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“I believe it.”
Archie laughed at that, throwing his head back and finally letting go of my hand, but only to get himself something to eat. He rolled a cube of cheese into a slice of salami and plopped the whole thing onto a cracker, which he passed to me. I ate it gladly, watching the way his fingers rolled the salami before he took a bite for himself.
“Is summer still your favorite season?” he asked.
The answer was no, but I didn’t want to tell him that. Summer had been my favorite before because summer meant late days and long nights, sitting on the porch with Archie while my sister was at work. It meant ordering pizza and sitting in my back yard and counting fireflies, and late night swims in the lake that lay just beyond his property line.
“I don’t think I have a favorite season anymore,” I said instead of telling him the truth. “That was a pretty childish thing, don’t you think?”
He scoffed, taking another swallow of his wine.
“I love the spring here,” he said. “It’s not humid like at home, and it’s basically seventy degrees all night and all day. It doesn’t stay light super late and it’s enough time to get used to the darker sunrises.”
“That all sounds reasonable.”
“The winter is nice too, though,” he went on. “For being in bed under the covers.”
“If I had blackout curtains like you do, I don’t think I’d ever get out of bed regardless of the season,” I said.
Archie rolled his eyes, plucking another cheese cube from the tray. “It’s the curtains that paralyzed you, not the sheets?”
“Should I have been impressed by the thread count?”
“Iam even impressed by the thread count and I sleep on them every night.” He flicked his finger toward my wine and I took another drink, which prompted him to top me off.
“I was impressed by the thread count,” I assured him. “But more so by the man beneath them with me.”
“Are you trying to flatter me?” Archie winged up an eyebrow and leaned in closer.
“Is it working?”
His voice was low and dangerous when he answered me, “Come a little closer and find out.”
It was impossible to not, and when Archie’s lips pressed against mine, I could taste the spice of the salami and the fruit of the wine against his skin. I opened my mouth, tilting my head to the side and letting his tongue dip inside, drawing a low moan from the back of my throat. He reached up and cradled the side of my face in his hand and I leaned into him, parting my lips even more to make way for him.
The shrill squeal of a toddler shattered the moment and stopped Archie in his tracks. We both went still and pulled away, just enough for me to see the dark flush that crept up his cheeks and the way his eyes had gone completely dark.
“Owen.”
He said my name like it meant something, and I shook my head to stop him from saying any more. We weren’t supposed to be ourselves on this date. This was supposed to be pretend, and the way he looked at me felt very, very real.
“What’s your favorite kind of cheese?” I asked, hoping to break the moment even further because I didn’t know what else to do.
“Would you believe me if I said the spray kind?”
“Not for a second,” I rasped.
He smiled and let his hand fall away from my face. “Raclette.”
I chuckled and pulled back farther, taking down half the contents of my wine glass in one swallow. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”
“It’s in fondue.”
I shot him an annoyed look, then finished the rest of my wine. “I don’t know what about me makes you think I’ve ever had fondue in my life, Archie Davidson.”
He settled back onto the grass, bending one of his knees and straightening it back out after it made a satisfying crack. “I love that you’re calling me Archie again.”
I opened my mouth to snap back at him, but realized he was right. I couldn’t remember when I’d made the switch, but at some point, something had shifted and he’d become Archie in my head again. That said more than I wanted to admit, so I swallowed back all the feelings the shortened version of his name brought up for me.
