His Cosplayer (Love Games)

by Allyson Lindt

  The sky opened up, and buckets of water washed over him. She had every right. What had he done? He turned to head back inside and pulled the door shut behind him before the monsoon-like weather could soak more than the entryway carpet.

  Riley was back at her signing table. She looked anywhere but at him, brow furrowed as she traced lines with her thumb over her fingernails. Zane stood behind her, hands jammed in his pockets, eyes narrowed, and gaze locked on Archer, following his every step.

  Archer stepped around the pair to grab a towel from the back room. He didn’t know which was worse. No. Wait. He did know. It was the look on Tori’s face. The hurt in her voice. The fact that he caused it.

  He rubbed his hair dry, patted the excess water from his outfit, and draped the towel around his shoulder. He couldn’t look at either of his friends, as he took a spot behind the register. Not that he could actually call Zane and Riley friends anymore. When he thought about it, the three of them had tossed that label aside a long time ago. That hurt to admit. Seriously, what was wrong with him?

  The storm raged outside, but the festivities drew people in for the rest of the afternoon. Closing time slid up quickly, with the steady ebb of customers acting as a buffer for the tension in the room. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything. People laughed and joked with Riley and Zane, as she signed books, and people handed Archer cash for figurines, complimenting the refreshments, and the invisible wall stayed intact.

  Archer didn’t push the stragglers out after closing time, but he locked the door the moment the last one was gone.

  “We need to go.” Riley’s comment clattered around the suddenly still room.

  Archer faced her. A lot of people would be offended by what he was about to say, but neither of the people in the room with him was on that list. “I didn’t mean it, you know. I’m not interested in another chance.”

  Riley stood and tugged her wristlet purse into place. “I don’t even guess with you anymore. So no. I don’t know.” Without looking, she stepped back, putting herself closer to Zane, and then pulled his arms around her shoulders. “What I do know is I’m not offering. Not now, not ever. I’ve figured out who and what I want.”

  The gesture sent a roaring rush of jealousy through Archer, similar to what he’d experienced watching the two together earlier. But it wasn’t because he wanted to be in Zane’s place. It was because he wanted that kind of casual intimacy with Tori. Fuck. What had he done?

  “One of these days, it has to stop. You have to figure things out.” As he spoke, Zane traced a finger along the edge of the white suede choker Riley always wore.

  Archer leaned back against the counter, swallowing his first instinct to tell his friend off.

  “That’s what I need. The two of you ganging up on me.”

  Riley bit her bottom lip, but it didn’t stop her laugh from escaping. She ducked her head and leaned more into Zane.

  “And don’t pull me into your kinky fantasies.” Great. He was doing his best to hold his shit together, and she picked the innuendo out of his statements. He glared at her.

  “Really, that’s never been an issue,” Zane said.

  Riley looked like she was struggling to hide her smile. “Besides, we can’t all get off on dirty talk and exhibitionism.”

  “Maybe not, but you can.” Archer had seen a couple of the e-mails Riley and Zane had exchanged while Zane was deployed. Oddly enough, it wasn’t something that had been a part of his physical relationship with Riley. Maybe that should have clued him in a long time ago, to their incompatibility. If only it were so easy as to lay the blame on lack of clarity. Hindsight was a ruthless bastard.

  Riley’s smirk broke loose, and she shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  “I’m still not sharing.” A serious edge ran through Zane’s voice.

  Archer rubbed his face. There was a giant gaping hole in his chest over what he’d done to Tori, but the conversation was familiar. Comfortable. He’d forgotten what it was like to joke with these two, without the looming pressure of his relationship with Riley. Then again, it was possible he was responsible for that tension.

  He had to call Tori. He needed to apologize. And he prayed to anyone who might be listening that she’d hear him out, even if he didn’t deserve it.

  Riley squeezed Zane’s hand, and then broke away. She crossed the room and stopped a few inches from Archer. She raked her blue-eyed gaze over his face, and furrowed her brow. “Do you really need me to answer your question from earlier?”

