The light buzzing of sounds and a light creeping onto my face woken me at some ungodly hour the next morning. I turned over, desperate to chase the sleep I'd just been pulled out of but it was pointless.

Archer was sat propped up in bed, telly going and running his hands over his face.

"What are you doing up?" I asked him, making him jump a little before he recovered himself quickly.

"Sorry I didn't mean to wake you," he said, reaching for the controller and turning it down further.

I suppressed a yawn. "Don't worry about it," I said, but my eyes almost bulged out of my sockets when I saw the clock on the bedside table. "But seriously, what are you doing up at three in the morning?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep I guess."

"You worried about something or..?"

He looked me over, then. Like so many times before, his eyes searched my own as if trying to figure me out, trying to go into the depths of my brain. A flash of something covered his face. It was only for a split second but it was definitely there... regret, maybe? It was gone before I could properly pinpoint it.

"It's nothing really."

I nodded, not wanting to prod.

After a pause, in which we both drew our eyes back to the black and white film flickering across the screen, I asked what had been playing on my mind for the longest time.

"Archer?" He 'mhm'ed in response. "Do you know anyone called Jack Greening?"

He dragged his eyes away from the tv. "No, should I?"

I gnawed on my lip. Should I tell him? "It's just... god it's going to sound so crazy." He continued to watch me, blue eyes steady and silent, an indication for me to go on. "When my ex boyfriend found out about us in the papers, he said some things."

"What sort of 'things'?"

I gulped. "This and that, you know."

"Jolie," his voice was stern and unwavering.

"He threatened you."

"He threatened me." It wasn't really a question but I nodded anyway, feeling a flurry of emotions flow all through me. That is, until the unexpected happened: he laughed. As in full blown, eye watering laughter.

"Archer, I'm serious," I said, hitting the defined panes of his chest that I hadn't realised were on show. Now that I did, I couldn't drag my eyes away. Most of his abdomen was covered by the duvet, but the parts that were not were... godly, to say the least. Smooth and hard and everything else so unforgivably tantalising. All I wanted was to put my hands on him, travel further down and dow— what the fuck, Jolie?

He gripped my hand, making me realise I'd left it a moment or two too long on his skin. He held it there with his hand over mine, gentle and oddly tender. I didn't know whether to hyperventilate at the fact that we were holding hands or that I was, in fact, touching his chest, feeling his heart beneath my fingertips.

It was strangely intimate. I knew I needed to pull away, try and recover the invisible boundary we'd both just trampled over.

I unwound my hand from his and tried to pretend I didn't see yet another flash of emotion dance across his face. This time, it was more like hurt. Hurt? I'd hurt him? Stop kidding yourself, Jolie. The softening of his eyes was immediately reversed as they hardened once again, and his mouth tightened at the edges.

"I think I can handle myself, Jolie."

A pause. "Do you have any other unhinged boyfriends I should know about?"

"Not that I know of," I muttered, feeling myself smile a little as he did the same. "What about you? Any ex girlfriends I need to watch my back with?"

I remembered now. Something he'd said to me weeks ago, even if it felt like years. About knowing more than he'd think. Was that it?

"You should be alright."

I couldn't really imagine all that well Archer Redwood being head over heels in love with a girl. I mean, he was so reserved with his emotions and covered them so well, even if his mask slipped every now and then. But it always recovered. Archer letting the mask go completely and allowing himself to be entirely vulnerable to someone else just wasn't something I could envision.

"Shame. I was kinda looking forward to meeting the girls who could get through this rich boy's tough exterior," I said, prodding his arm this time, careful from now on to keep touching to a minimum. "Maybe I could learn a thing or two from them."

He scoffed. "Well maybe I should encourage Jake—" with Archer's impeccable memory, I knew he knew that that wasn't his name but I didn't give him the satisfaction of correcting him. "— so I can learn a thing of two from him."

"Trust me, you'd learn jackshit."

"Never really loved him?"

It was a blunt question, barely a question at all. Something about it was forceful and severe, enough to knock the air out of my lungs. Because, despite the years I'd spent convinced I did, I knew what Archer was insinuating was true. I never really had.

"Guess not." It was almost therapeutic saying it out loud, providing a closure I didn't know I needed so badly. "What about you? Ever been in love?"

I didn't really expect him to answer, quite frankly. Or at most, brush the question off and move on. So, his answer shocked me, but following his impeccable lead, I covered it quickly. "Once."

"And who was the lucky lady?"

"Her name was Annalise. We met when we were fifteen."

I desperately wanted to pry but equally, I was wary of going too far with Archer and having him barricade everything inside once again.

Cautious and unsure, I asked, "What happened?"

"We dated until we were seventeen. We'd always said we'd leave the fame and fortune behind, run away together and start afresh where nobody knows our names," his voice was hard but I knew it wasn't at me and instead, him fighting to control the waver in his voice. He was hurt. I wondered just how long he'd suppressed it. It couldn't possibly be healthy. "But as we got older, she became everything she'd sworn she hated, just like them." He gestures vaguely around. "She became obsessed with the money, and the cameras, and by the end, she wasn't the girl I'd fallen in love with but I still loved her anyway. I thought I always would."

"Do you still?"

He deliberated.

It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. No, it shouldn't have hurt at all, but I just couldn't stop the slight prick in my chest at him needing to pause, to think about it.

"No, not since..."

"Since?"

"She left me for some other guy who could provide better for her. We didn't have as much money back then. I think when I realised she didn't love me nearly as much as she'd said she had or at all, it was easier to get over her."

"And if she left the guy tomorrow and begged for you back, would you?"

He looked at me, properly this time. Not analysing or trying to trip me up in my own mind.

His hand reached out and took mine beneath the covers, winding our fingers together, loose enough that I could pull away if I wanted.

But I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

Eyes of the most extraordinary blue, like waves colliding into one another and clashing with rocks on the shore, a violent and costly war between different forms of nature. I just couldn't look away.

"Not for all the money in the world."