Chapter Five: Archer

Chapter Five

Archer

My phone rings, startling me awake. I rapidly blink, trying to get my eyes to focus. I’m disoriented, and it takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything but work, and on my days off I spend most of my time catching up on the sleep I’ve missed.

I feel around on the nightstand for my phone, and have a minor panic attack when I see my mom’s name. Unless it’s my birthday, I always do. And even then, my anxiety goes up every time I see her name on the caller ID.

Maybe today is the day the Narcan didn’t work.

Maybe today is the day they found him a little too late.

“Hello?” I answer, pushing myself up onto my elbows.

“Hey, Archie.” Mom’s voice is calm, but that doesn’t mean much. “How’s my favorite doctor?”

I let out a breath and realize it’s going on ten o’clock. She’s not waking me up early in the morning with terrible news.

“Tired.”

“Hang in there, you’re almost done.”

“Yeah,” I say, though work wasn’t the reason I’m tired this morning. I got back to the room late and should have crashed. But I couldn’t because I couldn’t get my mind to shut off.

Quinn was in my thoughts, in my dreams, pulling on my heart. I almost messed up last night. Almost took things too far.

Twice.

I can’t let it happen again.

She’s my best friend’s little sister, and he’s made it abundantly clear the best way to get on his shit list is to make a move on Quinn. No, he’s never directly told me to stay away from her, but the unwritten rules of friendship are there. And who’s to say Quinn would even go for me?

She’s the most interesting person I know, and while being able to introduce myself as a doctor definitely helps me score, the effect is lost on Quinn. She’s not impressed by titles or jobs that make lots of money. Though most of the women who fawn over doctors don’t realize how little a resident doctor makes.

Quinn is different. She’s smart and self-sufficient. She sold a fucking app to Apple before she was twenty-five and works for one of the most up-and-coming software companies in the nation.

“Arch?” Mom repeats my name.

“Sorry, Mom, didn’t hear you.”

“Are you at work?”

Yawning, I lay back in bed. “No. I was sleeping.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Why did you answer?”

I don’t say it, but she knows exactly why I answered. I’ve spent the last fifteen years worried every time my phone rang it was the call. “I need to get up anyway. I’m meeting the guys later.”

“The guys? Oh, right! You’re back in Eastwood with Dean Dawson. Have fun, Archie. You deserve it.”

“Yeah. How’s…how’s everything at home?” It’s the most specific I’ll get, but Mom can read between the lines.

“Things are looking up. For now. The last few days have been easy. Dad got some time off from work and we’ve all gone out and did the things we used to, like bowling and dinner.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“We miss you.”

“Yeah,” I say, knowing not everyone in the “we” even gives a shit. “I’ll call and check in next week. Love you.”

“Yeah, you too.” I hang up, feeling my pulse still race. I waver back and forth between sadness and anger, hating him for doing this to us. Sometimes I think he’s a selfish prick. Other times I think he’s a victim of his disease.

It’s hard not to be mad at him, and even harder not to resent him. I miss him as much as I never want to see him again, and I hate him as much as I love him. Though in the end, he’s family. In the end, I just want him to live.

I want him to be my big brother again and not the addict he’s become.

*

“There’s been a slight change in plans.” Dean sets his phone down and finishes his beer. The plans for today were nothing more than drinking and playing video games. Catching up on the same old shit we used to do in college, besides go out chasing girls.

“Why?” Owen doesn’t look away from the TV.

“The caterers got sick and no one else is free.”

“How is that our problem?”

Dean gives his younger brother a glare. “There’s no one to make the food for the party.”

“Again,” Owen starts. “How is that our problem?”

“And you wonder why you’re still single,” Logan mutters.

I laugh, finding the banter between Dean and his brothers to be oddly comforting. “You said plans changed,” I say. “What have they changed to?”

“Going to the house to help Kara, my mom, and Quinn cook.”

Quinn.

“Sure.” I do my best to sound annoyed. Cooking a big, fancy meal on a Saturday afternoon is the last thing I want to do. Hell, cooking a big, fancy meal any day sounds like a terrible time. I don’t know how to cook and I hate washing dishes.

But if Quinn’s there…

I need to stop. Dean is right there, standing feet from me, and I’m thinking of stripping his sister down and burying my cock between her legs. Fuck. Logan and Owen are right here too.

All three of them would kill me if they knew what I want to do to their precious Quinn. What I’ve wanted to do…what I’ve imagined doing over and over again. I’ve jerked off to the thought of her, fucked her in my dreams more than once.

And it’s never enough. Every time leaves me wanting more and I don’t know exactly what it is about her that drives me so fucking wild. She’s like my kryptonite and the closer I get, the weaker I become. Soon I’ll cave and give in…and lose my best friend and his entire family that have become as close to me as my own.

I’ve never been an impulsive person. Don’t get me wrong, I’m far from a saint. But I don’t do crazy shit. Yet for some reason, Quinn has gotten under my skin and crazy is all I want to do.

With her.

To her.

The only way to keep that from happening is to shut it down.

*

“You’re with me.” Quinn slides her bare feet into sandals and grabs her purse. “Ready?”

