Archer Wyatt

He didn’t know her name. That was the first thing he realized when he woke up the next morning. Sunlight filtered through the blinds of his apartment, hitting him square in the face. His head throbbed from too much whiskey and not enough sleep. The place was quiet—too quiet for the kind of night he vaguely remembered. He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. Empty. The other side of the bed was already cold. All that remained was the faint scent of perfume on the pillow and a couple scattered memories from the night before. A crowded off-campus house party. Music loud enough to rattle the walls. People packed shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen and spilling onto the lawn. He had only stopped by because a couple of old baseball buddies were visiting and wanted to check it out. Normally he stayed far away from college parties these days. He was twenty-nine. He had a business to run. But the night had gotten away from him the way good nights sometimes did. One drink turned into three. Three turned into six. And somewhere in the middle of it all he met a girl. He remembered flashes of her. Bright eyes. A sharp sense of humor. The way she didn’t seem intimidated by him at all. She’d kept up with him drink for drink, laughing easily and leaning in close when the music got too loud. After that? Things blurred together. They stumbled out, laughing. A cab ride. His house. The feeling of someone’s fingers tangled in his shirt as they stumbled through the door. He groaned and leaned back against the headboard. He didn’t even remember her name. Which was fine. That was kind of the point. He wasn’t looking for anything serious anyway. The girl had clearly slipped out before he woke up. Clean exit. No expectations. Exactly how he liked it. Across campus, she was quietly losing her mind. She woke up in an unfamiliar apartment with her head pounding and her memory slowly piecing itself back together. The party. The drinks. The guy. And then— Her stomach dropped. Her best friend’s older brother. The same one who used to ignore them when they were kids hanging around the house. The one who was always out with his friends because he was way too old to care about his little sister and her group of “annoying middle school shadows.” He had been the cool older brother. Tall. Confident. Always surrounded by friends. And apparently now the owner of a very successful electrical company. Mortified, she slipped out before he woke up and hurried back to the small townhouse she shared with her best friend on campus. Her roommate was already sitting at the kitchen counter when she walked in. A huge grin spread across her face. “Well,” her friend said, raising an eyebrow. “Someone had fun last night.” The girl forced a laugh and grabbed a glass of water. “Yeah,” she muttered. Her friend leaned forward eagerly. “So who was he?” She shook her head quickly. “Just... some guy.” And that was where the conversation ended. She never told her. Not who it actually was.

Updated September 23, 2026