We left the coffee shop in a great mood, huddling under a shared umbrella as we made our way back to Bree's car.
"You want to drive?" she asked, looking over at me through her lashes and holding out her keys.
I bit my lip and shook my head. She knew my hang-ups, but never pushed me too hard. I had my license, but driving wasn't something I enjoyed, thanks to past trauma.
"Nah," I replied, trying to keep my tone light. "You'd kill me if I scratched your rims or something."
"Probably," she agreed, clicking the key fob to unlock her car when we came around the corner. Across the street, a couple stood under a wide black umbrella, locked in an intense kiss. There was something strangely familiar about the girl...
"Oh shit," I breathed, stopping dead in my tracks beside Bree's car.
It was Drew, the girl who'd slapped me. But that wasn't what had just made the bottom fall out of my stomach. She'd just shifted the umbrella, revealing the guy's bleached blond hair and broad, muscular frame.
Bree gasped. "Is that—?"
"Yep." I bit the word off, feeling bitter disappointment churn in my stomach. "Come on, let's go before he sees us."
Not waiting for her reply, I yanked the door open and slid into the safety of her car. Thank god it was raining and her roof was up.
She opened her door, tossing the umbrella into the back seat before getting in and slamming the door shut.
"Well shit," she commented, turning the car on and not even subtly looking over her shoulder to where they'd been standing. "I didn't know Kody had a girlfriend."
I drummed my fingertips on the armrest, doing my absolute best to ignore the sour emotions swirling within me. "Me neither."
For small mercies, I hadn't told Bree that he'd kissed me last night. If I had, then I'd really be feeling stupid now.
"So, movies?" she asked in a weak attempt to change the subject.
I started to nod, then paused. "Can we swing past my dad's place first? If Kody is here, hopefully the other two are at SGU and the house will be empty."
"You got it," she agreed, navigating the streets back to the neighborhood we both lived in. Despite the integration projects, there was still a clear demarcation when we reached East Shadow Grove once more. Houses were bigger, gardens were more pristine, cars were more expensive.
Bree parked directly in front of the main entrance, and I grabbed my pile of clothes before leading the way into the house.
"I'll be quick," I told her, "then maybe we can catch that new thriller that just came out?"
My best friend wrinkled her nose, not being a huge fan of thrillers. "Or a rom-com. Same difference."
I rolled my eyes, dropping my pile of clothes onto the floor of the kitchen and heading straight for the pantry. It took me all of thirty seconds to locate the big black tubs of protein powder I'd seen Archer filling his shaker with, and an additional ten seconds to dump the contents of my brown medicine bottle into it and stir.
It might have been more effective if I'd dosed each of his shakes individually rather than diluting it in the whole tub of powder... but this should do the trick.
After all, I was trying to get revenge, not kill him.
Yet.
Leaving the walk-in pantry, I waved the empty powder bottle at Bree and grinned over my impending victory.
"You're diabolical," she muttered, with an edge of admiration. "I also don't think we're alone, so maybe dispose of the evidence?"
I frowned, then heard what she was talking about—the low, thumping bass of music coming from somewhere deeper into the house. I'd been so excited about my plan that I hadn't even noticed it until she pointed it out.
"Good thinking," I murmured. I rinsed the bottle out, then dropped it into the recycling bin, being sure to bury it under several empty beer bottles. "Let's get out of here."
We made it within three feet of the front door—so freaking close—when my name reverberated down the hall like a gunshot.
My shoulders bunched, and I turned around slowly to confront the dark cloud storming toward us.
"Archer, I'm not deaf. You don't need to bellow." I arched a brow at him and flipped one of my loose twin braids over my shoulder.
He got all up in my personal space—classic big-man intimidation bullshit, right there—and glowered glacial fury down on me. "Where the fuck were you all night, Princess? You take off with that criminal, Moore, then just drop off the damn radar? You didn't show up for classes this morning, either. Explain yourself."
Narrowing my eyes, I drew a deep breath that was meant to be calming. It wasn't.
"Maybe I spent the night with Dallas," I told him flippantly. "Catching up on old times. Maybe it was all so very exhausting I overslept and missed my morning classes. Who knows? More to the point, who cares? You keeping tabs on me, D'Ath? I wasn't aware that was your job." The vein over his temple throbbed, and I sneered.
"Well, now you know," he snarked back. "And you didn't stay with Dallas all night. He got called into work awfully suddenly." His gaze flickered to Bree. "I guess I know where you were now. I thought Bree had vocal coaching in Southbridge on Monday nights."
"Uh, you know my schedule?" Bree wrinkled her nose. "Not creepy at all. Besides, neither of us have actually gone to that class in years, not since Mrs. Turner died. We just never told our dads so we had a plausible excuse to be out of the house."
Archer barely even acknowledged her words, his cold gaze locked on my face.
"Cute hair," he commented, his words twisting with a distinct cruelty even as he stroked his fingertips down one of my braids and looped the loose end around his hand. It was only then that I realized his knuckles were wrapped in tape and his T-shirt clung to his chest with the dampness of sweat.
"How come you aren't in class?" I countered, ignoring his fingers teasing the end of my braid. He was doing it to unnerve me, and I wasn't letting it show. "Pot calling the kettle black, perhaps?" I folded my arms under my breasts and could have sworn his attention flickered over my cleavage for a moment.
"I only take three subjects," he informed me, "and right now, I'm in training. Or I would be if my trainer hadn't gone out looking for your vapid ass."
It didn't take a genius to figure out his trainer was Kody. Except he’d seemed far more interested in finding the back of Drew's throat, so maybe I wasn't the only one he’d lied to.
"Okay, cool chat," I remarked, turning to leave. Archer had other plans, though, yanking me to a halt with his grip on my braid. "Ow!" I protested as he wound my braid around his fist, pulling me close enough that his hot, hard body pressed into my back.
"Don't," he growled in my ear, "push me, Princess Danvers. You won't like the consequences."
I scoffed. "Yeah? How'd you like my knee slamming into your balls, big man? Or are they so shriveled from all the steroid use that it’d barely tickle?"
His chest rumbled, and I couldn't tell if it was a laugh or a growl. "So interested in my balls, Princess. If you want to see them up close and personal, all you've gotta do is ask." He tugged me closer still, demonstrating how very wrong I was about his shriveled genitals, and that's where my bravado broke.