Some over-played, under-talented band’s song was blaring, a couple of girls’ voices joining in during the chorus. The sound of a blow dryer could be made out in the background, and I just heard someone close to panic levels shrieking about their missing tube of mascara. It even smelled like a sorority house—or walking past the threshold of a Bath and Body Works and getting plowed over by the array of scents blasting out. Thinking of Luke inside with three teenage girls who sounded and smelled as though they were fully embracing their teenage state of being made me smile. He came across as such a guy’s guy on and off the field, so hanging with him and his sisters today should be an enlightening experience. That was part of the reason I’d agreed to it—I wanted to see him in a different element. I wanted to see how he was and who he was with his family. Was the man I knew the same one he was with those he loved the most? If not, who was the real Luke Archer—the one I knew or the one I was about to get a glimpse of?
