I wanted to see those eyes light up again. Forbidden thoughts began to creep forward from the recesses of my mind (but I welcomed them).
My cell phone rang, interrupting thoughts of great blue eyes, soft lips, and perfectly chiseled abs. Archer’s name flashed onto my cell’s screen.
“Hello,” I answered. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Yeah, what were you thinking?” His voice rang out with complex emotion, confusing me as to what he really felt.
“I’m not telling. I can keep you in the dark about things as well.”
“Touché,” he said quietly. “I want to see you.”
I sighed. “I have homework and dinner with my dad…” I began.
“Afterward?” he ventured.
“What power do you have?” I blurted, thinking of those intense and iridescent eyes, the perfection of his face, the multitude of emotions he held within him that only seeped out in his voice.
“Come again?” he asked, the melody in his voice gone. He was guarded. I hated when he put up the defenses, because he appeared fake.
“You must have a power, a power so great that I can’t resist you,” I said.
“Yes,” he said softly. “You have it too. I can’t stay away.”
“Oh yeah, what is it then?” I flirted with him.
“Love,” he said simply.
What did he mean? (Oh my God!) He loved me? (Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!) He knew I loved him? This was all so sudden but so right.
“Callie, I need to see you now.” He wasn’t asking to see me but needed to, a tortured and longing demand. I wasn’t sure what was more powerful: my longing for him or the thought that my absence might cause him any suffering. I had somehow lost myself in him. Although I mocked those girls who lived for their boyfriends, I was on my way to becoming one of them. I had underestimated love, and now it was making a fool out of me.
“Yes,” was all I could say, unable to deny that compelling voice.
“Come over,” he pleaded.
“Your cousins?”
“Left yesterday.”
“I’ll be over in a second,” I said too quickly.
“Okay,” he replied just as quickly.
We hung up. I gave myself a once-over in the mirror, brushed my hair and my teeth, and raced out of my room. There was no time to touch up my makeup or change into a cuter outfit. I had to see him then and there. It was a physical need, almost an addiction.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” my dad asked (eek, an unforeseen obstacle).
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I have a chemistry lab to write up with Archer and Lucien.”
He raised his eyebrows at me, knowing full well I was lying, and he and Raphael exchanged a conspiratorial look.
I rolled my eyes at them. “Not a lie, it’s just not due until Wednesday. I’ll be home for dinner,” I told him, kissing his cheek. I didn’t want to get into the other lie: Archer and I would be alone. Aroha and Lucien were living it up abroad.
I shot Raphael a feigned glare. He smiled and gave me a conspiratorial wink. I turned quickly to leave. He and Dad shared everything. Freaked me out (seriously).
“Six on the dot,” Dad shouted as I tried to pretend I wasn’t racing.
I grabbed up my chemistry book for effect and left. I had to keep myself from running down the hall. Before I could knock on the door, Archer opened it. Either he had been waiting, watching out the peephole, or I must’ve sounded like an elephant stampeding down the hall.
“What took you so long?” he asked breathlessly, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled me in roughly, kissed me, and slammed the door shut with his foot. It rattled in the doorframe loudly.
I dropped my book, stopped, and looked at the door in shock.
“Don’t know my own strength.” He shrugged, wrapping me closer to him in his arms, and kissed me wildly like we might run out of time. He kissed my lips, my cheeks, my neck, my jaw.
I felt my heart leap from my chest—he must have heard the pounding, it felt so loud. Every nerve, every fiber in my being, was alive and flared in anticipation. I couldn’t get enough of him. His hands wandered, making my stomach flop in nervous desire. He kissed my lips with a kind of fervor I hadn’t experienced before, and I found myself suddenly on the sofa with the full weight of his lean, muscular form on me. How had he gotten me across the room so fast? I must’ve lost track of time in those kisses.
