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seventeen Nya went into Archer’s apartment with the brown paper grocery bag under her arm. After tugging her key out of the open door, she kicked it shut with her heel. “I put in a full shift of hard labor at the club only to walk out to a text telling me to bring home Cheetos and beer. I’m guessing I’m not in for a night of romance,” she said, putting the bag on the table so she could take off her jacket. A smell in the air made her wrinkle her nose. “What is that smell?” It couldn’t be what she thought. Nya was sure it couldn’t. Except Archer was sitting in the middle of the couch, occupied by something on a small, yellow plastic dinner tray. The TV was on mute as usual and although he glanced up to read the subtitles once in a while, he hadn’t yet looked at her. “Thanks, babe, you c
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