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Archer says nothing. He just stares ahead, still as a gargoyle. Now that I’m here, he won’t look at me at all.
“What are you drinking?” Raphael asks.
“Nothing.”
“Twenty-one! And drinking nothing! Here, have mine.”
He shoves his drink in my face. It’s an amber liquid, but all I can see are his lip marks on the glass. My brain immediately goes backwash, bacteria, spit.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve become a bit of a germaphobe. The only thing I can control is my own cleanliness, and sometimes, my brain starts to fixate. His glass makes my skin crawl.
But I can’t say that. Instead, I smile politely and say, “I’d prefer tequila, if you’re offering.”
“The birthday girl gets what she wants! Coming right up!”
Raphael leaves the booth. Archer’s eyes follow him.
Now we’re alone. Just me and Archer.
For a while, we just let the music speak for us.
“Not a dancer?” I ask.
“I’m on duty.”
“Right.”
The stretch of emptiness between us is debilitating. The strobe lights turn his face blue, then red, then blue again.
The dance floor is washed in turquoise. It looks glassy, and then there’s movement across the floor, like a shadow running away from its body. It looks like a trick of an eye, until I see it—the dance floor is lined with glass. Large orange-and-red-spotted koi fish dart back and forth in the tank installed underneath the floor.
Those poor, poor fish. Trapped like that.
It’s a feeling I can relate to.
“Happy birthday,” Archer says finally.
“Thank you.”
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
I tug at the sleeves of my dress. “Honestly? Not really.”
His dark eyes flicker over me. “This isn’t your scene?”
“Not at all. I’d rather be home. Shut in my room. Painting.”
An edge of a smile teases the corner of his mouth. “Nerd.”
My mouth drops open. I laugh. “That’s the meanest thing anyone’s said to me all night.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s refreshing.” I draw my hand through my hair. It feels too perfect, and I have the uncontrollable urge to make it wild. “Everyone treats me like I’m breakable.”
“You’re precious,” he says. “Not breakable. There’s a difference.”
I blink at him. “I’m precious?”
