As I stretch a little farther, willing my fingers to grow another quarter of an inch, Archie arrives at my side and grins down at me. He’s dressed casually—well, casual for Voclain’s student body—in a long-sleeve, white henley tee with navy blue sleeves, khaki chinos, and a pair of what appear to be men’s Ugg boots. He looks like the messy version of a J. Crew model, and by the smirk that flaunts his dimples, he knows he pulls it off.
“Need some help, shortstop?” he asks. “Maybe a camera so you can remember me this way forever? A cardboard cutout perhaps?” He shakes his head and gifts me a wink. “No, that won’t do. I think we’d both prefer the real thing.”
Heat pops to my cheeks and spreads until my face is on fire. Still, a laugh bursts from my lips as I shake my head.
“I’ll just…I just…I need that book,” I manage, lifting my chin at the book and rocking back on my heels.
Archie reaches above my head, and I realize too late that I should have moved out of his way because he is dangerously close.
The front of him brushes against the side of me, my shoulder sliding across the plank of his chest. He is warm and solid, and my fingers—cold from forgetting a jacket on the way out of my dorm—want to reach out and soak up his warmth.
He smells just as fantastic, like vanilla ice cream. I am sure no one smells this naturally delicious. It must be some ridiculously expensive body wash he uses. My eyes nearly roll back into my head. I want that ice cream to melt so I can lick up every single drop.
Jesus, it has been a long time since I had a boyfriend. Too long…
Well, fine, I’ve only ever had two boyfriends if you count Jimmy Daniels inviting me to homecoming last year, which I do, and Conner Everling in the ninth grade. But how long has it been since I’ve been on a date, held a boy’s hand, or laid down on the grass next to him and stared at the stars? Not unless you count that drunken night with…I shake the thought away. It doesn’t count. The point is something inside me yearns for the personal contact, the touch of another.
Yes, that must be it. I’ve lost my mind. People go crazy when they are alone. Just look at Tom Hanks’ character in Cast Away. Somebody please call a doctor because I have a bad case of need-a-boyfriend-itis.
Too bad all of my available options at the moment, though admittedly have-I-died-and-gone-to-Heaven gorgeous, are off-limits. What’s that phrase? If you stand for nothing, you will fall for anything. Well, this girl plans on standing until her feet crack and bleed and her knees give way.
Need-a-boyfriend-itis isn’t fatal, right?
“Harlow?” Archie says, snapping me back to reality like I just free-fell and reached the end of my bungee cord. My eyes pop open at his words.
I should not have opened my eyes though, because Archie stares down at me, and the look on his face spells triumph in bold, capital letters. Oh, no. He knows what I was thinking.
“You’ve been coming to the games with Raven and Everett,” he says with no room for argument, his eyes colored like tropical waters kissed by sunlight. “Will you come on Friday? I could use a good luck kiss.”
This feels different from the flirtation in Chemistry because right now, it is just him and me in this deserted corner of the library.
It’s personal. No, that’s not right. It’s damn-near intimate, like lovers whispering to each other in the dead of night.
“I…” What am I going to say?
As I stumble over my words, Archie leans in and runs the back of his tanned knuckles down my jawline. I swallow hard, willing my lungs to remember how to work.
We are too close. I should tell him to back away. I should back away.
He could kiss me. I could kiss him. We could...
“Archie,” I manage with a throaty croak, “everybody knows you are with Ivy.”
Archie full-on smiles. He shakes his head slowly, sending his dirty blonde curls swaying gently. His expression becomes serious when he says, “No, I’m not. I haven’t fucked her since the day I first saw you.”
The revelation steals the breath from my lungs.
“I can’t do anything about Molly,” he says, and, to his credit, he does actually look sorry about the fact. “But I like you, Harlow. I know I’m not your first choice, and that’s okay.” He leans in so close I have to tip my head up to look at him. “I’m not promising you a happily ever after, beautiful—I honestly don’t know if I’m that sort of guy—but I can show you a good time.”
I stare at him, lost in clouds of vanilla and his coquettish grin. Maybe I should take need-a-boyfriend-itis more seriously because I’m suddenly in need of a cold pack for my feverish forehead and about a thousand more for my body.
“Are you two going to get it over with? Or do I have to watch you eye-fuck each other all damn day?” Ian growls, stalking down the aisle to stand behind me.
I yelp, my arms flying and knocking the book from Archie’s hand. Archie laughs, shaking his head.
“You always know how to ruin a moment, Becky,” he says, scooping up the dropped book and handing it to me. As he moves to leave, he turns back to me and says, “Think about it?”
It is all I can do to nod.
I delay it as long as I can, though I feel Ian’s gaze boring into me like he’s trying to develop Superman-level x-ray vision. Yet, I continue to stare between the stacks at
