Hushed (5 page)

Archer considered carefully. If he said he had other plans, Evan might ask
what
. He could always say he intended to go home and catch up on sleep, but… Okay, maybe he was a little curious. Besides, he felt spiteful enough to let someone in on the fact she was back with Mick. “Vivian went home to make up with Mickey.”

“Sorry.” Evan frowned. He drew back to fetch his towel. No comment, though. Archer wasn’t sure he’d ever hear a cruel word come out of Evan’s mouth about anyone. Evan slipped his t-shirt on, draped the towel around his neck and slipped out of the enclosure. Archer met him at the gate, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Since you’re free… Do you wanna come over?” Evan toed his bare feet against the grass, head down. “I’ve got a pretty impressive movie collection. And games, if you’re into that kind of stuff.”

Archer frowned. Like hell if he could figure Evan out. Bubbly and self-assured one second, awkward and shy the next. Back and forth, again and again. Archer’s emotions mirrored it. Evan annoyed him, Evan interested him, Evan was infuriating—and then calming. All in the same breath. Accept? Or go back to his too-empty apartment?

I don’t know what I’m doing.

He tipped his head back, looking to the sky for an answer. The moon hung over Evan’s head like a spotlight. He sighed.

“Sure. I like movies.”

Tuesday, September 30
^th

Vivian was a no-show at The Grove all weekend and into the following week. No surprise there. And, apparently, she hadn’t been there for a number of nights last week, either. Which meant any evening she was out while staying with him, she’d been with Mick.
Talking things over
. Whatever.

“I don’t remember the last time I saw her. Last Monday, maybe?” Roxy told him, even though he hadn’t asked. Over a week ago—if his memory served him right, that was the night Evan had stopped by. “You haven’t talked to her?”

Archer dropped his backpack on the ground and took up his usual seat. No one else ever took it, they knew better. He’d just make them move. Evan seemed to have staked out his own permanent seat, too, right across from his. Archer didn’t greet him beyond a small nod. It was more than he offered anyone else.

“Nope,” he said, and turned his gaze to the ocean, watching the water pull in and out. Calming him. “She’s probably wrapped up with
Mick
.”

Roxy nearly choked on her drink. She set the glass down on the table with a little more force than necessary, twisting around to stare at him. “Are you kidding me? She and Mickey got back together?”

Vivian hadn’t told them? Whoops. “She left a few nights ago. I haven’t heard from her since.” When he looked at Roxy, he caught Evan watching him, something akin to sympathy on his face. What the hell was that for?

“
Oh
my God. I can’t believe her…”

Jordy stepped up behind her chair. “What? Believe who?”

“Vivian!” Roxy twisted around to look at him. “She and Mick got back together. Geez, Archer—couldn’t you have talked her out of it?”

Archer’s jaw clenched. “Thank you for thinking I didn’t try.”

“She didn’t mean it like that,” Jordy protested. “Guess that’s why we haven’t seen Mick-douchebag around, either. Not like he talks to anyone even when he is here.”

“Too busy trying to get Viv to himself,” Melissa mumbled, glancing around like she was worried Viv or Mick would suddenly appear and overhear. “She could do so much better.”

Archer exchanged looks with Roxy, who remained quiet. After a few minutes of everyone’s back and forth, Archer couldn’t listen to it anymore. Never mind that he’d only just gotten there. He already wanted to leave.

And he did. He shoved back his chair, stood, shouldered his backpack and instead of heading inside, hopped right off the deck and into the sand to walk along the beach. No one noticed him leave.

Hypocritical idiots.

They could talk about Mick all they wanted, but the second Mickey showed up, everyone would be smiles and jokes again. He and Roxy were the only two who treated Mick with icy civility, and it was only for Vivian’s sake.

He tromped through the sand a ways up the beach, following the line of the water. Now and again, he ventured too close and it nipped at his shoes. Eventually he took them off and walked barefoot.

Someone had followed him. He dumped his bag to the ground and sank down beside it, letting the ocean lick at his toes. Whoever it was stopped a few feet away. There was something in the lingering silence filling the space between them that told him who it was before Evan even opened his mouth.