The feeling of his lips on me, his hands edging up my sides, the weight of him upon me, and his heart beating in tandem with my own made me want so much more. Yet I was a rational person (although struggling at the moment), and I reminded myself we had only known each other a month and that he had so many secrets he kept from me.
It took all my willpower to turn my lips away from his and push him off me. Archer didn’t get up, but propped himself up on his elbows, easing the burden of his weight from my chest. He had to catch his breath, its honey-sweetness assaulting my senses and trying to destroy my resolve to behave. When I met his gaze, his eyes were wild, dilated, and with that eerie, incandescent blue that aroused my earlier fantasies.
All willpower to deny him vanished, and I pulled him back down, kissing him with reckless abandon. Those eyes were irresistible, literally. I felt his rock-hard stomach under his shirt, then his chest. I pushed him away again, squeezing my eyes closed so his own couldn’t tempt me again.
“Callie,” he gasped.
“I have rules too,” I said.
He was back up on his elbows. “Callie, open your eyes.”
I obeyed but refused to look at him. Archer moved my chin back and forth to try to force me to meet those alluring eyes, but I avoided his gaze.
“Look at me, or I’ll never kiss you again,” he threatened.
I caved in, and his eyes were still mesmerizing me, glowing. I bit my lip to hold back the urge to kiss him. He was smiling and chuckling at me. He touched my cheek softly.
“It’s hard to look at you and not kiss you when your eyes do that,” I mumbled in embarrassment. I felt stupid, but it was time to press him about his eyes. It was not normal, nor was it…human. But how could I say that to his face?
“Do what?” he asked, biting his lip. Was he biting back the urge to laugh at me or to kiss me?
“Glow,” I told him.
Archer’s smile faded, and the quickest whiplash of shock went through him. Then, a split second later, he was smiling and laughing again. He sat up, pulling me into a sitting position. “I love your imagination.” He laughed it off.
I had hit a nerve, another secret, which I was now seeing as a threat to our relationship. How long could I endure this? I didn’t think I could handle a blatant lie to my face again. “They do,” I protested. I needed to put my foot down. It was a harder issue for him to dodge than the yearbook photo.
He kissed me, most likely to silence me.
“Don’t try to distract me with kisses. Seriously, what’s with the eyes?”
Archer sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned away from me. This, I didn’t like, so I snuggled up under his arm, which he draped around me. He opened his eyes. They were dim again, normal.
“What about my eyes?” he said reluctantly.
“You turned them off!” I couldn’t help but say it disappointedly.
“Turned them off?” He gave me the classic you-are-looney look. “It’s not like I have a light switch in me. What is with your wild fantasy about my ‘glowing’ eyes? They lock people up for saying less than that, you know.” He was teasing, but there was a slight edge in his tone. There were walls between us I wanted to break down, but he kept building them up.
“You do have a switch,” I told him, leaning in to kiss him. Surely, he knew exactly what would happen, but he couldn’t resist kissing me back. The kisses became more passionate, and then I pulled away to see his eyes glowing softly.
“Stop it, Callie,” he said sadly, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead against mine.
Realizing that I was right and not imagining it was enough at the moment. I (very, very) reluctantly let it go. “I know, the dark.” I referred to my promise not to pry.
“Yes, I am so sorry.” He sighed, clearly torn. He kissed me gently and then pulled away. He struggled to smile. “So, what are these rules of yours?”
Now I regretted opening my mouth at all. This was about to get very embarrassing. I stared at his wiry fingers, running mine along his, avoiding his gaze. “Well, I always told myself I’d never, you know…before I was married,” I mumbled.
“Oh, that,” he said, comprehension flooding him. “I wasn’t trying to… I mean I didn’t want you to come over to… I don’t want to… I mean I do want to, but I don’t want you thinking that is why I wanted you to come over,” he stammered nervously. He was adorable in his floundering.
