“Probably,” he said. But he smiled at me, this sort of breathtaking smile I’d never seen before. “They’ll deal. They knew I was taking you home. Besides, it’s not like I’m out in a shady part of town.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, attempting a sarcastic laugh. “Because the Upper East Side is so exciting.” I untangled myself from him and swung my legs over the side of the couch, getting to my feet. “But, um. Unless you’d like to meet my parents, it’d probably be a good idea if you head for home.”
“Hmm.” Archer pulled himself to his feet, ruffling his hair as he stretched his arms above his head. “They that bad, huh?”
“No,” I said, taking the time to think about it. “But I think they just assumed that if I hadn’t brought a guy home by now, I never would. I’d rather avoid that awkward conversation, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh.” Archer looked a little uncomfortable. “Right.”
He slipped on his shoes and pulled on his jacket, making his way to the front door. I followed after him, hands clasped behind my back, unsure of what to say. “I guess . . . I mean, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his hand on the doorknob as he turned back to me.
“Yeah,” I said. “At noon, when my shift starts.”
“Okay, then.”
I wasn’t quite sure what made me do it. Before I could think that maybe it wasn’t a good idea, I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly.
He didn’t immediately pull away, like he had that night at the hospital. Instead, he slowly and carefully slid his arms around my waist in return, his cheek pressed against my hair. His stance was still awkwardly rigid, and I got the feeling he wasn’t used to physical contact, but this was a much better hug under much better circumstances.
Our embrace might have gone on a little longer than necessary, and eventually I had to remind myself to let him go and take a step back.
“Ah, right. Um.” Archer cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, like he was too embarrassed to look at me. That was new. “See you tomorrow, then.”
I seemed to have lost the ability to think rationally, and I decided to go along with it. I didn’t want to analyze my every action right then, like I’d been doing since my twenty-seven days first began.
My fingers curled into the front of Archer’s jacket, and I gently pulled him toward me, closing the distance between us. It was obvious what my intentions were. I was going to kiss him, and he did nothing to stop me.
This kiss was nothing like our first in that hallway in the hospital the other night. I didn’t think either of us were particularly skilled, but every ounce of uncertainty we’d shared before had disappeared. It became all the more difficult to breathe when Archer’s hand slid around the back of my neck, tilting my face up to his.
I couldn’t say that I’d kissed many guys before, but Archer had to be the best. I was sure of it. There was this weightless sort of feeling bubbling under my skin as we kissed. I could feel my pulse thrumming in my ears. Had it not been for the sound of my parents’ voices on the other side of the front door, I doubted I would’ve stopped kissing him anytime soon.
“Crap.”
I quickly pulled away from Archer, sucking in deep breaths as I ran my fingers through my hair, attempting to smooth the tangles his fingers had caused. Archer was watching me with an expression that was both amused and horrified, and whispered, “Is that your parents?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Sorry, but it looks like you’ll be—”
My apology was cut short when the locks tumbled and the front door swung open, and both my parents strolled inside. It wasn’t uncommon for them to arrive home at the same time most nights; their offices were both fairly close to each other. They’d definitely never come home and found me with a boy, though.
“Hey, Hadley,” my dad said, giving me a tired smile as he pulled off his jacket, heading for the coat closet. He’d somehow walked past Archer without even realizing it.
“Hi, Dad,” I said quickly. “This is—”
“I got your text from earlier. How was that potluck?” my mom asked, still glued to her phone as she dropped her purse on the coffee table.
“It was a lot of fun. Great food. But this is—”
Archer stepped forward at that moment, loudly clearing his throat, offering a hand to my mother. “Hi. I’m Archer.”
My mom and dad stood there for a few beats of tense silence, staring first at me, then at Archer, confused expressions on their faces. Up until this point in my life, I was positive I’d never experienced something so awkward. Now would have been a good moment for a hole to open in the floor and swallow me up.
“Nice to meet you,” my mother finally said, sounding distant as she shook Archer’s hand.
“You must be Hadley’s friend from work,” my dad said, moving forward to shake Archer’s hand next.
“We met freshman year of high school, but yeah,” Archer said. I was stunned at how smooth and confident he came across as, smiling politely at my parents. “My mom owns the coffeehouse we both work at.”
“Is that so?”
My dad made polite chitchat with Archer for a few minutes about how the business was going, and my mom just stood there, as lost for words as I was. This was just weird. I had never imagined Archer ever meeting my parents. He belonged to an entirely different part of my life, and to have him suddenly introduced to my mom and dad, who seemed to live on a different planet more often than not, was just jarring, to say the least.
“Hey, Dad? Um. I think Archer mentioned a little bit ago that he needs to be getting home now,” I interjected, finally having worked up enough nerve to say something.
“Oh, right,” my dad said, checking the time on his cell phone. “It is getting rather late.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you both,” Archer said politely to my parents, smiling.
“You too,” my dad said, shaking Archer’s hand again. “You’re welcome back anytime, of course.”
I tried to rid myself of the shock I felt as I quickly pulled on my shoes, ushering Archer toward the door.
