Try hard, p.8
Try Hard, page 8
I saw the dark screen of the phone light up in the cup holder with whatever her reply was, but the car was already in drive, so it would have to wait for later. Even as a part of me would much rather have stayed home and texted Eve—no matter how weird she was about trying to give me Sophie’s number.
The drive to Sunny Monday’s—named for the owner, not for the day of the week, which was almost universally derided rather than considered sunny—wasn’t too bad, thankfully. A good forty minutes from my parents’ place, but, once I arrived, I could see why Kim had picked it. Looking right out over the English Channel, the morning sun dancing across the waves, it was a beautiful spot for a restaurant. I’d looked the place up online ahead of time and knew its food was also beautifully presented—also to check how much I should be eating for breakfast to ensure the correct level of hunger for brunch, depending on its offerings. Sure, some people would show up having not eaten at all, but when you woke up to go swimming at six in the morning like I did, breakfast was nonnegotiable. I absolutely was not going to show up with a rumbling stomach.
The car park was moderately full and I wondered how many of them were here for Kim’s pre-wedding brunch. She’d billed it as an intimate gathering, just the girls, but I had no idea what that meant for Kim. She’d always been a tad more social than I was, and it had been a long time since we’d last seen each other. Who was to say what her definition of an intimate gathering was these days? Especially since, whatever it was, it included inviting a former secondary school friend she hadn’t seen for two decades.
I made it through the glass panel door in its wooden trim and into a pastel palace. To go with its name, most of the interior was a pale, sunny yellow, broken up by soft blue accents. On a morning like this one, the decor created the illusion that you’d barely even stepped in from the outdoors. On a more stereotypical British day, I could only imagine people came here to lie to themselves about how dreary the weather was.
A member of staff—in a coordinated uniform—approached me, but they were cut off by an excited scream.
“Fia! You made it!” Kim said, practically throwing herself at me, with, I could only imagine, little regard for whoever she’d just been in conversation with.
“I did,” I confirmed, unnecessarily. My whole body stiffened as she threw her arms around my neck. I didn’t mind huggers, but it felt a little odd from someone I now barely knew—and with whom I’d never had a particularly huggy relationship to begin with. But, it was her wedding celebration and she deserved to be happy.
She stepped back and I took in the familiar but different Kim. Same dark hair and blue eyes I’d known in school, but cut and styled differently. And, as I glanced at the shimmering white mini dress, it occurred to me that I’d only ever seen her out of a school uniform on a handful of occasions. We’d never been the kind of friends who hung out much outside of school. Sure, we’d sat together in a bunch of classes and hung out at break and lunch, but that didn’t really explain why she’d felt the need to invite me—or why I’d agreed. Hadn’t we been the kind of friends you forgot once you weren’t in the same space every day?
I smiled. “You look great, Kim. Congratulations.”
She glowed, smiling and shutting her eyes to momentarily soak in the praise, before she looped her arm through mine. “I’m so glad you could make it. Great outfit, by the way, hun.”
I nodded to the member of staff who had simply smiled and stepped unobtrusively to the side when they’d realised who I was with, and allowed myself to be led through the pastel palace.
“We’re just over here,” Kim said as we rounded the bar. And, sure enough, there we all were. Loads of us.
I’d never met Kim’s mum but she wasn’t hard to spot, almost a carbon copy of Kim, just twenty years older and in pale blue. From her, my eyes bounced around at least twenty women, all of them in pretty, pastel dresses. Lots of florals, lots of spring/summer vibes. The dresses were beautiful but I wondered if I’d missed the dress code.
I cleared my throat and leaned towards Kim’s ear. “Were we all supposed to wear—”
Kim laughed, cutting me off. “Oh, no. Don’t worry about it. That’s just our style. We’re almost always all wearing the same thing when we get together. Great minds!”
