by Kelley York
The papers crinkled in Archer’s tightening grip. He counted backward from ten. “I’m not sure I get it. I followed the rules, and there were no rules about the ‘tone’ of the story.”
“Your focus is a twelve-year-old boy brutally slaughtering demons. In graphic detail. It’s obvious to me much of the story is a metaphor for something else.” She gave him a pointed look. “Rewrite it. Something that can be shared with the rest of the class without disturbing some of your more sensitive peers. You may have a week to turn it in. That’s my attempt at generosity.”
Archer contemplated shoving the paper down her throat. What was wrong with something darker? With metaphorical writing? His hands trembled.
“It’s not a word,” he ground out.
Gonera blinked up at him. “Pardon?”
“Completedness. It’s not a word. You’re looking for completeness.” He shoved the papers into his backpack and stomped out of the room.
Vivian texted him half an hour after his last class—I have news.
He was still stewing over Gonera’s comments on his work, but there wasn’t much to be done for it. Teachers were in a position of power. Either he did what he was told, or he flunked. It wasn’t so bad in most classes, but Gonera was an exception. She hated him on some sort of personal level he couldn’t begin to understand.
When Viv met him at the coffee shop down the street from The Grove, she smiled as she leaned across the small table and ran a finger between his brows to smooth out his frown.
“Hello, grumpy. What’s wrong?”
He grunted, but forced his expression to relax. “That story I finished up the other week.”
“Yeah? What about it?”
“The harpy says it’s too dark. Need to rewrite it.”
Vivian wrinkled up her nose. “Lame. Can I read it?”
He hesitated. If Gonera had been right about one thing, it was the metaphorical aspect of his paper. She couldn’t piece it together, but Vivian might. “I threw it away,” he lied.
“Stupid, why’d you do that?” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her long legs and folding her hands on the table. “Your stuff is really good, Archer. Don’t let Mrs. Gonorrhea make you think otherwise.”
A smile tugged at his mouth at the nickname. “I’m not. It isn’t a big deal. I’ll rewrite it and get her off my back.” Before she could needle him further, he asked, “What was it you wanted to tell me, anyway?”
Vivian’s expression sobered right up. “I had a talk with Mick last night.”
Archer’s heart sank. “And?”
“And…he’s agreed to get in to see a therapist. Start some anger management classes.” She worried at the inside of her lower lip. “He really wants me back, apologized over and over…”
“Viv.”
“…and I’d like to give it a try.”
Why? Why why why? After everything Mickey put her through, after hitting her—repeatedly—after breaking her spirit a little more with every fight, why did she want to go back?
His muscles trembled like tightly wound springs and it was all he could do to keep from knocking their table aside, grabbing Vivian, and shaking her.
“Is staying with me really that bad?” He meant it as a joke. Sort of. Not really. Vivian didn’t take it as one. Her expression softened.
“You know it’s not that. You’ve been great to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You’re my best friend, you make everything better… He could recite everything she would say by heart.
He felt sick.
Vivian sighed, looking down at her hands. “I just…really like Mick, you know? And I feel like I owe it to him…” Her voice trailed off.
“You don’t owe him a fucking thing.” He stood abruptly, sending his chair toppling backward and then clattering on the floor. Everyone in the café stilled. Archer didn’t care. Let them watch. “You owe him nothing, Vivian. Nothing. Don’t ever let him make you think that! You don’t owe anyone in this world a damned thing.” Heat coursed from his chest to the tips of every nerve in his body.
Vivian sat there, eyes wide. She didn’t move when Archer slammed his way out the front doors and headed down the street.
Betrayed. That was how he felt. Why would she do this? After everything he tried to do for her, after he opened his home to her, gave her anything she needed. Was she too stupid to see the only guy in her life who ever really cared about her was him?
“Archer? Archer wait.”
Her heeled boots clicked on the boardwalk behind him. Archer had no interest in stopping, but—damn her—he did. He stopped, but he didn’t turn around.
