Page 32 of Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths

I try to tell myself that the only reason I’m reading downstairs and not in my room is because I need a change of scenery, but the truth is, I’m waiting for Archer.

He was acting so off before he left, and after what he said last night, I guess I’m just worried.

At some point, I must’ve dozed off, because when I open my eyes, I find myself sprawled on my side, face stuck to the leather sofa. My e-reader is face down on the floor from where it must have fallen out of my hands.

Sitting up, I wipe the drool from my cheek with thesleeve of my sweatshirt. A sharp, stabbing pain twists like a knife in my gut, causing me to double over.

Oh God—Please no…not today. Not now.

Sure enough, I feel that telltale warmth between my legs that alerts me to the fact that yes, I did indeed just start my period.Shit! I jump up before I can make a mess on the cream-colored sofa and gingerly walk up the stairs to my room.

Once there, I search through my bag in vain, already knowing I didn’t bring anything I need with me.

I dig through the drawers and under the cabinets in the guest bathroom in desperation, in case any female guests left anything of use behind, but no such luck.

Feeling like I’m back in middle school again with a wad of rolled up tissue in my underwear, I go in search of Archer, praying that he snuck in while I was sleeping.

Finding his bedroom door closed, I knock a few times. When he doesn’t answer, I push it open, and my heart sinks when I realize it’s empty. When I see his still made bed, I know he hasn’t been home. A glance at the clock shows that it’s after one in the morning.

Suddenly, I’m hit with a bout of nausea, and I’m not sure if it’s from the cramps or the not knowing what—or who—Archer might be doing right now.

I’m clutching at my stomach, trying not to vomit, when I hear his deep voice say my name.

“Hey. Baby, look at me. What’s wrong?” Warm, strong hands cradle my face, and I could almost cry with relief that he’s here.

“Thank God you’re back. I didn’t have your number,so I couldn’t call you,” I say, trying to put on a brave face as I fight through the pain and nausea. “I need to borrow your car. I have to run to the store to get…some things.”

“What things? Tell me, and I will get them for you.”

I feel my face drain of color, which is definitely not going to help my case at this point. The thought of telling Archer I’m on my period is bad enough, but then having to ask him to buy me feminine hygiene products? Yeah, no thank you. I would rather die.

“Umm…no thanks. I promise I’m good. I just need your keys and—” I try to argue, but he cuts me off.

“Maggie. No offense, but you don’tlookgood.”

My heads rears backs. Wow, way to kick a girl when she’s down. He must realize what he said, because he’s quick to backtrack.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You are a beautiful woman, you know you are—but right now, you look like you are about to pass out. So, will you please lay down and let me help you?” he pleads, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, palm caressing my cheek.

He sounds so sincere, like he truly wants to take care of me, and for some reason that makes me want to cry. My eyes flutter closed at his touch, and he stands so close, his woodsy-citrus scent invades my nose and makes it hard for me to think.

I try and fail to come up with an excuse, any way to avoid having to tell him the truth, but I know it’s no use. He isn’t going to change his mind.

The tip of my nose burns as tears of pain and frustration prick behind my closed lids.

“I can’t lay down,” I whisper, looking down at my feet. “I…I don’t want to make a mess on your bed.”

“Ah…I see,” he says. “You don’t have anything with you.” Though it comes out as more of a statement then a question, I shake my head anyway.

“Okay. What do you need? I said I would go get it, and I will.”

I raise my eyebrows, sure I misheard him.

“You’re joking right?”

He gives me a bland look.

“No, I’m not joking. It does not matter what it is. It doesn’t change the fact that you need it, and you’re not in any shape to drive.” My mouth drops open, and the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s fighting a smile.

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