  He didn’t have to ask her to clarify. She meant his why didn’t we work out? He expected his pulse to race or something, based on her proximity and the sympathy in her voice. But the excitement wasn’t there. “No. I already know the answer, and even if I didn’t, it doesn’t matter.”

  She pressed her lips to his cheek, letting the kiss linger for a moment before stepping away. “Too bad we didn’t figure it out sooner.”

  Like he needed her to tell him that. Ice from the spot she’d touched traveled through him and settled in his gut. “Yeah. Too bad.”

  TORI SAT ON HER BALCONY, staring out beyond the mountains. Maybe if she focused hard enough, she could see home. Or where home had been. This was supposed to be her home now, and she didn’t want to give it up.

  When she ran away back then, it was because she couldn’t stand up for herself. But what did speaking up do for her? Almost broke her relationship with her brother, and got her a string of lies from a man she thought liked her. The man she thought she loved. The word bounced around in her ribcage, tearing pieces of her loose with every rattle.

  The rain stopped almost an hour ago, but clouds still blanketed the sky. The steady drip from the gutters on her overhang blurred the orange flame the setting sun cast on the skyline. She ran the back of her hand across her cheeks. Right. It was water causing the blur. She sniffled. This hurt so much. She didn’t remember the betrayal hurting so much last time. Was it because she made the mistake twice, despite her caution?

  Maybe. She didn’t know. She was tired of thinking about it, and her eyes were irritated, and her throat was raw, and she still couldn’t focus on anything else. Her phone buzzed again. She clenched her fist. She wouldn’t pick it up and throw it into the street below.

  She didn’t bother to see who it was. It had been Archer every five minutes or so, for the last hour. The notes said various things. Talk to me, and, Please let me know you’re seeing these, and, Are you all right?

  The last one dug the deepest. What the hell kind of question was that? Did he expect her to be all right? And not a single note was an apology or an acknowledgment he screwed up. Not that it mattered. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. If she hadn’t overheard, who knew how much further he would have taken things?

  Her phone buzzed again. They were down to less than two-minute increments now. She grabbed at the threads of irritation inside and used them to smother everything else, as she dialed his number.

  He answered before the phone finished ringing once. “Tori, I—”

  “Don’t.” She sounded hoarser than she expected. That was okay, she could go with hoarse. “What don’t you understand about I don’t want to talk to you?”

  “But I—”

  “This isn’t an invitation for dialogue.” Each word scratched her throat, and her hurt rushed back. “Don’t call me. Don’t text me. I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”

  “Please—”

  “Goodbye.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable. Hopefully she’d disconnected before he’d heard.

  She could move. Sell her condo, take the equity, and drive as far as a hundred bucks in gas would get her. Not quite as far as it had four years ago, but it would be something. Except the thought of giving up, letting him chase her out of this place she loved, made her tense. She wouldn’t do that. But she did still have one outlet. She took a long drink from the glass of water next to her and grabbed Elliot’s card from her wallet. He answered quickly
, tone cautious but friendly.

  “Hey. This is Tori.” A sudden lump in the back of her throat kept her from identifying herself as Archer’s friend.

  “Hey.” His tone shifted in an instant, enthusiasm flowing in. “I’m so glad you called. Does this mean Archer talked to you?”

  She cringed. It took some effort to keep her voice cheerful. “Since I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m going to guess no.” One more thing he’d kept from her. Not that it mattered at this point.

  “Ah.” A level of cheer faded in that single syllable. “Then, what can I do for you?”

  It wasn’t a good sign, but she needed this. She’d never forgive herself if she didn’t explore this avenue. “I was wondering about that thing we talked about a while back. The sponsorship for my costumes. I’m wondering if there’s anyone else you can hook me up with.”

