want to pick a fight with, honestly.”
“Okay, so they didn’t move,” Jake mutters, pacing.
“Or they moved and just came back to visit,” Lily offers.
I shake my head before I can stop myself. “Boss wouldn’t just go no-contact with us.”
Jake sighs, pulling out his phone as my fingers instinctively fumble for mine.
We fall silent while he walks slow circles around us. But only a minute later, Jake shoves his phone back into his pocket like it personally offended him.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Why won’t he answer? I don’t get it. None of this makes any fucking sense.”
He drops into a chair, his face buried in his hands.
Jonathan leans over and gives his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sure there’s a good reason. Something with his mom, maybe. You know how private he is.”
“But you just said you saw Boss’s mom with a guy you wouldn’t want to pick a fight with,” I say. “What if something happened to Boss? Remember what he looked like the last time we saw him?”
I do. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it.
“Yeah, but—”
“Fuck,” Jake snaps. “Why are Skye and I the only ones worried about him?”
Archer shoves up from his chair. It scrapes loudly against the concrete.
“Jake, I’m gonna tell you this one last time: let it go. I want to enjoy this party and I’m not talking about Boston anymore.” He glances around. “Anyone want another drink?”
When no one answers, Archer marches back inside.
Lily clears her throat. “For what it’s worth, I think Arch might be right. We’ve done what we can.”
No one argues, silence settling between us heavy and unfinished.
I only last ten seconds before I get up and follow Archer inside.
I find him in the kitchen, scrolling through his phone. He looks up and smiles when he sees me.
“Hey,” I say. “You okay?”
“Just annoyed,” he says. “I don’t get the obsession with this whole Boston thing. It’s been like four months.”
“Yeah,” I say carefully. “But it’s weird how Boss just vanished, don’t you think?”
Archer shrugs. “I don’t think about it much. People move. Families have stuff going on.”
I sigh. “I don’t know.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “Why are you still thinking about him?”
“I’m not. I mean—just sometimes. Because it’s weird. That’s all.”
“You sure that’s all?” he asks. “You don’t have a thing for him or something?”
His blue eyes are locked on mine, like he’s trying to penetrate my skull and catch me in a lie.
“What? No. Of course not.”
Why’s my throat so dry?
His jaw ticks. “Then why do you care so much?”
“He’s been my friend for a really long time, Arch, and I just… I worry about him. And Jake obviously does, too.”
“And I’m the only asshole who isn’t worried about Boston, right?”
“No,” I say quickly. “Arch, that’s not at all what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying, Skye?”
“Nothing, Arch. I was just trying to give you an explanation for why it might not be as easy for us to get over Boston’s disappearance, and you immediately accuse me of—”
His face darkens. “I didn’t accuse you of anything. Don’t twist my words.”
I freeze, the heat in his voice making my chest tighten.
“Hey, you guys okay?” someone calls from the living room.
Archer doesn’t look away from me. “We’re good,” he mutters, takes my hand, then leads me upstairs and into his bedroom.
I sit on his bed while he shuts the door behind us.
“I’m sorry, Skye.” He moves to sit next to me, the mattress dipping with his weight. “For being such an insecure little pussy. It’s just, I’ve never felt like this about anyone.”
“It’s okay.” I don’t want to fight with Archer. Especially not today.
He turns to me, hitching a leg up. “Skye, I think I’m in love with you.”
He says it so lightly, so easily.
“I love you, Skye,” he repeats, leaning in.
I, on the other hand, can’t seem to find my voice.
“Skye?” he asks, searching my face. “Do… do you love me?”
Do I?
We’ve been together four months. Shouldn’t I know whether I love him by now?
I hesitate.
Then nod. “Yeah.”
Archer’s face breaks into a wide smile. He crashes his lips to mine. His kiss is deep, urgent, as his hands move to my waist, then up my sides. He maneuvers me onto my back, his weight settling over me.
I kiss him back, relieved that he’s no longer upset, his declaration of love spreading—gooey and warm—through my insides.
His hand slips under my skirt.
“Archer,” I murmur.
He kisses me harder, like he doesn’t hear me, his hand traveling up until it settles between my thighs.
I tense. My heart’s galloping in my chest, but not in a good way.
He finds his way into my underwear. At first, it’s just the brush of his knuckles, then the firm press of fingers against sensitive flesh. My body goes rigid. We’ve obviously made out before, he’s seen my breasts, we’ve even felt each other’s bare skin, but he’s never touched me like this.
There’s more pressure now. A slow, insistent push.
Pain flares sharply, stealing my breath.
Tears spring to my eyes, but I turn my face away.
“Skye,” he groans. “I need you.”
“Arch,” I whisper. “I don’t think I’m ready.”
He doesn’t quite withdraw his hand, but his finger slows.
“Skye, I’ve waited so long,” he moans. He nips at my neck. “Come on, baby. You just said you love me, right?”
I nod, willing the burning sensation to ease.
“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t make me wait anymore,” he moans. “I’ve been so patient.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe this is what’s supposed to happen.
We’ve been together four months. That’s kind of a long time. And he’s always so good to me—picking me up every morning, my favorite drink already waiting in the cupholder. Sitting through mock trial, showing up with flowers when we took second place at the state championship.
“Okay,” I hear myself say.
His smile is immediate, and I latch on to it as proof that I made the right choice.
He kisses me, then pulls away just long enough to undress us. I close my eyes, trying to remember how to breathe.
When it happens, it hurts more than I imagined. I’ve heard the first time sucks, but no matter how hard I try to relax, my body won’t.
Archer keeps moaning, whispering how good I feel, how much he loves me. I say it back, waiting for the moment this begins to feel good or at least better.
It never does.
The whole thing takes maybe five minutes, but when he’s done, I feel… empty.
“Are you okay, baby?” Archer asks when he finally rolls off me, beads of sweat sliding down his temples.
I sit up, reaching for my underwear. “Yeah, I… it hurt.”
“That’s normal,” he says softly. “It gets better the more we do this. I promise.”
I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.
Downstairs, the music still thumps. I hear people laughing, Pacey yelling “Gradjooateshh, babyyy!” But I feel… folded up. Like I’ve been tucked into a shape I wasn’t ready for. And now I can’t quite unfold, at least not without leaving visible creases.