Page 1 of For the Plot

Prologue

Skye—Ten years earlier…

Ilie on my back in Archer’s bed, one leg draped lazily over the side, the other tangled in his sheets, letting the breeze from the open window ghost over my bare thighs. His room smells like dryer sheets and cheap body spray, a scent that has become my safety.

“I’m not packing your shoes for you,” I say as he digs through the bottom of his closet, chucking sneakers and slides onto a half-zipped duffel bag.

He laughs and looks over his shoulder at me. “You say that now, but when I forget them and start stealing yours, you’ll regret everything.”

We might only be eighteen and nineteen, but it finally feels like we’re starting our life together. A life I’ve dreamed of since I met him.

I don’t care that his bedroom still has high school trophies on the shelf and a crusty-looking laundry basket in the corner. I don’t care that his mom is long gone, his dad is rarely home, or that the entire house feels like it’s been preserved in a weird bachelor limbo since Archer was twelve.

We’re leaving soon. Only two more days and we’re finally off to college, off to freedom, off to the rest of our lives. And I am so in love with him it’s embarrassing.

“Try touching my shoes and see what happens,” I say, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at his back. “I will end you.”

He catches the pillow and grins. “You won’t. You love me.”

My smile wavers for half a second. Just enough for my chest to feel it. Because he’s right. I do.

And the way he says it, so casually, like it’s just understood between us, makes me want to believe he’ll never hurt me. That the way he kissed me last night meant forever. That we’ll live in our cramped dorm together and go to late-night diners and lie in bed on Sunday mornings, hungover, happy, and half-naked.

“Are you nervous?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light.

He shrugs. “A little. I mean, I already did freshman year, so it’s not really new for me. But I’m glad you’re coming.”

“Yeah?” I offer my flirtiest smile. “Is that all?”

“Mm-hmm. It’ll be nice to have you there.”

Nice. Okay.

I tuck that word away and try not to let it dig in too deep. He turns back to his closet, leaving me to stew in it.

There’s always been something a little slippery about Archer… like he means well, but he’s not always present. Sometimes he gets this look in his eyes, like he’s already somewhere else. Like there’s a whole world spinning behind his smile that he doesn’t want me to see.

I tell myself I’m imagining it, that I’m just being insecure, but sometimes I worry that falling in love with the small-town girl and promising her forever won’t seem as fun or exciting once we’ve both left this town.

“Do you think your dad’s actually going to drive us?” I ask after a minute. “You said he was going to, right?”

Archer laughs again, but it’s a little tight this time. “He said he was. But I mean… you know how he is.”

I do, sort of. I’ve met Reece Blackwood maybe three times. Once when I snuck into the kitchen for water and he walked in, still wearing a partially wrinkled suit, the jacket slung casually over one arm. Once at Archer’s graduation, standing stiff and uncomfortable with his hands in his pockets. And once when Archer introduced me in passing, and his dad looked up from his phone just long enough to nod and say, “Nice to meet you.”

He’s… intimidating.

Not because he’s loud or overbearing, but because he’s quiet in a way that makes you feel like you’re being studied and dismissed at the same time. Not to mention the way Archer always shrinks a little when he’s around.

“Is he still working on that tech thing?” I ask, watching Archer shove socks into the corner of the bag.

He snorts. “Yeah. Blackwood Technologies or whatever. Always something. He’s obsessed with it.”

I nod, even though Archer isn’t looking at me.

Before I can say anything else, we hear the front door open and close downstairs. It’s quiet for a moment, then comes the distinct thud of dress shoes on hardwood.

My stomach tightens automatically. Speak of the brooding devil.