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‘Nope.’ If I stop fumbling with this napkin dispenser, I’m going to fling it at his head. ‘You can wait over there. I’ll be here when you’re ready.’
I don’t look at him. I don’t want him to glimpse the jealousy in my eyes.
I turn my back to him, pretending to clean things that definitely don’t need cleaning.
‘Looks like I’ll be waiting for some time, then. My date doesn’t finish till one.’ His voice is right behind me, but I can’t turn just yet, because I’m blushing like an idiot.
He looks smart tonight. Archer always carries this air of casual disarray with him at school. He consistently wears these scuffed boots, and his uniform tie is deliberately pulled down to give him an overall dishevelled appearance. Nothing like Chase, who is always impeccably dressed in his button-downs and black pants.
But tonight, I appreciate Archer’s effort. He wears a black tee that stretches over his muscled arms and chest; a tattoo of a dragon snakes his bicep. He smells good, too, like musk and starry nights and endless possibilities.
And he’s made this effort for me.
Still doesn’t mean I like him, though.
‘No Chase tonight?’ I ask nonchalantly.
Archer’s eyes narrow, and his smile wavers slightly. ‘Why are you asking about Chase?’
I shrug. ‘You two are practically inseparable.’
‘He’s busy. Although if he’d asked to come along, I’d have said no. Because I want you all to myself.’
Why is everything he says an innuendo? I don’t want to talk about sex. I don’t even want him here, assessing every move I make. And what will happen when it’s time for me to leave? Will he walk with me? Will he try his hand when the cinema empties out?
The thought of him shoving me onto the counter and gripping my wrists gives me a thrill.
‘Actually,’ he says almost pensively, ‘I came here to talk to you.’
‘You said that last time.’
He chuckles. ‘I want to get to know you, Frankie.’
I lean against the counter and munch popcorn.
He cocks a brow. ‘Are you even allowed to do that?’
I shrug and tip the carton towards him. He takes a handful.
‘So, Archer Toban,’ I begin. ‘You want to know me inside and out, huh?’
He laughs. Like, he really laughs. His eyes crinkle at the corners and—
Shit. He has dimples.
I am so screwed.
‘How did you guess?’ he asks.
‘Don’t know. Intuition, I guess.’
He watches me with a slight smile. ‘How old are you, love?’
I clear my throat. I know exactly why he’s asking. ‘Seventeen. Aren’t you, like, thirty or something?’
‘Eighteen.’ He leans his elbows on the counter. ‘My birthday is in November, so I’m the youngest in my year.’
This close, I notice he has a slight chip in his tooth. But instead of being turned off by it, I find it strangely endearing. Which is ridiculous, because it’s a piece of missing tooth, but the realisation he’s moved so close to me, knowing I would see it, does something to my stomach.