“Do you want some company?”

No one else would’ve been stupid enough to follow. When Archer moped, it was smartest to leave him alone. Evan didn’t know those rules yet. The ones everyone else followed without even realizing it.

“It’s a public beach.” He stared at the water. Evan sat beside him so close their hips almost touched. Archer refused to let on it made him uncomfortable, so he didn’t move away.

“You all right? All this stuff going on with Vivian and all…” Evan trailed off, seeming stuck with his words. What did Evan know about him and Viv? What did he think he knew? “I mean, I could be totally off-base, but I thought maybe you two were…I don’t know.”

“We weren’t together, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Archer sighed. “She’s my best friend.” All they’d ever been were friends. He didn’t foresee that changing, no matter how many years he spent wanting it. She shot him down at every turn, unless her current boyfriend wasn’t giving her enough attention and she needed the confidence boost.

“Is that your decision or hers?” he asked. Archer’s back stiffened. The look he cast at Evan was a dark one. Dangerous ground; it wasn’t any of his business. Evan shrank in on himself a little. “Sorry, I’m prying. Just…uh, you know. If you want to talk about it.”

I don’t.
But Archer didn’t say as much. When he turned his gaze from the ocean to Evan, he was met with dark eyes watching him so intently he was, for a second, unsure what to do or say. He opened his mouth and forced out the first thing that came to mind.

“Tell me about your life.”

Evan blinked. “My life?”

“Your life.” He stared back, intent. It hadn’t dawned on him that he wanted to know before now, but there it was.

“I’m not sure what you want to know. Nothing exciting.” Evan ducked his head. “Grew up with my mom and dad. I have an older sister named Samantha…”

“You like to swim. And play video games.” Archer recalled the things Evan had mentioned his first day at The Grove. “Marine biology?”

This time, Evan perked up. “Yeah. Not really sure what I wanna do with it, but—maybe research, that kind of thing. That would be neat, don’t you think?”

“It would,” he agreed. More interesting than anything Archer could think of to do with his own life. “You belong in the water.”

Evan laughed. It was a warm sound. “I’ve heard that before. What about you? What’s your family like?”

Not a topic he wanted to touch. But he’d asked first, so it was only fair. “My dad died a few years ago. Haven’t spoken much to my mom since I moved out.” Honestly, he hadn’t spoken much to his mom even before that. Not since his dad died. She was afraid to be alone with him.

“You and Viv…you’ve known each other for a long time, Roxy said?”

Archer snorted. “We met in grade school. She lived a few streets away. We were inseparable up until guys started wanting in her pants.” He didn’t bite back the bitterness. It was there, in all its glory. “Anyone will tell you, she loves attention.”

Evan frowned. “You pay her attention.”

“I’m her best friend.” He shrugged. “Not boyfriend material.” He tried through most of high school. Eventually gave up trying, but never gave up hope. Hope that maybe someday Vivian would open her eyes and realize there’d only ever been one guy in her life that hadn’t let her down. The only one who wanted her for
her
instead of her body. She was beautiful, yes, and there had been a few times when she’d made herself physically available to him, but after what she had gone through how could he take her up on that?

Evan looked away. “She’s stupid, then,” he said quietly. The breeze brushed his hair back out of his eyes and he breathed in deep. Archer watched the rise and fall of his chest.

“Why’s that?”

“Because she’s overlooking you for a complete prick. And judging by the way you said it, this isn’t the first time she’s done it.”

Something pinched inside Archer’s chest. Dozens of guys, all wastes of space in their own, unique ways. Somehow Vivian made him feel less worthy than all of them. “She’s always been capable of better,” he murmured.

“So I’ve heard.” Evan gave a nod in the direction of The Grove and their friends on the deck. “But, you know… Maybe
you’re
the one who can do better.”

There were no words. He grasped blindly for them, wanting to reach for that statement, wanting to shoot it down. Evan didn’t know him. Didn’t
really
know him. How could he make that judgment? He didn’t want to correct him, though.
If only you knew.
He didn’t want Evan to take it back.

Evan frowned. “Are you cold? You’re shivering.”

