But it breaks my heart to see someone so stubbornly intent on winning a physical fight to prove his worth. It’s not my place to tell him that’s not going to fill the void inside him. That’s something he’ll have to figure out on his own.
“It doesn’t matter,” Archer mumbles quietly, turning his gaze away, so I don’t push the issue. When I glance back at Julian, I notice the way he’s watching him, not with disdain or hatred, like I would expect. But with curiosity…and maybe even compassion.
In the last couple hours, something shifted between the three of us. I feel it, and I’m starting to think they do too.
“Okay, you go now,” Archer says to Julian.
“I already told you…I own a club.”
“Dreams and secrets, fancy pants. Let’s hear ’em.”
I giggle to myself at hearing Archer’s nickname for Julian, but it’s clear by his forming scowl that Julian is not as amused.
“You did say everyone’s got dreams and secrets,” I add, turning toward Julian. We’re all nestled so close, my head falls easily to Archer’s shoulder, and he doesn’t bother nudging me away. I stare down the length of our legs, all pressed together as I wait for Julian’s answer.
After a moment of contemplation, he mumbles quietly, “I wishI had a dream. But the truth is I’ve never cared about anything before. I don’t care about the club the way Jack does. Or anyone. I try, but it all just feels so…empty.”
Tears forms in the corner of my eyes, so I turn my gaze downward to hide it. I’ve never heard someone sound so lonely before. Because that’s what it is. Julian has cared for himself for so long, he’s lonely.
I hear the lies in his words, and I don’t believe him for a second. He cares, but he’s too afraid to admit it. He probably cares more than he can handle.
“That’s why I started fighting,” Archer says, glancing toward Julian. “To feel something. Something that couldn’t be just handed to me.”
Julian nods, his eyes on Archer. Then he lifts a hand and gestures to his own face. “Unfortunately, I’m too good-looking for fighting.”
Archer laughs, his deep chuckle echoing in the small space. “That you are, pretty boy.”
“Sounds to me like you both need drive. You poor, pitiful rich boys,” I say, patting both of their legs.
“We are pitiful,” Julian mumbles as he moves to lying with his head on my leg.
The compartment grows quiet again, and the sounds from down the shaft grow louder, which means they’re working hard to get us out. With my head against the wall, I close my eyes and start to drift off, thinking about my restaurant to calm my mind. I imagine the decor, colorful and elegant. I picture the hostess booth at the front, the mural painted on the wall. I can practically feel the gold cutlery in my hands and the magenta napkins with gold embroidery.
When the compartment shakes again, I let out another yelp, opening my eyes and clinging tightly to each of them. The three of us are clutched together, huddling under Archer’s wool coat, shivering like one freezing body. The mixed scent of their colognefills the space, and instead of pushing them away, I pull them both closer.
They are complete strangers, and yet they’re not. I’ve lost track of time since we got stuck in here, but in just these short hours, I’ve gotten to know them both better.
Julian shivers on the floor, so I run my nails through his blond hair to try and settle his nerves.
Archer drapes his legs over mine and turns his body toward me, pulling me tightly to his chest. With his head resting against mine, the three of us cling to each other for warmth.
Rule #7: Try not to be so opposed to forming a connection.
Julian
“How do you say…spank me?” Archer asks.
Freya breaks out in a loud cackling laugh, and I can’t keep my face from stretching into a wide grin as each of them take turns asking me how to say dirty things in French.
Staring at the ceiling with my head still in Freya’s lap, I reply, “Donne-moi une fessée.”
Archer repeats the sentiment, making me bite my bottom lip.
How did we get here? Well, the more the hours have passed by, stuck in this confined space in the middle of the night, the more delirious we’ve gotten. It all started when Freya complained about needing a bathroom, so Archer found a topic to distract her.
There’s something about him, something so…selfless. The way he held her when she was scared and talked me down when I was in the middle of a panic attack. It doesn’t match with the image I have of him, bloodied and cruel, like I saw him last night.
“What about big boobs?” Freya asks.
