Hey,
So, here is the next installment, chapter, whatever you'd like to call it, of "I Squirt Him with a Hose and now I have to Marry Him".
Originally I was going to end it on this chapter, but I have a few little things that I wanted to put in, just to emphasis the angsty-ness that I somehow conveyed.
So, here it is.
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Everything about Spain was wonderful, magnificent, perfect, and utterly breathtaking. It wasn't just the people, or the places, or the monuments, it was the atmosphere. It was home, perfection, something I hadn't felt much in my life – though, in retrospect, it was probably to ensure I had the perfect upbringing. Inevitably, it all had to come to an end at one point or another, and today was that day.
Of course, the last 2 weeks here were perfect. The first week we spent sight seeing, and the second was spent with family, and relatives, even business arrangements of all sorts. Some of Archer's family owned houses in Portugal, to as far as Russia, and they were more than willing to take us to visit the house, and the people they knew there. Once again, for business purposes. I would have loved to see the whole of Europe, I would have done with just Portugal, but Archer was more than hesitant. Something was strange.
I think I first noticed his change in attitude when we came home from his family reunion – of the sort – and he received a phone call. It was as though the happy-go-lucky Archer that existed at that party disappeared, replaced by the grungy, unhappy boy that I knew all that time ago.
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When we arrived home, I swore I would faint. My legs were in so much pain from dancing, and standing, and my face began to burn the way that smiling for too long did – though, I wasn't complaining. Of course, the smile didn't disappear for the next few hours, as Archer and I spent loving minutes glancing into one another's eyes. The act of love that we personified came to an end as I clung for my dear life upon Archer's arm and buried my head into the mattress. Archer wasn't far behind with his head on my chest, grunts of air the only means of breath.
We laid together for a while, until I began to feel my legs again. Archer offered to run us a bath, and as he did, he caught sight of his phone lighting up on the other side of the room. Throughout the trip, whenever his phone rang, he left it, but whether it was a number or it was expected, Archer took it and held his finger up. Wait, it was almost a warning.
I waited there for 15 minutes, trying to catch my breath, and trying to hear what Archer was saying to the person on the other side of the phone. It was a mess of mumbles. Sensation and power reached my limbs after another 5 or so minutes, and I decided to run my own bath.
I padded slowly towards the bathroom. The door was open and a set of new towels was neatly piled upon the counter top of the sink. Bending over slightly, I spun the handles and the water of both warm and cold calibre poured out.
It was as I was playing with the water, dragging my fingertips to and fro that I felt Archer's sturdy presence behind me. Coyly I turned around and grinned at him. The expression wasn't reciprocated, merely destroyed by the glint of a glare in his pretty green eyes.
“What's wrong, Arch?” I asked, standing up and slowly pacing towards him.
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