Zia’s POV

“Do you remember the time when they used to bathe naked in the tub?”

The tea in my mouth spilled out at her words. I took the napkin without eyeing the person, too embarrassed to stare at him.

“Mama…” I warned under my breath, sliding a nervous glance toward Archer, who was seated across the massive mahogany dining table. His lips twitched, clearly amused.

“Oh come on, it was adorable!” She waved me off. “They used to fight all day and then sleep together at night.”

I covered my face with my hands. Those words definitely didn't come out as innocent as she expected them to.

Archer eyed me, the mischievous look shining in his eyes before he chuckled. “Yeah, those were some… memorable nights.”

Turning slightly, I tried to stiffen my own grin and slapped his hard chest, which only made him laugh louder.

His deep voice stirred something in my chest. Ugh. Why was his voice so warm? Like the caramel drizzle on my favourite cappuccino—smooth, sweet, and completely dangerous.

“She also used to sing ‘Barbie Girl’ in the bathtub at full volume,” Mama continued, a sparkle in her eye.

“Mama, пожалуйста, прекрати!” (Please, stop!) I hissed in Russian.

She only laughed. “Oh, stop being so dramatic, Zia. These stories are meant to be shared. We’re family.”

Mrs. Clarke, Archer’s mother—elegant, poised, and sipping tea as if she were on a royal throne—chuckled along. “Archer wasn’t much better. He wouldn't stop talking about you all day.”

My eyes snapped up in surprise. Well, that was quite news.

He looked away quickly, cheeks slightly pink. “I was a kid, and you were my only friend.”

“These two were inseparable,” his younger sister, Viviana, piped in from the far end of the room, grinning. “We still have the photos as proof.”

“Most of the time went by fighting,” Archer muttered before eyeing me with narrowed eyes. “Remember when you refused to give me your crayons?”

I gasped and turned to face him completely. “Those were my brand-new crayons, and you wanted to use them in your washroom.”

“And that was enough reason to scratch my arm like a wildcat?”

“I'm possessive over what's mine,” I shrugged, and he shook his head as a small smirk appeared.

“Zia, do you remember when you and Archer built that pillow fort and refused to come out for two hours?" Mrs. Clarke asked with a fond smile.

I glanced up, startled. "I think we were hiding from broccoli," I muttered, earning laughter around the table.

"That was the year Archer swore off vegetables," Mr. Clarke added. “You two were troublemakers.”

“We weren’t troublemakers,” Archer said coolly. “We were entrepreneurs. We charged Vivi and her friends five bucks for entry.”

I laughed. “And you made her bring her own snacks.”

“Exactly. We had a business model.” He raised his hand for a high-five, and I joined mine with his. The sparks went through my stomach at that small touch.

“You two were monsters,” Viviana grumbled from the opposite table.

“Not our fault that we had business genes,” he said, sipping his coffee.

“From the first model as kids to being billionaires, you too have crossed a long way,” Maya, his mother, said.

“I'm not a billionaire,” I reminded her, a little flushed by her miscalculation.

“Yet,” Archer added. “With the numbers adding in your brand, you'll be a billionaire soon.”

Warmth filled my chest, and I looked down to hide my blush. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to hide, melt into the floor, or... kiss him.

Kiss him?

No. No, Zia. Stop.

He's your friend. The one you have known since childhood—nothing ever happened and nothing will.

But how could I not notice the way Archer had changed? The boy who used to throw pebbles at my window when we were kids had become a man with strong shoulders, a jawline that could cut glass, and eyes that looked at me like I was something fragile and powerful at once.

He seemed to have grown a lot since the last time I saw him.

“So,” Mr. Clarke said, clearing his throat after the laughter died down, “as you all know, we invited you here not just for dinner... but to talk.”

And I could sense what was coming.

No. This can't be happening.

I thought it was a normal dinner, but… I guess our parents can never do anything normal.

My mother leaned in. “We’ve known each other for years. Zia and Archer grew up together. We always said they’d make a lovely pair, didn’t we?”

This time it was Archer who choked on his coffee, and I passed him the napkin wordlessly.

“We’re not forcing you,” Mrs. Clarke added gently. “But we’d like you both to at least consider it. Go out. See how it feels. You’ve always liked each other.”

“Mama…” I said again, feeling the heat in my cheeks.

Archer glanced at me. “Dad, I told you—”

“We are not asking you to get married tomorrow. But at least try to go on a date,” he suggested. “Archie, why don't you take her to your new restaurant? Tomorrow is fine with you, Zia.”

Before I could speak, my mother interrupted. “Yes, she'll be ready.”

I glared at her, which only made her pinch her hand and stopped me from saying anything.

The rest of the dinner went lightly, as there was no more mention of your childhood stories or marriage pressure. Throughout the night I couldn't stop myself from glancing at him.

Once again I felt like a teenage girl and had to put on a hard face to hide my emotion.

My first-ever friend, my first crush, and my first kiss (if you count the one where I ate the chocolate from his lips) was sitting right beside me.

If only he knew my feelings for him, if only he would reciprocate my feelings. Then maybe we could have our happily ever after.

*****

Thank you so much for reading this chapter. I hope you'll continue and support me till the end.

Love you all❤️