“I didn’t say that,” I told him, crossing my arms. I was a little upset and very confused, but I still wanted to be with him.
Archer looked over at me, surprised. His eyes melted whatever anger I had. He reached over and touched my cheek with the back of his index finger, “I really want this to work, Callie. Forgive my eccentricities?”
I nodded, hoping I could forgive them. He changed the subject, and I spinelessly let him. I’d figure him out somehow, but now wasn’t the time to press.
He took me to a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant that, from the outside, appeared shady but, inside, was beautiful and elegant.
“You like Greek food?” he asked as we entered.
“Yee-aas.” I hesitated.
“But?”
“Authentic or Americanized?”
“As authentic as you can get in America. If you tell me you’ve been to Greece, I’m walking out that door.” He didn’t believe that I knew about Greece or about their food.
“But I have.”
His mouth dropped.
I added, “For a bit,” to downplay the fact that a portion of my childhood had been spent there after my mother died.
Archer spun on his heel and made a beeline for the door. I hurried after him and grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving, shocked he was going through with his goofy threat. He whirled around, capturing me in his arms, and stared down at me. “I like that.” I wished I knew what he was thinking, what he meant by that comment.
A man came out from behind the counter. “Archer, geia! Kalós óra kalí!” I recognized the Greek greeting.
Archer let go of me and shook the man’s hand. “Kai esý.”
“Any seat in the house.” He motioned for us to take a seat in his thick accent, switching to English for me. He and Archer made a few more comments in Greek, but they spoke so fast, I could only catch a couple of words here and there such as “gorgeous,” “lamb chops,” and “beautiful girl.” I needed to brush up on listening to Greek. It was simple enough on the page, but aloud at that pace…
Archer chose a comfy booth in the back of the little restaurant. The place was empty, but it wasn’t primetime dinner hour because we had left the movie so early.
“You speak Greek?” I asked him. “Now I like that.”
He looked at me, confused.
“You can tutor me.”
“You’re taking Greek?” He stifled a laugh.
“To make my dad happy. He still thinks I will follow in his footsteps one day: archaeology in Greece and Rome.”
“But you don’t want to?”
“Chasing the unknowable past always seemed to be a waste of time to me,” I explained. “But I can’t tell him that.”
“Is that why you went to Greece? Archaeology?” he asked, extremely interested.
“Yes. It was fun as a child, I have to admit.”
The same man came over to take our order.
“Do you like lamb?” Archer asked me. “They have the most amazing kléftiko here.”
“I trust you,” I told him. “As long as we save room for some baklavá.”
Archer ordered two kléftiko dishes, which I assumed were lamb—as long as it wasn’t eel or octopus, I’d be content. The man smiled widely and left us to it. People began to trickle in.
“Where were we?” Archer pondered casually. “Oh yes. Where did you go in Greece?”
“Gosh, all over. Macedonia as well,” I told him.
“What was he looking for, your father?” Archer seemed to slightly lose interest and was now merely making polite conversation. His mind was half with me and half someplace else. He nervously picked at a roll.
“Okay, well, don’t laugh. We were at Oros Olimbos,” I said, trying to fake the accent properly.
Archer almost choked on his water. “Mount Olympus?” He coughed. His full attention was back on me, those eyes probing, measuring me.
“You know Greece well. He was searching for the palace of the Olympian gods,” I explained, not wanting him, of all people, to laugh at my father as well. In a way, I was testing him, which wasn’t very fair, but Dad was the most important person in my life. I couldn’t date a guy who could laugh at my dad.
“Did he find it?” Archer studied me, his expression blank, masked, trying not to react—trying not to laugh most likely.
“That’s odd.”
“What?”
“Most people laugh. Mount Olympus is a myth.”
“Then he didn’t find anything?” he concluded wrongly.
“No, he did. Took him half my life to find something, but he did. Inside Mitikas, the highest peak, he found the opening into a very ancient settlement. Of course, there’s no way to prove who it belonged to, but he’s trying to.”
“How does one go about finding something that no one has found, even when they searched for it for thousands of years?” Archer raised his eyebrows. He was interested again and a bit shocked.
“It was well concealed.”
“How did he find it then?”
“Well, technically, he didn’t.” I smiled at him. “I did. I was eight.”
“That sounds like a fascinating story.” He eagerly awaited more.
“Well, we were camped out at the mountain range, and my father left me with the helpers as he went up in search of the entrance. Obviously, I couldn’t go all the way up with him because of the altitude—he had to use oxygen and everything. He left me a little archaeology set, an old worn one of his, and I was simply playing. I chiseled away at the ground, not knowing that below me was hollow. It caved in, and I fell into a cavern, which ended up being the foyer to a large palace-type dwelling inside the mountain.
“You see, he was looking for an entrance up in the clouds. I was playing where a cloud was carved into a crag. The entrance in myths was supposed to be in the clouds, see, but it wasn’t.”
“You fell into Mount Olympus? You stood where the gods had?” Archer laughed tightly, picking at the roll with his fingers more anxiously and shaking his head in disbelief.
Now I felt stupid. He was only keeping his laughter at bay, and here would be the ridicule of my poor father and I.
