Page 87 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
Then his hands go to my shoulders, and he gently moves me back. I open my eyes. The pained expression on his face dashes all my expectations.
“If we kiss, everything changes…”
I put more distance between us, flushing now from embarrassment instead of expectation. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
Archie shakes his head slowly. “Not when we’ve got big decisions to make.”
“I don’t follow.”
“We can’t let any…” he swallows hard, “attractioninfluence our decision whether we build Bombora together or do our own thing.” He stops long enough to worry at his lip. “And if I’m going back to Aus, it’s really not a good idea to start anything.”
“You don’t have to go back. If I can get Mom to agree to a cash settlement, you’ll have the house back. Malcolm’s gotta be desperate to settle by now. He’ll agree.” I’m grasping at straws.
The truth is, the only person I know who’s desperate is me.
“Piper…” Archie looks at me as though I’m missing something. “Until the divorce is final, you’re still my stepsister.”
He winces at the word, and my face warms to an erupting-volcano temperature. I take another step back.
“I sort of forgot that.”
Archie nods. “I don’t see you that way anymore, but technically…”
“We’re still related.” I shake my hands like I’ve discovered used gum under a desk.
“Not by blood!” Archie is quick to add.
“Right, right, right, right…” I back slowly away. “I’m going upstairs now to work on the ideas I’ve got for a California line.”
“Yep, yep. Good on ya’.” Archie nods. “I’ll just clean up a bit in here.” He circles his hand to indicate the kitchen. “While I think on what you’ve said.”
I look at the mess in the kitchen. I’m tempted to help him, but his eyes warn me not to stay, and I decide he’s capable of cleaning up on his own.
“Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning.” I dart upstairs, passing Archie’s smirk in the giant “Surf City” print on my way. The image follows me to my room, where I flop onto my bed.
I used to hate that smirk. Now I want to kiss it.
What is wrong with me?
A lot. So, so many things because I’m still wishing I were down in the kitchen with my mouth pressed to Archie’s, nibbling the spot on his bottom lip he has a habit of chewing. I can almost feel his arms around my waist—like they were before dinner—my chest pressed to his, preferably, shirtless one. Our breath still mingling when we break for air.
I sit and shake my head to loosen the grip thoughts of Archie has on me. I grab my sketchbook and pencils and throw myself into reworking a few of my designs into pieces that have a more laid back, beachy, California vibe.
As the ideas grow, I take out my iPad and open the 3D program I use when I’m ready to really design. Sketching gets my creative juices flowing, but I don’t have a lot of time. Even with reworking what I already have, if I want to release a line of boro-inspired clothes before Valente does, I have to create five to ten new designs quickly. What took me an entire semester to do in college, I’ll have to do in a matter of days.
Around midnight, I take a break to make myself some coffee. I don’t want to stop and risk losing my momentum, so I’ll work as long as I can…with a lot of caffeine to help.
When I walk into the kitchen, Archie is at the table, hunched over his laptop. He’s changed into his sweatpants—trackies, he calls them—and out of his shirt.
“Hey, you’re still up?” The answer is as obvious as the way I’m staring at his chest.
“Yeah. You too?” His eyes travel from my face down my legs, which are on full display since I’ve put on sleep shorts.
“Yeah. I got some inspiration and had to get my ideas down.” I take my coffee from the cupboard and hold up the bag. “You want a cup?”
“Sure.” He pushes back his laptop and stretches his arms over his head. “Are you sketching in your book?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve already made it past that point in the design phase. I’ve got a program I use to bring the sketches to life.”
