Hushed by Kelley York Read Free Book Online Page B

assault. “I should get home.” Archer pitched himself to his feet, grabbing his shoes and bag. Evan tipped his head back.
    “Are you—tomorrow…?”
    The tournament. “I didn’t forget,” Archer assured him. “Pick me up when it’s time to go.”
    He could feel Evan’s eyes following him, an almost scorching sensation up his spine, all the way up the beach until he hit the boardwalk and was out of sight. He needed to get away. Away from the ocean, away from Evan. Away from feeling like maybe, just maybe, he could let a few of his secrets out from under lock and key to someone like Evan. Without judgment. Without repercussion.
    But he knew better.

Wednesday, October 1 st

    Fly’s was a lot more crowded than Archer thought it would be. Two contests were being held that day, according to a flier someone shoved into his hands. The eighteen-and-under category had been earlier. Now the group consisted primarily of college kids or forty-something-year-olds with nothing better to do on a Wednesday afternoon.
    He hated crowds.
    Evan’s blinding green shirt marking him as a contestant was the only way he didn’t lose sight of him in the throng of people. They couldn’t hear each other over the noise, so they didn’t bother trying.
    At least near the counters there was more breathing room. It was roped off for contestants only. One of the arcade employees started to say something to him about crossing through the barrier, but Evan said, “He’s with me,” and grabbed his hand to lead him along. Not his arm, not his wrist. His hand.
    What is he doing?
    Archer didn’t pull away, not until Evan had him up at the counter, filled out a nametag, and stuck it to the front of his shirt. He grinned crookedly. “We’re allowed one friend with us. This way they won’t shove you in the crowd with everyone else.”
    I really am here as a cheerleader . There were worse ways to spend his afternoon, he guessed. Sitting at home and moping about Vivian, for instance.
    The tournament consisted of rotating people around to various games, ranging from old-school 2-D fighters to racing games to 3-D zombie shooters. Archer followed Evan from one to the next, deafened by the whooping and howls from the crow. Although Evan gave him a little bit of history on some of them, Archer hoped he wasn’t expected to remember it all. Evan even made it up to the final rounds, where he was beaten out by a nervous-looking guy with square glasses and teeth too big for his face.
    “Fourth place isn’t bad,” Archer said afterward, grateful they weren’t sticking around to watch the rest of the competition.
    Evan laughed, peeling off his nametag and tossing it in a nearby trashcan. “Lost to a guy who only won because the arcade is the one place he goes outside of his mom’s basement. I made it further than I thought I would.”
    They stepped out of Fly’s and into the cooler and roomier mall. For the first time in hours, Archer could breathe. Evan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and nudged him with an elbow. “So…I didn’t win anything, but I feel like I owe you. You want dinner?”
    He hadn’t exactly cheered. Unless standing there and making occasional awkward commentary counted as cheering. As for Evan buying him dinner, he shrugged. It beat going home. They stopped in front of the elevators, and he was about to suggest they order takeout and head back to Evan’s place when the elevator pinged and the doors slid open.
    His heart stopped.
    Richter Samuels stepped out onto the second floor and halted short of bumping right into him. Richter blinked. Stared. “Archer? Is that you?”
    Oh, God. But he’d stood right there while Richter’s mother screamed that he didn’t have a pulse. How could paramedics have possibly gotten there quickly enough to revive him? Unless, in her hysteria, the woman had simply overreacted.
    Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
    “Yeah,” he forced out. His voice almost cracked. Evan looked from him to