Agreements With Mr Rich Boy | ✓

33 | Chance Your Bets

ARCHER WAS WAITING where I'd instructed, right under a rather flattering portrait of Henry VIII. He looked regal, powerful, like with a flick of his finger he could rebuild the world or destroy it... Henry wasn't looking too shabby either.

"Where exactly are we going?" He asked, looking at the modest blanket in my hand.

I'd figured Archer wouldn't be too pleased if I got his pristine suit dusty, and I think Autumn would wring my neck if I so much as wrinkled this dress.

I led him to the door; the one you'd have to know what to look for to find. With a bit of an effort, I managed to shove it open.

In the darkness, I couldn't tell whether Archer was disgusted that I'd brought him to such a place or something else. I just hoped for the best as we trekked the stairs.

"Watch yourself," he said, hands placed on my hips as my foot slipped, stopping me from going tumbling back the way we'd come. "You alright?"

"Dandy," I said, very aware of how close we were despite the darkness. "Come on, this way."

We reached the trap door and with another shove, that, too, was lifted open. I hoisted myself up onto the next level and waited as Archer, ever so elegantly,  did the same.

The glass looking up at the sky was clear, so we need only crane our necks to see the spattering of stars dotted across the sky as we were submerged in a blueish glow.

"Beautiful," I heard him mutter from beside me. I looked up to the stairs, in silent agreement that yes, the stars were beautiful. "We going to use the blanket or what?"

As polite as always, I noted, sarcastically.

I lay it out. "Shit, I grabbed the small one."

"No problem," he said, easing himself onto the blanket covering a thick sheet of dust. "It'll just be a snug fit." I hesitated, but that didn't last long as he pulled me by the hand so that I was practically on top of him.

I rolled off him to the side and settled down next to him on the tartan blanket.

"You see that little cluster over there?" He said, pointing to the left. "If it wasn't so bright, you'd probably be able to see it more clearly, but that one right there is Orion and that," he said, pointing to another part of the sky, seemingly, a few inches away. "That's Sirius, the Dog Star."

We stayed just watching the sky for a moment, drinking in the sheer size of it, watching in awe as stars crept out from the darkness, and every now and then, being plunged back under by the ghosts of clouds.

"You always been a star expert?" I finally said.

"Yeah, I suppose so," he breathed. "My father was always fascinated by them. His dad, my grandfather, was also a bit of a star fanatic. I always remember going to visit and at night, all being crowded under the stars for hours. They'd each take turns in telling us about this constellation and that, filling in each other's gaps of knowledge. I'd always admired them both so I guess I picked it up."

"Maybe it runs in the Redwood genes."

He smiled slightly, eyes appearing to glitter as he maintained his staring contest with the night. "I just have this memory of pouring over this ancient encyclopaedia on stars every night before bed. It was kind of like an addiction, you know, the more I knew, the more I wanted to know. I'm pretty sure my mum had to pry it from my hands at the age of about eleven." He smiled, fondly, eyes drifting over to me.