I finally dared to meet his gaze. His eyes were back to their normal aquamarine blue, nervously seeking my approval. I smiled at him and touched his face gently. “I didn’t think you were trying to get me to— It’s just that we’ve only known each other like a month and all…”
“But it feels like forever,” he finished.
“Yes.”
Archer pulled me closer. “I hope you want to get married young,” he said in a whisper.
(Whaaaaat?) I kept my head on his shoulder, trying to comprehend what he meant. “What is that supposed to mean?” Was a seventeen-year-old girl supposed to get excited about a guy talking about marriage or run immediately in the opposite direction?
“Only a month, and we’re already at the ‘talk’ stage. What will we be like in a year?” he mused, so calm and nonchalant about it. Archer nuzzled my ear.
My heart began to race a little bit at his comment. He anticipated us being together in a year and even mentioned marriage, even if it was as a joke. Boys never brought up things like that unless they were in love. But he hadn’t said the L-word yet. I wanted to hear him say it badly, mainly because I wanted to say it back.
“A year from now, huh?” I commented, in hopes he’d elaborate.
Archer propped my chin up so our gazes aligned. His eyes searched mine for something, most likely, my meaning. A smile spread across his face. Whatever he saw gave him his answer. “I’m not going anywhere, Callie. You’re stuck with me forever.”
“Forever is a long time to refrain from…” I smirked at him.
“I would wait forever,” he said to me with conviction. His look was so serious that it was clear he meant it. It was a declaration of sorts, so I kissed him. As always, one kiss was never enough, and he kissed me more and more. He was the one who pulled away from our lip-locked embrace. “Or I’d try at least.” He laughed.
“It seems a hopeless rule, I know. I’m old-fashioned,” I apologized.
He pulled my face up to meet his. “As am I,” he said, kissing me again. “I’d be much too scared of the consequences.”
“Consequences?” I asked.
Archer blushed a bit. “Children.”
“Children? Well, there are ways to prevent that.”
“Ways that don’t always work,” he said sternly. “Anyway, no worries. I’ll at least wait until we’re married,” he said, kissing my forehead.
My stomach dropped to my knees at that comment. He was completely serious. Who was he? Archer was not like any other boy I had ever known. There was definitely something wrong with him. Refraining from sex, talking about marriage while still in high school—not to mention all the other weird stuff—were not normal for a teenage boy.
Archer snuck a peek at me from the corner of his eyes. He then turned on the TV and shifted his attention to it. “Any more rules?”
“I’ll let you know after I invent them,” I teased.
Archer began to tickle my sides, and when I tried to tickle him back, he pinned my hands down and began kissing me. Suddenly, he yanked himself away from me, pulling me up to a sitting position as if someone had walked in on us. Then someone pounded on the door loudly. He somehow sensed someone the moment before he or she knocked. Perhaps Archer could sense people or had really good ears? Maybe that was how he had known I was outside before I knocked, and I wasn’t as loud as an elephant after all. Archer sat frozen, his eyes growing bright. Now did not seem the time to point out to him that I was right about his eyes.
The person knocked again. Archer finally got up to answer. He opened the door to reveal an ugly, chubby man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, with bulbous pink features, fiery tangles of long red hair, and bloodshot dark eyes. He looked like a creepy stalker type.
“Heph,” Archer said quietly, shocked to see the man.
“Can I come in?”
“I uh…I have company,” Archer replied, opening the door farther.
The man inspected me, blushed even redder, and then focused his attention back on Archer. I had never seen someone turn as scarlet as this man did. Archer was on edge, worried, almost frightened by this man. His muscles were rigid, ready to pounce. I sensed that he was scared, not enraged or enflamed like the other times his eyes had lit up.
“Is your mother home?”
“Actually, she went away. My grandfather wanted to see her.” Archer spoke carefully. He was making me feel on edge. Was it my imagination, or was Archer purposely standing an obvious distance away from the man?
“When will she be back?”
“Heph, honestly, she didn’t tell me when. I swear. Want to leave a message?” Archer asked.
