He Didn’t Kidnap Me. Not Exactly novel Chapter 143

{{Daisy’s POV)

I stared at Archer’s chat for another full minute before doing anything.

Then another minute.

Then half of another one because my brain had decided tonight was the perfect time to develop commitment issues over texting someone…

My thumb hovered above the keyboard while I now sat cross-legged on my bed, phone glowing against the darkness of my room.

For some reason, my eyes drifted toward the wall.

Not directly at DeLuca’s room.

Just… toward that direction.

He was probably in there talking to Mabel.

Or Aria.

Or whichever girl currently occupied his attention span now that he had apparently unlocked a new personality trait.

And honestly?

That was none of my business.

He didn’t owe me anything.

If he wanted to spend his time talking to girls, going to parties, letting people think he was dating half the female population of campus, then fine.

He could do whatever he wanted.

That realization sat bitterly in my chest for a moment before another one followed right behind it.

I could also do whatever I wanted…

The thought made me look back at my phone.

Then finally, before I could overthink myself into another emotional crisis, I typed.

“Hi, Archer. This is Daisy.”

“Could you please pick me up tomorrow from the bus stop you dropped me at? That’s if you are free and don’t mind the favor.”

I read the text three times.

Winced at how vulnerable it looked.

Then sent-il anyway.

Immediately afterward, regret tried entering my bloodstream.

Not because it was Archer.

Just because I was tired.

Tired of trying so hard to hold things together while they kept collapsing in my face.

I had written DeLuca a whole letter.

A whole handwritten apology.

I had practically peeled open my ribcage and dumped my dignity onto paper at three in the morning like a sleep-deprived Victorian poet.

And after all that?

Nothing.

I was still the one forcing conversations. Still the one trying to repair things. Still the one standing there looking stupid while he kept bringing everything back to a contract.

So fine.

Fine.

I was done trying now.

Not because it didn’t hurt.

God, it hurt.

But because trying any harder would start looking humiliating.

And I had already embarrassed myself enough recently to sustain several lifetimes.

My phone chimed suddenly. I looked down quickly.

Archer:

“I hope no pollen grain is involved.”

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