Try hard, p.24
Try Hard, page 24
“Hm. Probably better with your… fans, too.”
She winced. “Whatever you need to handle all of that, too. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you, always.”
Her promises, her vulnerability, and her honesty sparked inside my heart. She was everything.
I wrapped my arms around her the best I could with her half under me, and tugged her with me as I lay back down. If she’d been unwilling, I didn’t think I’d have stood a chance of moving her. As it happened, she followed me willingly, holding her weight carefully as she hovered over me, pressing me down into the mattress.
Soft, mesmerising strands of her hair fell across her forehead in that way that only seemed to happen with romantic heroes. She’d been the romantic heroine in every dream I’d ever had.
The way her pupils were blown suggested she was feeling something similar. Knowing that she was physically attracted to me wasn’t off-putting like it was with others. It seemed like she always had been—like she always would be, no matter what happened to my body. The thought was both liberating and terrifying. I wasn’t yet sure how to handle that, even if I understood it in reverse. Eve would always be the most beautiful person in the world, no matter what happened to her physically.
I slid my hands up her back, over her shoulders, and took her face tenderly. “I was planning to say I needed to wait a little longer for anything physical, but I… really want to kiss you.”
She breathed a laugh that sent shudders through my whole body. “I would wait forever for you to be ready, to be as certain as you need to be. I wanted to kiss you when I was a kid, I want to kiss you now, and I’ll want to kiss you fifty years from now. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
Every word from her was the most perfect, most romantic thing I’d ever heard. It was exactly what I needed, and all I wanted was to live in every moment with her, to be ready to give her everything she deserved. I wanted to show her exactly how much I adored her.
And I still needed to honour the pain my body carried, even when I didn’t want to hold it against her.
I pulled her face closer to mine, glad when she let more of her body press down into me.
Our noses brushed, her breath coming every bit as fast as mine.
“You should have been my first kiss, Eve Archer,” I whispered, our lips so close together they were almost touching. “I should have been braver.”
“I should have too. But I’m not going anywhere now, Ophelia.”
I looked into her eyes as best I could when we were so close. “I want to be brave now.”
“You already have been. There’s no pressure for anything more yet.”
“But I want to.”
“You will. When every part of you is ready.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eve
A night with Ophelia, sleeping beside her, waking up to her in my arms, her glorious hair fanned across my pillows, a whole morning watching planes with her while pretending we weren’t exhausted from last night… and I still missed her in the few hours we were apart.
I was also ridiculously nervous. Sure, last night we’d both admitted we like each other, that we’re trying something more than friends, but this dinner mattered. Ophelia was carrying a lot of damage from her past relationships, she needed and deserved so much time and space and care, and I so badly wanted to get it right. But, we were having dinner with my family and I had no control over how that was going to go. And we weren’t doing it as a couple. We were doing it as friends.
I looked in the mirror one more time, straightening clothes that had already been adjusted to within an inch of their lives, and headed downstairs.
“You dressed up,” Soph accused as soon as she caught sight of me.
I eyed her outfit, trying to fight against the clenching in my stomach. “So did you.”
Terrance laughed from the kitchen. “Don’t worry, Hercules is out-dressing us all tonight.”
I leaned around the door to see into the living room. Sure enough, Mum was in there, brushing Herc’s fur into a sleek side part. She’d put him in a little waistcoat and bow tie too. I couldn’t help but laugh. At least any initial tension could be eased with the world’s most stylish dog. He hadn’t spent much time with Ophelia yesterday—already tucked up in Mum’s bed long before we got home—and we’d been rushing out the door again this morning, but he’d liked her, and I was sure she’d appreciate his outfit.
“He’s definitely going to woo a pretty lady tonight, aren’t you, Hercules?” Mum asked him as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.
Tension shot through me again. “Yeah, about that. Can we all refrain from calling Fia pretty or beautiful or whatever tonight?”
Mum looked at me consideringly, clearly hearing something important in my tone and attempting to figure out whether that was coming from me or Ophelia. “Of course.”
“No comments from me,” Terrance called from the kitchen. Not that I’d been imagining any from him.
Soph eyed me. “But she is gorgeous. What’s the harm in naming that?”
I sighed. “She’s coming to dinner to have a nice time, not to be treated like a piece of meat with nothing to offer but a pretty face.”
“I love it when people tell me I’m a pretty face.”
I stared at her, deadpan. “You’re a pretty face.”
“Thank you.”
“Not everyone wants to hear that, though. So, please, around Fia, keep it under wraps.”
Soph smirked knowingly, but I wasn’t sure she actually was in the know. “You’re just worried she’s going to realise I’m way cooler than you are and she’ll stop spending so much time with you.”
“Sure, Soph. That’s what I’m worried about. Whatever you want.”
Hearing my underlying frustration, Mum stepped up and put a hand on Soph’s arm. “No comments. We’re all going to have a lovely evening with Fia and not ruin it by making comments about how beautiful she is.”
Mum’s tone told me she, too, knew that Ophelia was stunning, but I wasn’t worried it was the same way Soph thought that—or how I did.
Soph sighed dramatically. “Fine. But, if she flirts with me first, I’m not refraining from flirting back.”
