Page 12 of Try Hard

Fia

I frowned at my phone—at Eve’s response to my comment that I was about to drive so needed to go.

And you’re sure you don’t want Soph’s number?

What kind of reply was that? And how had she come back to it after two hours of on and off messaging about other things?

All through my breakfast, all through watching my mum and dad get ready and run out the door for their usual Sunday morning breakfast with the Singh-Yuns, a gay couple they’d met by coincidentally eating breakfast in the same place for a month before they’d broken the ice, became friends, and decided to purposefully meet for breakfast, and around my second, proper shower of the morning.

The one at the pool was more a quick rinse than anything else, enough to get me through breakfast, but then I needed an actual shower.

I sighed, confused. Yes, Archer, I’m sure I don’t need your sister’s number.

Texting Eve had been difficult enough. What did she think I’d have to say to Sophie?

Sure, if we ran into each other—as it now felt inevitable we would—we’d make conversation, and I was sure she’d update me on her life since the last time I saw her, but I had no interest in randomly texting her, out of the blue, just to… ask? Say hi? I didn’t even know.

And was Eve supposed to be handing out Sophie’s number to everyone she met? Was it a bid to get Sophie more customers? Weird approach, but at least it would make some sense.

I wasn’t tattooed, though. Not that Eve would know that from how wrapped up I was yesterday.

Did I strike her as someone with a lot of tattoos?

That was for people with more tolerance for ongoing needle pain than I had.

I, clearly, was the quick in, stab, get out again kind of customer.

And, while I would consider getting a tattoo at some point, I hadn’t mentioned an itching desire for one to Eve.

Oh, hitting me with the surname! Am I in trouble?

I narrowed my eyes and paused to check my hair and makeup in the mirror before replying.

You will be if you keep trying to push Sophie’s number on people.

I can’t imagine she’s too pleased at how readily you’re trying to give it out.

I shook my head and headed for my car, sending a quick second text. I’m in the car now. Later, Archer.

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.”