reticent

21

     Archers jaw hardens. My eyebrows furrow, but I look up at her. "You should go practice the dance. God knows you're gonna forget it again and ruin it for everyone." I say, referring to the last competition we went to and how she fumbled it.

     She scoffs before walking away.

I look at Archer, head tilted a little bit. What happened with his dad? I remember someone told me a while ago that his parents are divorced, but I've never thought anything else about it because his home life isn't my business. But if he's upset, I wish he'd tell me. I'd do anything to make him feel happier.

     "You okay?" I ask him.

"I'm fine." He says. "Are you?"

I nod, though now I keep thinking about Frankie. What if Jess tells him and he takes it the wrong way.

     You're a desperate little whore, that's why you went out with Archer, isn't it?

     I bite my bottom lip between my teeth.

     "Amalia." Archer says. "What's wrong?"

     I'm scared.

     "Nothing." I say. "Why would something be wrong?"

     "Because you look like you're about to cry." He says softly. "Do you wanna come out in the hall?"

I nod. I turn around, my eyes searching the room until they land on Edie. She looks at me at the same time and stands, rushing over to me. "What's wrong?"

"Can you finish Ally's hair for me?" I ask, my voice a little shaky. "I'll only be—be a minute."

"Okay." She says, taking the straightener from me. "Do you need anything?"

I shake my head. "I just—just need some air. It's hot in here."

"Alright." She says as I stand up, a worried expression on her face.

She takes my seat, and Ollie stands beside her, concern blasting on his expression. "Are you okay, Lia?" He asks.

I nod, my hand searching for Archers. He takes it, giving it a small squeeze, before directing me out of the room and into the hall.

     I'm about to tell him he should go back to Ally when he wraps his arms around me. A tear falls onto my cheek as my breaths speed up a little bit. "What's wrong, princess?"

     "I—I just—"

     "It's okay." He says quickly. "Come on, let's sit down." He whispers, slowly lowering me to the carpeted floor. When we're thigh-to-thigh, he wraps his muscled arm around me and pulls my head to his chest.

     I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

     "I—I have m-medicine—" I choke out. "In—it—its in m-my bag. Front pocket."

     "I'll get it." He says, letting me go and standing up quickly, rushing back into the room. I let my head fall back onto the wall as a sob escapes me, my whole body trembling.

     He returns after what feels like centuries. He drops down onto his knees beside me, the familiar yellow bottle of my pills in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He hands me my medicine, and I put it onto my tongue with shaky fingers. I'm about to grab the water when he lifts it up to my lips for me, tilting my chin back so I drink it.

     The pills trickle down my throat, and I gag. I hate medicine.

     He's immediately sitting beside me again, wrapping his arms around me. He kisses my forehead again, and I completely melt into him, leaning all of my weight on his side. It isn't a struggle for him, though. He keeps me up as though I'm as light as a feather.