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Archer grimaced as he navigated his chair through the mess of a backroom He didn’t say anything, though, because he appreciated the extra effort George had gone to, even if he felt like a towering pile of boxes might fall down on his head at the slightest wrong move. And since this was the second time he’d had a signing here, he was used to the tight space.
“Your girlfriend saw someone she knew, but I told her where to sit.”
Archer stopped moving at that, realizing he’d just chalked Brielle’s absence up to her waiting in the audience. Then he realized George had just called her his “girlfriend.” “She’s…” he started, then realized how juvenile it would sound if he insisted she wasn’t his girlfriend. And was it so bad that George thought that hottie was his?
Wasn’t that maybe, just maybe, within the realm of possibility soon anyway? If he could get over his reservations and actually make his secret fantasies a little less secret.
But she was planning to get a job out of town. And he was… He was different. Not worth slowing some woman’s life down or outright derailing it.
But then again… Did it have to be something serious? Couldn’t they just enjoy each other’s company… for now?
Archer swallowed. But that was it. Hedidn’twant to enjoy her company just for now. He’d only known her a week and it was stupid to even imagine anything long-term—he’d never imagined himself withanyonelong-term—but he knew one thing:
When she left, she would take a little piece of his heart with her.
He could handle that if his love was unrequited. He could handle that if he never knew whether or not his love was requited. But if they gave into these feelings he had, the feelings he sort of, maybe, thought she might be developing for him, and then they had to go their separate ways?
His heart would shatter beyond repair.
He shouldn’t even be encouraging her.
George didn’t notice Archer’s sudden crisis of conscience. He plastered himself gently against the boxes to shift around Archer. “You’re right on time,” he said. “Let me check with the front and see if we should get started.”
He left Archer alone in the backroom. Archer paced with his wheelchair, pushing the wheels back and forth. He’d been so consumed by the idea of being in a relationship that he’d almost forgotten George had said Brielle hadn’t come with him because she’d met someone she knew. Who did she know at a comic book store? She seemed mildly interested in comics, but… What if the person was a guy?
He really didn’t know much about her, did he?
Archer wasn’t sure how long he spent there. He didn’t even feel like checking his phone. He heard “ladies and gentlemen” over the loudspeaker, followed by some more mumbling, and then George opened the door to the store.
Archer felt like a rock star.
A rock star in a no-name town with several hundred fans instead of several hundred thousand, but a rock star nonetheless.
He waved and did his best to smile as he sent his wheels rolling, eager to make use of the meager free space they’d left for him. Staff members actually held the line back with their arms extended, like they were keeping fans from jumping him. (More likely, they were keeping fans from standing in his path to the table so they wouldn’t get their toes run over, but Archer’s fantasy decided not to acknowledge that.)
He rolled past the cutout of The Mystified, alter ego of Derek Diggerson, and up to the small mic at the table that had some of his works on display. He cringed a little to seeWheelsthere, but the comic store probably needed the opportunity to sell out whatever backlog of copies they’d ordered years ago when it had come out.
“Thank you,” he said, clearing his throat. An electric shock practically ran through him. They’d seated Brielle right in front of him. Brielle, with those too-tight-jean-covered legs crossed so perfectly, with that top that moved like water over her whenever she shifted, revealing a deep dip of her perfectly-toned skin.
Her mouth was parted slightly, her eyes focused on him.
If it weren’t for the fact that the girls beside her suddenly squealed, and his gaze roved over the row, he might have totally missed that his mother was sitting right next to Brielle.
* * *
Thankfully, George sat beside Archer and led the panel, asking all the questions and helping re-direct Archer’s focus when his panic started overtaking him. He wasn’t sure how he would have gotten through it otherwise. Actually, almost as soon as it was over, he barely rememberedhowhe’d gotten through it. It was like he blinked, was enveloped by this feeling like he wasn’t even there in his own body, and then it was over. Now the interested customers were lining up to have him sign their books.
His gaze kept flitting to where Brielle and his mother were sitting, but the line had already blocked them from view.
Not seeing them—not knowing if now that the presentation was over, his mother was asking Brielle questions—was worse than seeing them after all.
“Weloveyour work! Do you remember us?”
Dazed, Archer looked up and realized he’d instinctively took the latest volume ofThe Mystifiedfrom a young woman’s outstretched hand, that the girls who were sitting in the front row just a few seats over from Brielle were now standing in front of him.
“Sorry?” he said, willing himself to focus. He slid the book in front of him and picked up a black Sharpie.
The girl on the left practically bounced. “We’ve met you before. We came to your signing here last year.”
