Agreements With Mr Rich Boy | ✓

38 | A Wild Guess

I REALLY WISH ONE day I'll wake up and my hair won't look like a rat's nest and my face won't have a trail of dried spit running down on one side of it, and my breath will be minty fresh without brushing.

And I really wish today had been that day.

Because lying very, very close to me was Archer.

When I'd thought about how unlikely it was that either of us would invade each other's space— the bed being that huge— I must have forgotten the tiny little detail that I, Jolie Dubois, practically did somersaults in bed. So there I lay, spread across the entire bed, arms and legs wide.

I lifted my arm from his chest as carefully as possibly, really not wanting for him, or anyone for that matter, to see me in this state. Shocking, I know.

Easing myself off the bed, which was easier said than done on a bed so comfortable I just wanted to snuggle up in it again, I tiptoed towards the bathroom door. I heard the bed shift behind me.

I turned slightly, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw Archer had simply rolled over, away from me.

I shut the door behind me as I set about not looking such a mess. Once again, easier said than done.

***

"How is it out there, Martin?" Autumn asked when he nudged open the front door, hands full of food shopping bags. He had on his winter attire, managing to look frost-bitten and cozy at the same time.

"Perfect," he said, simply.

Autumn clapped her hands in glee at the table. "I say we get out there!"

"Noah and I are going to the slopes," Archer said, waving a little half-heartedly in our general direction, already on the move.

Autumn made a sound of protest, effectively making him stop in his tracks... literally. "You will do no such thing." She was pointing at me now. "Take Jolie to the shack, and get her some skiis."

He made no expression but by his slumped shoulders and the slight ticking in the jaw, I could tell he was not all too pleased.

We got there, and geared me up.

The place was pretty obscure for a place hundreds of these people must go, and it wasn't all that much to look at. It was tucked behind a row of trees and looked like any other oversized shed I'd ever seen.

They had gone to give me the longer skiis, but Archer was firm when he told them no.

"She's never done it before," he told the burly man behind the counter, in front of a wall of snowboards and helmets and gloves. I stared, longingly, at the gloves; my own Asda ones were beginning to make my fingers feel numb and be close to falling off. "Throw in some gloves, too," Archer said.

"No problem."

"Thank you," I said to Archer as he carried the stuff out, own gear included. "You know that I hadn't done it before?"

Maybe my lying was lacking, or maybe Archer was just particularly perseverant.

He was watching me step a little too widely over a rock in the path. My foot caught it and I went flying. "A wild guess," he muttered. "Let's go find the others."