Passionate Exchange

Chapter Twenty-Six

Penny's glossy brown hair shines under the lights as she bobs over to the television, clutching the remote in her hand, she begins to search through the channels. Images flicker on the screen but none of them suffices so she carries on searching.

"Where's Archer now?" I sit on the arm of the grey sofa. How's it possible that the arm of the sofa is comfier than our sofa back home?

She doesn't take her eyes away from the marine documentary that's now playing. "Probably in his room," she shrugs nonchalantly.

I wait for her to continue but she doesn't. My hands find a pillow and I launch it at her head, wincing when it contacts the right side of her face. At least it's soft. Her accusing eyes find mine and my heart races.

"Madison," she warns me.

I hold my hands up in surrender. "Sorry," my apologetic eyes meet hers. I stifle a laugh, but she doesn't look amused. "Aren't you going to go check if he's there, we're meant to be keeping an eye on him?"

She laughs hysterically, clutching onto her stomach. I watch her confused. Why's she laughing? Sophie told us that we need to keep an eye on him, and we can't do that if we have no idea where he is. He could be halfway across the city being cornered by thieves for all we know. Maybe that's slightly inaccurate, it would be him cornering the thieves.

"No, who knows what he's got in there. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a mountain of dirty underwear covering the floor."

"It's not that bad-" I start, my jaw hanging ajar once I realise what I've said. Penny's gaze snaps to mine as I smack my hand against my mouth. The thought of her knowing we've kissed causes bile to rise in my stomach.

"How do you know?" She eyes me suspiciously.

"I don't, it's just a guess." I scramble to explain myself.

Her eyebrows raise. She doesn't entirely believe me. Honestly, I wouldn't believe me. I don't know what he was doing that night when he came stumbling through the door drunk so how would I explain that to her? I still haven't worked out the answer for myself. He told me not to leave him, but I know that those words weren't meant for me.

"Fine, I'll go."

I drag my feet up the stairs. Each step is harder and harder to take. I can think of hundreds of other places I would rather be right now, wrapped up in my bed back in London is one of them. When I finally get to his room, my hand hovers in front of the door.

Just knock, Madison, Archer telling you that he can't stay away from you isn't a big deal. It is a big deal, it's definitely a big deal. As someone who has never had the attention of a boy in that way and who cries at romantic comedies, I can tell you that it's a huge deal. I knock on the door anyway.

Five, ten, twenty. The seconds pass by and there's no answer. I now notice the buzz of music coming from his room and connect the dots. He's in there but he can't hear me. So, instead of knocking again and waiting for him to hear, I push the door open.

He's sprawled out on the bed in his usual black attire. His brown hair falls into his eyes as he studies the drawing pad in his hands. He's sketching something but I can't make out what it is from this angle. Once he notices me watching him, he drops the pencil.

"I didn't know you drew."

"I didn't know you came into people's rooms uninvited."

"I don't usually," I step closer to his bed. "Can I sit?" He nods his head slightly. I sit on the edge. Sitting on the edge makes it easier for me to retreat to the comfort of my room if I need to.