Vivian halted behind him, breathless. “I’m really sorry, okay? I knew you wouldn’t be happy…”
Archer whirled to face her. “Happy? Why in the world would I be happy?”
She wet her lips, grasping for words. “Because it’s something really important to me. I love Mick, so if I can make it work then I’m damned well going to try.”
He snorted and didn’t bothering trying to hide how far back his eyes rolled. “You’re going to try. He beats the shit out of you, and you’re the one that has to make it better. Fantastic.”
Her face flushed. “You’re being a jerk. Aren’t you supposed to be my best friend?”
Only when it was convenient for her. The comment grated on him in all the wrong ways. He shoved his face a few inches from hers.
“I always remember that,” he said. “Do you?”
Vivian’s eyes widened, looking stricken.
He didn’t care to wait for an answer. This argument wouldn’t end like the others always did, with Vivian in tears and him apologizing profusely for upsetting her. It wasn’t his fault. It was never his fault. All he wanted was her happiness, and she was so determined to be miserable.
He stormed down the boardwalk and this time, Viv didn’t follow.
Her stuff was already gone by the time he got home. She left a note on the counter, written in her small, delicate writing:
Thank you for letting me stay. I miss you already. I’m sorry.
Love you,
Viv
Love you.
Miss you.
Archer doubted that. He balled up the paper and sent it sailing into the trashcan. How was he supposed to save her when she did shit like that?
§
This time of night, the complex was quiet save for faint music drifting from the occasional apartment. The pool’s glow drew him in like it was the last light in all the world. He didn’t stop at the gazebo this time. His fingers curled around the chilly metal bars of the enclosure, face rested against it while he watched Evan in the process of his nightly laps.
Back and forth, back and forth.
A lot like his life, it seemed. The ebb and flow of the tide. Nothing was ever stagnant. Not his family life, not his schooling, not even his friendships or feelings for Vivian. Sometimes he hated her. Sometimes he loved her so much he couldn’t stand it.
Evan didn’t notice him until he’d finally surfaced and headed for the steps. His eyes locked on Archer and—no shock, no nervousness, surprisingly—he grinned before swimming to the edge closest to where Archer stood.
“What’re you doing out this late?”
Good question. Archer couldn’t tell him he was lonely, that he didn’t want to be in his empty apartment. The burnt cupcakes in the fridge reminding him of Vivian. The pants she had forgotten on his bedroom floor and the spare toothbrush in the bathroom.
He took a breath and forced all thoughts of her out of his head with his exhale. The residue still made his heart hurt. “Watching you, apparently. Why don’t you use the school facilities? They’re heated.”
Evan folded his arms on the concrete ledge. “I do during practices, but it’s hard to concentrate. Everyone screwing around and stuff. No one has ever bothered me here.”
“I’m the first, then.” Archer wasn’t sure why he felt guilty for that. Of all the things in his life to feel g
uilty about… “I can go.”
“No, no.” Evan released the edge and made for the steps, out of the pool and over to the fence. “Company is different from being bothered. I never mind your company.”
I’m terrible company, he almost said. Not out of self-pity, no, but simply repeating what most everyone had told him at some point or another. “Does that mean you’re done swimming?”
The answer was ‘no.’ He always swam later than this. Always. But Evan said, “Yeah,” and offered him another of those grins. It morphed into something a little shyer. “Do you have plans tonight, or does ‘walking’ about sum it up? Is Vivian waiting for you?”
Archer considered carefully. If he said he had other plans, Evan might ask what. He could always say he intended to go home and catch up on sleep, but… Okay, maybe he was a little curious. Besides, he felt spiteful enough to let someone in on the fact she was back with Mick. “Vivian went home to make up with Mickey.”