“Right.” I nodded, wondering whether there was a subtle dig in there. By showing up in a relaxed pantsuit I was not, in fact, one of those great minds. At least I hadn’t gone with a black one. Sure, navy wasn’t pastel, but it was inoffensive, neutral, slightly more relaxed than black.
The crowd parted as Kim made to introduce me to people and I was relieved to find she hadn’t simply been being nice by avoiding telling me I’d ignored the dress code. I learned the large group in floral dresses hadn’t planned their outfits exactly, but they were twenty of Kim’s closest friends and they were all bridesmaids.
I fought against a horrified frown. There was nothing intimate about a gathering or a wedding that involved twenty bridesmaids. She might not have lied to me about the dress code, but she’d sure as hell lied about the size of the wedding. And this was only a fraction of the people who would be there.
Why am I here? The question screamed itself unrelentingly in my head. Sure, I was reintroduced to three other women we’d gone to school with, but they were in floral dresses. They were bridesmaids. They were people Kim kept in touch with.
I startled when I heard an achingly familiar laugh from somewhere behind me. After all this time, and only one day of being reacquainted, the laughter shouldn’t have been familiar. It absolutely should not have felt like a beacon calling out to me.
I politely excused myself from Kim’s side, grateful she was distracted by one of the other guests, and weaved through the crowd—the biggest brunch gathering I’d ever seen in my life—until there, totally in her element, was Eve Archer, leaning against the bar, one leg crossed over the other. She was the picture of relaxation.
She was also the picture of sapphic dreams the world over. Sage green trousers and a waistcoat. No shirt. No jacket. Just muscles for days.
And she was talking to a woman in skin-tight jeans who had obviously noticed. I watched as she threw her head back, laughed, stroked Eve’s bicep, and somehow managed to cock her hip to show off just how much it looked like those jeans had been made for her.
The whole scene felt like I was intruding on something and made me feel vaguely sick.
“Fia!” a cheery voice called, and my face hardened as the sound cut through my frozen observation of a conversation I was never meant to be a part of.
Right as I turned towards the voice, I saw Eve move—standing up, turning away from the gorgeous woman she was chatting with, and, ever so briefly, catching my eye. I riled against the weird flurry of sickness and awkwardness, forcing on a smile as I looked into dark brown eyes I hadn’t seen in years.
I cleared my throat. “Tanika. Nice to see you.”
She laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Let us hope that’s not true—for everyone’s sake.” I registered the pretty coral dress she had on and its smattering of tiny flowers. “Are you a bridesmaid too?”
She beamed. “I am! Kim and I ended up getting back in touch seven years ago when I started dating her cousin.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. The relationship didn’t last, but my friendship with Kim did.”
“My condolences on the breakup.”
Tanika laughed. “Don’t even worry about it. I met the best guy about six months after we split and now we’re blissfully married.”
“I’m happy for you,” I said, meaning it.
She looped her arm through mine and squeezed me closer into her side. Back in school, linking arms with your friends had been all the rage, so it wasn’t like we’d never done that before, but it had been a good minute. It gave me flashbacks to walking from our English classroom to the sports hall.
“How about you?” she asked, conspiratorially. “Married? Serious relationship? Casual relationships? Married to that wild and wondrous job of yours?”
I breathed an almost laugh, allowing her to lead me forwards, towards the bar. I’d run into her once, quite a few years back, right around the time I’d just started my job. However, in Eddlesworth, she hadn’t needed me to tell her what I was doing with my life. “Something like that last one, I suppose.”
“Oh, well, you know what they say about weddings…”
“Someone’s getting married.”
Tanika laughed and settled us at the bar, mere feet from Eve and her friend. “No, silly. That it’s a great place to meet someone.”
“No. Thank you.”
“You really haven’t changed.”
I rolled my eyes and pretended I couldn’t feel Eve watching me.
Tanika ordered a drink before looking back at me. “Mimosa? Bloody Mary? Something else?”
“Orange juice, please,” I replied, glancing at the bartender. “I’m driving.”
“You got it,” he said with an overly warm smile.
