“They want this handled before another shipment of heroin hits the streets.” I pat my pocket, where my cellphone sits at the ready. “Just waiting on their call. The second Jaxon returns to port, they’re wiring me up and sending me in.”
“Archer…” He sounds surprisingly serious. “Are you absolutely certain you want to do this?”
I shrug. “Not much choice in the matter. I’m the only one who can get onboard that ship and get the evidence the DEA needs to make any credible arrests. They can’t search the holds without just cause. I’m going to get it for them.”
He absorbs this information in silence. Shoulder to shoulder, we watch as another young boy steps up at bat. His stance is all wrong, but he hits the ball on his first swing. It sails past us on the right, rolling toward third base.
“Good job, Keith! You’ll be hitting homers in no time,” I call, nodding my approval. “Next up! Come on, Jared. Reset the ball on the tee. Yep, just like that. You’ve got it, buddy.”
“You’re good at this,” Chris remarks.
“Wrangling first graders into compliance?”
“Coaching.”
I shrug without comment.
“I mean it! You’re a natural.”
“It’s tee-ball. Anyone can coach tee-ball.”
He looks at me appraisingly. “Ever thought about applying your skills on a higher level?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should. You know, Coach Hamm was always talking about bringing on an assistant coach at Exeter… someone to handle the JV team…” He grins. “You could call him. He’d be thrilled to hear from his favorite former player.”
“Give it a rest, Tomlinson.”
“Give what a rest?”
“Your mission to be my personal savior. I appreciate the concern for my future, but it’s not necessary. It’s frankly a bit condescending, coming from a guy who once agreed to swallow a goldfish on a dare.”
He groans at the mention of the koi incident. “Fine. Message received. No more life advice from me. We can just drink beers and talk about sports, like the hyper-masculine Neanderthals society expects us to be.”
“Afraid you’re on your own for that.” I chuckle. “I’m taking a hiatus from drinking.”
He looks at me in surprise. His mouth opens to comment, but he merely nods and shuts it when he sees the expression on my face. “Fine. I can deal with no beers. You still eat burgers though, right? Because going vegan is where I draw the line…”
THIRTY-ONE
josephine
The buzzof the front gate makes me look up from my laptop screen. My heart leaps inside my chest.
Archer?
I’m desperate to see him.
I’m also terrified to see him.
The last time we were in the same room, we nearly combusted in a supernova of lust. I couldn’t think straight through the haze of desire that clouds my mind whenever I’m in his presence. I thought time might help me sort through some of my messy emotions, thought space might let me better articulate my thoughts… but in the handful of days since our heated kiss, my blood has cooled only marginally — a low simmer of need that hums in my veins at all times. It will take no more than the brush of his fingers, the skim of his lips, to ramp back up to a rolling boil we cannot contain.
In this moment, I don’t care.
Abandoning the student housing application on my laptop, I jump to my feet and race for the front door. My heart deflates as I peer at the image projected from the front gate camera — a Pepto-Bismol-pink Land Rover idles in the driveway, with Odette and Ophelia Wadell grinning from behind the dashboard.
“Yo, Jo! Let us in!”