13. London #2
It's not hard to notice Ivy is quickly deflecting the topic of conversation, something her work in public relations has primed her well for.
"Nothing at the moment, since I just relocated.
" I hate not having some fantastic job to brag about, but it's not a lie that things are a bit up in the air for me right now, so I do the same thing as her and turn the focus on someone else.
"What about you, Grace? We talked briefly about work but nothing too in-depth. "
"I'm in event planning for the city, mostly charity events."
"What the fuck?" Seven calls out from the bathroom entrance. He snatches his shirt off the ground, throwing it over his shoulder. "Come on, Ivy, let's fucking go."
Ivy rolls her eyes. "Very well, brother." She looks to Archer. "Walk me to the door?"
"Yeah," he says without hesitation. "Of course." Archer hops up and follows her over while Seven approaches the table.
Archer pauses, watching Seven intensely.
"Give me your number," Seven says to Grace. "We can go out sometime."
Slowly, she turns toward him, tilting her head up at his exposed chest. If it weren't for his personality, Seven would be attractive.
He has everything working in his favor. The tattoos, the height, those weirdly mismatched eyes, and the dark hair.
Even his filed-down teeth add a strange sort of sex appeal.
But the second he opens his mouth, every ounce of attraction falls to the wayside.
"I think she said no," I say from my spot still at the table.
"I didn't ask you," he quips back, a bite to his tone.
I stand, ignoring the pain shooting up my cast-covered leg. "I don't care that you didn't ask me. Leave her alone."
Seven looks at me, his stare so penetrating it sends a chill down my spine. "What did you just say to me?"
"You heard me."
Grace immediately stands, putting herself between Seven and me, even though the table is there anyway. "Give me your phone."
Seven's jaw tenses, that little bulge on the side flexing as his nostrils flare slightly. He shifts down, now at Grace’s level, his height drastically different than hers. Is that what Archer and I look like standing next to each other? "Why, so you can give me a fake number?"
Grace pulls her phone out of her back pocket, unlocks the screen, and hands it to him. "There, put your number in."
He hesitates like he's not sure if she's telling the truth, but then decides to take her phone.
He pushes a sequence of buttons and a second later, his phone rings and stops.
"There." Seven gives me one last deadening glance before returning her cell.
"Don't make me come over there and wipe that look off your pretty face," Seven says through gritted teeth, each word a bit blended into the next.
Out of nowhere, Archer appears, gripping Seven's shoulder and shoving him. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You don't talk to her like—"
But Seven doesn't let him finish, no, he reels back his arm and slams his fist against Archer's face, blood splattering Archer's rug and dining room floor.
I gasp, my feet moving without my brain even catching up.
Archer, red pooling from his nose, doesn't falter when he punches Seven back, a crack that could only be Seven's nose echoing in the space.
"You fucking bastard," Seven yells. "I'll fucking kill you." He hits Archer again in the face, and harder in the gut.
Archer doesn't let up. He smashes his fist into Seven's jaw like he's been waiting far too long for this to happen, like this isn't just about what happened here today, but something else, something bigger.
"Stop it," Ivy screams into the chaos. "Both of you, fucking stop."
But neither of them does. They keep hitting each other, over and over, blood staining their faces, fists, and everything in a two-foot radius.
Archer swipes his leg so fast I almost miss it, knocking Seven's legs out from under him, and climbs on top of him, hitting him repeatedly in the face, a sort of anger in him being unleashed that I didn't know he was capable of.
You've only known him a week, I remind myself, and realize I'm living with a stranger. You know nothing about him, London, you stupid, stupid girl.
And even though I know I should be more afraid, there's something in me that's ignorant to the fear, having lived with my father all my life. I'm no stranger to violence.
"You." Archer hits him. "Fucking. Bastard." Every word is another blow.
"Cut it out, Archer, you're going to fucking kill him." Ivy reaches for his shoulder, but he shrugs her off, rage blinding him.
"Archer," I say, my voice quiet. I clear my throat. "Archer."
His attention flickers to me, only for the briefest moment, but it's enough for Seven to buck his hips in just the right way to knock Archer off him and pin him under his body. Archer wriggles, but it's no use. Seven seized the moment and is now in control of the situation.
Seven wraps his hands around Archer's throat, squeezing tighter and tighter, my heart constricting with his grip. "I'll fucking kill you."
Archer gasps and pries at Seven's fingers but it's futile.
"Stop," Ivy yells into the chaos again. "Seven, stop!"
"Step back," Grace tells Ivy and me, her hands out to signal to us.
I clutch my chest, unsure of what's going to happen, what she's going to do.
She looks around, latching onto the chair she was once sitting in, and picks it up.
For a second, she struggles, but then this strange calm washes over her.
Grace draws back, chair in her grip, and drives it sideways and forward, crashing it over Seven's back.
Wood splinters, chair legs go flying, and Seven goes still and then falls to the ground as Archer gasps.
I'm on my knees in a flash, my hands finding Archer's cheeks. "Are you okay?"
He blinks up at me and coughs, blood sputtering out. "I'm good," he croaks. Archer lies there for a long moment and looks from Grace, who holds the remains of the chair in her hands, to Seven, who's unconscious next to him. "Good job."
Archer takes Ivy's arm and she helps hoist him to his feet. He runs his palm over his face, flinching and flexing his jaw.
"You okay?" she asks him, her face pinched with concern.
"I'm fine." Archer sucks in a breath. "This place, though, is a fucking disaster." He kicks Seven, nudging him onto his back. "Is he dead?"
Grace stoops and studies Seven seriously. "No, he's still breathing."
Archer reaches for Seven's hands, moving them and hooking his arms up under Seven's armpits. "Grab his feet," he tells Ivy. "Help me move him."
Ivy complies without question, taking Seven's ankles into her hands and wiggling forward to get a more solid handle on him. "Why is he so heavy?" she mumbles.
The two of them scoot their way closer to the door but Ivy loses her hold twice.
"Never mind," Archer huffs. "I'll just…" He hoists Seven's large but semi-lifeless body onto his shoulder with a grunt. "Get the door for me."
Ivy rushes over, opens the door, and disappears through it with her two brothers.
"What the fuck," I mutter into the eerily quiet space.
"Where's the dustpan?" Grace says out of nowhere.
"What?"
"We need to clean this up." She points to the mess. "We can't leave it like this." She goes straight into the kitchen, dropping the remains of the chair into the trash, and looks through cabinets until she finds what she's looking for, then goes to work doing exactly what she said.
"Grace," I say. "Are you okay?"
She turns to me. "Are you crazy?"
"Are you?" I pause and then add, "Why did you give him your number?"
"You have no idea who they are, do you?"