18. Archer #2
I cock my head, studying her. There’s distance in Allie’s eyes, like she’s not entirely here with me. That’s never been an issue for us. No matter what bullshit is circulating in our individual worlds, when we’re together, we are all that matters.
She avoids looking at me, casting her gaze down at where her hands rest atop the bar, brows drawn together as she chews on her inner cheek.
Like she’s nervous.
My eyes track her body, lingering on the red sweatshirt she’s wearing, the black skirt that shows the briefest glimpse of her thighs between her knee-high boots.
She shoves the sleeve of her sweater to her elbow, scratching her forearm, and for the first time, I notice the ink on the inside of it. “What’s that?”
She pauses, glancing down, before a small laugh bubbles from her throat. “Oh. It’s my pussy willow.”
“Right,” drawl. “That’s exactly what I thought that was. I took one glance and immediately though, ‘that must be a pussy willow.’”
Allie snorts. “It’s a type of tree. Willow and I got matching branches over the summer.”
“That’s on brand.” I chuckle, rubbing my jaw.
“So…you really, on a Friday morning, decided to head to the airport at random, buy a ticket—the price of which I’m sure was astronomical—to Austin, by yourself, knowing you’re afraid of flying, just so you could come see me play, even though you could’ve…
watched it on television like everyone else? ”
She snorts. “What? You don’t believe I’d do that?”
“No. I believe you’re just as impulsive as that type of decision entails.” I place my hand over hers, pulling her eyes to mine. “But you’re not being yourself, and that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Her eyes search mine, bottom lip quivering before she blinks rapidly, looking away. “Maybe we could go somewhere—”
“Hey, Archer.” A brunette I don’t recognize slides directly between Allie and I, cutting her off. “You played great tonight.”
Am I supposed to know who the hell you are?
“Um. Thanks.” My gaze darts to Allie, who’s staring at this chick like she’s about to claw her damn eyes out. “Excuse me.” I shoulder around her to get to Allie again, when a taller blonde steps beside her. Fuck. “Hey, Whitney.”
Her sharp blue eyes narrow as she tosses me a serpentine smile. “Archer.”
I met Whit two years ago through a mutual friend. One night after a tough loss, a few too many beers, and the news that Allie had just begun dating someone new, Whitney invited me back to her room at a house party—I said yes.
It did not go well.
She’s hated me ever since.
Yet, she still comes onto me. It’s like…she doesn’t like me, but she wants to be able to tell people she took TU’s starting quarterback to bed, so she’ll stomach her disdain for the opportunity.
“This is Stef.” She cranes her neck toward the brunette Allie is still shooting daggers at, who has now placed her hand at the center of my chest. “She goes to school in Dallas and is visiting for the weekend. We thought you might want to get a drink with us.”
“Oh.” I blink, dumbfounded. There is literally nothing about me that gives off the energy I’d be open to a threesome. “I’m actually busy tonight. Sorry.”
I side-step Stephanie, or whatever her name is, forcing her hand to fall off my body as I slide myself between Whit and Allie. Whitney turns around, soaking in our body language as I nestle myself against her, and she nuzzles into my chest.
She assesses us coldly, lip curling, before Hudson spins from behind me, calling over my shoulder, “Allie, you said you weren’t drinking, right?”
“No, I’m not,” she says softly.
“This is Allie?” Whitney gasps, before barking out an incredulous laugh. “We don’t even look alike!”
Allie whips to me, and my stomach drops out my fucking ass. “What?”
I rake a hand through my hair. “We can talk about it later.”
As Colton hands Allie her drink, he finally takes notice of Whitney and her friend, eyes widening. “Oh, no. None of your shit tonight.”
“Fuck off, Hudson,” she growls, flipping her long blond hair over a shoulder before linking her arm through her friends and stalking off toward the other end of the bar.
“Why do they keep letting her in?” he mutters, shaking his head as he lifts a beer bottle to his lips before handing me one of my own.
“Who is she?” Allie asks.
Colton laughs. “Oh, I’ve been waiting to hear you explain this for years.”
“Can we talk about it later?”
“No,” Allie says, frowning.
I sigh, dipping my head so it’s at her level, wrapping my arm around her waist and tugging her into me so that she can hear me over the crowded bar.
“Years ago, she and I were hooking up. Whitney was going down on me—” Allie flinches, and the blow of that lands on me too.
“Sorry.” I wince before continuing, “And…I wasn’t into it.
I should’ve stopped it, but I didn’t know how.