  He chuckled, and a sliver of ice ran down her spine. Why was the sound so unpleasant? “You’d leave Archer high and dry like that?”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine on his own.” She wasn’t out for blood or anything, but she wasn’t going to go out of her way to help him.

  “See, that’s the thing he didn’t tell you.” Elliot dragged out the words, like he wanted to sound sorry, but nothing in his tone was. “It’s an all-or-nothing deal for him. I can hook you up with someone else, but he doesn’t get the contract unless you sign on. You’re the money in this deal.”

  She wanted to focus on the compliment, but the rest of the statement left a sick hole growing in her gut. “I am?”

  “You’re the talent, beautiful.” His voice oozed over the phone. “I’ve got a guy in Denver who would love to work with you. Especially if you’re willing to visit occasionally and show off your goods, if you know what I mean.”

  She retched silently. “Elliot, is that really you?”

  “Yeah, it is, love. The kid gloves are for clients, but you don’t need that.”

  She rubbed her eyes, unsure what to say.

  “So I can e-mail you the contract?” Elliot asked.

  “No.” She didn’t have to think about it or consider the consequences. “No, you can’t. Forget I called. Erase my number.”

  She hung up, processing the call. At least the shock muffled her grief, not that it would hold out for long. Fuck. What was wrong with the world? She was slowly losing every friend she thought she had.

  A few drips hit the awning above her, and then more, and then the skies opened and poured down rain.

  Tori wasn’t sure how long she sat on the balcony, watching the storm hammer against the world. Too bad it wasn’t washing anything inside away. God, this hurt.

  The sound of her doorbell interrupted her musings, and the pounding that followed made her heart leap into her throat in surprise. What the hell?

  At least she hadn’t been crying. Not for a few hours, anyway. She hoped her eyes weren’t too red. She climbed from her chair and dragged her feet along the carpet, to the front door. Through the blinds, she could see a silhouette facing the front landing.

  It wasn’t him. It was just someone shaped like him. A neighbor. A lost pizza boy. Oh, pizza. She should eat. Except her stomach wasn’t going to let her do that any time soon. She didn’t want to fill that void.

  She opened the door, and her insides twisted in on themselves when she saw Archer on the other side. Fury. Regret. Longing. She didn’t even know which feeling to focus on, except she was determined to ignore any emotion that wanted to let him in.

  “Go away.”

  He stepped forward, resting his foot on the line between inside and out. “Tori, let—”

  “No.” It took all of her willpower to force the word out. Too much of her wanted to listen to him. But that was what had caused the problem in the first place. “Go away.”

  “Not until you hear me out.”

  She glared at his foot. Looking directly at him hurt too much.

  He inched his toes from her condo and back onto the landing. “I’ll stay out here until you’re ready to listen.”

  “You do that. I have other plans.” She looked at him, eyes narrowed. She was past caring about the part of the sentiment that sounded sweet. He’d lied to her, and he’d betrayed her, and she wasn’t going to spend her time on him.

  She closed the door and flipped the deadbolt into place. Turn and walk away. Head back to the couch. Turn on the TV. Pretend he isn’t there. That was all she had to do. Simple things she did every day. In five or ten minutes, he’d realize she was serious and go home.

  She flopped onto the couch and flipped on the TV. She had no idea what she watched. The shadow on the other side of her blinds taunted her. Something with explosions. She needed something with explosions.

  The rain drove against the side of the building and then the wind switched direction, howling through the cracks in her front window, slamming large drops of water into the glass.

  She wouldn’t look up. Gaze on the screen. He would go home soon. And it served him right that he was getting soaked. Five minutes passed. Then ten. And then an hour. She watched the clock tick off the seconds in time to the beat of the hammering rain.

  Fuck it. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom and yanked open the front door. She shoved the towel into his arms and pulled him inside by his soaked shirt.

  She shut the door behind him and leaned against it. “I’ll let you talk, and then you’ll go home.”

  He nodded. A heavy silence settled between them while he toweled off his hair and patted his clothes dry. Sort of. He still left a puddle under his feet. She didn’t even care. The carpet would dry.

