My Summer in London

Chapter Three

Before I arrived in London, I wouldn't have pegged myself as the type to ponder what to wear for a night out with guys. I wasn't that kind of girl. Well, I thought I wasn't ... until tonight.

The contender was between a pink mini dress and a denim skirt, matched with a cream, sheer, lacey, silk chiffon. Since I was a So Cal kinda gal, I tended to opt for clothes that were pretty and comfortable; therefore, the skirt and silk chiffon won my decision in the end.

Once the clothing debacle was over and done with, it was time to test out the newly refurbished bathroom with the deep Victorian bath that closely resembled a coffin. Odd thoughts aside, the vintage-esque feel of modern meets old money was a nice mesh of where I was in my life in this moment.

With my background, I wasn't trained in historical art, which the whole country practically was comprised of. The intricate details on the buildings were extraordinary. I hoped to learn as much as I could before going back home. Obviously, they did things differently here, and more importantly, since the Elliots were a different breed than I was used to, it would be an interesting dynamic to witness.

I wouldn't consider myself an awkward outcast. In fact, I was popular in my old school, being that I was on the cheerleading squad, dance, and in theatre, which was the polar opposite to my business finance major. As a result, moving here and starting from scratch with no friends or family to speak of was terrifying. However, along with those feelings, there was a lot of excitement, as well, because the unknown was-well, it was the unknown, and who knew what could transpire in a year.

Although living in the same household with two dashingly handsome men definitely ignited a lot of excitement. I mean, who wouldn't be? Keeping this kind of company would place Aaron in the dust ... until I barely even remembered him.

Yeah, this was the upside of going away for a year after a painful break-up. It was easy to get on and live life again. Being far away from home was thrilling, not to mention being around guys who were interesting and quite different than me. Regardless, my main goal in coming here was to have experience and to see if I could possibly qualify for an internship somewhere. That would definitely be the icing on the already lavish, scrumptious cake.

#

"Where's your brother?" The question flew out my lips the moment I found Archer. Instead of greeting him like one normally would, I regarded him like we were old friends and not an acquaintance trying to bond, hoping to merge into a friendship.

I was hoping my major blunder on etiquette wasn't noted as I tried to cover my reddening cheeks with an easygoing smile.

"He had to tend to something on short notice, so he might not be able to join us after all," Archer responded without hesitation as he studied my outfit with gusto before beaming at me. "But cheer up. At least you'll have me all to yourself." He then winked at me before laughing at his own expense.

Playing along, all the while grinning like a blushing idiot at his penetrating eyes, I couldn't help blossoming from his intense scrutiny.

"My, aren't you the forward kind?"

"That, I am. I promise not to disappoint." His smile grew wider, his eyes sparkling like diamonds as he sexily cocked his head to the side.

Fuck. He was too suave at flirting, while I was new to all of this. Four years of being in a monogamous relationship had made me rusty.

His thick, dark hair and impressively magnetic blue eyes put the word dreamy to shame. Therefore, even though his hunk of a brother wasn't around, Archer wasn't one to be brushed off, either. It's as if Cruz was the demigod and Archer the god-not as amazing as the demigod, but still a god. And yes, he could also easily make my heart speed up like crazy.

I knew it was superficial and too cliché, but hell, my body was acting of its own accord. I mean, in all seriousness, I was a twenty-one-year-old living in a new country, living in a new house. Everything was foreign and different, and the newly minted me wanted to come out and play.

Yes, playing would be nice.

I wasn't trying to shamelessly justify my flirtation by blaming my heartbreak and trying to move on from it, but after the hurt, I deserved to live like normal girls my age would-living life to the fullest. Consequently, that was what I wanted to do-live life with no regrets. Right this instant would be a good start ...

"Well, how about we put those words to action?" I challenged him with a wicked glint in my eyes, raising my brow.

"Christ, I do love bossy women with itty, bitty skirts."

"Man, you're really going to take this up another notch." I gave a small laugh before sending him a steady look. "Now that we've both established that you're a serial flirt, are you ready to be a good host and take me to this party I've been hearing all afternoon or what?"

"Someday, I might be tempted to take you to the wild side. For now, though, I'll play along with you," Archer stated as if he already knew it was going to happen before he led me towards the main door, ready to begin our nighttime festivities.

It was arrogant of him to assume, but what bothered me more was the fact that I actually was curious about it ... and maybe a little excited, too. Maybe it was his accent that was making me think crazy thoughts. Fuck, don't get me started with the accent. It was downright lethal.

Simple flirting, I could do. Sex-talk flirting, on the other hand ... Well, I was rusty with that one. To be successful at it, one had to be confident within her own skin, have a boatload of attitude, and have mastered the technique of eye fucking. The first I easily could do. The second, I probably needed some sort of practice. As for the third ... Hmm, I shouldn't dare try in fear of being mistaken as a nymphomaniac with some serious eye problem. Sometimes, it was better to be safe than sorry. I believed in trying new things, but that? Not so much.

"Of course you'd be driving a sex machine," I exclaimed the moment I saw his red car. It was one of those expensive, sporty ones that screamed machismo, control, and sexiness wrapped into one.

Archer threw me an amused look as he smiled from ear to ear. "Oh, yeah? Is that what they call it in America?"

"Amongst other things ..." Yep, the car matched its owner: über sexy and full of machismo. Kids my age didn't drive these types of cars; as a result, I was beyond excited to see how powerful it was and how fast it could go.

Archer played the chivalrous guy by opening my door. Nevertheless, just before closing it, he leaned over close to my ear, close enough to make me shiver yet enough distance away to avoid being too intrusive.

"You'd be pleased to know this isn't the only engine I drive superbly well, machine or otherwise," he whispered in a teasing tone.

I wasn't going to lie-okay, it wasn't as if my body could lie for me since it was panting as if I'd had my first orgasm-but, fuck ... He was so aggressive and arrogant I couldn't help reacting to his advances. I had been in his company for what, like ten minutes, and it was already a full speed chase? Um ... I needed a breather. Like stat.

"Archer, you're hot, but do you really have to be so flirty every second you're with me? I'm calling a five minute timeout."

I was attracted to him-who wouldn't be? Seriously, though, it was exhausting to flirt. I'd had no idea until then.

"A timeout?" Archer mused before turning on the powerful engine, which vibrated and roared to life. Shifting gears, he cocked his head to the side, giving me a challenging look. "You're a laugh, you know that? I like it," he declared before pressing on the gas pedal and driving like the daredevil he was.

I'm a laugh. Did that mean I was funny, or did that translate to me being laughable? I wasn't sure how to interpret it. Who would have thought proper English could be this confusing? I sure as hell hadn't seen it coming.