2:58 p.m.

 

Day One

 

Jo sat bolt upright with a gasp. She glanced around, wondering where the fuck she was, then realized she was naked. She squealed as she scrambled to grab the blanket that was wrapped around her legs, only to discover it wasn't a blanket. It was a large t-shirt. She unfurled it and pressed it against her chest, then took a couple deep breaths.

Calm down. Calm down, you know where you are. Just chill out.

She was in a room that was covered in graffiti. She could hear music coming from somewhere, and a lot of voices. A couple of dying glow sticks were scattered about the floor. As she stared at a blue one, she groaned and remembered everything. She was at that stupid rave. They'd sold the coke to the weirdo in the hat, and then she'd danced for almost an hour straight. After dancing, Archer had piggybacked her into that room, and she'd been smiling at him, and then …

… and then we had the most incredible sex I've ever had in my life.

“Oh my god,” she gasped again. “We were so fucking stoned!”

She whipped her head around and found him next to her. Buck naked, sleeping on his stomach, half off the mattress. She slapped her hand over her mouth and stared down at him.

Holy shit. Holy shit. She had fucked Archer Calhoun. Well, really, he had fucked her, but semantics. It had happened. It had finally happened.

And yet, she kind of wanted to cry. She sniffled and tried to hold it together as she slowly stood up. She dropped the t-shirt to the ground and tip toed around, collecting her different pieces of clothing and putting them on as she moved.

She'd always dreamed of sleeping with Archer. Making love, having sex, banging, fucking, any of the above. But she'd always fantasized it being a mutual thing. She wanted him to want her as much as she wanted him. Instead, though, he'd been completely ripped on a drug that inspired intense feelings of love and affection, and she'd just happened to be there. It probably could've been anybody – he'd never shown an interest in her before, not really.

It was unfair. It had been amazing sex, and she didn't really regret it, but she was still upset. Like something had been taken away from her. It was just like the kiss in front of the police officer. An amazing moment that ultimately hadn't meant anything to the person she'd shared it with.

Just be glad it happened, period. Now at least you have that memory with him.

She was focusing on that when the object of her thoughts started moaning on the mattress.

“What time is it?” he asked in a hoarse voice. He rolled over onto his back and stretched. Her tongue became glued to the roof of her mouth for a second. He was so fucking gorgeous, and he'd been inside her. She was embarrassed to admit it, but just seeing him in all his glory had her ready to beg him to do it all over again.

Please, sir, I'd like some more …

“Uh,” she finally shook herself out of it and turned away. “Fuck, it's almost three.”

“Shit. We better get moving. Good thing it's not too hot today – did we park in the shade?” he asked from behind her.

“Oh shit,” she groaned, remembering their purpose for being there. “I hope so. How is this my life?”

“Don't worry. We have the rest of the day, we're doing alright,” Archer pointed out, and she listened as he moved around and put on some clothes. She had everything on but her tank top, which she couldn't find.

“We are not alright,” she sighed, finally turning around. He had just put on his shoes and was moving to stand upright, his t-shirt in his hands.

“Seriously, you're going to have a break down if you keep being so negative,” he warned her.

“I'm sorry if I'm being negative,” she laughed, finally walking over to him. “Maybe it's because I'm going to go to jail for life. Or maybe because I'll probably have a heart attack before that can happen. Oh! Or if I'm really lucky, I'll die of blood poisoning from tainted ecstasy.”

“You're just a ray of sunshine, Jojo,” he chuckled, then he lifted his arms to put on his shirt.

She didn't say anything, just glanced at the large tattoo covering his rib cage down his right side. It was some sort of large tree, done all in black, with the roots dangling down to his hip. He'd never told her the meaning behind it, had gotten it before he'd moved to Van Nuys.

He also had one on the inside of his right bicep, a geometric bow-and-arrow she'd sketched for him, and his last tattoo was just above his pelvis. It was almost unnoticeable,  the top of it barely peeking above the edge of his pants. He'd gotten it one night while black out drunk, had no memory of getting it, and often talked about covering it up. It was just four words, in Old English font.

To Infinity And Beyond

“I can't believe you still have this,” she said, and without thinking about it, she reached out and slid her finger along his skin, running it over the tops of the letters. His muscles jumped and contracted under her touch.

“Yeah, well, it's your fault I have it at all. Always making me watch that fucking movie,” he grumbled, then he slid his shirt into place, breaking her contact with him. She took a step back.

“No one forces you to watch my favorite movie,” she pointed out.

“Yes, you do. All the time,” he reminded her, combing his hands through his hair. “I probably got the tat some night after fucking watching it at your place.”

The good humor that normally coated his words was gone. He actually sounded a little pissed off. She frowned.

“Okay, now you're the one who needs to calm down. Just get it covered up,” she said.

