CHAPTER TWO
(Elle Mark)
"Elle, wake up, we got to get going if you want to avoid the traffic." A soft voice wakes me up from my sleep, automatically causing my adrenaline to race in my veins.
I bolt upright, bolt into Archer. "Shit!"
"Oh...fudge...oh my balls, Elle." He is kneeling down and clutching his groin area. Wait...does that mean my head hit his balls? Jesus. I'm actually appalled until I feel a faint sensation on my fingertips, like a ghost of touch. Oh. It wasn't my head, it was my um, hand. Oops.
"I'm sorry, Archer," I say immediately, then stop when I can't recall why he's in my room. Late night sleepover...movie marathon...sleeping bag on the floor. Huh, so much for sleeping 'early' so I could be up early. "You need some ice?"
"I'm fine, it's not that bad." He winces and slowly straightens from his foetal position. "You want to shower? We need to be on the road in half an hour, if not, we'll be sure as shit stuck in traffic."
Hah. He knows that we'll never make it on time, because we actually never do, it's a well known fact that Archelle is never on time. Yeah, Archelle, we used to be so close that we earned a ship name. The look in his eyes tells me that he remembers and implores me to break tradition. I will try, but I think that the fastest shower I can take will be just under a half hour.
True enough, by the time we've inhaled breakfast and gotten on the road, it's eight o'clock. "Fug." He moans, and smacks his head onto the steering wheel, another one of his quirky habits. "We're fugging done for."
"Chill, who knows, maybe traffic kinda okay today." I pick my phone out of my bag and scroll through my inbox. My mom sent a message to me
Hello darling, how's things over there at Aron? Hope you're doing fine. If I remember correctly, you are going on a trip with your friend, Archer, am I right? Oh well, if you are have fun! And send him my love! Xx mom.
I don't reply her, because I probably won't get a reply from her, seeing that it's her spa-visiting hours, and she's preferably doing her nails, or unpreferably, fucking some tattooed guy that her friends from yoga always introduce her to. I can't really imagine her doing anything else. I think it means that her living in another country from me is not healthy, because I am slowly unremembering her. But fuck it. you know what's unhealthy? Going to the spa together and listen to her rant for the millionth time how my dad left her for an artist chick who cheated on him anyways. And oh! Yes! It was a hard time! An only parent! But see how well she's doing now! Despite my father's repeated attempts to 'crawl back like a dejected puppy' she resisted the temptation to take him in 'out of pity!' She was an independent woman! She didn't need a man!
"Whatever the fuck." I say out loud.
“It’s your mother, huh?” He doesn’t look at me, but just looks straight ahead, eyebrows teased into a knowing frown. He met her a few years ago, on the day she migrated to another country, we had to send her to the airport. Let’s just say he wasn’t too impressed.
I look at him for a long time, until he turns to look at me and smiles a half smile. I drop my phone and have to bend over to look for it. Paying excessive attention to Archer Devlin’s various facial expressions can be extremely hazardous for your cardiovascular health. Your heart might either stop beating, or beat more than an Olympic athlete’s on The Day of Their Event. Like seriously, if you look at him for too long, your body shuts off oxygen supply to non-vital organs, because your heart is just beating too quickly.
