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“In some states.”
“Sure. Please share your opinions.” Archie was making a very serious face that had me laughing already. One side of his mouth tipped up in a tiny smile as he waited for my thoughts.
I contained my laughter. “I mean...for burgers, it’s In’n’Out for sure. But there is only one right answer for fries.”
“McDonald’s, obviously.”
“Totally. I’m so glad we agree on that.”
“Me too. Any assertions about McDonald’s fries not being the best would be a dealbreaker,” Archie said.
“So you’re not kicking me out of the room for having the wrong opinion about fast food?”
He gave me a mischievous smile and shook his head. “I have plans for you.”
“More plans?”
He winked. “After dinner.”
My stomach twisted, and not from hunger. I looked forward to his plans.
But when we’d finished stuffing ourselves, we agreed that maybe a short break would be a good idea.We cleaned up and the we both climbed back into the bed, and Archie lifted the remote, a question in his eyes.
“Movie?” I asked.
“Yeah, let’s look.”
Archie skimmed through the channels as I tried to sort through the feelings mixed up inside me. When we’d arrived here, we’d fallen into bed so naturally, there’d been nothing else to think about or do. I hadn’t felt awkward or nervous—it had just happened. And it had felt like it had to happen, like if it didn’t, I might explode just from wanting him to touch me.
That hadn’t changed, and as he flashed through options on the screen ahead of us, his hand rested lightly on my thigh, sending a warm happiness through me. It was easy between us. Natural.
Archie settled on an old 80s movie—"Pretty in Pink” or “Sixteen Candles”? They seemed like the same movie to me. His hand rested on my thigh beneath the covers, his fingers tickling lightly along the skin close to my knee, making me wish for more.
We both leaned back into the headboard, angled toward one another, and after a little while, his arm went around me, and I nestled into his shoulder.
“This is nice,” he said quietly.
“It is.” I searched around inside me for the courage to broach what had happened between us, but it turned out I didn’t have to.
“And what happened earlier, that was really nice too.”
I glanced up at him, meeting those deep blue eyes for a second before turning my attention back to the television. I wasn’t really watching the movie, but it was easier to talk that way. “Really nice,” I agreed.
“I don’t want you to think I planned it or anything,” he went on. “I didn’t, though I can’t pretend to be very sorry for the way things worked out.”
“Wait, what?” I feigned surprise, turning to grin at him. “You didn’t orchestrate that storm and your sister’s labor just to get me into bed?”
He laughed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong—I’d been thinking about it. The getting you into bed part.”
“Oh yeah?” Happiness trilled inside me at the admission.
“A little, yeah. I’m not the kind of guy who probably would’ve done anything about it, though.”
“So I should be glad for the storm.”
He moved back a little, angling his body toward mine. “You’re glad it happened?”
I let my eyes find his and stay there this time, wanting to reassure him, to soothe the quiet vulnerability I saw there. “Yeah, I am. I mean, I didn’t plan it either.”