Yeah, he was. Shivering. Cold. He couldn’t feel his feet anymore thanks to the water’s assault. “I should get home.” Archer pitched himself to his feet, grabbing his shoes and bag. Evan tipped his head back.

“Are you—tomorrow…?”

The tournament. “I didn’t forget,” Archer assured him. “Pick me up when it’s time to go.”

He could feel Evan’s eyes following him, an almost scorching sensation up his spine, all the way up the beach until he hit the boardwalk and was out of sight. He needed to get away. Away from the ocean, away from Evan. Away from feeling like maybe, just maybe, he could let a few of his secrets out from under lock and key to someone like Evan. Without judgment. Without repercussion.

But he knew better.

Wednesday, October 1
^st

Fly’s was a lot more crowded than Archer thought it would be. Two contests were being held that day, according to a flier someone shoved into his hands. The eighteen-and-under category had been earlier. Now the group consisted primarily of college kids or forty-something-year-olds with nothing better to do on a Wednesday afternoon.

He hated crowds.

Evan’s blinding green shirt marking him as a contestant was the only way he didn’t lose sight of him in the throng of people. They couldn’t hear each other over the noise, so they didn’t bother trying.

At least near the counters there was more breathing room. It was roped off for contestants only. One of the arcade employees started to say something to him about crossing through the barrier, but Evan said, “He’s with me,” and grabbed his hand to lead him along. Not his arm, not his wrist. His hand.

What is he doing?

Archer didn’t pull away, not until Evan had him up at the counter, filled out a nametag, and stuck it to the front of his shirt. He grinned crookedly. “We’re allowed one friend with us. This way they won’t shove you in the crowd with everyone else.”

I really am here as a cheerleader
. There were worse ways to spend his afternoon, he guessed. Sitting at home and moping about Vivian, for instance.

The tournament consisted of rotating people around to various games, ranging from old-school 2-D fighters to racing games to 3-D zombie shooters. Archer followed Evan from one to the next, deafened by the whooping and howls from the crow. Although Evan gave him a little bit of history on some of them, Archer hoped he wasn’t expected to remember it all. Evan even made it up to the final rounds, where he was beaten out by a nervous-looking guy with square glasses and teeth too big for his face.

“Fourth place isn’t bad,” Archer said afterward, grateful they weren’t sticking around to watch the rest of the competition.

Evan laughed, peeling off his nametag and tossing it in a nearby trashcan. “Lost to a guy who only won because the arcade is the one place he goes outside of his mom’s basement. I made it further than I thought I would.”

They stepped out of Fly’s and into the cooler and roomier mall. For the first time in hours, Archer could breathe. Evan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and nudged him with an elbow. “So…I didn’t win anything, but I feel like I owe you. You want dinner?”

He hadn’t exactly cheered. Unless standing there and making occasional awkward commentary counted as cheering. As for Evan buying him dinner, he shrugged. It beat going home. They stopped in front of the elevators, and he was about to suggest they order takeout and head back to Evan’s place when the elevator pinged and the doors slid open.

His heart stopped.

Richter Samuels stepped out onto the second floor and halted short of bumping right into him. Richter blinked. Stared. “Archer? Is that you?”

Oh, God.
But he’d stood right there while Richter’s mother screamed that he didn’t have a pulse. How could paramedics have possibly gotten there quickly enough to revive him? Unless, in her hysteria, the woman had simply overreacted.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

“Yeah,” he forced out. His voice almost cracked. Evan looked from him to Richter and back again. Archer cleared his throat to steady his nerves. “Richter, this is Evan. Evan, this is…he was one of Brody’s high school friends. Brody was Viv’s brother. The one who died?”

Recognition lit up Evan’s face. “Oh, yeah—hi. I’m sorry about your friend.”

Richter laughed. Outright
laughed
. “Nah, it’s cool. Haven’t talked to Brody in like a year. Faggot owed me money.”

Evan shifted and tensed. Archer didn’t so much as blink. He’d heard and been called worse over the years. Although Evan’s reaction made him contemplate shoving Richter over the nearby ledge. Too bad the fall to the first floor probably wouldn’t kill him.

