Try hard, p.9
Try Hard, page 9
She eyed me. “She seemed to think you did.”
“Because she was flirting with me?”
Ophelia shrugged, looking across the crowd. “Yeah. And she was annoyed that Tanika and I interrupted you.”
I grinned. “You didn’t. I invited myself into your conversation.”
Something shadowed across her face, some thoughts that went deeper than her words. “And you called me Fia.”
“You called me Archer.”
“I did,” she agreed, and it was there again. Something deeper, something more. I desperately wished that I knew what she was thinking.
I sighed. “I assumed you’d want her to call you Fia, so it seemed easier that way. You know, like with your dad. And Terrance, my mum’s partner. He called me out on it, too, because Soph calls you Fia.”
“Am I dinner conversation at the Archer house?” She was amused. I could have cheered. I’d amused her again. It was rapidly becoming one of my favourite things in the world.
I shook my head, unable to suppress my grin. “Breakfast, actually.”
Her bottom lip disappeared momentarily into her mouth and I was certain she was biting down on her smile. “Oh, of course. My apologies for getting the wrong meal.”
“I think I can forgive you.” I’d forgive her fucking anything.
“How magnanimous.”
“I’m truly a gift to the world.”
She dropped her head towards her chest, breathing the lightest laugh, and I thought I’d die of happiness.
How could she possibly think I’d flirt with Sammy while she was on my mind? Of course, she probably had no idea just how much she was on my mind, how she hadn’t left it for even a second since I’d first spotted her yesterday.
“Maybe don’t let Sammy know your whole family is so eager to talk about me,” she said. “I don’t think she’d like it.”
Sammy was lovely, but I wasn’t planning on telling her anything. I didn’t want to talk to anyone but Ophelia. Even at the wedding, two hundred and fifty people wouldn’t hold a candle to her.
I took a deep breath as subtly as I could, willing my chest to work normally. “I promise Sammy was just after a momentary ego boost. She flirted with an athlete who was nice to her. She’ll move on.”
“Will you?”
I barked a laugh. “Already there.”
“Devastating,” she said, smirking, and I knew she didn’t think the news was devastating at all.
That smirk was, though. The kind of devastating, heartbreaking smirk that destroyed whole worlds.
“Somehow, I think it will be okay,” I said, looking around when someone started calling us all over to the dining area they’d cordoned off for us.
“Did you ask if she wanted Sophie’s number?” she asked lightly, and I knew this was her calling out my repeated efforts to check if she wanted it, but it still rankled something inside of me, some fear it was her actually angling for Soph’s number.
“I did not. Do you think I should?”
She shot me a look, picking up her drink and heading for the tables. “If Sophie’s still the same person she was back then, I can only imagine she’d beat you up if you gave her number to every woman you met.”
“You’re not wrong there.” I walked close to her side. Too close for friends, really. Definitely too close for two people who had never really been friends and only reconnected yesterday, but I couldn’t get myself to step any further away from her. She was like a magnet, one I was more than happy to be swept away by. “She’d hate me giving her number to random women.”
Ophelia watched me with narrowed eyes as she turned sideways to slip through the excited crowd. “And yet you were insistently asking if I wanted it?”
My stomach clenched unpleasantly. “She wouldn’t have been upset about that.”
She was quiet for a moment, looking around to check there was no seating plan, before heading towards one of the tables in the back.
I followed after her like a lost puppy. And happy about it.
When we reached the table she’d picked, a four-seater, I pulled a chair out and gestured her towards it.
She raised her eyebrows and looked at me with a cross between confusion and amusement. But, after a second she sat in the seat, and that felt like a win, too.
“Sophie wanted my number?” she asked when I sat beside her.
“Maybe a little.” More than a little.
Ophelia looked like that was deeply unexpected news, though I couldn’t figure out why. Weren’t women routinely falling at her feet, desperate for her number? Sure, she made jokes about that happening to me, and she wasn’t totally wrong—that was part of the deal with being in the public eye—but the idea that they weren’t doing the same to her was preposterous.
