14. Allie #2
At one point, I considered applying to TU myself, but Archer stopped me immediately.
He knew, even when I tried convincing myself otherwise, that my heart and soul belonged in Pacific Shores.
Some may turn up their nose at my dreams of a quiet, slow life, but I don’t care.
Since I could remember, I’ve wanted to live in the Wicked Wildflower, spending my days with the mingling smell of sea breeze and baked goods.
I’ve wanted weekends reading on the beach and nightly sunsets—preferably all of it with Archer by my side.
Even if he’ll be off accomplishing different things, my vision remains, and I fear that I’d lose myself if I gave it up to chase him instead.
Archer and I have grown alongside each other—we forged our souls in tandem. And while the best parts of me hold pieces of him, I can’t exist only for him. I need to live for myself.
If I become his moon, I’ll lose sight of the fact that I’m a sun.
I’m not meant to orbit something else—no matter the gravitational pull. No matter how bright and hot the love inside me burns, it can’t all be given away. Some of it needs to remain wholly mine.
The blessing of it all is that Archer knows this about me, and he doesn’t hope I’ll change color for the sake of him. He wouldn’t want me if I wasn’t exactly who I am.
A knock on my window startles me, and when I snap my head up and turn, I find Archer bent down, looking through my passenger window.
I realize the vast majority of the parking lot has cleared out.
Only a handful of cars remain. I immediately unlock my door, and Archer pulls it open, slipping inside.
The moment his eyes meet mine, tears spill over, the blue of his irises glowing sapphire.
He reaches out, cupping the back of my head and pulling me into him.
His threads his fingers through my hair, holding me like letting go would kill him.
I collapse against his chest, and he inhales like he’s hoping to root me inside his body.
I grasp his sweatshirt like if I hold tight enough, I may be able to accomplish the same.
Tears spill from me too, but the only words that leave my mouth are, “I’m so proud of you.”
Again and again, I say them, forcing him to absorb it. The reminder that he’s made the right choice.
“We’ll be okay,” he whispers back, over and over, forcing me to absorb it. The hope that we may just make it through all this in the end.
When he pulls back, eyes searching mine as if the answer to all of life’s questions may be found within my gaze, Archer swipes his thumbs over my cheeks, clearing my tears, and I lose all my composure in the tender warmth of his touch and the solemn love on his face.
I surge forward, kissing him.
He whimpers in surprise, pausing for only a moment as it registers before he’s tightening his hold on my face and driving his body toward mine. His lips move against me fiercely, tongue slipping into my mouth—tasting me thoroughly.
“You taste,” he groans, stealing my breath, “like home.”
The sound of his voice, the words clawing from the back of his throat, send a hot desire rushing through me. I’m buzzing with need, aching with the urge to have the weight of his body pressing down on mine—craving to be entwined and owned and claimed by him.
I pull away, both of our chests heaving, eyes crazed, hair wild as we pause and study each other.
Whatever tether of control I’d been holding onto snaps entirely, and I decide I don’t need anything in this world quite as much as I need Archer.
Whatever pain is to come, whatever obstacles stand in our future—I toss them to the wind.
I glance out my front window. The parking lot is now completely void, save for a couple of cars toward the front I assume belong to staff members still cleaning up. An overcast day blankets the sky, creating a dim gray backdrop that further shields us from the outside world.
I reach beneath the hem of my sweater and pull it over my head. Archer’s jaw drops before he gulps, like his mouth is incredibly dry.
“Allie, what are you—”
I answer by kissing him once more and then crawling into the back seat. I press myself to the door, lift my hips, and slip off my leggings as he turns around and watches me raptly from the front.
“I don’t have protection,” he says, shaking his head.
“I got the birth control implant last month,” I reply breathlessly. “We don’t need it.”
“Goddamn,” he rasps, running a hand over his jaw, eyes darting out the windows. “Here?”
I nod. “Now.”
He slips his bottom lip beneath his teeth, gaze roaming my now bare body with fierce intensity. Archer pulls his sweatshirt off, tossing it onto the dashboard before he crawls into the back with me.
Hovering above me, he kisses me slowly, and we take our time removing the remainder of each other’s clothing.
He swallows my whimpers, and I catch his breath.
His eyes pierce me—blazing with love and lust and something beyond language.
When we join, it feels as if I’m imprinting his name into my very bones.
Like my atoms have rearranged themselves to create a place that only he will ever fit.
“You feel…” Words are caught in my throat as he begins to move. “Like home.”