“True. As long as I’m in your life, there’s always a chance.”
“That’s not fair.” I scowled.
“Nothing about this is fair,” he said. “But it’s real. And I had to say it before someone else did.”
I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say.
So I reached for my milkshake instead. Took a sip. Then pushed it toward him with a forced smile.
“Want the rest?”
Archie didn’t push. Didn’t prod. Just leaned forward and took the straw, smiling that cocky, broken smile of his.
“Sure,” he said. “But only if we split fries next.”
And just like that, it was easy again. For a second.
But I knew the hard part was still waiting. Waiting for me to make a choice I wasn’t ready to make.
Because this wasn’t a game anymore.
This was real.
And someone was going to get hurt.
Maybe all of us.
Maybe me most of all.
By the time we left the diner, the air shimmered and sunlight made the chrome on every car just shine. Or maybe it was the brutal heat sending waves up from everything. Archie’s sunglasses were back on, but I could still see the corner of his mouth twitching every time I caught him looking at me.
“I’m full of fries and feelings,” I muttered as we stepped outside. “That’s dangerous.”
He snorted. “You didn’t evenfinishthe fries.”
“I panicked. Too much emotional honesty. Salted carbs couldn’t compete.”
“Fair. But you owe me now. I know how you’re gonna pay me back.”
“Oh god,” I said, mock-weary. “Please don’t say karaoke.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Worse. Mini golf.”
I stopped mid-step, blinking at him. “You’re kidding.”
Archie just smirked and unlocked the car. “Dead serious. You and me. Glorified putting. Loser buys Coke slushies.”
“But we haven’t done that since?—”
“I know.” He didn’t let me finish, just slid into the driver’s seat like it was nothing, like this wasn’t déjà vu crashing into me like a freight train.
He used to do this. Take me out for milkshakes and then mini golf. Back when the world felt lighter and we didn’t have to talkabout feelings or heartbreak or whatever weird, soft thing was growing between us.
I climbed in, my heartbeat loud in my ears.
The drive to Lakeside Putt & Go was short. Familiar. It was the same chipped green turf, the same dusty animatronic gator on hole seven that always blinked out of sync. The neon sign buzzed like a tired bee. And still—my chest squeezed as we stepped out of the car. Like some part of meknewthis wasn’t the same as it had been.
Because it wasn’t.
