Chapter 5 - Trish
“Are you okay?” Archer asks as we sit down on a bench under the trees by the beach.
“Yeah,” I answer, feeling better.
“You’ve been out of it since Monica left.”
“Yeah.”
He hands me the pancakes. I had breakfast not long ago, but seeing these fluffy pancakes makes me salivate immediately.
I take a bite, gathering my thoughts. When I finish swallowing my food, I speak.
“Work has been difficult lately. I’ve told you I was feeling burned out but I couldn’t quite get what was missing before.
I thought I was just tired, tired of dealing with impossible clients.
The fashion industry is really picky, everything must be done a certain way, or else the whole thing falls apart.
I used to love it, working in fashion. Lana taught me everything, even though she works with other types of clients now.
Yes, it was unbelievably stressful but I learned so much.
Getting to work closely with these brands, how they thought, it’s like new neural pathways opened up for me. They were so innovative!”
Feeling frustrated for falling out of love with my job, I eat several bites before I speak again. Archer eats slowly not taking his eyes off me.
“I’ve been doing the bare minimum for over a year.
I couldn’t figure out what was wrong, just that I hated this more and more the further I got.
So I got myself a big vacation here in a small town where not a lot happens, or so Lana says, hoping it’d make me rest. But meeting Monica, I think I realize it now.
It’s not that I wish for another job, I just need to care about these brands like I did before.
At some point, it didn’t matter who I was working with, as long as it got done. ”
“What brand did you enjoy working for the most?”
It’s a simple question, but not one I thought of posing. The answer, though, comes immediately.
“There was this brand that aimed to do sustainable tops for plus-sized women like me.”
“Tell me more.”
So I do. I tell him everything I loved about working with them: things I’d consciously known were important to me, like giving people my size more options to shop for clothes, and others I only discover as I put them into words.
He listens, asking follow-up questions but never interrupting me, giving me the space to think carefully about the words I want to share.
It feels nice to talk about this with someone.
I didn’t know how to bring it up with Lana, I wanted to shelter her as much as I could so she didn’t feel like she had to come to the mainland more often to visit.
Archer makes me feel at ease though, he’s not like the man who barked at me for skinny-dipping on his lake.
Sure, he keeps his distance, but that’s to be expected, we’ve only known each other for a couple of days.
I’m the one who wants him more than I ever thought I could want anyone like this.
“Thank you for that,” I say, meaning it with all my heart, feeling lighter than I felt in ages.
“Thank you for telling me,” he offers a soft smile, tender, kind, not a single line in his face making him look boyish.
I really want to kiss this man, I realize.
Never been attracted to older guys before but it’s not about age for me.
It’s about Archer. I’m terribly attracted to Archer and I really want him to listen to me and give me that tender smile whenever something’s wrong in my life.
The longing I feel is so sharp that I stand up to shake it off.
He pulled back his hand, he doesn’t want to touch you. He probably doesn’t even see me that way. Even after he saw you completely naked.
“We should get to our main task of the day, don’t you think?” I ask in a high-pitched voice.
“We don’t need to do this, Trish,” he reassures me.
“I’m good, I promise.” I flash him a smile, crossing my index and middle fingers against my cheek like a kid wishing for luck. “We’re going to find you the perfect suit!”
He’s still sitting on the bench not moving an inch. I offer my hand. “I’m serious. I just found out I like to help people with their goals when they’re not financially driven. So I’m going to like helping you.”
He studies me for a moment and takes my hand. Again, the same sensation returns: his firm grip, my whole body singing in unison to not let go. Like before, he’s the first to let go, guiding us back to where we first came from.
When we get to the store, I discover people do, in fact, buy suits in small towns. The place is more crowded than I expected.
“Wedding season,” Archer mutters as we weave through the aisles.
“Okay, I’ve got a plan: you’re going to the changing rooms and I’ll pick suits and bring them over.”
He nods uncomfortably. I choose three suits, one of them perfectly matching my neon green dress.
It’s not neon by any means, but the dark suit along with the patterned tie would be my choice if I were coming with him to the wedding.
Am I getting ahead of myself? 100%. But it’s not like he’s even going to get that I chose the suit because of how well it matched my dress.
He pulled his hand away in the car and didn’t linger on my handshake, so it seems fair to assume he’s not interested.
But if I’m being coerced by my best friend to help choose a suit, I might as well fantasize during the task, it’ll cost the same.
When I get to the changing rooms calling out to him, he gets out of his stall wearing only his boxer briefs. Gosh, this man really likes to show off his body, doesn’t he?
“Here are the suits,” I stretch my arm out, the three suits dangling between us as I try to block some of that view.
“I like this one,” he says, pointing to the one that matches my dress. “I’m going to try it on.”
When he opens his curtain shortly after, fully clothed.
I forget how to breathe. He has no business looking this way.
So. Handsome. Like his suit was made for him, custom-tailored and not from a random shop.
He looks like he could own this fucking island and everyone would bow down to follow every single one of his orders. I know I would.
“Liking what you see, princess?” he asks, a million-dollar smirk on his face. I don’t get it. He’s either pulling away or taunting me. I would be lying if I said I didn’t like the nickname though.
I’m not experienced so there’s a voice inside me telling me I’m getting it wrong, but the voice is not strong enough for my cheeks not to turn red.
A swarm of teenagers arrived at the changing rooms, chatting loudly, giggling something about buying their first suit.
Once the initial surprise settles, I turn again to Archer who’s tanned face looks fairer now.
I don’t think, I push him against his stall, pull the curtain behind me and hug him with force, like my life depended on it.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, over and over again until I feel his muscles slowly relaxing in my embrace.