He felt a lot, hearing those words.
But he didn’t know what to say.
“Good those versions of me didn’t know how good it actuallyis or I’d be even more pissed you were such a big baby about our falling out,”she finished.
That made him move his hand from her ass to give her ribs arebuking squeeze.“It wasn’t me being a baby.”
“So was.”
“Totally wasn’t.”
“Soooooowas.”
Jag wasn’t doing this.
So he kissed her again.
Yeah, it wasn’t a figment of his imagination.
She tastedthat good.
He broke it that time, saying, “Okay, baby, even if I havezero motivation to go, this is my brother, so wegottaget going.”
She nodded, pressed up against him in a way that wasn’tmeant to be sexy, just sweet, then she slid away.
He turned and watched her walk to a sofa that was in themiddle of the room.
Then he took in the room.
Her place was mostly open loft space.Wood floors with somerugs.At the back, a bar with stools delineating the kitchen.Walls behindwhich he guessed housed a bath.Open racks that held her clothes.Windows atthe back and side that had alley views, her outdoor space was a fire escapewhere she had a bunch of potted plants and flowers.
It was eclectic and groovy.Like her store.Like her skirt.Like the welcome mat that had Spanish and Japanese on it.He saw a hint of alot everywhere.Moroccan.Native American.A big chandelier that looked made ofgold leaves hovered in the center of the ceiling that gave a slap of Italian.Old West.Boho.Asian.African.
It was cluttered but still felt roomy, schizophrenic but itmade sense.
He dug every inch of it.
When he stopped inspecting it and looked at her, she wasstanding, holding a compact in front of her face, and putting on lipstick.
Seeing that—and feeling the velvet smack of the extremefemininity of it—he wanted to tackle her and fuck her on her tapestry-draped,emerald green velvet couch.
He didn’t.
He asked, “What’s Archie short for?”
“Nothing,” she answered, rubbed her lips together, slappedthe compact closed, wound the lipstick down, capped it, and bent to her couchto grab a bag made entirely of fuchsia pink fringe.
She shoved the stuff in and turned to him.
“Nothing?”he pressed.“Your birth certificate says‘Archie?’”
“It isn’t funny, and it’s funny.”She started walking tohim.“They made a deal.Mom got to name the first kid.And Dad got to name thesecond.My brother’s name is Elijah.Dad always wanted a boy named Archie.Thing was, I came out a girl.Dad said it didn’t matter.Archie was a cute namefor a girl.Mom was having none of it.Sucks for Mom, but she was out of itfrom giving birth and falling in love with me after, so she was all about that,and he hijacked the birth certificate.Named me Archie.”
She stopped in front of him still talking, but now sheraised her hands at her sides, the fringe of her bag falling over the one thatheld it.
“So, I’m Archie.”She dropped her arms.“Mom was livid atfirst.Then it got to be a joke, her giving him shit about it.But she admittedto me, she wanted him to have what he wanted.So once she calmed down, she wasglad he got what he wanted, even if she wanted to name me Emilia.”
“You are so totally not an Emilia.”
