Page 7 of A Little Complicated

He’s right. It did. It’s like we accidentally stumbled into relationship territory without either of us meaning to. But it doesn’t change who I’ve been seeing. It doesn’t change how I had my heart broken earlier tonight or how differently it all would’ve gone if Mystery Man hadn’t bailed on me at the last second.

I look down at our entwined hands. They fit. They shouldn’t, but they do. Or maybe they should fit. Maybe they’ve always fit, and—

“I see you’re debating something,” he notes.

My eyes snap to his, and I blurt out, “I’m a mess, Archer.”

With a smirk, he nods. “Yeah, I know.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I know you are.” He steps closer to me until we’re nearly chest-to-chest. “But I’m okay with it.”

Lifting my head, I hold his gaze. “Archer, I’m still hung up—”

The heat from his lips against mine swallows my rebuttal as he kisses me, angling my face to his. I’m so surprised, I just stand there, motionless. He tastes like mint. It’s a silly realization, but it’s true. Gently, he cradles my cheeks, pouring every ounce of pent-up attraction and restraint he’s carried for me into the kiss until I can feel it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. It’s nice. Comforting almost. Even familiar, though we’ve never kissed before. Not like this. Part of me wants to curl up against his chest and cry. The other part wants to lean into the kiss. To accept it. To let it mend my broken heart and erase every touch before his. Because if it did, maybe I wouldn’t hurt so much. Maybe I wouldn't misshim.

I feel guilty. Guilty for kissing someone who isn’t my stupid Mystery Man, despite the knowledge he’s the one who pushed me away. He’s the one who didn’t want me anymore. The one who bailed on us. Onme.

And Archer? His hand snakes around my waist, and he tugs me into him.

He wants me.

Pulling away from the kiss, Archer catches his breath and rests his forehead against mine. “Tell me you felt nothing.”

My eyes stay closed as his challenge brushes against my cheeks. Forcing a smirk, I answer, “We both know you’re hot, Archer. I’d have to be an iceberg not to feel anything after a kiss like that.”

He smiles against my lips. “Give me a chance.”

Blinking my eyes open, I repeat, “I’m a mess.”

“And I’m a patient asshole who doesn’t mind putting you back together again.”

A light laugh slips out of me, and I shake my head. “Archer…”

“Please, Lia?” he begs. “You like me, I know you do—”

“I do,” I interrupt. “You’re right, okay? Yes, I felt something two seconds ago when you kissed me, and in another world, I would do anything to be in this position, to witness you giving me the time of day when you are so far out of my league, it’s not even funny.” I laugh softly and run my fingers along the lapel of his tuxedo jacket. Indecision and resignation tear at me like a vulture picking apart the corpse of my previous relationship.

“I feel like there’s a but coming,” he muses.

Another quiet laugh slips out of me. “ButI literally just broke up with my…whatever…a few hours ago. I’m…” I let go of his lapel and slide my hand along his chest. “I’m not ready, and I’m confused, and I’m a mess.”

“Then let me make this easier for you.” He rubs his thumb along my cheek, tilting my head up, his gaze practically brimming with awe. “Give me a chance, and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

“Whatever I need?”

“Whateveryou need,” he emphasizes. “Time. Distractions. Space. Ice cream. Orgasms.”

“Archer!” I smack his chest as my cheeks pinch with amusement.

He pulls me into him again. “I’m kidding. Kind of,” he teases. “I like you for you. Always have. Always will. And even if this doesn’t work out, that won’t change. But the idea of not giving this a shot after the amazing night we had… I’d regret it for the rest of my life.”

We did have an amazing night. And Archer’s my best friend. Archer would never bail on me or hurt me. Not like Mystery Man did—er, MysteryBoy.It’s probably a more fitting term, now that I think about it.

He sounded so…detached on the phone. It’s a sound I’ll never forget. It makes me want to scrub my brain and erase every single memory from the past few months. If only I could.

“Give me a chance,” Archer begs. “We can take things as slow as you want.”

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