My insides boiled at the thought. “She’s not going to flirt with you,” I said, attempting to keep my voice light.
“Just because you don’t want her to, doesn't mean she won’t. We’re all adults here.”
“Are we?” I muttered, following Mum into the kitchen. Honestly, I didn’t feel much like an adult with how nervous I was about seeing Ophelia—or with how irrationally worried I was that she might flirt with Soph. I knew she wasn’t going to. She’d told me more than enough times that she wasn’t interested. It had just been a long time since I’d cared about anything this much, and I’d lost the only other thing I’d loved like this. Of course, caring about rugby was nothing like caring about Ophelia, but the intensity of the two was not dissimilar.
Neither my mum nor Terrance would let me help with food prep—if that hadn’t been a regular thing, I’d have thought they just didn’t want someone so obviously nervous helping, but they liked looking after everyone else. They were well-matched like that. However, it did mean that I was stuck simply standing in the kitchen, waiting.
I suppose I could have sat down with Soph or Herc, but I couldn’t focus on anything but the clock and when Ophelia would arrive.
She was exactly on time. Unsurprising, really. She’d always been on time or early.
The first sign that anything was happening was Herc running for the door, the sight of which caused my heart to feel like it was plummeting through my body and out through the soles of my feet. That was a new sensation. Apparently, there was no end to the feelings Ophelia could elicit in me. I wasn’t upset about that, even if I did feel wobbly as I moved to get the door, pretending I couldn’t hear the excited chattering in the kitchen.
“Archer,” Ophelia said, failing to fully bite down on her smile when I opened the door.
She was so fucking radiant. I could have stood there all day, just looking at her, talking to her. The way she carried herself, all those thoughts that were so obviously brewing under the surface—I wanted to know everything that ever happened in her mind, every single thing she’d ever loved, ever hated, ever wanted. I desperately needed to know every answer she’d ever want to give to every question the universe could ask.
“Ophelia,” I managed to get out, but I sounded ridiculously breathless. I wasn’t even particularly embarrassed. She was breathtaking and she deserved to know that. “Come on in.”
The whole thing felt exactly like I was introducing the love of my life to my family—and to my sister, who fancied her. How awkward.
She looked down as she walked past me into the house, but her proximity was clearly calculated because she reached her fingertips out to brush against my hand as she moved, and I was about ready to die before we’d even made it to dinner. Nobody had ever made me feel so enthralled in my whole life.
“Fia!” Mum said, appearing in the kitchen doorway as if she hadn’t been eagerly awaiting her arrival.
“Ms.—oh. I just realised I don’t actually know your last name.” Ophelia blinked rapidly.
“It’s still Archer. I liked that a lot better than my maiden name, so I just stuck with it, but that’s irrelevant anyway. Call me Marnie.”
“Marnie. Nice to see you again.”
I blinked. She remembered meeting my mum. At some match a million years ago. She remembered meeting my mum.
Mum smiled. “You too, dear. Only, this time, you’re looking after my other daughter. I should start paying you.”
“That’s really not necessary,” Ophelia said promptly, waving her hands rapidly.
I couldn’t help the snort that escaped me. Given all the things I wanted to do with Ophelia, the idea of my mum paying her felt deeply inappropriate.
“Well,” Soph said, appearing beside Mum, “Eve’s clearly not looking after you very well, so maybe you do need compensation.”
I shot her a look.
She grinned deviously. “Shall I take your coat?”
Fuck. I absolutely should have asked if I could take Ophelia’s coat. How was my younger sister better at this than I was?
Ophelia laughed. “That’s not necessary. Thank you.”
She handed me her bag momentarily to take her own coat off, apparently eager to be rid of it before Soph tried simply taking it from her. At least we all knew Soph was a good partner when she was dating. I, clearly, had some areas for improvement.
I hung Ophelia’s belongings in the coat closet, a little too happy about placing hers next to mine, the two of them touching. I was like a child. And, by the time I was done grinning at a pair of coats, Mum and Soph had led her into the kitchen, gotten through introductions with Terrance, and Soph had claimed the seat next to Ophelia at the breakfast bar.
“Do you remember how much Mr. Haverall used to hate me?” Soph was saying, which seemed to have come from somewhere, but I’d missed the preceding conversation.
“Hate is probably a strong word,” Ophelia hedged, shooting me a look as I stood close behind the two of them.
Soph snorted. “No, it’s not. That guy could not stand me.”
“You refused to listen to him in class,” Mum interjected, shooting her a stern look. “The poor man was exasperated with you.”
Soph threw her arms out in outrage. “He didn’t know what he was talking about! It’s not my fault he wasn’t qualified to do his job.”
“I’m sure he was qualified.”
“Maybe on paper, but he told us loads of stuff that was wrong, and he was a shit teacher.”
Ophelia grimaced. “He was uniquely bad at making a succinct point while teaching,” she allowed.
That annoying, jealous part of me poked at my heart. I hated it. I was not a jealous person and it was entirely irrational. Ophelia wasn’t interested in Soph. But I knew Soph would be taking Ophelia’s support as a good sign.
