I step forward, and his eyes widen. I stretch my arm toward him, and his throat moves in a rough swallow. I take another step, and he licks his lips. I grab a towel from the shelf beside his shoulder and walk backward.
“I’ve seen enough.” I give him a once over and click my tongue in disappointment before turning and retreating to the bathroom. A bark of laughter behind me warms my already heated heart.
I forgot my clothes in the closet. I took a towel, but no clothes. Just great. He’ll think I’m playing his game, but my copycat move makes me look stupid. I don’t have a choice, though; I’m not putting my dirty clothes back on, especially after our not so dry, dry humping session.
I wrap the towel around my torso, fluff my hair and throw it over my shoulder so it looks artfully disheveled, and step outside.
Archie sits on the sofa, his arms across his lap. Gray sweats and a black T-shirt cover most of his art, but his full sleeves are still on full display. Now that I know he has nipple piercings, I can clearly envision those golden rings under the thin material. His head leans against the back of the couch, and his one leg rests on the tiny coffee table.
His cheeks look sunken, his brows furrowed, and I instantly drop the idea of torturing him back—he looks too tired to deal with anything right now. So, I quietly slip into the closet, get my stuff, and move to the bathroom. He hasn’t opened his eyes in a moment, and his chest moves in a steady rhythm. I think he’s sleeping.
I sigh deeply, get dressed, and go to the kitchen. His eyes are still closed; he doesn’t stir. I check on the stew—it still has a good thirty minutes to go—so I grab my phone and go to the chair by the fireplace. No internet or Wi-Fi—I could use a good electronic detox—so I put the phone on the table, curl my feet under me, and focus my attention on the sleeping man in front of me.
He’s not having a pleasant dream, that I can tell for sure. His eyes move left and right with crazy speed under his eyelids, and his fist squeezes at his side. I consider waking him, but I don’t want him to know that I’m witnessing this—I remember Freya told me that Alex used to be embarrassed of his nightmares, and I don’t want Archie to feel the same, especially when he doesn’t have anywhere to go here.
But then his jaw shuts so tight, I’m sure he broke a tooth, and I can’t take it anymore. I jump from the chair and call his name, “Archie.”
No reaction. I repeat it louder, “Archie!”
Nothing.
I walk over to him and carefully touch his tight fist. His eyes fly open, and he propels forward so fast, pushing me back with so much force that I stumble back, barely catching myself in time to land on the coffee table and not the floor behind it.
“Leila?” he asks groggily. “Fuck, Leila! I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry!”
His voice takes the British turn—he’s been taken by surprise, unsettled.
“That’s okay.” I force a smile, attempting to reassure him that it’s okay. Of course, it’s all fruitless considering he’s intent on finding reasons for self-loathing. He’s just like my brother who loves doing that. I can see clear similarities.
“Okay?” he asks quietly. “Okay?” Louder this time. “It’s notfuckin’okay! I knocked you down!”
“But you didn’t. I’m sitting on the table. I’m fine.” I give him a genuine smile because he will sense anything else.
“For fuck’s sake, Leila. Stop doing that. Please.”
“What?”
“This.” His hands come out in front of him. “Stop fuckin’ explaining everything I do. I knocked you down, and who the fuck knows what else I could have done to you.” He grabs his hair, pulling it. “I gotta fuckin’ go.”
He moves from the couch to the door, and I sprint after him, grabbing his hand as he’s nearly outside.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I pull on his arm, drawing his attention.
“Out of here. You’re not safe with me here.” He looks anywhere but at me.
“Oh, c’mon!” I roll my eyes. “Fucking look at me already!” I tug on his arm with all the strength I can muster, and he turns just enough tolookat me. “You stop with this bullshit. I’ve seen it all my life with my father, then my brother, then another brother, and then guess what? Another brother! So give me a damn break!” I nearly yell and instantly catch myself for being so hysterical for no reason—voice of logic my ass, I wish Kenneth could see me now—so I take a deep breath, drop his arm, and take a step back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me while I go and use the restroom. I’ll be back in a moment, and I expect you sitting over there,” I point to the kitchen table, “waiting for me. Because I cooked us dinner, and wewillbe eating it.”
I raise a brow, inviting him to question my demand, but his pupils dilate and he nods, agreeing with me without a fight.Huh, interesting.
A few minutes later, I come back to two place settings set up on the table and Archie perched on the stool.Good boy.
I fill his plate with three times more food than mine and place it in front of him. He takes the fork and carefully tastes it.
I see the exact moment it hits his taste buds because he digs into the stew with the intensity of a starving man. I push the bowl of salad toward him, and he lifts a hefty portion onto his plate. I smile inwardly, counting it as a small win—better this than a glass of bourbon. He can have that when I’m not here, but with me, he’ll get the right nutrition. Well, as much as I can get him from our small pantry.
When our plates are clean, Archie surprises the crap out of me by taking both of them to the sink and washing them before walking back to me and placing a kiss on the top of my head with a quiet “thank you.” And when I say “surprised the crap out of me,” I mean it—an unexpected tear escapes my usually dry eyes and sneaks down my cheek. I sniffle from the sudden burst of overwhelming emotion in my chest and go to get some water from the fridge just to make myself busy.
I think Archie is uncomfortable too, because he goes back to the small couch and sits. It’s not like we have a TV or the use of our phones for mindless games. I have my laptop with me, but I’d prefer not to use it—I kind of enjoy this rustic vibe going on. I’ve seen a few books on the small shelf by the bed, and I think it could be a good time to relax. So that’s what I do: I go to check what we have.
