Archer

by Haley Jenner

  As if he can sense my eyes, or maybe it’s the awkwardness broadcasting itself form his two friends, whatever the reason, Archer begins scanning the bar. Panicked, I turn my back and drop my head down, staring into my drink as if it holds the power. The power to make this encounter any less painful, less confronting. That this one drink can ease me through this reunion without drama, without further damage.

  "Alright there, sweetness?" Refusing to lift my head fully, I glance up through my lashes and meet the deep blue eyes of our bartender.

  "What’s your name?" I question.

  "Luca," he answers, offering his hand. I sit up straighter and place my hand in his.

  "Annabelle". We don't shake, Luca just holds my hand from across the bar, keeping eye contact, as his facial expression changes to one of understanding.

  I raise my eyebrows in confusion. "Friend of Jake's," he answers my silent question and I'm suddenly uncomfortable with the exchange, pulling my hand from his, dropping it to my lap and out of reach, causing him to frown at the loss.

  "I'm assuming you hiding has something to do with the arrival of your ex?" I study him carefully. I don't know this guy, have never met him. Jake has never mentioned him, at least not by name, yet he knows about me and Archer. "People still talk about your showdown in this very bar," he smiles sarcastically and I grunt in amusement.

  "I haven't seen Archer in three years," I confess. "Reckon I'm gonna need another drink before I cross that bridge," I gesture to the array of spirits decorating the back wall.

  Luca pours us each a shot and we clink our glasses together before throwing them back. The alcohol burns my throat as it slides down and I welcome the intrusion.

  Glancing at Aubrey we stare at one another for moments before she speaks. "You don't have to do this right now, we can just leave." Delaying it will only increase my uneasiness, I need it done. So, shaking my head, I push away from the bar and make my way back over to our friends. To Archer.

  I make it only two steps before I feel my world spin on its axis and bile rise in my throat. You know what people say about watching a car accident, how you can’t look away from the destruction. This is me. I can't make my feet move as I watch Bartie's approach. I'm aware that I'm holding my breath, waiting on his reaction, but I can't will myself to breathe. I feel Aubrey at my side, still, much like me, waiting. I don't see our friends, panic clear in their eyes as they all watch on. But I feel, feel pain deep inside, the wind knocked from me as Bartie leans up to touch her lips to Archer’s. He doesn't lean into her kiss, but he also doesn't push her away. He shakes his head at something she says before they turn to leave bar together, his hand holding the back of her neck as they walk.

  Immediately I turn to the bar, Aubrey on my heels. "We're gonna need a few more of these handsome," she yells out to Luca and his deep blues are sympathetic as he fills shot glasses directly in front of me. I swallow three in quick succession, using the back of my hand to wipe my mouth when I finish.

  I stare at Luca, my eyes resting on his full lips as his tongue pokes out to wet them. "Let me kiss you," he leans across the bar. "I promise I can make you feel better." This sentence holds none of his easy flirtation, he means what he says and I believe him, completely.

  I shake my head slightly, feeling regretful. "I wish I wanted you to kiss me. You're gorgeous and I have no doubt you could make me forget, for a bit, but…" I don’t bother finishing my sentence, trailing off into silence as I continue to watch him.

  He nods his head in understanding, disappointment clear on his features. "At least dance with me, I'm due for a break. No expectations, just a dance," he invites.

  I love dancing and I need some kind of distraction, so I agree. He follows me to the dance floor and my hips sway to the melody, as the band harmonizes with seductive tones and slow beats. Luca’s hands find my hips at times and I step out of his touch not wanting to encourage him. I shouldn’t care. I should let this beautiful stranger help me forget. I should let Luca’s hands touch me, feel my body. Help make me feel alive. But I can’t bring myself to do it, can’t move past the pain pulsating in my chest.

  Momentarily I forget where I am, lost in the music, the excess alcohol clouding my thoughts and it feels good. Luca’s fingers ghost along my collarbone as he moves my hair from my neck, leaning close and before I can pull away he whispers softly in my ear. “We have an audience.”