“Yes. Could I come in for just a moment? I’ve been traveling for twenty-four hours,” the man asked with a tired sigh.
Archer hesitated. “Can I trust you?” he said so quietly that I could hardly make out his words. Maybe the man really was a shady character, or as always, I was reading too much into things.
“I’m over you, kid. Won’t lay a finger on you or your…little friend,” the man growled as he spoke. He reminded me of Beast of Beauty and the Beast.
Archer opened the door widely, letting Beast in. The man shut the door behind him and stood awkwardly, gawking at me, until Archer handed him a pen and paper (creepy Beast). The man tore his eyes from me and walked toward the breakfast nook that overlooked the kitchen. He walked with a limp, and I noticed the strange large shoe and realized he must’ve had a clubbed foot, with one leg much shorter than the other. Beast caught me staring, and I diverted my gaze guiltily. He sat down on a stool much too small for him, the wood groaning in protest, and began writing a note.
“Uh…Callie, this is my mom’s ex-husband Heph, and, Heph, this is my girlfriend, Callie.” Archer seemed a little worried as he performed the introduction.
“Girlfriend?” Heph’s gaze met Archer’s.
Why did he think it odd that Archer had a girlfriend? It was yet another puzzle, another mysterious family member. How big was his family? And how many times had his mother married? I mean, I’d heard of dysfunctional, but this was over-the-top.
“Yes, girlfriend. Need a drink, Heph?” Archer wanted to change the subject.
I didn’t understand this strange beast of an ex-stepfather’s behavior. He didn’t seem the social type.
“Water,” he growled.
Archer took a large water bottle from the fridge and placed it next to his strange guest.
“How’s your mother?” Heph asked.
“Fine, I suppose,” Archer said awkwardly. His eyes darted to me unconsciously and then back. He was still nervous.
It was a little odd that they never mentioned Aroha at all. I guess this Heph guy didn’t care since they weren’t his kids.
“My sister is here much more than Ma. Ma’s never here.”
“Ah,” Heph said, his face comprehending some inside secret.
Yet again, I was to be left in the dark. How long could I endure not understanding every little thing, every person in Archer’s life? People just randomly popped up in his life; there were his beautiful cousins, then the brothers, now an ex-stepfather who didn’t appear q
uite old enough to have fathered any of them unless he had been pretty young.
“Well, just give this to her when she returns,” the man said, taking up the water bottle while pushing a note across the counter. “Bye,” he said simply and let himself out.
Archer locked the door behind him, picked up my forgotten book, and placed it on the counter. “Sorry about that.” He sighed in relief, running his hands through his gorgeous blond hair and making it sexily disheveled. It was growing out into full curls that made me want to twist my fingers around them.
“I need to go,” I told him, checking the clock.
“No.” He pulled me up off the sofa and held me. “Don’t go.”
I groaned. “Dad said six on the dot.”
“I’ll walk you home, get an extra minute,” he said, leading me by the hand.
“My book.” I stopped, grabbing it. I couldn’t help seeing the note next to it on the counter. It was addressed to “Aphrodite, my love.”
Archer turned my face away from the note and toward him. “Aren’t we nosy? Heph’s a cheesy romantic, the old git. It’s nauseating.” He kissed my forehead and took up my hand. “It’s 5:59,” he warned and urged me out the door.
Archer delivered me to my door, where my father waited outside, inspecting his watch. Dad looked at our hands, which were clasped. I let go self-consciously.
“Just made it,” he teased, sighing in feigned disappointment that he’d lost an opportunity to punish me.
“Bye,” Archer told me, smoothing the back of my hair and kissing my forehead. His eyes glowed for a moment before he turned away. Archer loved me, and I loved him.
“Bye,” was all I could say as he walked away, regretting that I couldn’t muster the courage to tell him how I felt. Having Dad there made it impossible as well.
Quiver Page 19
