Unexpected Lovers Box Set by J.B. Heller

ARCHER: I know this is a big deal for you, so I chose somewhere low-key. You know Juan’s downtown? We went there with Bates and your parents last time they were in the city. I’m going to have to meet you there, though. Coach wants to see me after practice. So I’ll catch you there at 6.

I lookat the text from Archer one last time then toss my cell in my bag.

Given my love of Mexican food, I’m going to go with stretchy pants. I grab my favorite black jeggings and a loose, silky, scoop-neck top before throwing them on and grabbing my Docs from my closet.

Bates walks past my open bedroom door, pausing in the doorway. “You’re going to be late,” he says, hands braced on the top of the frame. “Having second thoughts?”

I glance at my watch, panic surging to the fore when I realize it must be broken. It still says it’s five to five. “Shit, shit, shit,” I chant, riffling through my bag, trying to find my cell. I spot the shiny red case and grab it. “Oh, my God,” I groan. It’s quarter to six. I’ll never make it on time.

“Chill out,” Bates says, coming in and sitting on the end of my bed. “Order an Uber, then text Arch that you’re running late. No biggy.”

“Yes, it is. This is our first date, and I’m screwing it up before it’s even started,” I whine while ordering my ride.

I catch Bates rolling his eyes at me. “Dial down the drama meter, Lenny. You’ll be, like, ten minutes late.”

Ignoring him, I shoot Archer a text.

LENNON: I’m sorry. My watch died, and now I’m running late. I’ll be on my way in five.

He replies almost instantly.

ARCHER: All good, babe. I’m not there yet, but I’ll just grab a beer while I’m waiting.

“He’s fine with it, isn’t he?” Bates asks, a knowing smirk on his stupid face.

“Yes,” I mutter, grabbing my leather jacket off the bed. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later,” I call on my way out the door.

“Be safe and use protection!” he calls after me, laughing at his own joke.

It’s quarter past six when I walk into the restaurant. It’s pretty busy in here tonight. Hopefully, we’ll just blend in with the crowd, and nobody will recognize Arch.

I spot him. He’s at the bar, drinking a beer like he said he would be. Only, he’s not alone. A perky blonde is plastered to his side. Her boobs are practically hugging his bicep. My jaw locks, and the urge to rip her tacky extension out consumes me.

Chill, Len. Chill . . .

I take a deep breath, flex my fingers a few times, then approach them.

“I’ve been following your career since the beginning,” she purrs. “You’re the best pitcher in the league in my opinion.”

Okay, so she’s not just hitting on him because he’s hot as fuck. So much for the anonymity of being in a crowd.

She leans even closer, whispering something in his ear, and my fists clench on reflex.

I glower as I step behind her, tapping on her shoulder. She turns her head, eyeing me over her shoulder, then dismisses me with a, “Get in line, honey.”

Archer shifts on his stool, looking around her. His gaze darkens the moment it lands on me. “The line begins and ends with her,” he tells the blonde, sliding off his stool and tugging me into his big, hard body. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs, lowering his head and brushing his lips over mine, once, twice, then three times.

I sigh, and he takes the opportunity to glide his tongue into my mouth, coaxing another contented sigh from me as he deepens the kiss. My arms curl around his hips, gripping the back of his shirt, and I push onto my tiptoes, following his lips when he goes to pull away.

He chuckles, kissing me again.

The next time he pulls away, I let him.

We stare at each other, smiling like fools. I’m sure we look like one of those couples that I usually gag at the sight of, and I don’t even care.

“Hungry?” he asks.

I nod. “Starving.”

He slides his big hand to mine, entwining our fingers, and tugs me through the crowd to the hostess station. “Reservation for Austin,” he says, and we’re led to a table in the back.

Arch pulls my chair out for me, and I drop into it, fighting a laugh when he sits across from me.

“What?” he asks.

“Quite the gentleman, aren’t you?” I tease.

He shrugs. “I know how to treat a woman.”

A waitress appears, and we place our orders then go back to staring at each other.

“This is weird, right?” I say. Surely, he feels it, too.

He nods, humor crinkling the corners of his blue eyes. “So weird.”

“Why are we being weird? We’ve eaten together a thousand times. The only difference is now we do”—I clear my throat—“other stuff, too.”