Her gaze slipped over my shoulder and her expression hardened, highlighting again just how much she’d relaxed around me. Even elusive, she let me in more than she did with other people. I’d be riding that high for weeks.
“Watch out,” she warned, picking up her pale blue napkin and lying it in her lap. “Your girlfriend’s on the way over.”
I turned to follow where she’d been looking and, sure enough, Sammy was making her way over with Tanika.
“Ophelia,” I said fiercely. Saying her name, to her face, felt like a firework exploding in my chest.
She looked at me, that carefully curated façade cracking. Something real, vulnerable, a little thunderstruck took over her face, and I was acutely aware of how close I was sitting to her, of the distance between our lips.
She swallowed visibly. “Yes?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“She’s not my girlfriend and I don’t want her to be.”
She nodded slowly as Sammy and Tanika got closer and closer to our table. “Noted, Archer.”
I followed her lead, looking up to welcome the other two to our table, but my whole body was fizzing with a desperate, nervous energy. I needed to throw a ball just in an attempt to chuck the feelings away with it.
How was it possible she wasn’t feeling the same way?
Chapter Eleven
Fia
Eve laughed at something Sammy said and scrubbed a hand through her brown hair. It had so much volume and thickness, highlighted by the way she had it brushed to the side. And, while my eyes traced her movements, a significant amount of my brain was being consumed by the fact that her other arm was stretched along the back of my chair.
It seemed to be preoccupying Sammy’s brain too, if the way she kept glancing over was anything to go by. I almost felt bad.
“Ooh, looks like the food is here,” Tanika said, her voice sing-songy and excited.
“You must make the office such a fun place to be,” Eve told her, a huge grin on her face.
“You know it. I’m in charge of staff birthdays, so those are the best days.”
She worked in some kind of admin job that she didn’t give many details about, mostly because the job itself was a little boring, apparently, but I was kind of with Eve. Even if your job was soul-sucking, I could only imagine having Tanika in the office brightened things up.
The staff arrived while she was talking, placing our dishes in front of us with big, bright smiles. Tanika shot me a pointed look after warmly thanking the one who placed her plate down, someone she’d deemed my type.
I returned the same deadpan look I’d given her at the bar. I had no interest in picking anyone up. But I knew what she was like. Determined.
Eve kept her left arm along my chair as she picked up her fork. She’d ordered American pancakes—the ones with passion fruit—and I couldn’t help thinking she was going to need both hands to cut through them, but she clearly didn’t have the same concern.
Sammy bit into her food and made the universal sound that came after eating something too hot, fanning a hand in front of her face. “Shit. That’s almost as hot as some of the celebrities that have been gracing us with their presence,” she said once she’d swallowed the mouthful and chased it with a gulp of the cocktail she was drinking.
I fought the urge to shoot Eve a look. That was not subtle at all. I was pretty sure Eve was the only celebrity at this thing, and, even if she hadn’t been, that still would not have been a particularly subtle comment.
Tanika laughed, turning her focus on Eve. “You must get a lot of attention wherever you go, right? Like, I’m straight, but you’re clearly hot, and you’re a famous athlete and everything.”
I cut into my avocado toast, refusing to get involved in the conversation. I’d basically told Eve the same thing and she’d tried to fight me on it. I wondered if she’d do the same with Tanika—a woman notoriously stubborn and optimistic. It was a difficult combination to beat.
Eve hummed. “A little. It’s not like I’m a men’s football player, but, you know, after the Olympics, and how well the team was doing, social media stuff, and… some of the photoshoots I did… Well, there’s a sizeable following and people do tend to be enthusiastic when I meet them.”
Tanika scoffed. “Please, everyone knows that the lesbians have been obsessed with you forever.”
