Page 58 of Come Break My Heart Again

“I know. I’ve been busy.”

And actively avoiding him. He showed up here the day after Maddie’s party with soup, saying he hoped I was feeling better. We watched a movie, and I spent the entire time trying to come up with the right words to end things. Before I could, one of his buddies called, and he left. Since then, all we’ve done is exchange a few words at school.

Archer exhales. “Yeah. Me too. My dad has me running extra drills when I get home from practice each night.”

“That sucks.”

“Caught Watson talking to that Two kid a few days ago,” he tells me. “Guy caught acan of beerat a party, and they act like he’s Tom Brady. Be nice if the guys had a little faith in me.”

I stiffen, certainthat Two kidis Ryder. Literally bite my tongue to avoid mentioningthe guyshave watched Archer fail for three seasons. Faith runs out eventually. It doesn’t help that this year seems to be following the same pattern as years past—rusty start, followed by extra drills and a burst of determination, then deflating into blaming receivers, and skipping practices. It seems like we’re rapidly approaching phase three.

Archer looks around the backyard. “Too bad your folks never put in a pool. Warm enough for a swim.” He glances at me and grins. “Miss seeing you in a bikini.”

My answering smile is forced.

Archer is attractive. Classically handsome. But I can’t say I’m dying to see him shirtless.

I thought that apathy was because I’d known him since we were toddlers in diapers. Because we’d been dating for months and so the thrill of newness had worn off.

But I think those are excuses. That chemistry is this mystical force that can’t be created or duplicated. It’s there, or it’s not, and you don’t get to choose which. Or with who you experience it.

Archer shoves away from the table and stands. “Come on. Let’s play some H-O-R-S-E.”

Reluctantly, I stand too. Basketball is better than just sitting here, I guess.

Archer heads into the garage to grab a ball while I pull my hair back into a braid.

“Ladies first,” he says, bouncing the ball to me.

I catch it, which bodes well for my chances of winning. When I was little, I’d wait in the driveway for my dad to get home from work, and we’d shoot around some. I’m decent, and last time we played, Archer wasn’t any better at basketball than football.

“Who said I’m a lady?” I ask, smirking.

Archer snorts. “You’re a virgin who always makes high honor roll.”

A vein in my temple pulses. He’s insecure because I won’t have sex with him, but that doesn’t make the belittlement okay.

“How do you know I didn’t have sex with Perry?” I ask.

Archer laughs like the idea is ludicrous. “He would have told me.Anyguy would have told me, rubbed my face in it.”

Not any guy.

I smile, suddenly so grateful to my younger self for choosing Ryder as my first. He wasn’t the obvious choice. Keira and Juliet would have tried to talk me out of it, which is why I never told them. But he was the right choice.

I take the first shot, my grin spreading wider when it swishes through the basket.

Archer grabs the ball and strolls over, stopping about a foot away.

“Not from there. Fromhere, behind the line.”

He rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Elle. You always have to be such a rule follower?”

“You’re the one trying to cheat,” I snap.

Another eye roll before he takes the shot.

He misses, and a petty part of me wants to smile.

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