18. Archer #3
I only live one block from the stadium and the bar, and we make the walk in an uncomfortable silence before I finally find the courage to ask, “Has something happened, Allie? Something you don’t want to tell me?”
My mind has been reeling all night, more fearful by the moment as I ponder what’s going on back home—could someone be sick? Is she? Did she get back together with Declan? Meet someone new? A thousand reasons for her being here filter through my mind—all of them awful.
“What are you going to do if you don’t get drafted?” she asks in response.
“Allie.” I sigh. When we arrive in front of my building, I pull the key fob from my pocket and scan it to unlock the building. “I’m like genuinely afraid you’re fucking dying right now.”
We step into the elevator, and I turn to face her after pressing the button for the fifth floor.
“I’m not dying,” she whispers. “I promise. I’m not dying.”
I want her to give me more. I need more from her. Need to understand.
It’s rare for me to find myself unable to read every thought inside her mind.
I open my mouth to ask her for more of an explanation when the elevator chimes, and the doors open. We take a left and head to the end of the hall where my unit is located. Colton is my only roommate, but obviously he isn’t home, so the apartment is empty when we step inside.
We kick our shoes off, and I drop my keys onto the counter before I lean against it, head falling between my shoulders. “If I don’t get drafted, I’ll move home. Probably get into coaching. Why?”
When I lift my head, I find Allie studying me intensively. The sweatshirt she’s wearing swallows her, hanging almost to her knees. It’s an old one of mine that she stole my first year here in Texas, the first game of mine she’d attended. She’s worn it every Saturday since—for good luck.
Her eyes are wide, glistening. Lips pouted. Expression unsure.
She looks young. Fucking scared.
I wish I could make sense of the reason why.
“Come to bed, Amor.” I stretch out my hand.
She nods, taking it. I lead us to my room, flicking on the lamp on my bedside table. Allie has been carrying a small bag with her all night, but it doesn’t seem large enough to have everything she needs.
“You want something to sleep in?”
“Yeah,” she whispers.
I grab her a pair of my boxers and a tee, and to my surprise, she goes into my bathroom to change. The tension floating between us only thickens at the gesture, because she’s never fucking done that before. She’s never hidden her body from me.
“Do you think we could get corn dogs delivered from somewhere?” she asks when she reenters my room.
“Why’d you change in the bathroom?” I ask.
“Oh.” She shakes her head as she splits her hair into thick sections and begins braiding them. “I had to pee so I just figured…”
“That makes sense.” It does, but I can’t help the feeling of worry clawing at my ribs. “Yeah. I can order corn dogs, I guess. Didn’t you just throw up, though?”
“Yeah, and now I’m hungry,” she grumbles, crawling into my bed.
I laugh roughly. “All right, Allie Cat.”
I finish changing before crawling into beside her and finding a restaurant that delivers corn dogs at this time of night. I order a couple for us both when Allie asks, “If you do get drafted, where do you think you’ll go?”
“There is so much riding on that decision, it’s impossible to say.
It depends on how each team performs the remainder of this season, and how I perform too.
I’ll do scouting visits in the offseason, and it’ll also depend on how well I perform with the teams then.
It’ll come down to who wants me most, and where their picks lie. ”
I roll onto my side, facing her as she settles in on the pillow. The same side of the bed she always sleeps on when she stays here.
She’s still distant, not entirely in this moment with me, but something deep registers in her gaze when she studies me. “And what if I want to come with you? Wherever you’re drafted?”
I smile, reaching out to caress her soft cheek and the faint freckles that dance over her nose when she smiles back at me. “If I thought it’d make you happy, I’d take you anywhere.”
“Maybe it could,” she murmurs.
“Maybe.” I sigh, running my hand down her jaw, over her neck. Her skin is so soft—settling. For the first time in a while, this bed has felt like more than a place I sleep, but where I can rest. She’s my solace. “Why all the questions tonight? Why are you actually here?”
A tightening in her eyes, the pinch in her nose, and cluster of her full lips gives way to her reluctance.
My question is followed by a long, terse silence before she finally whispers, “When we graduated high school, you told me you wanted me to experience everything. You didn’t want me to get lost in you. ”
I nod. “I was afraid if you were living for me—attending the same university, foregoing culinary programs, moving where I’m drafted—you’d lose yourself.
That fierce independence is so much of who you are, and if I stripped that from you, made you give up your dreams for me, you’d resent me. You’d stop being you.”
“I know.” Her eyes mist over, and she raises a hand to cup my cheek, mimicking our positions.
“But the thing is… I’ve never felt lost. I’ve never questioned who I am, or my decisions in life.
I never even questioned the distance between us or the reasons we’ve stayed apart.
” She shakes her head as that mist swells into moisture, and tears coat her gaze.
“Until now. Now, I feel so fucking lost, Archer.”
“So you came to me?”
She nods, and my entire soul stabilizes. She’s not sick. She’s not dying. She didn’t choose someone else. She chose me, came running to me when she was struggling.
Sometimes I feel like I have to be everything for everyone. The levelheaded twin. The team captain that’s so mature for his age. The prodigy athlete. The good student. It overwhelms me, and yet, when Allie allows me to be her place of comfort—to be her everything—I feel honored.
I draw her into me, resting her head against my chest. “I’m here, Amor. We’ll find you.”
She nods, knotting her fingers in my shirt as she holds us closer. We lie there for a long time, and I get a notification that our food was delivered but I don’t dare move. Her breathing evens out, and I savor the sound of it. The safety she finds in my arms.
When I’m sure she’s fallen asleep, I find myself admitting into the darkness, “In my nightmares, I have championship rings adorning every finger, and I run into you. You’re wearing a ring too, but it belongs to another man.”
“In my nightmares, you have championship rings adorning every finger, and you still find a reason for us not to be together,” she murmurs back, startling me.
“No.” I shake my head, pressing my lips into her hair. “We’ll find us.”
“We’ll find us,” she repeats. “But you won’t lose yourself either. Promise me.” She lifts her head, eyes heavy and heartbroken. “You won’t give up on football. On your future. No matter what.”
I don’t understand what’s compelling her to say this right now, but I kiss the center of her forehead, swearing.
We end up eating corn dogs in bed together, watching reruns of Allie’s favorite Real Housewives franchise, before she ultimately falls asleep in my arms. I drift off with a smile on my face, and while the unease lingers, I’m hopeful.
Until I wake the next morning and find she’s already gone, leaving only a text message behind.
Allie
I had to get an early flight. I have class tomorrow.
Allie
We’ll find us, but make your dreams come true first. I love you.