But when his hand slides behind my neck and he presses his soft lips against mine tenderly, I lose any argument I was about to give. Because he’s right.
I am his.
Rule #41: Call your mother.
Archer
This entire weekend felt like a marathon. Now, just anhour from closing, the restaurant is still going strong. Épice wasn’t just a success, it was a hit. Julian has been in the back running numbers and discussing the reservation system with one of the staff members while I’m at the host stand, mostly turning people away at this point.
When the door opens at half past ten and I see a familiar face, a smile creeps across my cheeks.
“Table for one, please,” he mutters with a hint of embarrassment.
“Chunks, you made it,” I say as I come around to greet him.
“Sorry I’m late. I had to come see your girl’s restaurant. This place is impressive.”
“Thanks,” I reply, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Let me get you a table.”
“Are you sure?” he asks. “I don’t want to…”
“You’re a friend,” I say, cutting him off as I grab a menu and take him to one of the small tables on the patio. As he sits, I wavedown backup to man the host stand before I drop into the seat across from him. I realize as I sit down that Rex and I haven’t properly eaten a meal together. Except for street food on a late night, we’ve never truly hung out together without it being fight related.
I smile to myself because this feels like progress.
The server comes by, and Rex orders quickly. Then it’s just us and the opportunity to be real friends. For a while, we just talk. Rex updates me on his family because apparently, he has a sister with some health issues, and it makes me feel like an asshole for not knowing that.
Then he tells me about some girl he’s been seeing on and off for a while now. We laugh and relax, and it’s the most comfortable I’ve been with a friend in a long time.
“I was thinking,” I say, leaning back in my chair with my ankle resting on my knee, “about opening a gym or something.”
His eyes light up. “A gym?”
“Arealgym,” I add. “Maybe we could host some real fights…you know, legally.”
Rex laughs, a handsome, wide grin on his face. “I like that idea. Does this mean you’re quitting the street fights?”
“Are you disappointed?” I ask, my brows folded inward.
Rex sucks his teeth and rolls his eyes in dramatic effect before rambling something in French that I don’t understand.
“What?” I ask.
“No, I’m not disappointed, you idiot. The fights were fun, but you never knew when to quit.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like surrendering,” I grumble. “I still want to fight that Koszmar guy if you find him.”
“Give me a break, Chopper. You must be joking,” he howls with laughter.
“I’m serious,” I argue.
Then his face grows serious as he glares at me over the table. “Archer, I made him up.”
My jaw falls. “What?”
“I made him up. There is no Koszmar.”
“Why would you make him up?” I ask as my brows furrow.