I blink. Shake myself. Try not to acknowledge how damn sexy she looks in those cut-off shorts and t-shirt. It’s loose-fitting, tucked into the front of her shorts. The collar hangs just low enough to be teasing, showing off the top of her perfect cleavage. Her hair is up in a messy bun on the top of her head, and she’s not wearing a bit of makeup.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

She unfolds the grocery list her mom wrote out and snaps a picture of it with her phone. “I’ll lose the paper,” she explains. “And now I’m going to leave the list on the counter and see how long it takes before my mom calls and freaks out.” Her smile is fucking adorable.

She walks ahead of me, and I divert my eyes, knowing if I look at her ass I’m done for. We make it three steps before I flick my eyes up. One quick look is all it takes to get my cock’s attention. The denim rides up her ass a bit, and I watch her butt cheeks move beneath the material.

Quinn doesn’t drive a Ferrari, but she does drive a Porsche. Loud music plays from the speakers as soon as she turns the car on.

“I forgot to turn it down,” she says and brings the volume low enough to talk over. “Thanks again for taking me home last night.”

“It was on the way.”

“Not really, but it wasn’t too far out of the way. So, thanks. And it was nice last night talking to you.”

“Yeah.” I look out the window. I can feel Quinn’s eyes on me but don’t turn to look at her. I don’t want to be a jerk, but I don’t know how to act around Quinn.

I’ve never been so sexually frustrated with anyone in my entire life. I like her. I want her. But I can’t have her and being off limits only makes my dick harder. She fiddles with the radio the rest of the way.

“All right,” she says when we get to the store. She brings up the picture of the shopping list and grabs a cart. “We should probably start at the bakery and work our way around, getting the cold stuff last.”

She’s thinking out loud, which is something that usually irritates the piss out of me when people do that. But not Quinn. Every flaw, every little weird thing she does draws me to her even more.

“It makes more sense to split up. You go to the bakery and I’ll go to the deli. We can meet in the middle and save time,” I say.

“Oh, uh, okay. That’s a good idea.”

“I know. We can get this over with.”

Quinn airdrops me the photo of the list and pushes the cart in the opposite direction. I grab a basket and start walking, not knowing where I’m going, too irritated to stop and figure it out. Quinn has no idea what she’s doing to me and is clueless about how hard it is for me to curb what I’m feeling for her. And even if she wasn’t Dean’s sister, it doesn’t make sense to date anyone right now. I have no idea where I’ll end up. I could get a job at a hospital halfway across the country for all I know.

I circle around the store before I find the deli, and get everything from there on the list.

“There you are.” Quinn’s voice comes from behind me. “I thought maybe you got bored and ran off. I’ve been waiting for you by the canned goods. They’re in the middle, after all, and on the list.”

“Right. I don’t know where things are here.”

“True, and I do. What have you gotten so far?”

I put the basket of groceries in the cart, and she checks things off her list. Cold air seeps from the coolers around us, and Quinn shivers, goosebumps breaking out over her arms. Her nipples are hard, faintly visible through her t-shirt.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I turn away, shifting my cock in my pants to hide the semi I have going on.

“We’re almost done.” Quinn sticks her phone back in her purse and turns the cart around. “I know where the rest of this stuff is.”

She leads the way to the produce, picking out potatoes and carrots. Two carrots are stuck together in a deformity, and the larger one has a growth that looks like a tiny penis. Quinn snickers and puts it in the cart.

“What’s so funny?”

“Come on,” she says, holding up the carrot.

“What?”

She hikes up an eyebrow. “Do you have to be a serious fuddy-duddy all the time now that you’re a doctor?”

“Fuddy-duddy?”

“Yeah, a fuddy-duddy.”

“I’ve never heard an adult say that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, you are one. You can’t say you didn’t think the same thing I did when you saw that deformed carrot.”

“It just looks like a deformed carrot to me.”

She lets out a small sigh and gets the rest of the produce we need, crossing the last thing off our list. We get in the checkout line behind a young mother, visibly exhausted as she tries to juggle twins who are I’m guessing to be around six months old and a crying two-year-old.

The cashier totals up her order and the mom digs her credit card out of her bag. It’s declined. Her cheeks turn bright red and the cashier runs it again. And again. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the way Quinn is staring. She bites her lip and gets her own credit card from her purse.

“I can try entering the numbers manually,” the cashier says. The young mom nods, on the verge of tears, and turns to attend to the toddler, who’s on the floor crying now. Quinn takes a quick step up and slides her own card through the reader.

The cashier eyes Quinn and she just smiles back at him, then uses her finger to messily sign her name. The mom straightens up right as the receipt starts to print.

Her eyes go from the receipt to Quinn and back again.

“Thank you,” she whispers, voice wavering with emotion. “I knew we might not have enough, but they’re hungry and…” She stops, looking up to try to keep her tears from coming.

“You’re welcome,” Quinn says. “You have beautiful children.”

The two-year-old stops crying, looking up at Quinn with curiosity. The mom thanks her again and again, wiping away her tears, before she and her children leave. Quinn moves on, acting like what she did was no big deal. She doesn’t want recognition from it. Doesn’t want anyone to pat her on the back.

That’s just Quinn. As kind as she is pretty.

The situation with her just went from bad to worse. Because as I stand here looking at her, it hits me that she’s not just someone I want to hook up with. She’s someone I could fall in love with.

And I think I already have.