“Sorry.” Evan frowned. He drew back to fetch his towel. No comment, though. Archer wasn’t sure he’d ever hear a cruel word come out of Evan’s mouth about anyone. Evan slipped his t-shirt on, draped the towel around his neck and slipped out of the enclosure. Archer met him at the gate, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Since you’re free… Do you wanna come over?” Evan toed his bare feet against the grass, head down. “I’ve got a pretty impressive movie collection. And games, if you’re into that kind of stuff.”
Archer frowned. Like hell if he could figure Evan out. Bubbly and self-assured one second, awkward and shy the next. Back and forth, again and again. Archer’s emotions mirrored it. Evan annoyed him, Evan interested him, Evan was infuriating—and then calming. All in the same breath. Accept? Or go back to his too-empty apartment?
I don’t know what I’m doing.
He tipped his head back, looking to the sky for an answer. The moon hung over Evan’s head like a spotlight. He sighed.
“Sure. I like movies.”
Tuesday, September 30th
Vivian was a no-show at The Grove all weekend and into the following week. No surprise there. And, apparently, she hadn’t been there for a number of nights last week, either. Which meant any evening she was out while staying with him, she’d been with Mick. Talking things over. Whatever.
“I don’t remember the last time I saw her. Last Monday, maybe?” Roxy told him, even though he hadn’t asked. Over a week ago—if his memory served him right, that was the night Evan had stopped by. “You haven’t talked to her?”
Archer dropped his backpack on the ground and took up his usual seat. No one else ever took it, they knew better. He’d just make them move. Evan seemed to have staked out his own permanent seat, too, right across from his. Archer didn’t greet him beyond a small nod. It was more than he offered anyone else.
“Nope,” he said, and turned his gaze to the ocean, watching the water pull in and out. Calming him. “She’s probably wrapped up with Mick.”
Roxy nearly choked on her drink. She set the glass down on the table with a little more force than necessary, twisting around to stare at him. “Are you kidding me? She and Mickey got back together?”
Vivian hadn’t told them? Whoops. “She left a few nights ago. I haven’t heard from her since.” When he looked at Roxy, he caught Evan watching him, something akin to sympathy on his face. What the hell was that for?
“Oh my God. I can’t believe her…”
Jordy stepped up behind her chair. “What? Believe who?”
“Vivian!” Roxy twisted around to look at him. “She and Mick got back together. Geez, Archer—couldn’t you have talked her out of it?”
Archer’s jaw clenched. “Thank you for thinking I didn’t try.”
“She didn’t mean it like that,” Jordy protested. “Guess that’s why we haven’t seen Mick-douchebag around, either. Not like he talks to anyone even when he is here.”
“Too busy trying to get Viv to himself,” Melissa mumbled, glancing around like she was worried Viv or Mick would suddenly appear and overhear. “She could do so much better.”
Archer exchanged looks with Roxy, who remained quiet. After a few minutes of everyone’s back and forth, Archer couldn’t listen to it anymore. Never mind that he’d only just gotten there. He already wanted to leave.
And he did. He shoved back his chair, stood, shouldered his backpack and instead of heading inside, hopped right off the deck and into the sand to walk along the beach. No one noticed him leave.
Hypocritical idiots.
They could talk about Mick all they wanted, but the second Mickey showed up, everyone would be smiles and jokes again. He and Roxy were the only two who treated Mick with icy civility, and it was only for Vivian’s sake.
He tromped through the sand a ways up the beach, following the line of the water. Now and again, he ventured too close and it nipped at his shoes. Eventually he took them off and walked barefoot.
Someone had followed him. He dumped his bag to the ground and sank down beside it, letting the ocean lick at his toes. Whoever it was stopped a few feet away. There was something in the lingering silence filling the space between them that told him who it was before Evan even opened his mouth.
“Do you want some company?”
No one else would’ve been stupid enough to follow. When Archer moped, it was smartest to leave him alone. Evan didn’t know those rules yet. The ones everyone else followed without even realizing it.
