My grip on my emotions had been tentative at best before he’d walked into the kennel, but this, I simply could not abide. Before I did something insane, like climb into his lap for a hug or burst into tears, I stood as slowly as I could manage.
Bandit backed away from Archer when I did, but not for very long.
Archer’s concern was evident, but I ignored it. Ignored the furrow in his brow and the wave of emotions that threatened to hit all at once.
“Remi?”
“I—I need to go.”
My muscles screamed to run, sprint, high-jump, whatever the hell I needed to do in order to get the fuck out of the enclosed space withthe man I did not want, but I managed to cinch the untapped energy coursing through my veins.
This, folks, is what we call fight or flight.
Unfortunately for me, my nervous system couldn’t tell the difference between fleeing from a serial killer and facing my feelings for the hot, emotionally stunted football player who may or may not want to ask me out on a date.
The sanctuary of my office was short-lived, because about only thirty seconds after I sank against the closed door, there was a knock on the outside.
I groaned. Couldn’t a girl wallow properly?
“Remi?”
I do not want Archer Evans.
“Act like a grown-up, you coward,” I whispered harshly. Straightening my shoulders, I tossed my hair back and opened the door like I was totally and completely fine to be facing him again.
Archer studied my expression, then glanced down the hallway. “Can I talk to you?”
“I don’t know if that’s—”
His eyes burned. “You are not a joke to me. I didn’t tell anyone.”
A burst of laughter came from the vicinity of the meet and greet room, so I opened the door wider and motioned him inside, despite the uneven thudding of my heart when I closed us into my office together. “I don’t want anyone hearing this.”
I pushed my hair behind my ears with shaking hands, then leaned against my desk. I should’ve been on the other side, but my feet seemed bolted to the floor.
A barrier was good. A ten-foot wall would have been better, but I couldn’t afford to be so picky. And yet my ass stayed right there, with nothing but a small stretch of air and tenuous control separating us.
Archer stayed focused on me as he leaned against the wall just a few feet away, checking my reaction to see if that was what I wanted.
Good luck with that, because even I wasn’t sure what that was.
“I didn’t handle it well,” he continued. “I haven’t handled anything well since I got out of that car.”
This wasn’t a time for me to speak, because it was important to hear what he had to say. Words would come. Plenty of them.
“But I swear to you, I told no one about how we met, and I’d never let my teammates or anyone disrespect you, even if they knew.”
“Youdisrespected me, Archer. The very first day,” I said. “You all but called me a whore.”
The anguish on his face was contagious, because I felt it twist my chest like it was attached to an invisible crank. “I have no excuses for why I spoke to you that way. There are none.”
“Try,” I said on a shaky whisper. “Try to explain it to me.”
He blew out a harsh breath. “I was embarrassed. You were on my mind constantly after we met, and to see you again ... like this”—he spread his arms out—“it was my nightmare. I was showing up as the worst version of me.”
That was contagious, too, it seemed. “I’ve been doing that too,” I admitted quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you don’t need to apologize.” He shook his head. “It was inexcusable. I know that. I felt sick saying it, and when you slapped me ...”