“I never said it was the house of the gods!” The anger leaked into my voice.
Archer’s smile dropped. “I’m sorry. I do believe you.”
“No, you don’t. You’re laughing at me.”
“No,” he said quickly, reaching across the table to take my hand in his. “I believe you. I have family from Litochoro, and myths are very important there. Some still believe them,” he told me, mentioning the name of the town at the base of Oros Olimbos. Then he let go of my hand quickly. “Obviously, they’re mythological, and that must’ve just been some ancient settlement, though. Did he share his findings with anyone?”
Archer met my gaze, and he was challenging me to say the truth. I wanted to tell him my father’s harebrained ideas, but I didn’t like Archer’s cold, calculated change in tone. He was shutting me out and trying to get me to admit the truth. I felt protective of my dad.
“Of course, it was just an ancient settlement,” I scoffed.
“Did he share them?” Archer pressed, his face tight. I didn’t like the way he was pressing for answers. And why? If he wasn’t going to laugh, why did he want to know if Dad believed in the gods or not?
“The Aegis is in the British museum, thanks to him.”
“The Aegis?” Archer asked, shifting his posture.
“I thought you knew all about mythology.”
“I said I knew myths were important to people in Litochoro.”
“So, you’re Greek?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he said hesitantly. “Family from all over the country. Crete, Athens, but Litochoro mostly.” He then relaxed and smiled roguishly. “I was born there, but I haven’t been there in a long time.”
“It’s some really old shield,” I told him, leaving it simple. “Tell me more about you.” I was eager to change the subject.
“I don’t know.” I felt myself blush. “What do you do when you’re not showing new girls around the town?”
“Is that what you think I do?” He smirked playfully.
“Girls are crazy about you. You must’ve had a lot of girlfriends.”
“Must I?” He laughed, surprised. “I assure you, it’s quite the contrary. Let’s just say I enjoy watching others fall in love rather than do it myself. I live vicariously.”
That seemed a strange thing for a boy to say, but perhaps he was afraid of being hurt and didn’t want to admit it.
“What about you?” He changed the subject back to me. He took my hand in both of his again, squeezing it. Then he gave me an irresistible and intense look. I couldn’t say no to eyes like his.
“I had one real boyfriend a couple of years ago but more disastrous first dates that I’d rather forget.”
“I hope this doesn’t fall in that second group?” He suppressed a smile.
“I’ll let you know,” I teased.
“Did you kiss all of them on those first dates?” he asked.
“Very few of them.” I tried not to laugh, seeing where his line of questioning was headed.
He sighed. “Mmm, how nice for those lucky fellows.”
“I won’t be kissing you tonight,” I told him smartly.
“No?”
“Because I never make the first move,” I bantered.
“What a shame for us then.”
“I can have rules too.”
“Then we’re doomed.”
“Unless I can make you break yours.” I toyed with him, trying to be alluring, twirling my hair and biting my lip.
“I wish you wouldn’t,” he said solemnly, peering down to his hands. All the witty banter vanished from the room. We had just gotten back on track after the whole mythology bump in the road. His smile was too much of an asset to see him frown.
“Why is that?” I asked quietly.
He ignored my question, stayed silent for a moment, and then his eyes shot up at me with an evil, mischievous look, and a wicked grin spread across his lips. “I could always make you break yours,” he said so sinisterly that he gave me chills (of pleasure if I’m honest) for a moment.
“We’ll see.” I gave him an equally wicked glare. We began to stare one another down. Then the food came, interrupting our staring contest, and we both laughed.
As he drove home, the sun began to set. Traffic was a nightmare, something I wasn’t quite used to yet, but I was relieved to have more time with Archer. I felt like, when we reached the apartment building, the perfect dream I found myself in would end, and reality would come back with a large slap in the face.
“You all right? You’re suddenly very quiet,” Archer asked, concern in his voice. He was forced to focus on the road again as traffic crept along.
“Sorry, not ready to go back to reality yet.”
“Then don’t. Come over,” he said.
“I should check on my father.”
“He has his assistant, doesn’t he?” “I want to check on my father,” I rephrased.
“Then invite me over.” He smiled roguishly.
“Fine, come over?” I growled, having to ask again. I was sure, no matter what, that Archer would win this game. I just couldn’t deny him.
“Thought you’d never ask. So, is this one of the first dates you’d want to forget?”
“Well, it’s not really a ‘first’ date until you have a second, is it?” I teased.
“Well, we’ll have to do something tomorrow so you can properly evaluate today.” He smiled.
“I suppose that could be arranged.” I smiled, despite the fact he had managed to ask me out again without actually asking. “Only for part of the day.”
“Tired of me already?”
“No. Limited time left with my dad, remember?” I answered.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “How selfish of me to take up all your time. I’ll come over another time.”
“No, come over. I didn’t mean it like that,” I said too quickly. “If there is a second date, maybe you should meet my dad.”
“Should I be scared?”
“Not a mean bone in his body.”
“Lucky for me then.”
My dad was shocked I brought a boy home, because I never had in the past, except when he’d insisted on meeting Jack, my ex-boyfriend. My dad was nice enough to Archer. After Dad had his supper, he turned in early to do some writing. He was looking much better, to my relief, and the doctors were optimistic. I was glad the side effects had subsided.
