Page 59 of Come Break My Heart Again

We alternate taking shots in silence, the bounce of the basketball against the asphalt the only sound aside from the occasional street noise.

I make a three-pointer, then pass the ball to Archer. He has four letters. If he misses this shot, he loses.

So, part of me isn’t surprised when he drops the ball and reaches for my hand instead, tugging me over to the side of the garage.

“I’m sorry,” he says, resting one hand against the shingles as he leans toward me. “I shouldn’t have brought up you being a virgin. That was a dick move.”

I don’t disagree. And I’m so tempted to tell him the truth—that I’m not one—but it’s none of his business. Not to mention, it’ll prompt a whole bunch of questions I don’t want to answer. Archer already has a vendetta against Ryder because of football. Finding out I had sex with him will make that a thousand times worse.

He leans closer. I let him kiss me for a few seconds, then turn my head to the left.

Archer huffs. “Come on, Elle. I’ll stop mentioning sex. If you want to wait, that’s fine. But now, you won’t even kiss me?”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Let me change that.” His hand lands on my hip.

“No.” I push his chest, and he doesn’t budge. “Archer, I mean it.” I shove his chest harder, adrenaline spiking through my system. I’m breathing heavier now than I was when we were playing. “I-I need some space.”

Archer scoffs as he steps away, turning and retrieving the basketball from the spot it rolled to in the grass. “I don’t fucking get you, Elle. I gave you space all week, hoping you’d reach out, and you just take it. I try to spend time around you; you ask for space. What the hell do you want from me?”

Nothing.

There’s never going to be a good time to do this.

“I want to break up.”

He stares at me, his expression absolutely incredulous. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry if?—”

“Nah.” Archer shakes his head. “Don’t do that. Don’tapologizefor dating me.”

“I-I just think we’re better off as friends.”

“Friends,” Archer states flatly.

I nod.

He flings the basketball toward the garage door. I flinch when the rubber slams into aluminum.

“No thanks. Have fun telling our moms.”

I stare after him as he stalks around the side of the house toward the front drive. That’s the best he can come up with?

Although I am dreading it.

I blow out a long breath, then head for the French doors that connect the patio to the kitchen. My mom and Mrs. Hathaway are standing in the kitchen, sipping from full glasses of wine and giggling. The dinner dishes sit in a dirty pile in the sink.

“Hey, honey,” my mom says, spotting me. She glances behind me. “Where’s Archer?”

“Dunno. We broke up. I’m going to Keira’s.”

I breeze past their shocked expressions, snagging my car keys from the hook by the front door and heading outside. My convertible is the only car in the roundabout, which makes me think Archer had keys on him and took off. Great. Him stranding his parents at my parents’ house will inevitably be considered my fault for breaking up with him.

Keira only lives three blocks away. I could easily walk, but blaring music on the short drive here is somewhat therapeutic.

Mrs. Parker answers the front door. “Elle! How lovely to see you.”

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