I didn’t want to make it awkward so…I closed my eyes, and I…
” Fuck. This is so embarrassing. “I imagined it was you. I… I said your fucking name.”
Colton cracks up as Allie’s eyes become saucer-like in shock and her jaw drops open. A long, tense second of silence passes between us, and I wonder if she may slap me before she throws her head back, and a bout of musical laughter bellows from her throat.
My entire being settles at the sound.
“God.” She clamps a hand over her mouth, another giggle bursting. “My ego really needed to hear that tonight. Thank you.”
I huff a laugh back at her in utter disbelief. “What is going on tonight?”
“How many other times has that happened?” she asks, ignoring me, though for the first time since she got here, the genuine, playful smile that I fell in love with as a boy finally spreads across her cheeks.
She props her elbows on the bar, holding her face in her hands as she wraps her lush lips around the straw of her Shirley Temple.
“None.” I grin back. “I haven’t been with anyone else.
” I lean against the bar, drawing our faces together.
Far enough apart I can watch her eyes flare when I speak, but close enough that I know she can feel my breath against her lips too.
“Apart from you. And you’re well versed in just how often I enjoy saying your name, Allie. ”
To my surprise, she rears back. “What do you mean you haven’t been with anyone else?”
I twirl one of her curls around my finger. I suppose I’ve never directly admitted it, but I thought she knew. “I have only ever been with you, Allie Cat.”
She blinks, cocking her head as her gaze shudders with something like contempt. “Then what the fuck are we doing here, Archer?”
“Huh?” The question drops from my mouth, taking my jaw right along with it.
Allie’s breathing increases, brow cinching as her eyes catch flame. “What is the fucking point of all this bullshit we’ve been putting ourselves through for years when—”
“Oh my God.” An obnoxiously loud laugh rumbles from behind Allie.
Colton turns around, eyes lit up and glazed with alcohol as he flashes a smile in my direction.
I gaze past him, realizing that Whitney and her friend are now standing on his other side.
“I guess they’ve offered me the second-place trophy, Ramos. ”
The girls scoff, rolling their eyes.
“Don’t fuck up your life, or I might steal your spot in the draft too.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“What do you mean?” Allie asks.
“Archer is pretty much a shoo-in for a first-round placement. Even with how much our team sucks this year. So long as he doesn’t do something to like…significantly alter his life in the meantime.”
Allie whips around, and I can’t see her face when she asks him, “Like what?”
“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Get injured. Commit a felony. Stop showing up to practices and games. Essentially anything that’s going to hinder him from playing to his full potential while he’s got every eye in the industry on him.
” Taking one last slug of his beer, he adds, “Anyway, I’m gonna head out.
” He hitches a thumb behind himself before spinning around, tossing an arm over Whit and her friend.
As they saunter away, Whitney peers back at me, a glimmer in her smokey blue eyes. Like she thinks fucking my friend will make me jealous. Without offering so much as a facial expression, I let my gaze drift from her and back to Allie.
She’s facing me again, but a gnawing unease bites at my gut when I take in her features, the way her pretty face is quickly losing color. When my eyes meet hers, she drops her gaze, throat working with a heavy swallow.
“I’ll…” She inhales, a hand flying to her stomach. “I’ll be right back.”
Without another word, she takes off in a jog toward the bathroom.
That unease funnels into total fear as I run after her. I don’t understand what’s going on with her tonight—why she came all this way, only to be so avoidant with me—and now she’s getting sick? None of it is adding up, and the worry swirling in my bones cuts deeper.
The door to the single stall bathroom slams shut just as I reach it, and my fist is already landing against the steel. “Allie. Amor. Are you okay?”
I’m greeted by the sound of her retching. It continues, before everything behind the door becomes quiet. I wait a moment before knocking, calling her name again.
“Just… Just a minute,” she calls.
I run to the bar and order her a bottle of water. As I’m walking back down the hallway that leads to the bathrooms, Allie exits. She leans against the wall, wiping a hand across her forehead.
“Hey, hey.” I step up to her, handing her the bottle. “Are you okay?”
I push her hair from her face, feeling her forehead. She’s not feverish, but she is clammy.
“Yeah.” She breathes, uncapping the water. “Like I said, the plane ride made me sick.”
“Do you want to go back to my place?”
She nods, still uneasy on her feet as she pushes off the wall, and I take her fingers, guiding her in front of me, keeping my hand on the small of her back as we maneuver out of the crowded bar.