We Don't Talk Anymore (The Don't Duet #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,33
change in brightness, my eyes struggling to acclimate. When they do, I see Archer is already sitting at the edge of the rafters with his back to me — spine ramrod straight, staring fixedly out the windows to the ebony ocean beyond. Dressed in gray sweatpants and an Exeter t-shirt, his bare feet swing in the air. His dark hair is tousled with sleep.
“You can have it,” he says haltingly. “Full custody. I won’t come here anymore.”
Tears spring to my eyes. I blink them away before they can fall. Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my voice before I respond. “What does that mean?”
He doesn’t say anything.
“What does that mean, Archer?” I repeat, scooting closer to him. I’m careful not to brush my shoulder against his as I swing my legs over the edge.
I stare at his face in profile. He looks tired. Deep shadows are etched beneath his eyes, evidence of more than one sleepless night. As I take in the uncompromising set of his jawline, the rigidity of his posture, I wonder how his mood could shift so quickly from laughing with me to loathing me.
The truth is, as hurt as I was on Friday, as angry as I was afterward… there was never a doubt in my mind that we’d work through this fight. That, eventually, we’d smooth things over and they’d return, if not totally to normal, than at least to a semblance of it. But as I look at him now, in this moment, I feel the first tendrils of uncertainty begin to swirl inside me.
Maybe he doesn’t want to fix it.
“It means exactly what it sounds like,” he says in a hollow voice. “I don’t need this place anymore.”
I flinch, as though he’s dealt a physical blow. He might as well have. He said, I don’t need this place anymore. Didn’t he mean…
I don’t need you anymore.
“W-why?” My voice quivers. “Why are you being like this?”
“Like what?”
“So— so cold to me. I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand why you’re acting like such a jerk lately!”
He doesn’t look at me as he takes a breath. His voice is empty of all emotions, stripped down to its most essential elements — vowels, consonants, meaningless letters. “I’m just being realistic. We aren’t kids anymore. No matter what school I end up at, I’m not going to be able to run to the rafters and hide whenever things go wrong in my life. And neither will you.” He pauses. “It’s time to grow up. It’s time to move on.”
“Fine,” I retort thickly. “If that’s how you really feel.”
“It is.”
“Great!” I’m trying very hard not to cry. “Then leave. Get out of here. Go ahead and grow up and move on—” My words crack off. My hands fist in the thick material of my sweatshirt, just so I can stop their shaking. When I remember it once belonged to him, I’m overwhelmed by the desire to peel it off my skin, to toss it dramatically into the sea.
In the static silence, Archer climbs slowly to his feet. He’s so tall, he has to hunch slightly to avoid the low ceiling. He takes two steps, then stops. He’s still not making eye contact. His shoulders are as rigid as his words.
“Don’t stay out here too long by yourself. It’s late.”
I swallow down an incredulous scoff. “As if you care?”
His hands clench at his sides. He doesn’t say another word. He just walks to the ladder, crouches down, and slides his legs through the gap in the floor. I don’t say anything as he grips the upper rungs and begins to descend. But as I watch the top of his head about to cross the threshold, I can’t hold my tongue anymore.
“I always knew you were destined for better things. Fame. Fans. Fenway Park. I always knew you’d leave this little town behind. Always. I just… I never thought you’d leave me behind, too.” A tear slips down my cheek. I scrub at it angrily with my sleeve. “I thought we meant more to each other than that.”
Apparently, Archer doesn’t agree. Because a second later, he vanishes from view. Down the ladder. Out of my sight.
Out of my life.
I sit in the boathouse until the sun comes up, crying long past the point of tears. When the sky finally breaks open, unfurling into pale blue-pink petals, the new day dawns alongside an entirely new reality.
One in which Archer Reyes is no longer my best friend.