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Despite my unhealthy preoccupation with him, I went home that night in a great mood. That is, until I got back to my bedroom, turned the knob on the bathroom door, and realized it was locked.
His voice was jarring. “I’m in here.”
He’s home already? “Well, nice to see you know how to use the lock,” I said.
“And once again, you didn’t knock,” he responded. “Hey, that rhymes.”
Damn it. He was right. If he hadn’t locked it, I would’ve walked right in on him again. But I really hadn’t thought he’d be home yet.
I sighed. “Just let me know when you’re out.”
Listening to the on-and-off sound of the water running, I paced in my room as I waited.
“That guy you were talking to is a douche, by the way,” he called out.
Hmmmm… “I’m surprised you noticed me there tonight.”
“What does that mean?”
The vodka lemonade Cici had poured into my cup now granted me a bit of liquid courage. “Seriously, Archie? You’ve never bothered to get to know me at all. Mostly you pretend I don’t exist.”
“Have you bothered to get to know me?” he spat back.
I guessed I really hadn’t. I’d always assumed he thought he was better than me. But maybe that’s because somehow I believed he was better than me.
The door opened.
I swallowed. Archie was so handsome. The sight of him entering my room took my breath away for a moment. He had changed into a fitted white T-shirt and gray sweatpants. He was tall, muscular, and had the angular features Disney prince faces were made of. And let’s not even talk about that thick mane of hair or the way he smelled—freaking amazing. Very few people had this effect on me, but Archie Remington was certainly at the top of the list. And that sucks.
Clearing my throat, I chided, “Who’s the one not knocking now?”
“That was pretty crazy earlier, huh? The way we first ran into each other?”
Uh, why is he bringing that up? “Not my finest moment,” I mumbled.
“You should’ve seen your face.” He laughed.
I rolled my eyes. “I can only imagine.”
He grinned. “Actually, you want to see your face?”
“What are you talking about?”
He then presented a piece of paper I hadn’t realized he was holding behind his back. “I drew you.”
He handed me a sketch. It was a female…who looked remarkably like me. She was totally naked. And upon closer inspection, her body looked like mine, too—from the shape of her breasts to the amount of pubic hair. Okay, so this was a full-on portrait of me. I’d assumed he barely had time to notice my features, but apparently not.
“My, don’t you have a photographic memory,” I said, continuing to stare at the drawing. Then I noticed a caption underneath: Naked and Afraid, AR
A and R were his initials.
“Consider it a peace offering.” He smirked.
“You could’ve given me, oh, I don’t know…flowers, instead of a frighteningly accurate naked portrait of myself.”
He chuckled. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Anyway…” I looked down at it again, noticing even more details, like the freckles on my chest. “You’re really good.”
“Well, my dad would disagree. He calls my artwork doodling, so…”
“Don’t listen to him,” I snapped. “You’re talented.”
His eyes darted to mine and stayed there a few seconds before he looked away. “Anyway, who the fuck puts a bathroom between two bedrooms like this, anyway? It’s like…pick one or the other.”
“I think it was designed for siblings to share or something.”
“Dumb.” His eyes lingered on mine again. “I know I joked about it earlier, but you do look a lot different than I remember.”
My cheeks burned. “What you mean to say is you don’t remember what I looked like before because I was invisible to you.” I glanced down at the drawing. “Based on this, I sort of wish I was still invisible.”
His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? Of course, I remember you. Even if you seem to think I was a dick and anti-social, I remember you. You used to wear two different-colored socks and pull them up to your knees.”
Wow. That was my thing when I was fifteen. “That was in back then.”
“You also used to have braces, and now you don’t.”
I shook my head. “I’m blown away that you remember those things.”
“So, anyway, as I was saying earlier, Xavier is a douche. Stay away from him. Those girls you’re hanging out with? Douchettes. They’re trouble, too.”
“Who in particular?”
“Cici Kravitz.”
“You don’t like her? Didn’t you used to date her sister?”
“Ah, we’re doing our research, are we?” He raised a brow. “I did, for a brief time the summer before my freshman year of college.”
“Well, it seems you hurt her pretty badly.”
“I guess you believe everything you’re told.”
“It’s not true?”
“I never promised her anything. It was a summer thing. She’s bitter, so she talks shit about me. Just remember what I said about them. They’re no good. I’ve been coming here every summer since I was a kid. I know everyone. You want to know whether someone’s legit, just ask me.”
