2:00 p.m.

 

Day One

 

Archer stared at the ceiling.

Fuck.

He couldn't believe he'd let that happen. He glanced to his right, where Jo was fast asleep, laying on her stomach.

Fuck fuck fuck!

He'd known they were high – he'd done ecstasy before, he wasn't an idiot. He'd even recognized that it was either very strong ecstasy, or a shit ton of it. He'd also known Jo had never done that drug before; she may have liked to party and drink and hit the occasional bong, but really, she was a good girl. She didn't do drugs. So of course the MDMA had hit her hard and she'd been totally unprepared for it, and totally unaware of it.

FUCK.

She'd been staring up at him with those big blue eyes. Like doll eyes, he'd always thought. She had a smile that was worth a million bucks, always showing all her perfect pearly white teeth, and whenever she turned it on him, it almost undid him. And that day, that moment, that amount of drugs in his system … he had finally come undone. Kissing her had been necessary, an act required of him by destiny. By god.

Jesus, it had felt so right. Like candy and cake and the best champagne and pure unadulterated sex. Talk about an instant hard on. Combined with the fucking amazing body she was rocking, which she just had to press against him, and he'd been a goner.

Of course Archer liked Jo. They were pals, buddies, best friends, all that jazz. He'd always liked her. And he wasn't blind, so he'd been attracted to her for years. It hadn't been the drugs talking – he fantasized about her all the time. Dreamed about her.

Years ago, he'd made a promise to her brother. Jodi was off limits to a horn dog like Archer Calhoun. Of course, things changed. Andy had ditched everyone once he'd realized he was a hot shit college student, and Archer and Jo were just lame “townies” working dead end jobs. Suddenly things shifted and Archer was less her brother's friend, and more her friend. He grew to be closer to her than he'd ever been to her brother.

A relationship was the natural next step. His mom had asked him about it, his dad harassed him about it, their mutual friends cracked jokes about it. They were always hanging out together, always teasing each other. Why didn't they just fuck and get it over with already? He was hot, she was hot, they were hot for each other, it was simple math. What was the fucking problem?

Archer groaned and pressed his hands over his eyes.

Nothing was ever simple in his life. He'd had to fight for everything. Fight his step-dad, just to survive. Fight in school, just to get by. His mom was manic-depressive and an alcoholic, so from a young age, he'd had to help take care of her. He couldn't remember ever not having some sort of job, and working nights fucked with staying awake in class, which in turn fucked up his grades, which of course had fucked up his future. He'd locked himself into a worthless future, and that realization had caused him to make some bad decisions in his life.

He glanced back at Jo again. She was laying on her stomach, her head turned away from him. Her long brown hair had come loose from its ponytail and was spreading across the mattress, almost brushing against his arm. She had her arms tucked under her chest and he listened as she breathed deeply in her sleep.

She'd grabbed his t-shirt at some point and had attempted to use it as a blanket. He was a lot bigger than her, it covered her from her hips to her calves. Her smooth back was exposed to him, and he reached out a hand, gently placing his palm on her skin.

So different. She was so different from him. Her skin was soft and creamy, completely unblemished. He was rough and tan, a couple tattoos marking different milestones on his body. She was all laughter and happiness, just skipping her way through life. He was always hiding behind his smiles and jokes.

Bad, bad, bad. He pulled his hand away before she felt him and woke up. This was all bad. He'd never slept with Jo before because he was bad for her. She was still young, she would eventually figure her shit out and she'd settle down with a real man. With a good guy. With someone who would take care of her.

He didn't like it, thinking of another man touching her. It always killed him whenever she had a boyfriend or slept with anyone. Long before that night, he'd felt like a small part of her had belonged to him. Now it would be so much harder – he felt like all of her belonged to him. Every inch, every smile, every look.

“Sorry, Jojo,” he whispered, resisting the urge to touch her again. “I wish I could be good enough for you.”

“Archer,” she mumbled his name in her sleep, and he smiled to himself. Remembered a couple hours earlier when she'd been proclaiming that she loved everything. That she loved him.

I hope not, Jo. For your sake, I really hope not.