Tanika nudged me as he moved away. “What about him? He’s cute.”
I stared at her deadpan.
Unfazed, she laughed again and shook her head. “That’s a no.”
“Indeed.” I glanced around the room. “So, this wedding is going to be a big one, huh?”
She shot me a knowing look. “What clued you in?”
“The fact that you’re about the fortieth bridesmaid I’ve met. Nice dress, by the way.”
Tanika grabbed the skirt of it and twirled. I could see Eve and her friend watching now.
My heart pounded painfully.
The bartender placed our drinks on the counter before us, moving away before we could pay.
“Kim’s got a tab,” Tanika explained at my confused expression. “But, seriously, there are nineteen bridesmaids, two maids of honour, six flower girls, four pageboys, two best men, and nineteen groomsmen.”
I blew out a breath. “I can’t even think of nineteen people I like, let alone ones I’d invite to be my bridesmaids.”
“And nobody is surprised about that.”
I shot her a look, eyebrows raised.
When we’d first met, Tanika had been every bit as shy as I was. Two kids, placed next to each other in a history class by a seating plan. But, over the weeks, we’d warmed up to each other, become friends—and we had a lot of classes together. It was nice to see a familiar face in the crowds. We’d become friends. But, as we got older, Tanika had gotten more outgoing, more bubbly. That was great for her, and it hadn’t impacted our friendship, but I’d never travelled that same path.
She grinned as if she could tell exactly what I was thinking. “And there’s about two hundred and fifty guests.”
My brow furrowed and I worked to keep my posture relaxed. The effort was in vain. Tanika could already see through me, and things got even worse when Eve cleared her throat and said, “Don’t worry, Fia, I’ll keep you safe in the crowds.”
Chapter Ten
Eve
“Archer,” Ophelia said, shooting me one of her characteristically guarded looks. “I didn’t even know you were attending.”
She looked beautiful. That navy blue suit fit her like a dream. Her hair was a flash of fire against it and, like a fool, all I wanted was to fly into the flames.
I could tell she was thinking about the fact that I’d been texting her when she was getting ready to leave. Our parents didn’t live far apart. She knew I’d have needed to leave around the same time to make it here. I hadn’t been trying to keep it from her. I hadn’t realised we were headed to the same place. And, honestly, I hadn’t wanted to admit I was completely ignoring the person giving me a ride to text her instead.
I smiled, holding her gaze and attempting to seem casual, as if her attention didn’t fill me with enough energy to run an entire pitch without breaking a sweat. “I didn’t know you were either, but I can’t say I’m disappointed.”
She sucked in a breath that felt so similar to other breaths I’d seen people take. That look, that pause… It was usually followed by flirting, kissing, sexual tension. I wasn’t foolish enough to assume it was the same thing with Ophelia—just foolish enough to wish it was.
Her gaze flickered to the woman beside me—Sammy, Kim’s future cousin-in-law and one of the many, many bridesmaids Ophelia and Tanika were talking about. I got the feeling Ophelia wasn’t taking to her, but then, Ophelia didn’t take to many people. She managed to get along fine with them, but she didn’t like them. Back in school, far more people had liked her than she’d ever seemed to like or feel comfortable around. It was part of why she was so intimidating—and part of why getting even a smile from her felt like winning an Olympic medal. Well… I’d done that too and getting smiles from Ophelia was ten times more challenging.
“I’m Sammy,” she said, reaching a hand towards Ophelia, suddenly equally guarded. “I’m Kieran’s cousin. The groom, you know.”
“Fia,” she replied, a placid smile on her face as she returned the handshake. “I went to school with Kim and Kieran.”
“Yeah, she’s mentioned you, actually,” Sammy said, and I could sense the tense undercurrent in her tone, a million miles from how she’d been five minutes ago.