“Am I supposed to be sad about that?” she replied, laughing, and I finally looked at her, her deep blue eyes already on me.
“No, but you don’t have to feign modesty,” Tanika said.
“It’s not fake,” Eve said, offering me a small, secret smile before she looked at Tanika. “That’s not what I do anymore. It was great while it lasted, but it’s not going to stick around. Honestly, it’s a wonder it’s lasted this long. And, even while you’re actively playing, it’s not like you don’t get bad press, or, you know, the expectations, and it’s, sadly, still nothing like men’s sports in terms of… well, pay, audiences, all that stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tanika said, waving her hand. “Of course we can get into all of the politics of it, but that’s not really the point right now. The point is that you’re hot, a celebrity, and you must get women throwing themselves at you all the time.”
Eve shrugged. “Sure, sometimes. But I’ll take that over the guys who feel the need to tell me I’m kind of hot but too muscular.”
I frowned. She said it lightly, but I could only imagine it would be annoying. Eve was a lesbian, so it wasn’t like she’d date any men, but I’d seen the comments online from those guys too. The ones saying she looked too masculine, that she’d be better with smaller muscles and bigger boobs.
Correctly, they usually got laughed out of her comments by all of the people who found her perfect as she was, but that didn’t mean that the comments never hurt.
Too fat, too thin, too strong, too weak… where did it end? When were women just allowed to be?
“They’re wrong,” I said firmly, looking at Eve. “You don’t need to be less anything.”
She smiled softly at me, but there was a question in her eyes, one I knew she wasn’t going to ask. Still, I couldn’t help wondering what it was.
“Too right,” Tanika agreed, and Sammy nodded enthusiastically.
“Absolutely,” she coughed through the latest bite of her food.
Eve’s smile changed as she looked across the table at the two of them. “Thank you, all, but it’s not something I give much attention to these days. I know who I am and I’m not changing it.”
I almost jumped when two fingers stroked my back. Eve’s obviously, but she wasn’t looking at me. Just a private, grateful gesture that tingled across my skin.
Tanika laughed. “I mean, the people you want to be interested are interested, so…”
“I guess that’s true,” Eve allowed, and her fingers moved from against my back, but from the tiny shifts I could feel against my head, I was almost certain she was playing with my hair.
My heart pounded like we were back in school—where she’d never touched me or my hair. But why did she still have to be so ridiculously attractive and good and sweet? It was hard not to be drawn in by her, but I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Plus, she had plenty of women throwing themselves at her. There was no way she needed or wanted me in all of that.
Sammy raised her glass in cheers. “Can confirm you’re giving the sapphics exactly what we want.”
Eve blew an amused sound through her nose, cutting into her pancakes with just her fork. “Anyway.” She shook her head. “Sammy, what is it you do for a living?”
Sammy sat up straighter under Eve’s attention, smiling and blushing a little.
Did Eve really not recognise what she was doing to the woman? She must not. She wasn’t the type of person to play with the feelings of others for fun.
“Oh, I work in a nursery—the human kind,” she said, laughing on the clarification that she worked with tiny people, not tiny plants.
“Ah, your days must be chaotic,” Eve said, and her fingers were definitely playing in my hair.
She’d been tactile with her friends at school. The whole group of them had been—always hugging, high fiving, and the like. Ordinarily, I didn’t let people touch me this much. My family, sure, and former partners had, but it had been a minute. Other people, not so much. Playing with my hair was intimate. It was partner behaviour. But, it felt okay with Eve. And it wasn’t partner behaviour with her. Maybe that was why it felt okay. I’d seen her do her friends’ hair back in school, back when I’d been so desperately hoping to be closer to her, even when I knew that would never happen.
I glanced across the table at Tanika as Sammy talked at length about her job and how exhausted it left her, and it felt like slamming into a wall. Her eyes were full of accusations and that was the moment I remembered she’d known. Back in school. We’d been close. She’d spotted the ways I looked at Eve back then. She’d known I was bi before I’d even told her—so she’d admitted once I finally did come out to her.