“It’s a public beach.” He stared at the water. Evan sat beside him so close their hips almost touched. Archer refused to let on it made him uncomfortable, so he didn’t move away.
“You all right? All this stuff going on with Vivian and all…” Evan trailed off, seeming stuck with his words. What did Evan know about him and Viv? What did he think he knew? “I mean, I could be totally off-base, but I thought maybe you two were…I don’t know.”
“We weren’t together, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Archer sighed. “She’s my best friend.” All they’d ever been were friends. He didn’t foresee that changing, no matter how many years he spent wanting it. She shot him down at every turn, unless her current boyfriend wasn’t giving her enough attention and she needed the confidence boost.
“Is that your decision or hers?” he asked. Archer’s back stiffened. The look he cast at Evan was a dark one. Dangerous ground; it wasn’t any of his business. Evan shrank in on himself a little. “Sorry, I’m prying. Just…uh, you know. If you want to talk about it.”
I don’t. But Archer didn’t say as much. When he turned his gaze from the ocean to Evan, he was met with dark eyes watching him so intently he was, for a second, unsure what to do or say. He opened his mouth and forced out the first thing that came to mind.
“Tell me about your life.”
Evan blinked. “My life?”
“Your life.” He stared back, intent. It hadn’t dawned on him that he wanted to know before now, but there it was.
“I’m not sure what you want to know. Nothing exciting.” Evan ducked his head. “Grew up with my mom and dad. I have an older sister named Samantha…”
“You like to swim. And play video games.” Archer recalled the things Evan had mentioned his first day at The Grove. “Marine biology?”
This time, Evan perked up. “Yeah. Not really sure what I wanna do with it, but—maybe research, that kind of thing. That would be neat, don’t you think?”
“It would,” he agreed. More interesting than anything Archer could think of to do with his own life. “You belong in the water.”
Evan laughed. It was a warm sound. “I’ve heard that before. What about you? What’s your family like?”
Not a topic he wanted to touch. But he’d asked first, so it was only fair. “My dad died a few years ago. Haven’t spoken much to my mom since I moved out.” Honestly, he hadn’t spoken much to his mom even before that. Not since his dad died. She was afraid to be alone with him.
“You and Viv…you’
ve known each other for a long time, Roxy said?”
Archer snorted. “We met in grade school. She lived a few streets away. We were inseparable up until guys started wanting in her pants.” He didn’t bite back the bitterness. It was there, in all its glory. “Anyone will tell you, she loves attention.”
Evan frowned. “You pay her attention.”
“I’m her best friend.” He shrugged. “Not boyfriend material.” He tried through most of high school. Eventually gave up trying, but never gave up hope. Hope that maybe someday Vivian would open her eyes and realize there’d only ever been one guy in her life that hadn’t let her down. The only one who wanted her for her instead of her body. She was beautiful, yes, and there had been a few times when she’d made herself physically available to him, but after what she had gone through how could he take her up on that?
Evan looked away. “She’s stupid, then,” he said quietly. The breeze brushed his hair back out of his eyes and he breathed in deep. Archer watched the rise and fall of his chest.
“Why’s that?”
“Because she’s overlooking you for a complete prick. And judging by the way you said it, this isn’t the first time she’s done it.”
Something pinched inside Archer’s chest. Dozens of guys, all wastes of space in their own, unique ways. Somehow Vivian made him feel less worthy than all of them. “She’s always been capable of better,” he murmured.
“So I’ve heard.” Evan gave a nod in the direction of The Grove and their friends on the deck. “But, you know… Maybe you’re the one who can do better.”
There were no words. He grasped blindly for them, wanting to reach for that statement, wanting to shoot it down. Evan didn’t know him. Didn’t really know him. How could he make that judgment? He didn’t want to correct him, though. If only you knew. He didn’t want Evan to take it back.
Evan frowned. “Are you cold? You’re shivering.”