I floated between each of the retreat goers, providing tips and guidance. The entire time, I stole glances at Archer out of the corner of my eye. He had rolled up his sleeves, and I could make out the tendons on his forearms. While he was a pretty picture, he did not seem like he knew what he was doing.
"I thought you said you were good at painting?" I whispered over his shoulder while I inspected the dumpster fire on his canvas. I was satisfied to see him shiver slightly as my breath caressed his neck.
"I'm good at finger painting," he replied, scooping up paint on his brush.
My hand itched, and I reached out and grabbed the paintbrush before he could glop all the paint on the canvas. My fingertips grazed the back of his hand.
"I knew you secretly like me," he whispered. "I bet you do naughty things with this paintbrush when you're all alone."
I flicked his earlobe.
"Ow! That's not what I meant at all, Hazel." Archer turned around, horrified, and I started to feel a little bad for hurting him. Those bad feelings turned to exasperation when he continued, "I meant that you probably draw pictures of me nude of course, with a comically large, throbbing—" I clapped a hand to his mouth before he said the word.
"Cock!" Ida shouted out gleefully. I looked at Archer's brothers in horror. Fortunately they were wearing headphones and listening to music.
"How did you even hear that, Ida?"
"Cranked that hearing aid up, baby. You can call me the CIA because I will come in Archer."
Archer looked up at the ceiling. "Granted, I grew up in a cult in the middle of the desert, so I didn't get the best human anatomy lesson, but I don't think that's how any of this works."
"That's it, Ida," I told her. "You've had enough to drink." I went over to take the glass out of her hand, but she downed it in one go.
"I'm begrudgingly impressed," Archer said after a beat.
"I have no gag reflex," Ida bragged. "I can give you pointers, Hazel."
"I don't need them—"
"Also if you drew naughty pictures of him, you have to show me, okay?"
"I'm not drawing naughty pictures of Archer."
"That's too bad! You should. I hear people make a lot of money drawing porn online."
"I'm a serious artist! I'm not drawing porn, especially not of Archer."
But I stole glances at Archer through the rest of the afternoon.
The way the light streaming through the large windows illuminated him like a Dutch master's painting, I sort of did want to draw him. Not in a pornographic way—I wanted to see how far that tattoo went on his chest. Not because I wanted to see the outlines of the muscles and the V that went down to… well, you know. The craftsmanship of the tattoos was what I was interested in.
Then I thought of McKenna. She had been awful to me in college. I had purposefully lost track of her—I didn't want to know how successful she was. The article about McKenna and Archer said they'd had only a few dates. And Archer was probably flirting with me, though it could have just been his personality or another joke. I looked down at my paint-smeared overalls. I certainly wasn't dressed to impress. Who was I kidding? There was no way Archer was into me.
8
Archer
Hazel had been so flustered during the retreat. It was endearing and a little intriguing. I chuckled to myself as I drove the kids back. They chattered excitedly in the back seat of my car.
I pulled up in front of the large estate house, and Otis and Theo hopped out. Adrian and Tristan were standing around my sports car, taking pictures of Eli posing behind the wheel.
"Don't even think about driving my car," I growled at them, hurrying over.
"I told them you would be mad," Adrian said.
"But look how cool Eli looks," Tristan said, showing me the pictures he had taken of Eli in too-large sunglasses making nonsense hand signs.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Was I that insufferable when I was that young? How was I acting so old now? Next thing I knew I was going to be going to bed before midnight and yelling at the kids to get off my lawn.