  Lifting my head, my eyes feel the impact of a cold green stare and I freeze, the ice in his eyes gluing me to the spot. His anger is obvious, eyes locked on me before flicking briefly to Luca and back again. Luca grabs my hips and pulls them tightly back towards him, my ass planting firmly against his crotch. “Don’t feel guilty" he whispers into my neck, the tickle of his breath causing goose bumps with his body wrapped so closely around mine. "You were only reacting to what you saw. To Archer and Bartie.”

  Luca's words hit home and the pain from earlier returns, watching Bartie's lips touch Archer's, him guiding her from the bar and now I’m angry. Archer watches me closely, challenging my next move. Glancing to his side, Bennett and Toby stand close by, their expressions begging me to stop. But I’m blinded by all the times Archer made me feel like nothing. The nights he wouldn’t come home, and the hurt I’ve lived with for so long for loving this man. My decision made, I raise my arm to hold the back of Luca’s neck and begin swaying my hips, grinding into him in time with the music.

  Archer’s anger erupts like a volcano and from the corner of my eye I can see him start forward but his advance is immediately stopped by Bennett and Toby. I watch as they struggle to keep hold, his anger giving greater power to his strength. Knowing it's only a matter of time before his anger builds his strength to a point Toby and Bennett won’t be able to hold him, I steal the opportunity to take my leave. Grabbing Luca’s hand, I pull him through the bar as fast as my boots will allow. Luca directs me behind the bar and guides me towards the back exit.

  “Holy fuck, he’s gonna kill me,” Luca laughs in complete shock as we break through the door. “He was so ready to kick my ass!”

  Adrenaline is pumping through my body and I begin laughing as well. Mine slightly more hysterical. “Luca, I need to get out of here,” I freak and he nods his head in acknowledgement, walking me in the opposite direction of the bar to hail me a cab.

  Before I fold myself into the car, he grabs my hand in both of his before raising it to his lips. “Thanks for the dance, sweetness. I’ll catch you around,” he winks before walking away.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Annabelle

  I undress, removing my clothes in haste, trying to rid the memory of Luca’s hands and in turn, the look on Archer's face, from my brain. Seeing him for the first time in years felt like a sucker punch to the chest. Fuck, he looked good. And mad. Totally fucking psychotic.

  As if trying to torture myself more, I pull on an old shirt of Archer's as I make my way downstairs. It sits mid-thigh and is soft, worn and if possible still smells of him. If only I’d gotten close enough to smell him, just one inhale to bring the memory of his scent into full consciousness.

  My feet padding lightly through the house we once shared, I consider again whether I’m crazy for choosing to stay here. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m a sucker for punishment and want to feel something more than I have done over the past few years. Even if that feeling is pain. But I’ve missed my home. I lived in this very house for most of my life and my life with Archer was only a small snippet of the years I built memories here. That’s what I’ve convinced myself of anyway. Truth be told, this space feels like it always held Archer. That he was always here, with me. That this home was always ours, never just mine.

  All our things remain exactly as we left them that night. Everything within its place. I know Archer lives elsewhere now, Jake assured me of that. I like to believe that maybe the memories are too hard for him too. That being here without me would feel wrong. But seeing him with Bartie tonight, I’m now not convinced. I guess, in some
way, he has moved on. More than I have been able to do anyway.

  Walking into the darkened kitchen I pull a bottle of white from the fridge and disregard the thought of a glass almost immediately. I take a swig straight from the bottle, because let’s not kid ourselves, fuck self-preservation this evening.

  I shake my head in disgust at myself. What is actually wrong with my brain? Honestly?! I cannot believe I started grinding my ass into Luca's crotch when I finally got to meet his eyes again. A friend of Jake’s for Christ’s sake. Seeing him again after these few years, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to feel. Loss? Regret? Want? Nothing? Seeing him leave with Bartie, I can still feel my heart in my throat, suffocating me. I watched them leave. Walk from the bar. Together. Touching. Then he was back, almost instantly. His eyes, my god, I actually thought he was going to self-combust from the anger pulsing through his body.

  I lift the bottle to my lips once again as I make my way through the house, stopping mid-swig when I hear his voice, the gravel more prominent from his anger. "Never saw you as easy, Annabelle, seems I was remembering a fantasy."

