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Tori followed Archer down the stairs, from his apartment to the comic shop. She had to focus on the familiar. Their feet on the restored wood, the sunlight striking the side of the building and filtering into the hallway... everything that would be there if she’d passed out, watching bad movies with him.
Her tension was almost gone, that was nice. Breakfast had been normal, as long as she ignored the awkward pauses and unidentifiable looks, and now she was going to hang out and help him do inventory, until the anime club screening that afternoon.
She dropped onto a stool behind the counter, unable to keep her gaze off him as he opened the blinds, unlocked the door, and turned over the Open sign in the window. The way he moved, every ripple of muscle as he worked, was a sight she’d never get tired of. She ducked her head and studied her nails when he looked at her.
“I’m thinking today might be the last day I do this.” Disappointment lined his voice.
She stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re serious?”
“I don’t think I can afford to host them anymore. I don’t know how it’s possible, but things are getting tighter every week. This is between us, isn’t it?”
“Of course. Always.”
The bell on the front door chimed. Customers already. Had to be a good sign, right? Tori’s smile froze when she saw Riley in the doorway. The blonde was in jeans and a T-shirt, same as always, but this wasn’t the kind of shirt that hugged her torso and barely covered her waist. This was faded, had an Air Force logo on it, and hung down to her thighs. It had to be Zane’s.
Riley’s flat expression shifted to a huge grin when she saw Tori, and she skipped across the room, to wrap her in a hug.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Riley whispered.
Tori returned the embrace, relaxing with the familiar greeting. “You’re up early for a Sunday.”
“Hey.” Archer’s greeting was hollow.
“Hey.” Riley leaned back next to Tori, bookshelves behind her, glass counter between her and Archer. Her pleasant expression never changed. “I know I don’t have any right to ask this, but I’m going to, anyway. I need a favor.”
Tori couldn’t ignore her relief at the stilted interaction. This was awkward, and it shouldn’t make her happy, but it did.
Archer’s, “Anything,” came too quickly for her taste, though.
Riley crossed her arms and took a step closer to Tori. “Don’t agree to it before you hear me out. I’m here because you’re local, and you deserve the business. Nothing else.”
“You know I don’t charge. Not getting what you want at home?”
Heat and embarrassment flooded Tori, and she wasn’t sure if it was for herself or the other people in the room. Her breakfast churned in her gut. Was he really hitting on Riley?
A low growl rumbled from Riley’s throat, soft but distinct in the room. “Don’t make me regret this. I’m looking for a place to hold my launch party.” Riley had contracted a series of graphic novels, several months back.
“I completely forgot that was happening so soon. Are you excited?” Tori pushed aside the tension settling over the room.
“I’m terrified. And thrilled. And you have to see the swag they’ve got for me. Trading cards, bookmarks”—Riley’s voice dropped in volume—“and this is totally top secret, but if the first few books do well, they’re talking to a figurine manufacturer.”
“No. Way.” Tori clapped once, glee filling her chest. “So incredible.”
“And I was hoping, if I asked really nicely, you might make me some cosplays, like the school uniforms the boys wear. I’ll pay full price. No arguments. One for Zane, one for me, maybe a couple for you two?”
“I love that. Absolutely.” Tori had no idea where she’d find the time, but she’d figure it out.
“Of course you can do it here.” Archer hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. “We’ll order pizza—The Pie or something nice like that—and I’ll get it all set up.”
“We don’t have to worry about ordering pizza,” Riley’s tone was lightly sarcastic. “And The Pie? Really? Don’t worry about breaking the cobwebs on your wallet or anything. I have a marketing budget. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Tori wanted to shrink back on her stool, at the spike of tension. Riley never had trouble speaking her mind, and sometimes it was a lot of fun to watch, but it had never been pleasant to see her clash with Archer.
And he was acting like an asshole. What the hell was wrong with him, alternating between hitting on her and trying to completely control the situation?
“Don’t worry about it.” Archer’s tone was deceptively casual, a strong thread of command running through it. “Save your budget for something else.”
What happened to money being tighter than ever? Tori’s head throbbed.
“I said I’ve got it covered.” Any pleasantry was gone from Riley’s voice.
“Seriously, it’s no big deal.” Archer’s straight posture and strained neck looked like it was becoming a very big deal.
Riley’s snarl of frustration echoed through the shop. “Holy fuck—really? Jesus. I’ve been here for less than five minutes, and you’re already pulling this shit?”
“You wanted a favor. I’m offering my help.”
“Then help. Don’t try to dominate the situation.”
Archer narrowed his eyes. “I thought you got off on that.”
Riley clenched her jaw, and there was a pause before she replied, “This was a bad idea. Forget I was ever here.” She turned away, each of her steps shaking the store, as she stalked toward the door.
Tori wasn’t sure whether to congratulate Riley, storm out after her, or slap Archer.
“Lee, wait,” he called to her retreating figure.
Tori ground her teeth at the pet name. This was why she didn’t get involved with guys like him. At least he reminded her all on his own. Elliot had been so very wrong about how Archer felt about Riley.
Tori was on her feet in a second, pace brisk as she followed Riley’s path out the front door.
God, she’d been so stupid. What had she been thinking? She’d go home and bury herself in the punishment of work, until she’d scored into her head what a bad idea it had been to sleep with Archer.
“Tori. Oh, come on.” His pleas hit her back, and she let the door swing shut behind her.
Riley was fumbling with her keys when Tori reached their side-by-side cars. Riley looked up, blue eyes hard and flashing with fury. Her expression softened, and she nodded at Tori’s chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I...” She trailed off, furrowing her brow. “That makes this worse. I’m sorry.”
Tori looked down. Shit. One of Archer’s shirts. She hadn’t noticed before now. Now all she wanted to do was burn it. She gave Riley a weak smile. “It’s not your fault, but thanks.”
“It kind of is. I wish... You know, I don’t even know.”
Tori shook her head, not wanting to have this conversation or Riley’s pity. “It was my mistake. Lesson learned. Good luck finding a release-party venue.” She didn’t wait to hear if Riley replied. She was in her car and peeling down the road seconds later.
*
ARCHER WINCED AT THE squeal of tires out front, but not as hard as he had at the first set, when Tori had torn out on the pavement. Uneasiness thrummed through him. He needed to call Tori now or text her or go over to her house and beg forgiveness. An obnoxious voice in the back of his head insisted he did nothing wrong. That he’d been trying to help Riley out, and both women had overreacted.
If that was the case, why didn’t he believe it? He leaned back against the counter, grinding his teeth, frustration pumping through him. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen into the same old power struggle with Riley. It wasn’t that he needed to be right, but something about her refusal to be wrong pushed all his buttons, and not in a good way.
But he wasn’t worried about Riley. Tori’s face kept popping into his head—the red-rimmed eyes, the tight lips, and the fury in every line on her forehead.
He had his phone out in a flash. He should’ve kept a tighter rein on his instincts. Some of his worst habits reared their heads around Riley. How had they lasted any amount of time as a couple, let alone tried it more than once?
And he’d never wanted to put Tori through that. He had to tell her. Even if she was probably still driving, he couldn’t wait. He sent her a series of texts.
I’m sorry.
Come back, please?
You’ll miss anime club.
He hesitated, his thumbs over the touch screen, and he stopped himself from typing out, I’ll miss you. There was no reason to dive so far in. Was there?
If that was the case, why was there a giant aching wound in his soul from the entire situation?