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Hot to friend in two-point-three seconds. Riley had filled the empty space with chatter since they left the clearing forty-five minutes ago. Every time Zane glanced at her, she was staring out the window. He gripped the steering wheel and kept his attention on the parking lot, scanning for a spot in the sea of cars. It was probably a good thing they decided there wasn’t enough time to stop for dinner. He was tempted to skip the movie and rediscover the moment they had up the clearing, but he knew Riley was looking forward to the film.
She was out of the car the moment he parked, a skip in her step as they made their way to the theater. Except he saw the stutter to her gait, as if she was trying too hard.
He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close and tell her whatever it took to calm her down. Except that wasn’t his role or his right. Spending time with her when she was diving straight into the world around her and laughing and living was respite for Zane. It chased away the dark shadows always lurking at the front of his mind, and made him think life went on.
The way her mood shifted to awkward and unsure after they had sex, or when he pushed her too hard to pursue her dreams, made the demons and doubts race back. Not only because his mind was free to trip over the past again. Her change in behavior haunted him with a single question—Am I being selfish again? Nudging her toward discomfort just to distract himself?
He shook the thoughts aside, though not as effectively as he had the last few times, and focused on Riley again.
Her forced skip slowed when Archer came into view. She crossed the last few feet to him, already talking, a lilt to her voice. “I can’t believe you got tickets. You. Rule. Me.”
Relief trickled through Zane when she didn’t throw her arms around Archer’s neck, but he still wished she wasn’t so on edge.
Archer shoved his hands in his pockets, looking between the two of them sheepishly. “It didn’t make sense to ignore this one. I’d have been wounded if you couldn’t make it.” He fixed his gaze on Zane for a minute, eyes hardening, before turning back to Riley. “Tori’s holding our place in line. Did you already eat?”
“I’m good. I don’t think I could stomach popcorn this late at night.” Riley spun so she faced them both, and reached for them but dropped her hands at the last minute. “Let’s go watch someone sexy and arrogant with as much brains as balls save the world.” She walked backward, talking and glancing over her shoulder occasionally to keep from running into something.
“Did I miss something between you two?” Archer stepped closer to Zane, voice low.
Great. Other people saw her tension too. “Nope.” He kept his expression neutral and his response quiet.
Riley met Zane’s gaze one last time before turning away, uncertainty and something else hiding in her blue eyes. She made a straight line for a spot in the pockets of people stacked against one of the theater walls. Tori straightened as they approached. Her long hair was piled on her head and her glasses pushed up her nose, and she looked as friendly as when Zane first met her two weeks ago, when she delivered Archer a themed dress she made for one of his customers.
Riley bounced up next to her. “I’m so glad I won’t be drooling over the sexy guys alone.”
Tori laughed. “I was worried you wouldn’t make it.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it.”
“For real,” Archer said to Zane. “What did you do? Sleep with her or something?”
Zane bit back his growl. “I didn’t do anything.”
Riley’s shoulders rose and fell when she sighed, and she turned back to face them.
“First of all”—she turned an icy stare on Archer—“none of your god damned business. Second, I’m standing right here. I can hear you.”
Archer at least had the grace to look sheepish. Tori refused to look at anyone. Zane wasn’t surprised there. She spent a lot of time with Archer, though Zane knew they weren’t dating, but she was the opposite of confrontational.
“I invited Mikki,” Archer said. “But she couldn’t make it.”
Talk about awkward ways to change the subject. “Why?” Zane hadn’t realized she was anything more to Archer than a customer.
Riley’s frown deepened. Was that even possible? “She’s the cutie with the short hair and barbell?”
“The one who worships Zane. Exactly.” Tori nodded.
“She... what?” Riley’s expression shifted to hurt and then a blank mask in a blink.
And reality crashed in around Zane. Jesus, he was dense. Archer was trying to hook him up. With someone who wasn’t Riley.
How did this all get so fucked up so fast? “It’s probably for the best. She seems nice enough, but no one wants to be the fifth wheel.”
Archer scowled.
Riley relaxed more than she had since they arrived, and the corner of her mouth tugged up.
He wanted to turn that into a full-blown smile. And do so much more. But that wasn’t his right. He really needed to wrap his brain around his own feelings.
* * * *
“BE RIGHT BACK.” TORI’S whisper barely carried over the explosions on screen. They were in the center of the aisle, which meant Riley didn’t have to move, but everyone else down the aisle did.
Riley gave her a half nod. With Tori on one side and Archer on the other, she felt too far from Zane. Which was good—or was it bad—since she still regretted ending the earlier part of their night so abruptly. She was reading too much into things. The entire point of fooling around with Zane was to keep her from thinking she’d fallen for yet another guy.
She couldn’t believe how much it hurt though, when Archer implied Zane might hook up with Mikki. Riley felt like her heart had been squeezed into a tiny ball.
But to realize Zane hadn’t even seen it coming. To hear him brush the entire idea off... She’d been so relieved.
When someone dropped into the seat next to her, she glanced to see if it was Tori, or someone she should evict. When she saw Zane, her heart fluttered, and she turned her attention back to the screen. Despite her half-assed attempt to ignore him, the heat of his arm a few inches from hers and the familiar scent of his cologne made it difficult.