“Can you cover up? Or are you planning on walking around all night with your tits on display?” he snapped, gesturing to her chest.

She felt like she'd been slapped. Her jaw dropped for a second, then she turned around and stomped away. Ignored him when he said her name. She looked around and finally found her top in a corner. It was dusty, but she just shook it out and pulled it on.

“Jo,” he sighed, walking up behind her. She hurried away, making a beeline for the door. “C'mon, I'm -”

“If we go now,” she cut him off. “We can get to my work before the shift change. I don't recognize the guy, he must not come in when I'm there.”

“Jojo, I think we should -” he kept trying to talk.

“Should get out of here, you're right. We need to go,” she barreled through him. She reached out and grabbed the doorknob, ready to whip open the door and stride off down the hall. But when she pulled, the knob fell off in her hand and then dropped to the floor. It rolled across the room before banging loudly into the desk.

“Jo,” Archer said softly, and she felt his hand on her shoulder. He slowly turned her so she was facing him. “I'm sorry.”

“For what? It's just a knob. You have to figure out how to get us out of here,” she said, staring at the frosted glass in the door. He reached out and put his finger under her chin, then forced her to look up at him.

“That's not what I'm sorry about, and you know it,” he said. She stared at him and chewed on her bottom lip for a second.

“You don't have to be sorry,” she whispered. He groaned and pulled her into a hug.

“I knew better,” he said. “I even told you not to drink anything. I should've known better.”

“This isn't your fault,” she told him, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him back.

“I didn't want to do anything to hurt you.”

“You didn't. I swear, you didn't.”

“We were fucked up,” he said, and she frowned.

“Yeah … we were pretty high,” she replied.

“And we've done a lot of stupid shit while high,” he reminded her.

“We have,” she agreed.

“And this time, we just did some stupid shit together,” he said.

She held still for a moment. The best sex of her life, with someone she'd quite possibly been in love with since she was thirteen, and it was “stupid shit” to him?

“Um ...” she couldn't formulate a response.

“But you're okay, right?”

“Sure?”

“I didn't hurt you?”

She didn't like where this line of conversation was going. Sure, she'd been high out of her mind, but she'd also been present. She'd known exactly who she'd been doing all that stuff with, every second. Yet he was acting like she was some innocent bystander who hadn't known any better. She pulled away from him.

“No, Archer. I'm a big girl, I'm fine,” she stressed, holding her arms out at her sides.

“Good. Cause I'd hate to lose my best friend over some dumb shit we did while we were on drugs.”

“Yeah. That would be awful. Can we open this fucking door now?” she snapped, turning away from him and clawing at their exit.

“What, are you mad again?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Peachy fucking keen. Door, Calhoun. Open it,” she insisted, pounding her hand on the glass, hoping someone outside would hear.

“You sound mad, Jojo,” he told her.

“I'm not. I'm claustrophobic. Get me out of here.”

“You're not claustrophobic. Tell me what -”

She let out a shout and gave the door a savage kick. Much to her surprise, it worked. Where she kicked it, the frame splintered and dropped away from the wall. The strike plate and latch were completely exposed, she was able to simply press it down with her finger and the door fell open. She hurried through it and all but jogged down the hallway.

He caught up to her in the huge expanse before the exit, the area they'd walked through three hours earlier, when they'd been looking for the rave. Now they were finally leaving a little richer, somewhat wiser, and a lot more disappointed in life.

“Cmon, Jo, don't be mad at me. I hate it when you're mad at me!” he groaned, matching her step for step as they went outside.

“I'm never mad at you!” she snapped, increasing her pace. It didn't make much of a difference – Archer was like six foot three, with long legs. He easily kept up with her.

“Is it because of the sex?” he asked, and she took a deep breath, willing away a blush.

“No, Archer.”

“Don't worry, it was pretty good.”

“Pretty good!?” she yelled, whirling around on him.

“Yeah. If that's what you're upset about,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. She held up her hands.

“Let me get this straight – you think I'm upset because I think I wasn't good in bed?” she double checked.

“Don't worry about it,” he said while nodding. “We were stoned, it was crazy, who knew what was going on.”

“Are you saying I wasn't good!?” she gasped.

“No,” he said quickly. “I'm just saying don't feel bad about anything that happened in there.”

“Jesus, Archer, you're a real fucking piece of work!” she yelled, shoving him in the chest.

“Thanks. And I'm sure the next guy you sleep with, it'll be awesome. You'll be sober, you'll be present, you'll be totally into it,” he prattled off.

Jo couldn't handle it. She'd been up since ten in the morning, she had a body decomposing in her car, said body was possibly a stalker, she'd gotten drugged at a rave, and she'd fucked her life long crush – who had then described the incident as “pretty good”. She had officially reached the end of her tether.

So she didn't feel at all bad when she shrieked and punched him in the throat.