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His eyes settle on me again. What is he doing?
I slap eggs onto my dad’s plate and pour myself a glass of water. I don’t want him here. My house is embarrassing, and as much as I’m mad at him, his approval means more to me than I want to admit.
I wash out the glass and set it down on the sink. ‘Well, I got up especially early for my bus, but thanks for stopping by.’
I watch a blackbird hop onto the fence with a worm in its beak. I don’t turn as Archer mutters goodbye to my parents and leaves.
Tears spring to my eyes. He was just being nice, and I was mean to him.
Before I go, my dad stops me. I expect him to say his usual mantra, but he doesn’t.
‘I will never trust a man who doesn’t shake my hand,’ he tells me.
I laugh under my breath.
Much to my horror, Archer waits outside. He leans against his red Ford Fiesta. It has black stripes down the middle, a raised spoiler, tinted windows, a custom grille, and a lowered suspension. Becauseof courseArcher has a modified car.
Of course he does.
I glance at his stupid, beautiful face before he notices and make my way down the street.
‘Where are you going?’ he calls after me.
‘America,’ I say. ‘Clearly.’
He makes a frustrated noise. ‘Get in the car, Frankie.’
I spin around. ‘You know what, Archer?Fuckyou.’
His lips spread into a slow, lazy smile.
I whirl back around but he seizes my arm in a tight grip.
‘Stop being such a little brat,’ he growls. ‘You’re making a show of yourself.’
It’s like salt being rubbed in a wound, but the way he says it unapologetically and with complete confidence makes me think I am being a brat.
I yank free of him and straighten my cardigan. ‘You can’t just show up at my house like that.’
He leans against his car and crosses his arms. ‘I thought girls love when a guy offers to whisk them away.’
‘Not when I pay thirty pounds a year for a bus pass,’ I point out. ‘I don’t like letting things I pay for go to waste.’
His eyes mirror the blue of the sky as they assess me. ‘What’s the real reason you don’t want me here, love?’
I don’t want to tell him about my parents. It’s embarrassing. I want us to keep the flirtatious games at school; I want whatever we have to begin and end at school. Him coming to my work was out of my control, but I’m not ready to let him into my life. I’m not ready to let him see the ugliest parts of me.
And if I’m being honest, I’m afraid of what he’ll say. I’m afraid he won’t say anything at all.
Because as much as I don’t want to let him in, deep down, I want his comfort.
But if last night was a lesson, it taught me Archer Toban doesn’t even know what that means.
‘I’m still upset,’ I say at last. ‘About last night.’
He groans and casts his eyes skyward.
‘You really hurt my feelings.’