He set a box of Red Vines on her knee. His warm breath brushed her ear. “You should eat.”
“Thanks.” She kept her gaze forward, hating her body for reacting to the contact.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him intertwine his fingers in his lap and slump lower in the seat. She tapped her toes inside her shoes. She wouldn’t make a big deal out of his gesture, even though he had brought her favorite candy, and it was reminding her she’d skipped dinner.
She couldn’t help it. She tilted her head toward him and kept her voice low so she wouldn’t disrupt anyone else. “How did you get Tori to switch seats with you?”
He kept his mouth near her ear, the heat filling her with another pleasant rush she didn’t want to acknowledge. “Intercepted her in the hallway.”
Warmth spread through her at the gesture that summoned memories of the afternoon in the mountains. She already had trouble focusing on the on-screen love interest, who would almost definitely be gone by the next film in the franchise. “We’re not a couple. We don’t have to sit together.” She loved that he did these things for her. The tiny acts without thought. But she didn’t want him to feel obligated. Didn’t like the voice asking if it was because they were screwing now, even though she knew it was something he’d always done.
“I know.” The two words fell softly against her cheek. “But we would have before.”
She tried to hide her smirk at the sound logic, and failed. “Touché.”
He bumped his shoulder against hers. “Can I have some of your candy?”
She sank into her seat, arm next to his on the rest. “I guess. Just this once.”
As the movie tore on, her mood continued to lighten. The four of them cheered with the rest of the crowd and booed and dragged their feet, waiting for that one tiny glimpse of the next film, as the credits rolled.
They stumbled into the night, and Riley paused outside, blinking while her eyes adjusted to the bright streetlights lining the parking lot.
“So”—Tori’s exclamation was loud in the still night—“Mr. Rich-but-Arrogant in the costume. Absolutely hot.”
“I could wear a costume.” Archer’s feigned hurt was exaggerated.
“You would be just as irritating as he was,” Riley pointed out. “Ms. Sexy-Spy-Lady? I would love to be able to fight like that.” She kicked into the air and promptly stumbled over a crack.
Tori caught her and pushed her upright again. “Get Zane to teach you. He’s got the mad moves, right?”
An unexpected flush coursed through Riley, along with images of some of the moves Zane had shown her so far. She ducked her head, hoping her thoughts didn’t show on her face. “I’m not nearly that coordinated.”
“But”—Zane interjected—“you’d look a million times better in the black leather than she did.”
“He’s right.” Tori turned to walk backward, studying Riley. “I could absolutely make you something like that. I bet Archer would pay you just to stand around the store in it. Can you imagine the draw?”
“I can imagine cleaning the drool off the glass counters.” Archer didn’t sound bothered. “I’d still let you do it.”
The attention drew Riley’s embarrassed flush out further. She was having too much fun to spoil the moment, but she wanted a subject that wasn’t her. “I can’t believe it’s after three. I am so tired and so wired. I won’t get anything done at work tomorrow. Or is that today?”
“So call in sick,” Zane said. “I’ll forge you a doctor’s note.”
Archer held up his hands. “I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you playing doctor.”
Riley feigned an exhausted stumble, a bit for fun, and a bit to indicate the tiredness was sinking in. Warmth flooded her veins when Zane caught her. She pushed upright again. “Seriously. I need coffee. We should go to Denny’s. If I have to work in the morning anyway, why sleep?”
“I can do Denny’s.” Archer pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’m with Zane, though. Call in sick. Stop by the shop and pick up the stack of manga I’ve been holding for you. Unless you’ve got something better to read.”
Riley was about to agree, when Zane cut in. “I’m guessing reading someone else’s work isn’t the same, when you’ve got your own to focus on.”
The warm fuzzies flitting through Riley beat a rapid escape but didn’t take her embarrassment with them. Please don’t let him do this. Her gut sank. “Denny’s?”
“Wait. Really?” Archer studied her, curiosity and doubt in his hazel eyes. “Are you doing more than just dabbling now?”
“She’s going pro.” Zane smirked.
She was going to kill him. Or something. Why was he doing this to her? The private support was one thing, but getting friends and family to gang up on her, bombarding her with so many expectations, when she didn’t even know if she had what it took to make it, was too much.
“For real?” Archer raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
She furrowed her brow. How was she supposed to respond to that? “I haven’t decided yet. It gets difficult to pick a direction, when someone”—she glared at Zane—“keeps telling everyone before I’ve made up my mind.”
Zane frowned and turned away.
“You know he’s biased.” Archer didn’t back down. “It’s really hard to make it in that market. You can’t be good. You have to be the best.”
Zane’s eyes narrowed. “She is the best.”
“She’s good.” Archer shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
“Well, don’t,” Zane said.
Riley’s good mood evaporated, the truth of Archer’s words sinking in. Maybe suggesting they all go for coffee was a bad idea. Exhaustion overtook her thoughts, pushed on a wave of Archer’s doubt. He might be a lot of things she didn’t like, but he also never sugarcoated the truth, the way Zane did. Archer had a point. She’d have to be the best, and she wasn’t.