Chapter Fifteen
Archer
There was pink hair at the front desk. Not red.
I stopped short when I walked through the doorway of the shelter lobby.
Vanessa smiled. “Hey.” Then she tilted her head. “Why are you all dressed up?”
Fuck.
“I’m not,” I lied, tugging at the collar of my favorite blue polo shirt. Analise told me my eyes looked the best when I wore this shirt, and against my better fucking judgment, I pulled it out of the closet when I showered after my workouts.
She hummed disbelievingly, one dark eyebrow arched. “Okay.”
I cleared my throat. “Is Remi here?”
Vanessa shook her head. “Her grandpa wasn’t feeling well, so she took the day off to make him some soup or something. Honest to God, it’ll probably make him worse, but I don’t have the heart to tell her that.”
Disappointment was so much heavier when it came hard on the heels of anticipation. I’d never felt like this. Walking around like a fucking zombie, holding on to an aching need to see her. Be around her. Do whatever would make her smile. Well, maybe notwhateverwould make her smile.
You have to tell someone.
I couldn’t do that for her, and I just prayed she understood why.
I had heard her voice over and over and over in the three days since she’d said it. No hours scheduled at the shelter meant I hadn’t seen her. Hadn’t talked to her. Heard her voice.
I’d picked up my phone a dozen times to send her a text, but I couldn’t find a reason that was good enough.
Analise, in her extremely unhelpful way, gave me a few ideas.
Option 1:Please help settle a debate: Is cereal a soup?(Absolutely fucking not, and anyone who thought so was psychotic. If Remi said yes, I’d never be able to get over it.)
Option 2:I saw someone who looked like you today. Almost broke my neck turning to look at her.(Had a sneaking suspicion that this would backfire.)
Option 3:If I had a dollar for every time I thought about you, I’d still text you for free.(With option three, I was fully convinced my sister was plotting my demise.)
Despite a screaming gut instinct that I shouldn’t take advice from a hopelessly romantic seventeen-year-old who’d never gone on a date, I gave my sister the benefit of the doubt and typed them out one by one. Seeing them like that, only one tap on the screen away from either endless humiliation or being pleasantly surprised if it worked, I made myself wait fifteen seconds to see how they looked.
Each one got deleted more violently than the last. By the time I got to option three, I was surprised I hadn’t cracked my phone screen.
In the end, I had to wait. Wait to see her and hope we’d get some time to talk. It would be different today, I told myself. We’d had a moment at her house, hadn’t we?
I saw her home. Met her child. I washonest. Vulnerable, even. Didn’t royally fuck up anything in the process.
Which was why I’d dressed nicely. Put on a little cologne. Shaved off the ever-present stubble.
I’d ask her out today. For coffee or dessert, if that was all I’d get. I was more than halfway through my hours, and the desperate desire for more time with her had me thinking things I’d never thought before.
Except all those things were for naught because she wasn’t even fucking here.
Vanessa was watching me with a knowing look on her face. “Don’t worry, troublemaker. She’ll be back tomorrow and you can fawn over her then.”
I glowered. “I’m not fawning.”
What a fucking liar.
“If you say so.” Her voice was dripping with condescension. “Don’t get me wrong, I love this journey for her. She needs to be chased.”