And he spends his days walking dogs and making balloon animals.
Why?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Archie
Leo is not going to leave this alone.
I can see it in the set of his jaw during the Uber ride home. The way his eyes keep cutting to me when he thinks I’m not looking. The questions are piling up behind that ridiculously handsome face, and I know exactly what’s coming the moment we’re alone.
I try to head it off. I chatter at Elizabeth about the production, compare it to other versions, and launch into an anecdote about a disastrous school production of Macbeth I was once in. Elizabeth laughs. Leo makes appropriate noises.
But his hand finds mine in the dark of the back seat, and his grip is tight.
It’s determination along with affection.
Shit.
The moment our bedroom door closes behind us, I pivot to Plan B.
“So,” I say, turning to face him with my most distracting smile. “That was fun.”
“Archie—”
I step closer. “The play, I mean. All that death is actually very life-affirming, you know. Reminds us to seize the moment.”
“We need to talk about?—”
“Do we though?” My hands land on his chest, sliding up to his shoulders. “I can think of better uses for our mouths.”
Leo gives me a stern look. “That’s not going to work.”
“What’s not going to work?” I’m already tugging at his collar, working the top button loose. “I’m just helping you undress. Very boyfriendly of me.”
“You’re trying to distract me,” he says.
I deposit a kiss on his neck, letting my lips linger on his skin.
His breath catches. Almost. I almost have him.
“Archie.” It’s his no-nonsense voice, sounding like it’s been dredged up from somewhere deep inside him.
This is the thing about Leo. He calls me out on my shit.
I don’t think I’ve ever had someone who will stand up to me quite like Leo does.
I stop kissing him and step back, letting my hands fall to my sides.
“Can we just leave it?” I ask. Apparently, I’ve advanced to Plan C now: pleading.
His gaze locks onto mine.
“No. We can’t.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“Oh, come on?—”
