Jane pushed against the current of people heading to work, holding two cups of coffee and her leather work bag. At this hour she would have been asleep, waiting for the seven o’clock alarm to ring. Instead, she headed towards the city library.

She had anticipated this day for weeks, and thought of it for all of the two years she corresponded with Archer V. Becket. The boy behind the papers that kept Jane on her toes, and her job on the line.

Her fingers thrummed with anticipation as she entered through the library’s revolving doors. The warmth of the building instantly embraced her, and she was ready to remove her trench coat and scarf, damp from the light drizzling.

Jane stood amidst the hushed library, her gaze flickering to the rows of tables by the mythology section. She wasn’t quite sure how exactly she was suppose to find Archer, or is she even came to the right place for that matter.

When he wrote in the papers, “and to my fiercest competitor, meet me at the heart of Luce at seven”, he could have meant a thousand different places. The thought sent a pang of unease that made Jane curl her toes in her boots.

“Excuse me” Jane asked a woman with a golden pin engraved with ‘Assistant: Claire’.

“Yes?” The woman responded. She was older, with slicked back grey hair and an elegant stance Jane couldn’t mimic.

“Has any boy come here by the name Archer? Probably arrived at seven or so?”

The woman hummed. She scanned the tables to her left, and then pointed the farthest one out with her long red nails. “That lad just came in.”

Jane thanked the woman and began half-walking half-jogging towards the final table. Excitement and nerves both beat widely in her chest, and she didn’t know which one weighed on her more.

Someone sat on the table, their face hidden by a book titled “The Art Of Bullshitting.” That, if anything, made her ever the more certain it was Archer.

“Archer?” She said in a hushed voice. “It’s me. Jane Crawford.”

“Ah, Jane. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance” he responded, putting the book down. Jane was not sure if she gasped or not.

The yellow lights of the library made his blonde hair golden, and casted shadows at the rigid plains of his faces. He looked like a boy from a story book, one who slayed dragons and left a trail of broken hearts. Not someone who spent the past two years of his life competing with a local columnist. Sending her riddles and messages every day.

“The pleasure is mine.”

Jane put down the cups and extended her gloved hand to him, noting how when he shook it, it was stiff and rigid like the rest of his body.

She took a seat across him, handing him one of the coffee cups.

“Oh. No thank you. I find coffee to be distracting.”

Jane was shocked, but said nothing more. Coffee, if anything, calmed her nerves.

“We’ve been at our back and forth for quite some time” Archer said, sliding the book to the side and clasping his hands on the table.

Yes, it has been, she considered. Two years ago when she first got a job as a columnist for Vin Burrs candidacy, she was more than thrilled. The Belford Papers let her write on whatever she wanted, unlike the university who she wrote the weekly mail for prior. So she began poking fun at Devin Channing candidacy, pointing at all the flaws in his arguments and stances. And while she did that, a certain columnist by the name Archer began doing the same for Vin Burr and all his supporters.

It became a regular thing not only for them to tear down the candidates, but each other and their writings apart. Jane was still not sure when those notes for each other shifted from taunts to friendly messages and riddles. At least, as friendly as they could get with each other.

“I am delighted you invited me” Jane said, stirring the lukewarm coffee. “But I am curious why now?”

He smirked, and his gaze dropped from her eyes to her clenched hands. “Is it so hard to believe I come here with no other motive?”

Yes.

Her stare said it all.

“Very well. I suppose drawling this out won’t lead to any good.” Archer took out a pen and paper from his briefcase and placed it in front of her.

Janes stomach clenched, but she didn’t dare let her face flush or give away her startle. “What is this?” Jane asked, knowing full well the answer.

“It’s a contract” he explained, chin tilted up. “Curtesy of the Channings. Stop writing about his office, and they will pay you whatever amount you please.”

Jane pursed her lips. “I will never sign that, Archer. You know that.” And she would have stuck by that, no matter what they offered. Devin Channing was a nasty man with no morals.

“Oh, come on Jane. He won the election. You lost. These papers only tarnish his image, and yours as well.” He slid the paper closer. “Please. Sign this and be done with this ridiculous grudge.”

Janes mouth was left agape. She would have never asked him to compromise his morals, never would have raised his hopes and shattered them like glass.

Her hand flung in the air before she could stop it and slapped Archer across his face.

He looked shocked. She mirrored the same expression. Still, slapping him was the most honest thing Jane ever did.

“Expect to see a very long column on Channing and his columnists tricks to silence the press. Don’t worry, I’ll send you a copy.”

Jane grabbed her coffee, and his to, leaving before he could say anything more.

She should have known that meeting him would lead to something like that. Nothing good ever came out of those people.