I wasn’t ignorant enough not to put the pieces together, but I was busy trying not to beam over the fact that Ophelia had introduced herself as Fia—and over the fact that she’d referred to me by only my last name again. Sure, some people did that to keep a distance between you and them, and, sure, as an athlete, I’d had plenty of people just call me Archer over the years, but it felt different with Ophelia. A public callback to our private conversation. Not anything others would bat an eyelid at, but something just the two of us fully understood.
“Interesting,” Ophelia said plainly.
I’d seen her be less standoffish with people—though I’d seen her be more so too—but there was still something magnetic about her. Perhaps it was from the fact that she’d never given into that subtle training that women needed to be pleasant and polite and constantly nice.
Sammy seemed to be having a difficult time figuring her out, too. The predominant emotion was annoyance at having our conversation interrupted. “It’s going to be a beautiful wedding.”
“I know,” Ophelia said, more genuine now, and she glanced at the gathered crowd. “If all the bridesmaids can inadvertently coordinate on such pretty florals for a casual brunch, I can only imagine how beautiful the actual day will be.”
Sammy faltered, more confused than ever by Ophelia. But that was her all over—standoffish but not unkind. She’d even taken a vacation from her life to come to an old school friend’s wedding. There was a weird energy between her and Sammy, but she was still kind enough to support Kim. She hadn’t even needed to compliment the florals—most of the bridesmaids were wearing dresses, but she’d commented specifically on the florals to include Sammy in her jeans and floral shirt.
Ophelia was that complicated book again, and all I wanted was to get inside and read every page.
“Fia here is a writer,” Tanika cut in. “She travels all over the world seeing glorious places, so I guess we know we’ve made it if she thinks it’s beautiful!”
Ophelia shot her a sweet look, and I hated the tiny twinge of jealousy that shot up inside me. I wasn’t generally a jealous person, and Tanika had a husband she adored—and Ophelia barely even liked people. But she and Tanika had been friends at school. Close ones. She’d always had a part of Ophelia I never had, and I wished I knew how to get there.
“Right. The travel thing. Kim mentioned.” Sammy cleared her throat. “Tanika, we should go check in with her actually. It’ll be time to eat soon.”
Tanika beamed, the only one who seemed oblivious to the tension in the air, and gripped Ophelia’s shoulders briefly. “We’ll catch up properly in a bit, yeah?” And she ran off with Sammy without waiting for an answer.
Ophelia sipped her orange juice, watching them go and pretending she didn’t see me sliding closer to her. “I don’t think your friend likes me.”
I laughed. “Did you want her to?”
She shrugged. “I don’t want to make things complicated for Kim.” She shot me a quick, sidelong look. “Or you.”
I ignored the way my heart swooped. “I only just met her. She seems nice enough, but it’s hardly going to impact my life.”
“In my experience, people who spend that long touching someone’s biceps aren’t looking to remain random, casual acquaintances.”
“Is this you telling me you regularly have people feeling up those swimmer’s arms of yours?”
Her face crumpled hilariously with disgust. “Absolutely not. It’s me pointing out that Sammy was flirting with you. Do people hit on you everywhere you go?”
I snorted. “No.” It was just my luck that I’d been in two different places with her and she wasn’t the one hitting on me.
“At least you’re not denying the fact that you were being hit on this time.”
I looked her over. That could be jealousy from someone else, but she didn’t seem jealous. She seemed the same as always. I shrugged. “She was a little obvious, but it’s nothing serious.”
“You’re not interested?”
“No. And I don’t really think she is, either.”
Her eyes were wide when she looked at me and placed her glass back on the bar. “Are you serious? Of course she is. She was practically drooling over you.”
Jealousy? Ophelia had nothing to be jealous of. But, of course, she still didn’t actually seem interested—just like she was annoyed with me for being oblivious.
I sipped the remnants of my own drink. “We’ve been through this,” I told her, amused. “People like to flirt with celebrities. It makes them feel good. It’s not really about me.”
“You were just giving her day a boost by flirting with her.” Her tone was so flat, so unbothered.
“I didn’t flirt with her.”