“Well, that was awkward,” I said as soon as I shut the front door shut. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”
“Nah,” Archer said with a shrug. “Your parents actually aren’t that bad.”
I hadn’t been expecting to hear something like that from Archer, but it was a relief.
“Your mom looks like she smelled something rank, though,” he added as an afterthought, smirking.
“I know,” I agreed. “She always looks like that when she’s caught off guard. The corporate business life will do that to you, I think.”
I accompanied Archer down the hallway to the elevator, suddenly feeling very nervous. Archer and I had more or less just made out, and neither of us were saying a word about it.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” I said as the elevator doors slid open and Archer stepped inside.
“Yeah,” Archer said, clearing his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He smiled—actually, genuinely smiled—as he gave me a two-fingered salute, and then the doors slid shut and he was gone.
I returned to the apartment, anxious to get the interrogation that was sure to come my way over with. The second I shut the door behind me, my mother stood up from the couch and asked, “Are we going to need to have a talk about having boys in the apartment?”
It took everything in my power not to burst out laughing.
CHAPTER 28
Human Weaknesses—3 Days Until
I was a little too early for my shift at the coffeehouse the next day. Probably because I didn’t want to sit around doing nothing, but more likely it was because I was desperate to see Archer again. Rather than bracing myself for nightmares of Havoc before falling asleep last night, I played that kiss over and over again in my mind. It was a much better alternative. I was worried it would be a little obvious that I was only too eager to repeat the experience.
“You’re a little early,” Archer noted as I strolled through the back door and into the kitchen a half hour before noon.
“Just wanted to get out of the apartment, I guess,” I said casually as I shrugged out of my jacket and hung my things on one of the hooks beside the door. “It’s a nice day.”
Archer peered out the small window above the kitchen sink. “It’s snowing.”
“Right.”
He set the tray full of cold-cut sandwiches he’d been pulling out of the fridge on the counter and turned to me, crossing his arms over his chest. There was this mischievous-looking grin on his face. “That desperate to spend time with me, Jamison?”
It was a question he’d asked in jest before, to which I’d always answered with sarcasm or annoyance. Today, my answer was going to be a little different.
“Yeah,” I said. “That sounds about right.”
Archer looked momentarily caught off guard at my response, but then his grin returned full force, and he reached out to wrap an arm around my waist to pull me up against him. I wasn’t sure who made the first move exactly, but the resulting kiss was glorious.
“Is . . . this going to become a regular occurrence?” I asked breathlessly when we broke apart.
He looked perplexed at the question, and his answer was slow and carefully thought out. “I don’t know. I want it to be. I think you’re the most annoying girl I’ve ever met, but I never thought kissing you would be so much— Did you seriously just pinch yourself?”
“Sorry. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”
I was relieved that this definitely was not a dream. Archer wanted me—so far as I knew just to kiss, but that was a start, right? It wasn’t like I was complaining either.
Archer let me go with a huff of laughter. “I finally find a girl I like making out with, and she also likes to pinch herself. Lucky me. But since you’re here, you might as well start helping.”
I laughed too as I went to the sink, pushing up my sleeves so I could wash my hands while Archer carted the tray of sandwiches to the pastry case. I twisted off the faucet and dried my hands with a paper towel, watching the falling snow outside.
I just about leapt a foot in the air, swallowing a scream, when I saw black letters beginning to appear on the window in front of me, like someone invisible was crouched on the counter, writing out a note with a black marker.
It sounded like I was hyperventilating as I read the finished message:
I have to tell you, this has been fun
And soon we’re going to be done.
So get ready to face all you fear—
The end of this game is drawing near.
This was clearly another message courtesy of Havoc, and, like the previous ones, I had no idea what it was supposed to mean, other than Havoc was going to ramp up his efforts before this was over. I reread the note what felt like a hundred times, mouthing the words.
“Hadley!” Archer’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. “Could you possibly give me a hand out here?”
“Coming!” I hollered back.
I quickly scrambled for another paper towel, got it wet, and scrubbed at the window until the message was no longer visible.
An unsettling calm had descended over the coffeehouse.
It was quiet. The few customers we did have were lost in the separate worlds that their books or electronics provided and didn’t say much. It should have been a relief not to be running around filling drink orders or doling out bowls of piping-hot tomato soup, and maybe accidentally ending up wearing some of it.
Instead I was feeling . . . uncomfortable.
When I wasn’t pulling loose threads off my apron, I was rubbing my fingers beneath my bracelet and across the numbers tattooed on my forearm. Looking at the gaping space where my missing numbers were made me feel hollow inside. I was in the final countdown now—just three days left. And Havoc knew it.
I glanced over my shoulder when I heard footsteps on the tiles in the kitchen, and Regina came walking out, looking considerably happier than she had in days. She was wearing clothes that were a little fancier than her regular modest attire, and her hair was brushed to the side in a pretty twist.
“My brother and sister are taking me out,” she said by way of explanation. “Keep my mind off things. Have some fun. Even my mother is coming.”
“That’s great,” I said, smiling. “You deserve a night off.”
Regina smiled and squeezed my shoulder, and then suddenly looked nervous. “You’ll be all right here, won’t you? Just you and Archer and Rosie?”