“Speaking of dying, though,” Richter continued, “I totally had my own near-death experience.”

The muscles in Archer’s shoulders were wound so tightly his neck was starting to ache. The pain crept up into the back of his skull. “Is that right?”

“Hell yeah! There was this gas leak, knocked me right out.” He sounded so stupidly excited. “If my mom hadn’t stopped by and found me passed out on the kitchen floor, they said I woulda
died.
Isn’t that a trip?”

Evan gave a wistful smile. “That would’ve been unfortunate.”

There was something in that smile, in his tone, that made Archer crack a grin of his own. He bit his tongue to keep from laughing. “Very unfortunate.”

“I know, right?” Richter scratched at his scruffy chin. His nails were dirty. The idea of those hands touching Vivian made Archer’s stomach roll. “Well, anyway, I gotta go. Meeting up with some of the guys. Good seeing you, Archie.”

“Yep.” He stepped aside and watched Richter amble off. He smelled vaguely of weed and beer. Archer slipped into the elevator with Evan on his heels.

“He seems like an upstanding member of society,” Evan said. They exchanged looks, and Archer forced a smirk. Obviously, he had a mistake to remedy.

§

An hour later, they had takeout Chinese from a place up the street and were settled on Evan’s couch with a horror movie streaming through his game console. Evan fumbled with the chopsticks in a rather charming, childlike way. Watching him helped distract Archer from dwelling too much on Richter and what he needed to do.

Archer sighed. “You’re doing it wrong,” he instructed. “Position your fingers like this, to control them so you don’t keep dropping stuff.” After a few minutes of adjusting, Evan was able to pick up a piece of orange chicken. Archer’s mouth kept twitching, watching him as he clutched it so carefully, slowly, slowly lifting it up to his mouth and—it slipped out of his grip and plopped back into the box. He tried not to laugh. “Keep practicing.”

Evan grunted and tried again. This time he got the chicken into his mouth. “So, I was thinking,” he said after he’d finished his bite and licked away the sauce on his bottom lip, “if you still haven’t talked to Vivian…”

Archer paused mid-bite. A single noodle slid slowly off of his chopsticks. “I haven’t,” he said, and pushed the food into his mouth. Chewing gave him a few seconds to choose his words. “I’ll call her. I just haven’t decided what I want to say to her yet.” He couldn’t admit to Evan he
had
called her. Repeatedly. She hadn’t called him back.

Evan tapped the chopsticks against his box. “I don’t know, man. She’s the one that upset you, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to wait for her to call you.” When Archer gave him a skeptical look, Evan continued. “You could always have someone else talk to her. She’s in one of my classes, so I could try bringing it up.”

Well, if that didn’t kill his appetite… He sighed and set his food on the coffee table, leaning back against the arm of the couch and staring at the ceiling. “She’ll know what you’re doing. It’s always been like this with Viv and me. Whether or not I agree with what prick she decides to date doesn’t give me the right to say what I did.”

Evan stared down into his dinner, poking at it with little interest. “From what you’ve told me, sounds like she deserves getting the silent treatment for awhile…”

“She didn’t,” Archer snapped. “Vivian’s a sweet girl. She never wants to upset anyone. She’s just…too trusting and forgiving. But if she weren’t, she probably would’ve ditched me long ago.” How many times had they fought over the years? And how many times had she forgiven him for saying stupid things, for shoving his opinion in where it wasn’t wanted? He could hate her decisions, but he couldn’t hate
her.

Evan cast him a worried glance, but he’d withdrawn into himself and, whatever he was thinking, Archer wasn’t privy to it. But he could guess the general idea. “You don’t know her like I do,” he muttered.

“No. But I think friends are supposed to be able to tell each other what they’re feeling, even if the other person doesn’t wanna hear it. She shouldn’t condemn you for that.”

Tension snaked through every muscle in his body and sat him straight up. “You’re one to talk. You never tell anyone what you’re thinking.”

Evan deflated a little. “Sorry, you’re right.” He didn’t sound like he meant it.

The silence put a million miles between them where, moments ago, it was mere inches. Archer felt sick. He hadn’t meant to get angry. He had to get out of there before he said something else. Something worse. He couldn’t stand that kicked-puppy look.

