‘I might’ve threatened to use his balls as decorations if he so much as looked you way ever again. He won’t be back, Zuze.’ His hand moves away as his eyes slide to the woman behind. I feel the snap of our connection acutely. Archer was the one whose hair she was pulling. He was the one she was flirting with. He’s all soft smiles as he the speaks, mainly over my head, and why wouldn’t he. The pair are as perfectly paired as a couple of exotic birds. Meanwhile, this little robin is left pecking at the ground because he’s not looking so pleased as he turns his attention back to me.
‘What the hell were you doing out with a prick like him?’
‘It’s a long story,’ I answer without much conviction, my eyes dropping to my shoes. To think I wasted these beauties on a night like this. ‘I think I’m just going to head home.’
‘I think you owe me an explanation.’ His hand cups my chin, bringing my gaze level with his demanding one, such chaos contained in those blue simmering depths.Angry looks good on him.Despite the reaction this elicits in my knickers, my mind reaches for snark, feeding it seamlessly to my mouth.
‘Who do you think you are? My dad?’
Archer leans closer, his face level with mine. ‘I thought I was supposed to be your boyfriend,’ he says, and not at all like he’s pleased about the fact.
‘Hmm. See, I thought a boyfriend would’ve told me he’d be in Amsterdam this week.’
‘I might’ve done if I hadn’t been dismissed Sunday morning. How was lunch, by the way?’
‘Awkward, if you must know. I felt pretty crappy about the way we ended things.’
The heat in his gaze melts a touch and as he straightens, he rolls his shoulders as though his T-shirt is a little too tight. For the record, it’s not. It’s pretty perfect. Worn and soft, it clings to all the delicious bits of him.So sue me, I can’t help but notice these things.
‘You didn’t answer my text,’ he says a little gruffly.
‘What’s up cake?’ I feel my expression twist as I repeat the text verbatim. It’s not hard to recall, apart from only being three nonsensical words long, I might have obsessed a little about it. What does it mean? Is it a typo? Some kind of obscure reference I’m too oblivious by nature to understand? And yes, I also googled it.
And I’ve still got nothing.
‘Muffin much.’ His answer is accompanied by a cheeky grin.
I find myself sniggering while trying to look at him reproachfully. Without much luck. ‘Out of all the things you might’ve said, you send me that?’
Oh my goodness, Archer’s making silly cake jokes. That’s so... adorably strange! But also, it sort of excuses him from dropping off the face of the earth for the week. Sort of. I thought he’d moved on from Saturday without a second thought, which made it easier to blame him. To not contact him. While I’m relieved this isn’t the case, my moral high ground is currently crumbling under my feet.
‘I had a whole load of stuff like that if you’d only have responded.’
‘Shut up! You did not.’
‘What kind of cake asks you to lend him ten pounds?’
‘A poor one?’
‘No, a sponge cake.’
‘That is so bad.’ But I’m giggling all the same.
‘What’s the most expensive kind of cake? Madeira cake. If only you’d answered. I had a dozen more like that,’ he says, flicking a soft wisp of my hair before sliding his hands into his pockets as though to stop himself from touching me.
‘Instead I assumed you were somewhere in Europe getting baked yourself.’
‘Shows what you know. So, are you going to tell me why you were trawling Tinder?’
And it was going so well.
‘I wasn’t trawling Tinder. It was E-Volve—and there’s nothing wrong in looking for connections.’
‘Connections,’ he repeats, though not in the same tone. More sneary. And a little snarly.
‘Yes, I have the app after working for them as a startup a few years ago.’
‘Use it often, do you? To fill up those lonely Saturday nights.’
