Cold and Charisma (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Archer's Perspective

Hues of navy blue and maroon stared back at me, almost taunting, as if the hoodie itself knew exactly what kind of chokehold it had on me. I sat hunched forward; elbows on my knees, chin in my palm, glaring daggers at the stupid piece of clothing hanging off my chair.

After the whole debacle with Riley at his soccer game last night, he'd left in such a hurry that he forgot his hoodie on the bench. Of course, I could've left it there, maybe dropped it at lost-and-found, but no — I'd taken it back with me, stuffing it under my arm, defeated.

It wasn't like me to leave it behind. I always ended up doing the right thing, even when it did me no favors. Even after he screamed in my face, even after he nearly bullied Austin to death, I still felt the need to do whatever I could to make his life even the tiniest bit easier.

I know, I know — Archer, it's not your problem anymore... but fuck, I couldn't help it. Staring at the big, bold, white letters spelling 'Saint Arthur's Preparatory School Varsity Soccer,' I let out a long, exasperated sigh. I really should've just left it there.

Before I could spiral further into guilt, Carter barged into my room without warning, a bright, unstoppable grin on his face and an energy drink in hand.

"Yo, Archer! My sister took the car this morning, so I decided to walk to school. I know you usually walk too, so c'mon, let's go together!" He closed the door behind him with a cheerful thud.

I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, especially not after the weird falling-out with Riley, but I closed my eyes tightly, took a deep breath, and opened them again, giving Carter my most shit-eating grin.

"Yeah, sure. Let me just get my bag." I sat still for a couple of seconds, trying to play it cool as if I wasn't just schizophrenically staring at an inanimate object and mentally cursing it. It was like I couldn't stop staring at it.

Carter noticed my unusually bothered attitude, and looked between me and the hoodie on my swivel chair. "What's up with that constipated look on your face, dude?" He laughed, oblivious.

"Huh–? Oh, nothing. Really." I muttered, hoping he'd just drop it. "It's not nothing when you're staring at that hoodie like it just killed your mom," He chuckled, and before I could stop him, he lazily picked it up, inspecting it.

"No, Carter, put that down, it's not mine, it's–" Carter flipped the hoodie around, and interrupted me loudly, "Lachkov's? Dude, are you fucking kidding me?"

He looked at the hoodie like it'd just insulted him, and without warning, harshly chucked it at my face, "You know that kid yelled at Austin last night for no reason, right?" Carter continued, waving his hands for emphasis. "Austin was telling me all about it!"

Before I could say anything to defend myself, Carter loudly continued, "Why the fuck do you have this kid's hoodie in your room? Don't tell me you two–"

What the – Was he gonna say what I thought he was gonna say?! I immediately cut him off, "What?! Carter, you're insane! That's not what happened!"

He knitted his brows together in pure disgust, staring at the hoodie like it had a disease, "Then.. What the hell happened?"

"I... was at the game last night. He forgot his hoodie. I took it with me to bring it back. That's it, I swear," I said, sighing loudly. Shame burned in my chest as I grabbed the hoodie and shoved it into my backpack.

"You didn't needa' do all that," He sipped his energy drink, leaning against my desk as I packed my backpack, "That kid treats you like shit and you're still caring for him." He scoffs.