  I take in his body behind the screen, muscled arms stretched above his head, bracing against the door frame, his silhouetted figure ominous in the limited light. I make my approach slowly, unsure, but silently. Only speaking when I reach him, when I can see his eyes. “That’s a bit rich,” I smirk, but it’s calculating, distasteful, making Archer stand upright. “Especially considering I let you make me come against your hand on our very first date,” I challenge. “We were virtually strangers, I’d say easy might be rather apt.”

  Archer’s nostrils flare, his volatile temper storming. Leaning against the solidity of the heavy front door I watch him struggle with his anger. "Bartie waiting in the car for you? Just thought you'd stop by and insult me before you take her home and fuck her?" I question, arching my neck to look around him. It’s just for show; he knows that, as do I. Its dark out and I can’t see shit past his imposing figure plastered across the entire door frame.

  "Unlock the fucking door, Belle!" he yells, slamming his open palm against the screen.

  "Don't you dare call me that," I hiss. “You lost that right a long fucking time ago.”

  I can’t believe we’re here again – already. Arguing. Throwing shit at one another after three long years. I can't do this tonight. Nothing positive could possibly come from this confrontation. Not now. So, taking one more glance at his towering body, shaking visibly with his want to break through the thin screen separating us, I slam the front door. Even in the dark I can see his face through the window of the front door; breathing heavily, anger storming in his bright green eyes.

  Asshole.

  I hold his eyes, walking backwards to the stairs and feeling braver than I probably should, I smile as I blow him a kiss - with my middle finger extended. Giddy at my bravery, I wink before turning to walk slowly up towards our bedroom. My heart is racing like crazy and I don't know how I manage to keep my pace steady when my body itches to run up the stairs and jump under my covers, but I do. Go me!

  Reaching our bed, I drop down, wide-eyed and in shock. There’s something definitely wrong with my brain. I have no idea what the fuck has come over me, but it seems to be misfiring on all fronts. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I drink deeply, attempting to calm the unhealthy rate of my heart. I can't believe I just did that. It seems I physically can't stop myself from pissing him off.

  My mind runs wild with the consequences that will be brought on because of my stupidity. I can’t avoid him forever and realization that my actions since I arrived in Carnation are going to cause me a whole lot of drama, makes me take another healthy swig from my bottle. My internal dilemma is interrupted by the click of the front door and I lock in place, concluding that I’ve had a stroke; because that’s the only explanation I can muster. How fucking stupid am I? Of course, he still has a key. It’s his fucking house.

  Fuck! I've just poked the bear and …… oh shit. Oh shit! I stand quickly and watch the stairs as I see him take them two at a time. Panic seizes me as I slam the bedroom door shut and assess my options. Why did we never put a lock on that door? Really?! Safety 101, being able to seal yourself off from impending threat. Like, I don’t know, right fucking now.

  I reckon I have about 10 seconds, that’s it. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!!" I back towards the window and swallow deeply as he throws open the bedroom door, his anger consuming every last bit of oxygen. His smile is wicked, unfriendly as he watches me and I take another tentative step back.

  “Don’t. Move!” His tone is lethal as he speaks through his clenched teeth.

  Too many shots of tequila, half a bottle of wine; alcohol must be affecting my capacity to think clearly because I do not heed his warning and tentatively, I take another step back. Archer steps into the room, closing the door behind him. A tactic to make me feel small in a confined space; working to trap me with him and his temper. His attempt at intimidation is solid, well crafted, but I knew that.

  “Woman, do not move or I will physically restrain you,” he warns and I stop the want to roll my eyes at the complete Archer styled threat.

  Assessing my options, short of jumping from a two-story window, I realize I’m trapped.

  “What are you doing in my house, Archer?” I sigh, moving to place my bottle of wine of the first available surface.

  “Your house?" he asks incredulously. "I think you mean our house.”

  I feel defeated. My day has been long, emotional and I'm drained. “You’re absolutely right, please make yourself at home. I’m going to bed.” I walk towards our large bed centered in the room and sit down.