Arch throws his head back, laughing. “Other stuff? Yeah, let’s go with that.”

“Well, what would you call it?” I ask, widening my eyes at him.

He grins, shaking his head. “Other stuff works. It’s not like we’re fucking.”

“No,” I agree. “Umm, why is that, by the way?”

“Why is what?” he asks, picking up his beer and taking a swig.

My cheeks heat. Oh, my freaking God, I’m blushing. I do not blush. Ever. What the hell is wrong with me? I clear my throat. “Wow, this is awkward.”

Archer smirks, tipping his head to the side as he rakes his gaze over me, then goddamn it, he bites his bottom lip.

“Why-haven’t-we-had-sex?” I blurt out in a rush.

“Oh,” he says, “that.”

If we weren’t in a public place right now, I’d punch him. “Yes, that,” I whisper-hiss.

His lips curve in a devilish smile, and he shrugs. “The timing hasn’t been right.”

I stare at him. What the hell does that mean?

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and taking my hand from around my water glass to link our fingers. “Babe, I’m not sinking inside of you for the first time in nearly two years with your brother down the hall.”

“Oh,” is all I can muster. I can’t argue with his logic. But we all live in the same apartment, sooo . . . what are we supposed to do?

“Stop frowning so hard, Lenny,” he says, giving my fingers a squeeze. “It’ll happen. And when it does, it’ll be . . .”—he closes his eyes and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip—"fucking magical.”

Well, okay then. I’m definitely down with that.

My cell chimes in my pocket—repeatedly. I sigh. “Hold that thought.” I pull my phone out to see what’s so important. Google alerts cover the screen. I click into the top one, my heart seizing in my chest. My cell clatters to the table as my fingers go numb.

Photos of us kissing in the bar are on every major sports site on the net.

“Babe,” Archer says, but his voice sounds far away.

I squeeze my eyes closed. I knew this would happen. I knew it.

“Lennon, look at me,” Arch demands in a firm tone.

My eyes snap open. He’s holding my phone, his gaze lethal.

“What’s the problem, Len? You’re the one who suggested we go out. We both knew something like this could happen.”

Words get stuck in my throat. I want to be okay with it. I really do. But in the back of my mind, all I can see is this whole thing blowing up in my face. My career going down the toilet, resenting Arch for losing everything I worked so hard to achieve, and, in the end, losing him.

“What does loving me look like to you, Lennon?” Archer asks, his face an unreadable mask.

I swallow and rub my sweaty palms on my thighs. “I—” I start, but I don’t know what to say.

He’s so tense. The muscles in his neck strain as he stares at me like he’s waiting for me to say something. “When you figure it out, let me know,” he says, pushing to his feet and walking away.

My eyes sting as I watch him go. I want to run after him, tell him I’m sorry, that I overreacted. Instead, I just sit there, frozen in place.

Why did I do that? What is wrong with me?

* * *

By the timeI drag myself home, it’s near eleven. All the lights in the apartment are out, and I go straight to my room.

A part of me hopes to find Archer waiting for me in my bed. The other part knows he won’t be.

I strip off my clothes, put my cell on charge, then tug on one of Archer’s shirts that he left in here and climb beneath the sheets. His scent surrounds me, and I let myself take comfort in it. Not that I deserve to after the way I acted tonight.

His words play over and over on a loop in my head. What does loving me look like to you? Emotion clogs my throat, and my eyes burn with tears.

Loving him looks like the kind of happiness I never pictured for myself.

So why the hell are you lying in your bed, feeling sorry for yourself, and not telling him that?

Throwing the covers back, I launch out of bed, yank my door open, and sprint down the hall to his room. I pause with my curled fist raised to knock, a wave of nerves washing over me. But there’s no need to be nervous—this is Arch. The guy who has pursued me relentlessly for over a year. The guy that I want to be with more than anything in the world.

I wish I’d just told him that at the restaurant.

Taking a deep breath, I rap my knuckles against his door three times. I wait a beat then knock again when he doesn’t respond. “Arch, it’s me,” I say, turning the handle and poking my head inside.

It’s dark, and I can’t see shit. “Arch,” I murmur, “can we talk?”

There’s still no response, and as my eyes adjust, I realize why.

He’s not here.

I drop onto the edge of his bed, my heart a heavy weight in my chest as a crushing wave of regret consumes me.