“Of course,” I said. “It’s almost closing time anyway. And Rosie usually listens if Archer is in charge.”
“Stop fretting, Ma,” I heard Archer say as he exited the kitchen, handing Regina her jacket and handbag. “You’re supposed to be taking the night off. I’ve closed plenty of times. I know the drill.”
Regina nodded as she slipped into her coat, but she still didn’t look convinced. “Well, still. Call if you need anything. And make sure your sister is in bed by eight, okay?”
“Yeah, I know what time Rosie goes to bed too.”
I heard a series of loud, stomping footfalls, and then Victoria appeared in the kitchen doorway, nudging Archer to the side. “Out of my way, boy. Are you ready to go, Regina?”
“Sure,” Regina said, attempting a confident smile. “Let’s go.”
Rosie suddenly appeared, squeezing herself through Archer’s legs to get to Regina, complaining that she hadn’t said good-bye yet. We accompanied Regina and Victoria to the front door, giving hugs and orders to have a good time.
Archer glanced at the clock on the mantel as the door swung shut after Regina and Victoria. “Half hour till closing.”
“I think we can survive until then,” I said.
“Debatable,” Archer said. “Would you like to start closing, or would you rather look after that little devil?”
He was referring to Rosie, who was currently attempting to grab one of the leftover sprinkled doughnuts out of the pastry case.
“I’ll go ahead and start cleaning up,” I said.
The customers began to trickle out as closing time drew near. I went around the tables, collecting dirty mugs and bowls, dumping them in the large plastic bin we kept behind the counter. Archer followed after me, wiping down each of the tables, while Rosie plopped herself down on one of the couches, trying to read a chapter book.
“Make sure those are left in the fridge for the deliveryman tomorrow,” Archer said, pointing to a box of leftover pastries. “I’m going to get started on these dishes.”
“Sure thing, boss,” I said.
“Hey, wait for me!” Rosie called, leaping off the couch. “You said I could put the soapy thing in the dishwasher this time, Archer!” She dashed around the counter after Archer, looking thrilled at the prospect of dish soap.
“You’re right,” Archer said. “I did say that. But you actually have to help me put the dishes in the dishwasher this time, Rosie.”
Rosie sighed and grumbled, “Fine,” under her breath, sounding a bit too much like her older brother.
After putting the box of pastries in the fridge, I went around the floor to flip the chairs upside down and stack them on the tables.
I was cleaning out the espresso grounds when there was a loud CRASH! from the kitchen.
It was like Thanksgiving night was happening all over again. A part of me expected to be greeted with the same awful sight of Regina sobbing into her hands as I bounded into the other room.
I surveyed the scene in front of me and put two and two together as quickly as possible. Rosie was a mess amongst a shower of broken glass on the floor. There were shallow cuts all over her hands that were leaking blood. She must have tripped on her way to the dishwasher and broken a few glasses on the way down.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?” I asked, bending down beside her, brushing shards of glass off her lap. “Did you fall?”
Rosie ignored
me, looking up at Archer with tears dripping down her cheeks. “Archer?” Her voice came out as a whimper.
Except there was . . . something wrong with Archer. He was clutching at the counter behind him, his eyes wide and fixated on Rosie’s bleeding hands. His face had drained of color and he was as white as a sheet, his lips trembling. I could hear his breath coming in short, quick gasps.
“Archer?” Rosie said again, reaching out a hand toward him.
She hadn’t actually touched him, but Archer leapt back as if he had just been shocked. Rosie started crying even harder.
“Are you okay?” I said slowly, even though it was obvious he was not. “Archer, you . . .”
His eyes hadn’t moved from Rosie’s hands. It occurred to me then what was wrong: Archer couldn’t stand the sight of blood.
When he finally spoke after moments of a near-suffocating silence, his voice was oddly high pitched. “I can’t . . . Just . . . the blood . . . I have to . . . You need to . . .”
He turned and stumbled his way from the kitchen, through the back door, and headed outside, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Hey, Rosie, it’s okay,” I said, reaching over to scoop her up into my arms, grateful she was pretty light for a five-year-old. “It’s fine. I’m going to get you cleaned up, okay?”
“But I don’t want you,” she sniffled into my shoulder. “I want Archer.”
“I know, sweetheart, but Archer’s not feeling too good right now,” I said, choosing to ignore the lump in my throat that formed at hearing her say that. “You’ll see him later, I promise. He just needs some fresh air.”
I quickly made my way up the stairs and into the family’s apartment, flicking on the hallway light as I neared the bathroom. I set Rosie down on the counter and started rummaging around in the medicine cabinet, looking for Band-Aids and something I could use to clean her cuts. I found a couple of stray Band-Aids and a tube of Neosporin that I set aside to use until after I managed to coax Rosie into washing her hands with warm water and soap.
She was still sniffling as I gently dried her hands with a towel. The cuts didn’t look too bad once the blood had been washed away, and thankfully no pieces of glass had been left behind. I dabbed some Neosporin over the wounds and stuck on a couple of Band-Aids.
In 27 Days Page 22