  “I’m sorry.”

  It startled her, but at least he got that bit right. “So?”

  “I know I haven’t told you this yet, but you have to know. I don’t love Riley, I don’t miss her, and I don’t want another chance with her. I love you.”

  The confession cut deep, and she couldn’t tuck aside the resulting gash. The open wound filled with the negativity that had built throughout the evening. She clenched her jaw, to keep anything from coming out.

  “The only reason I care she left is because I don’t know what I did wrong. Not because I want her back, but because I don’t want to make the same mistakes with you. I want you. I need you. I can’t lose you.”

  Each new word tugged at her insides. A sob rose in her throat, but she swallowed it. She took a few deep breaths, to make sure she could speak without her voice cracking. “I’m not her. If you mean that, you need to be figuring out how to make us work, not what went wrong in the past.”

  “I know.” He took a step forward, and stopped when she moved back. “I was wrong. About so much. And I lived in the past for too long, and I have you right here in front of me, and I let what happened before blind me to what we have. You’re this amazing, incredible, brilliant, gorgeous woman. And I love you, and I’m so sorry.”

  Damn it, he needed to stop saying that... that ...L-word. Her tentative grip on composure was sliding away. She dug her will into it and clung to its last threads. Instinct wanted to shut him out. To hide away what she was thinking.

  But she couldn’t stop herself from speaking her mind. “I can’t trust you. Especially not around Riley. And if I can’t trust you, we don’t have anything. Not even friendship.” Agony wrenched her chest.

  “I understand.”

  She yanked back the part of her that wanted to tell him it was okay. That they’d make it work. It wasn’t true, though, and it wouldn’t stop the pain. She tugged the door open. “I heard you out. Go home.”

  “Tell me how to make it better.” He looked up, and locked his gaze on hers.

  “I don’t know if you can. I think we’re beyond making things better.”

  “I see.”

  “Good night.” She felt like she was sawing herself in half when she closed the door behind him. She waited a few minutes, watching his shadow through the front curtains. Her gut plummeted to the floor when he finally turned aw
ay.

  She did the same, heading into the bedroom. She dropped onto the mattress, pulled her knees to her chest, and sobbed, letting each body-wrenching ache tear through her. Maybe they would rip her apart. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with the mess that was her relationship with Archer.

  Chapter Twenty

  The only way Archer could take his mind off Tori was by poring over his tattered financial records. Even that only distracted him for a few minutes at a time. His chest throbbed when he stumbled across Elliot’s contract. Fuck. Even if he wanted to—which was a serious possibility—he couldn’t without Tori.

  A new wave of guilt rushed through him the moment the thought crossed his mind. It was true he wanted to see her do something with her talent, but he couldn’t suck her into a shitty contract. She deserved better than Elliot’s offer.

  The door chimed, drawing his attention away from the discouraging numbers. It was Gwen. Was she there to bitch at him on Tori’s behalf? That couldn’t be the case, but a bit of him hoped. It would mean Tori hadn’t forgotten about him.

  He pasted on a smile and gave her his full attention. Easy enough, since she was the only person in the shop. “Can I help you?”

  “I hope so. I really hope you still have that VF-1J... and you do.”

  The transforming plane from a decades-old cartoon? He hadn’t expected that. “Yeah. It’s the kind of thing people always want to see, but never want to buy.” Once they saw the four-hundred dollar price tag, most of them were reluctant to even touch the box for fear they might break it.

  “I do.”

  “Excuse me?” He blinked and shook his head. There was no way he’d heard her right.

  “I want the model. It’s fully transformable, right?”

  He pulled the box off the top shelf. Had he fallen asleep doing accounting? This was too surreal. “All three modes.”

  She paid without batting an eye when he told her the total, her gaze wandering around the store while he found a bag big enough for the box. She turned back to him, studying him for a moment before speaking. “How long do you have?”