The moment Dad had gone into his study, Archer put his arm around me and pulled me closer as he had in the movie theater. We sat watching a terrible made-for-TV movie and, as in the movie theater, his hands clamped on my shoulder and my hand. He tickled my palm, making me squirm, and instantly, he was continuing where the movie theater snuggling had left off, nuzzling his nose beneath my jawline.
I gathered up every ounce of bravery in me as his lips brushed my neck. I turned my face toward his, our cheeks touching. Archer’s hand gripped my neck, and his lips pressed slightly against my cheek, close to my lips. I gasped, surprised, as every fiber in my body yearned for him to kiss my lips. His arms tightened around me, and mine instinctively pulled him closer. I felt his lips on my neck, my ear, my cheek; he wasn’t technically kissing me but brushing my skin gently with his lips, which drove me crazy. Then he pulled away, my face in his hands, holding me away but still close. His glowing eyes danced across my face, and he leaned to kiss me but stopped, his thumbs gently rubbing my jaw.
“You could kiss me, you know.” He breathed on my lips, his honey-sweet breath tickling me.
I leaned in closer until our lips were almost touching. “Not a chance,” I whispered, not pulling away.
“Callie, you are cruel.” He enunciated each word slowly and then tickled my sides, making me squeal and twitch. Archer tickled me again, and I couldn’t help but quiver and flail about. Somehow, I ended up on the ground with Archer on top of me, both of us laughing.
“I think I broke my hip.”
“No, it’s mine that’s broken.” He laughed once more, and then the smile faded from his face.
Archer’s expression changed drastically, his face sunk into a serious expression. His eyes bored into mine, probing, wanting to read my thoughts. I tried to understand the dozen emotions that flitted through his luminescent eyes. It was clear he wanted to kiss me, that he really did like me, and that he didn’t want to abide by these foolish rules. But why keep up the pretense?
“I should go,” he said, color leaching from his face as he backed away and sat up. He offered me his hand and lifted me up without making eye contact with me. The joking about kissing had gone too far, and now he was avoiding me (his stupid rules!). He headed toward the door. “I’ll show myself out. I’ll…call you tomorrow,” he said quietly.
Before I could follow him, he was gone. I opened the door and peeked out. Archer was walking quickly away down the hall, too far away to have walked the entire way at that pace. Was he running away from me, literally? He appeared downcast and frustrated, with his head down and his hands in his pockets. I regretted it now. I’d kiss him the next time I saw him. I would forgive him for his eccentricities. I just hoped I hadn’t completely blown it.
The next morning, I awoke early and made breakfast—and when I say early, I mean early—I was up by six AM on a Saturday. Dad came out in his robe, looking even better than last night.
“You look good, Dad.”
“I feel good.” He smiled as he answered. “And that smells good. What are you doing up so early?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“What are your plans today?” he asked, pouring himself coffee.
“I dunno. You?” I tried to act relaxed about doing something with Archer, but I knew it would drive me mad waiting for him to call. I hoped one of his rules wouldn’t be the typical
boy-rule of saying they’ll call but waiting days to do so. I needed to see him today, but I didn’t want him to realize that.
“Raphael is taking me into town, shopping. Lost too much weight, and I can hardly appear in public looking like a bum.” He pointed at the baggy jeans he had on.
“Do you want me to come?” I asked.
“You’re not doing anything with that nice boy today?” Dad asked, using his typical laissez-faire attitude when questioning me about my life. He thought if he acted aloof, then I would tell him. And then there was that awful sixth sense of his: he knew I wanted to hang out with Archer.
“Who? Archer?” I asked, trying to act aloof myself.
“No, all the other boys you brought by.” He chuckled.
“I might be if he calls me, but I can’t see why we can’t go shopping, and I’ll do something with him later, if he even calls.”
“Is he your boyfriend or something?”
“Dad,” I groaned, not wanting to talk about boys. “Really?”
“What? He is a handsome kid, seems very nice, very mature, and polite to the old man.”
“Why don’t you go out with him then?” I shot back.
“Ha-ha. I approve.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.”
“Just be safe and hard-to-get and all.” Dad wore a mischievous grin, awaiting my potential outburst.
“Da-ad!” I groaned. “We are not having the sex talk again. He’s not even my boyfriend yet.”
“Yet. So, it is headed there!” he said triumphantly.
“May-be. I dunno, Dad. Just eat.” I plopped the plate in front of him. Seriously, no other teenage girl had to deal with those talks from their dads. Guess they had moms, though.
I tried to stay busy all morning by unpacking the last of the boxes, cleaning, doing laundry and dishes, but I kept thinking about Archer calling. The hours ticked by so slowly. I kept checking my phone, getting annoyed that he hadn’t called, and then getting annoyed at how pathetic I had become. I rearranged my closet and then showered. I’d hoped he would have called while I was in there, but he hadn’t. But it was only noon. Perhaps he slept in? Perhaps he wanted to go out at night? Uuuugh! I was officially a loser in my book.
Quiver Page 9