Terrance laughed. “Is that right?”
Ophelia nodded and lunged into a story about the man in question. I hadn’t been in that class with her. I’d never had Haverall as a teacher. I found myself wishing I’d been there to share the experience with her. I knew it wasn’t realistic or possible, but I wanted to experience everything with her, to share a life with her. Or just to be the place she came home to, to support her as she carved out the exact life she wanted, to be the person she told her stories to.
She cleared her throat as everyone laughed and I lit up at how easily she fit in with them. Even with the risk of Soph flirting with her, my family loved Ophelia. They liked her exactly as she was, and that was magical.
“He did often ask me to talk to Sophie about how she was doing in his class,” she admitted.
Soph cackled. “I knew it! He’d constantly tell me he wasn’t checking in with you, but I always knew he was.”
“It was rather my job to help keep you on track with your classes.”
“Ugh. You know how much I hated all that crap. And, if he wanted me to care more about his class, he needed to teach it better.”
“Let us assume he’s improved as a teacher these days.”
“Doubt it.” Soph shot her a look and it felt like being transported twenty years into the past—Soph, some infatuated young kid, this dynamic I’d never known existed flowing between them.
I just wanted to introduce this woman I adored to my family without having to worry about my sister. Maybe it was a good thing we’d never had similar tastes otherwise. I hated this. Although, if we’d agreed on more things, maybe I’d be more practiced and less jealous.
I cleared my throat. “I’m just running to the loo.”
I winced as I walked away. Plenty of people commented on how American I sounded since living in the US, but that had been obnoxiously British. Like I was trying so hard to be cool and normal that I’d massively overshot and ended up at some Received Pronunciation accent I’d never once in my life used. Smooth.
In the bathroom, I splashed water on my face, careful not to wet my clothes and grateful I wasn’t one for makeup. I could only imagine how much worse things would be if I went to the bathroom and returned with mascara running down my face.
After staring at myself in the mirror for several long moments, willing myself to stop acting like a dick, I shook my head, yanked the door open, and froze.
Leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, was Ophelia.
“Sorry, did you…?” I gestured to the room around me.
She shook her head, a smile growing on her features as she pushed off the wall and approached me.
“I can’t imagine,” she said, amused, as she rested her hands on my shoulders, “that jealousy is a particularly familiar emotion for Eve Archer.”
I groaned, scrunching my face up even as my fingers found her waist before sliding around her back to pull her closer. Touching her was sweet relief. “Am I that transparent?”
“Only to me,” she murmured as my face fell to her shoulder, her neck, breathing her in. “And maybe to your mum. She had a… knowing look when I left the room.”
“Yeah, she’s annoying like that,” I laughed.
“My mum’s the same, don’t worry.”
The way she said it had my heart jolting, like her mum knew she had a crush on me too. For some reason, that made the whole thing feel real. Perhaps because Ophelia gave so few things away to the world. If she’d given that up, it had to be so desperately real to her.
I felt her rising up on her tiptoes as I hugged her tighter, almost picking her up. Even in the bathroom, it felt spectacular, like one of those ridiculously cute shots from a movie. I was just glad I got to live with her.
“You don’t have to worry about Sophie,” she said quietly, one hand teasing gently over the nape of my neck.
“No?”
“Not at all.”
“I think it’s pretty clear Soph’s got a serious crush on you.”
Ophelia breathed a laugh. “Indeed. She’s never been particularly subtle about it, but she knows we’re just friends.”
“Does she?”
“Yes, and I’m happy to spell that out clearly to her. But, either way, it’s not her I’m interested in, Eve.”
I sucked in a deep breath at my name on her lips. I loved the way she said it—loved the way she said everything. “Sorry. I’m not usually like this, I promise.”
“What? Tactile?” she asked humorously. “I’ve seen more than enough of your games to know that’s not true.”
“Not that.” Touching her was possibly the best thing I’d ever felt. She was so soft and warm, toned, strong, fragile, beautiful. She always had been. “Jealous. I don’t think I’ve ever been jealous of anything before. Definitely not with a… um. Well. Person?”
She laughed gently. “We’ve all got something we care about enough to get jealous over, but you don’t need to worry about Sophie. I like her, always have done, but there is nothing remotely romantic about it. She’s not the Archer I spend all my time thinking about.”
My heart raced, my stomach bottomed out again, and my brain buzzed in the most unexpected, delightful way. Ophelia Pendrick thought about me. What had I done to deserve that? “What’s the thing you care enough about?”
“You.”
I was going to die. And I’d go happily. It came to us all eventually, and I couldn’t think of a better way to go than in Ophelia’s arms, breathing her delicate scent in, as she told me she cared about me just as much as I cared about her. I wasn’t sure a better paradise existed. Maybe I was already dead. If this was the afterlife, I was good with that.
“I’m sure Sammy’s a lovely woman but I cannot stand the way she looks at you, touches you. It feels like an inferno inside of me when I see her hitting on you. Of course, I’d never do anything. You’re allowed to be with whoever you want, but, yeah.” She shook her head and I opened my eyes to watch the way her hair danced down her back when she did. It was so perfectly wonderful.