  “I don’t fucking get it. I haven’t seen you in what, three years? You don’t tell me your home and then you’re grinding your ass on some dipshit’s cock while pretending like I’m fucking nothing. What the fuck, Belle?” he towers over me, rubbing his jaw in frustration.

  “You don’t get to call me that anymore,” I whisper. “Don’t you remember what happened, Archer? You broke me. Deliberately. You took my heart in your hand and you crushed it. What did you expect me to do?” My voice sounds broken, hollow in the emptiness of the room.

  “I didn’t expect you to treat me as though I was nothing.”

  “I panicked. I saw…. I saw you with Bartie. She kissed you, Archer,” I accuse and he lets the accusation hang uncomfortably between us.

  “You know, I remember so clearly how it feels to kiss you. To be kissed by you.” I meet his eyes for only a second too afraid of what I might see, to let myself linger. “The softness of your lips,” my eyes close involuntarily, as I recall the memory. “Your taste,” I drag my teeth along my bottom lip. “She kissed you and it hurt,” I push a shaking hand against my heart, looking up at him. “Then you left together. I panicked.”

  “I never kiss Bartie, Belle, she doesn’t get that from me,” he sits down beside me. “I put her in a fucking cab; nothing has happened between the two of us for months.”

  I feel sick at the thought of anything ever happening between them and I tell him this. He doesn’t speak, just listens as I tell him that even though it's not my place, I feel betrayed. But before we reach dangerous territory I explain that I’m here for Janie and nothing more. Archer listens patiently, only nodding his head in acknowledgement to my words. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t comment; choosing to sit in silence.

  Quiet overtakes us and we stare ahead into nothing. “You seem well, Arch. I’m happy for you, really I am. Seeing you like that all those years ago,” my voice cracks and I stop.

  “I wake up every morning and survive through every day, that’s it,” he explains and I nod in understanding. I listen as he draws air into his lungs, breathing deep before twisting his neck to focus on me. “Belle…”

  “Don’t,” I stop him with slight shake of my head. I can’t do that, listen to his words, whatever they may be. Not right now. Maybe not ever. Whatever he has to say, I don’t think I can handle it. So instea
d, I stand, moving to turn off the light, encasing the room in darkness before crawling onto the bed.

  Lying on my back I stare at the darkened ceiling while Archer remains seated at the end of the bed, his silhouette illuminated by the light of the moon. Being in Carnation; in our home, in our bed, with Archer so close; enough that I could touch him, smell him, hear the rhythmic pattern of his breathing – it’s too much. It overwhelms me. All of it and the darkness overtakes me as a sob breaks from my throat. “You were supposed to give it back, Archer. My heart, when you didn’t want it anymore. You were supposed to give it back,” I stutter through the sobs as I struggle to catch my breath.

  He moves fast, tightening his arms around me and immediately pulling me into his chest. I don't have it in me to fight him. I want his comfort. Crave it.

  He begins rubbing my back softly as he tucks my head into his neck, his lips resting on my head. Being in such close proximity, the alcohol and the intimacy of our hold, I lift my head to meet his eyes before softly touching my lips to his. Archer groans in response and I lick the seam of his lips, silently telling him to open.

  “Belle, baby….," his voice is a hesitant whisper, clouded with a thick desperation.

  "Arch, please," I beg. His lips meet mine immediately, his tongue stroking into my mouth and our kiss is soft as we tentatively explore one another’s mouths.

  Pulling back, my eyes scan his face as my hand moves up to touch him. I stroke my thumb along his cheekbone and down his jaw. "You’re so beautiful. I've been telling myself that I’d imagined it - how heartbreakingly beautiful you are," I say, brushing my thumb across his lips. "I know this is wrong, Archer, that we shouldn't be doing this…. but...," my words, my plea stopped, caught in my throat when he silences me with his lips.

  His body comes up pushing me into the mattress of our bed, pausing only momentarily to pull my shirt over my head as his eyes rake over my body. "Belle, baby, you are so fucking beautiful." My eyes begin to water at the way he watches me. Looking at me as though no one other thing in the world exists. Nothing but me. Ghosting his fingers down my sides, he pays particular attention to the Maple Leaf inked across my rib cage. His mark. His claim to my body. My heart.