And she was looking at me that same way. Like she knew something was happening.
I scowled at her, shaking my head almost imperceptibly.
She couldn’t know that Eve was touching me. She couldn’t be reading something into it.
But she could see the way I was looking at Eve. Was it still there? On my face? That look that she’d been my gay awakening, the fact that she was still one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen.
It was different. We were older now, finally becoming friends, maybe. But I’d spent several of my formative years looking at her like I wanted her. Maybe it was hard to look at her any other way.
“Can I get you more drinks?” a waiter asked, startling me and causing Tanika to laugh. She was absolutely smug. Shit.
“Orange juice, please,” I said after Tanika had ordered herself another mimosa.
“Same here,” Eve added, leaning a little closer to me. “Thanks.”
The scent of washing powder and whatever light perfume she was wearing hit me and all of it made me feel like I was falling down a hill, swimming without knowing how.
Couldn’t she have spent the last twenty years becoming a terrible person who smelled bad?
Sammy giggled. “Didn’t you get a lift with Alara? You can have a little cocktail with us since you’re not driving.”
I looked at Eve. That explained why she hadn’t said she needed to leave our conversation to drive when I’d pointed out needing to do so. I didn’t know who Alara was, but I was fairly sure I’d heard Kim say the name earlier, so she might have been one of the many bridesmaids.
Eve leaned back in her seat, returning to what was left of her pancakes. “I like to keep a clear head.”
“I don’t.” Sammy winked at Eve, and I couldn’t decide if the cocktails were starting to get to her or whether she was feeling bolstered by Eve’s interest in her job. Or whether she was simply feeling the pressure of dwindling time with Eve in which she could make a move.
True to her word, Eve hadn’t actually flirted with Sammy. She was friendly—very friendly—and Sammy wouldn’t be the first person to misconstrue that with flirting, but Eve really had not flirted with her.
She’d find someone, but I doubted it would be Eve.
A small, annoying part of me was glad. The knowledge soothed the part that had felt sick earlier. And, really, that was the sign that seeing Eve again had brought at least some of those teenage feelings rushing back, wasn’t it?
Inconvenient, intrusive, incompatible with my life. But there. Just… there.
Sammy stood, wiggling her hips a little like she had been doing at the bar, attempting to draw Eve’s attention to the fitted jeans. “I’ll be right back.”
She sashayed away, heading for the bathrooms. Eve wasn’t watching. One of the staff members was, though. Distracted from their job and following her movements across the room.
Eve leaned closer to me again, the scent of her completely overwhelming. She had no right to smell so very beautiful.
“You have to try this passion fruit puree,” she said, holding her fork out towards me.
Tanika cleared her throat to cover a laugh, and I saw her determinedly looking down at her own plate in my peripheral vision.
I looked from the fork to Eve. “You don’t need to give me your food, Archer.”
She grinned, looking almost triumphant. “I know. But you need to taste this. You’re going to love it.”
Had she read my articles? More than once I’d written about passion fruit—drinks, meals, straight from the epicarp. Why did I even know that word? Why was I so overwhelmed it was the only word coming to mind?
I loved passion fruit. And Eve Archer seemed to know that.
She bobbed her fork a little, inviting me to take it. I was supposed to just… let her feed me?
Like a mesmerised fool, I leaned in and accepted the bite.
Had anyone ever denied Eve Archer something she wanted? If memory served, people had practically tripped over themselves to give her what she wanted.
I nodded as I swallowed. “Not bad.”
“Oh, damned by faint praise?” she asked, smirking. “For the poor passion fruits?”
I rolled my eyes and slid my plate towards her. “The passion fruit is great. Try the pico de gallo.”
She looked like she’d won the lottery even if I wasn’t feeding her. She did, however, help herself to my knife and fork to try it.