He pushed himself to his feet, “If you’re done, I should get home.” He should’ve said ‘thanks for dinner,’ but couldn’t find the words. They were beyond him now, just like Evan seemed to be. No sooner had he gotten his shoes on than Evan shoved his food aside and stood abruptly.

“No…you know what? I’m not done.” There was a distinct crease between his brows, a stubborn, hard look on his face that Archer wasn’t sure what to do with. He stepped closer. Reflexively, Archer shrank back, shoulders lifting, tense, ready to strike. Evan inclined his chin.

“Vivian’s really lucky to have you, you know. When all her other friends are talking shit behind her back at The Grove, you’re the one sticking by and defending her. She’s making a stupid decision, a
dangerous
one, and you want to protect her. You’re letting her walk all over you and coming back for more. She shouldn’t forget that, and I don’t think you should, either.”

With him standing so near, Archer was painfully aware, while they were close in height, Evan seemed so much larger. And as Evan stared at him, his features slowly relaxed until they were the familiar, uncertain eyes and drawn mouth Archer was used to. “We’re friends, aren’t we? So I felt like you needed to hear that.”

The tension made his muscles tremble, everything so tightly wound and ready for escape.

‘You let her walk all over you…
’

He needed to get out of there. To put distance between them before Evan could pick and cut further at his insecurities, his wounded pride. He needed to relearn how to breathe.

“No one walks all over me,” he growled. “
No one.
”

Archer didn’t bother with his jacket. He stormed out the door with Evan calling his name.

§

A near-death experience hadn’t changed Richter’s cleaning habits. The place still smelled of garbage, rotten food, and God knew what else. Archer kept his turtleneck pulled up over his nose and mouth to filter out some of the stench. He kicked aside a basket of neatly folded laundry—compliments of Richter’s mom?—inside the front door and slinked inside.

Richter lay sprawled across the couch in boxers with a porn movie playing on TV. His eyes were bloodshot and heavy-lidded. High. Or drunk. Or both. But it didn’t stop him from slowly looking up at Archer from the other side of the coffee table. He grinned slowly. “Archer… Dude, sweet, how’d you get in? You’re like…you’re like a ninja.” He sat up like a video in slow motion. “C’mon…c’mon over here, you gotta watch this, it’s wicked.”

The words rang in Archer’s head, dragging memories to the forefront of his brain.

You guys, c’mon, c’mon, cover her mouth. She’s being too loud.

He hadn’t stopped shaking since leaving Evan’s.

No one understood. This was all for Vivian. Everything he did was for her. Her happiness. Her well-being. Her smiles.

Someone shut her up. Brody, man, stop laughing.

He didn’t think about it. Not until the gun was in his hand and shoved against Richter’s forehead. Not until he pulled the trigger and the resounding
crack
shocked him to his senses.

Richter slumped back. His blood was everywhere; on the couch, the curtains, the window behind it, on the television.

On
him
. All over him.

Couldn’t breathe. He’d broken the one rule he had for his kills: always make it look like an accident. It was supposed to look like another suicide.

I fucked up
. And if he didn’t get out of there, he’d lose any and all chances of getting away with it. Someone in the mobile home park had to have heard the shot.

He tore out the front door, legs threatening to buckle beneath him. His stomach rolled. The trees blurred past him as he ran for his car half a mile up the road, nearly collapsing outside the door while fumbling to get inside. He pulled off his shoes to avoid getting blood on the floorboard.

No sound of sirens yet. But he couldn’t waste time. His gloveless hands were sticky with Richter’s blood, leaving dark smears over the steering wheel as he drove off. Slow and easy. No peeling out, no attracting attention.

Every curve, every stretch of road, he waited for flashing lights in his rearview mirror. Nothing. He made it home safe and sound, somehow making it up the steps and barreling into the apartment on unsteady feet.

He abandoned his shoes in the bathroom sink after shutting and locking the door. No sooner had he peeled off his jacket and shirt than he crumpled in front of the toilet, heaving. Losing everything he’d eaten that day.