Page 71 of A Little Complicated

“Hey.” Archer’s hands find my hips, and he pulls me against him. “Missed you.”

The words leave a splinter in my sternum, but I shake off the strange response. “Missed you too.”

“How was the carnival?”

“It was fine. I did the ice plunge,” I offer.

“I saw.” He smiles. “Griffin sent me the video.”

“He did, did he?”

“Yeah.” Archer kisses my nose. “I’m surprised you did it. You hate ice baths.”

“I may have felt obligated to prove I’m not some damsel in distress.”

“Ah, so you were pressured into it.” He nods. “Next time, you’ll have to do it without Maverick’s help.”

“Yeah, I will,” I agree, swaying my hips to the ear-splitting beat surrounding us. “I did the kissing booth too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I was going to text you about it, but I figured I’d wait until you came home to tell you.”

“No worries. Did you have fun?”

“Um, I guess?” Avoiding his gaze, I fiddle with the collar of his shirt while my nerves buzz like bumble bees beneath my skin. “Is it…a problem for you? Me doing the kissing booth?”

His expression pulls tight, and he drops his hands from my sides. “Should it be?”

“I mean, no,” I say. “It’s not like I made out with anyone, but I told you I most likely wouldn’t actually man the kissing booth, so I thought you should know.”

“Okay?” He chuckles, but it sounds forced. “Now I know.”

“Cool. And you’re…good with it?” I prod.

“I said I would be, right?” He stares over my shoulder, distracted by the ruckus around us.

“Well, yeah, but hypothetically versus reality are two different things.” I stand on my tiptoes, putting myself in his line of sight while hoping to gain his full attention.

Catching on, he sighs and stares down at me. “Do you want me to be mad?”

I hesitate. “It’s just…if I saw you kissing random girls, I don’t think I’d like it very much.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t kissing random guys for no reason, and I knew it was a possibility beforehand. So, it’s different. Right?”

“Yeah, it is, but…” My shoulders hunch. “I don't know…maybe I’m acting crazy.”

The music continues blaring around us, and chairs scrape against the hardwood floor as everyone gets ready for musical chairs in the center of the family room. Meanwhile, Archer and I stand awkwardly in the hall, enduring our own staredown. He barely casts a glance as his friends greet him and move past us. He’s too busy giving me a look and making me feel ashamed and stupid but kind of right too.

“Hey, man. Good to see you,” Everett says as he lugs a handful of folding chairs from the basement.

“You too.” Archer nods at Everett. Turning back to me, he keeps his voice low. “Why do I feel like I’m in the dog house fornotbeing mad at you while I was gone, despite the fact we’d already discussed it all?”

He has every right to be confused. Honestly, it doesn’t even make sense in my own brain, so how can I expect him to understand why I feel the way I feel when I’m as lost as he is? But I can’t stop thinking about it. What Maverick said. The passion in his eyes. The barely restrained anger. The desire and desperation. It made me feel…wanted. Needed. Special. And Archernotcaring makes me feel…replaceable almost.

“Lia,” Archer prods.

“I dunno.” I shrug. “I…I feel like you should at least somewhat care, ya know?”

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