Page 22 of Try Hard

There was a loaded pause before Row sucked in a sharp breath and said, “I beg your pardon? Tell me everything right now.”

My phone buzzed as it pushed the video call she wanted to switch to. I answered and grinned at her. “You’re allowed your privacy but you need to see my face for the same thing?”

“Yes.” She wafted her hand, batting the question away. “Tell me everything. Who is she? Where’d you meet? What’s she like? What’s going on? Every. Little. Detail.”

I didn’t care that she wanted more details than she was willing to give. She’d get there in her own time. I was already there. All I wanted to do was talk about Ophelia.

I laughed briefly as she stared at me with wide eyes, urging me on, and I gave in. “We went to school together, actually—”

“Is it fucking Ophelia ?” she asked, her mouth hanging open as she waited for the answer.

I did a double take, and not just because ‘Ophelia’ felt private now, a name just for me to call her. “I told you about her?”

Her shoulders dropped, her head tilting. “Oh, I don’t know, Eve, do you think you told your best friend in the world about the first woman you knew you were actually attracted to in a real, tangible way? Yes, you told me about her. Multiple times, actually.”

“Oh. Right.” That was a thing. I’d known I was a lesbian before Ophelia, but the crush I’d developed on her had been like nothing I’d ever felt before. And, now that she reminded me, I did remember bringing her up a few times over the years.

“It is her,” she said triumphantly. “You’re getting it on with Ophelia.”

I winced. “No! We’ve just been hanging out as friends,” I insisted, not sure that was even entirely true. I was tactile, sure, but I didn’t touch my friends nearly as much as I touched her. “Nothing’s happened. And I wouldn’t want to just… hook up with her.”

Row glared at me. “Yes, I know. You’ve been pining over this woman for about twenty-five years at this point.”

“I don’t think it’s been quite that long.”

“Yes, it has.”

I blocked the part of my brain that was automatically pointing out it was exactly that many years. “I’m struggling to comprehend how this call started out about your meeting someone and is now onto calling me out.”

Row laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Just let it in and tell me exactly what’s going on with the woman you’ve been in love with since you were a teenager.”

I held up one finger. “ In love is quite a stretch.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s the tiniest of leans. Barely a stretch at all. But now who’s stalling? Give me the details!”

I looked away, over at the TV that I hadn’t been watching as I’d typed a message to Ophelia.

We’d barely stopped talking all day, and I totally got Row’s confusion over whether it was one conversation or more with her mystery woman.

Sometimes, the conversation was every conversation, all at once.

You just never really stopped or said goodbye.

Life was the things that happened in between your conversations, the things you told the other person about. That was how it felt with Ophelia.

Row spluttered when I didn’t speak. “Wow. I’ve literally never seen you like this. Ophelia must be quite something.”

I scrunched my nose up. “You should call her Fia.”

“Because you don’t like sharing her name?” She eyed me in a very Rohanna way. I wondered if her new love interest knew what she was getting herself into.

“No. Well… yes, I guess.”

“You’ve called her Ophelia the entire time I’ve known you.”

“She goes by Fia.”

“Oh. Fine. Fia it is.”

A grin crept onto my face. “Except, I’m allowed to call her Ophelia.”

“You’re allowed to?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

I shrugged, feeling anything but casual. “She asked me to. Though not around our families, who know her as Fia. Or all these friends we’re running into from school at this wedding.”

“She’s going to the wedding too?”

“She is. And the joint stag/hen party this weekend. And the brunch yesterday…”

“Oh, my god,” she sighed, falling backwards on her bed. “You’re so coming back from this with a wife.”

I laughed, unable to fight off the image of how radiant Ophelia would look standing across from me, saying her vows. “It’s not my wedding.”

“I know that.” She shook her head and sat up again. “The point is that this is too good. And you missed your shot in secondary school, but you’re both adults now. And she’s got to be into you too.”

“You think?” I tried not to sound too hopeful, but between the way Ophelia had tugged at my waistcoat yesterday, and the texts all day today, and the potential flirting—and, hell, just the way I wanted her to want me—I couldn’t help but hope.

“Uh, of course I do. I swear you don’t realise how many women throw themselves at you. You know I’m about to get ten different calls this week from people wanting to hire us just so they can meet you.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not. Your skills and your team did a great job making every woman on the planet want you.”

I laughed. “The straight ones definitely don’t, and at least half of the gay ones don’t either.”

“Incorrect. Did she give you her number?” she asked with barely a breath between the two thoughts, likely in order to prevent me from interrupting.

My insides felt giddy. I didn’t know what it was about being around Ophelia but I was convinced my body and my brain thought we were fifteen again—giddy, hopeful, jittery. Just completely losing my grip on any semblance of sense and dating that I’d developed over the last two decades.

I didn’t mind it. Not with her.

“Actually,” I said, “I gave her my number. And… she messaged.”

Row actually punched the air in celebration, which was a fascinating combination with the incredibly sleek outfit she was wearing. “I knew it! She’s totally into you.”

That was my cue to flop backwards. I held the phone out above me, careful not to drop it on my face again. “I know you’re playing it semi cool with your thing, but, Row, I have no chill at all. She’s amazing. Always has been, always will be. And you have no idea how much I want that to be true.”

“Then why are you talking to me?” she asked, suddenly outraged. “Go call her instead.”

I laughed at her ridiculousness. “ You called me . And I was in the middle of texting her when you did, but I wasn’t going to ignore you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you love me. I love you. Totally platonically, of course.”

“Who is that clarification for?”

“Fia and… well, someone else it might be relevant to at some point in the distant future.”

Maybe it wasn’t so bad being a complete goner for Ophelia.

Sure, I knew I was completely hopeless, but at least I was through the awkward first part of realising I had a crush and feeling weird about it.

I was fully into the please spend your whole life with me phase.

Not a terrible space to be when there was still hope she might someday want that.

Row glared at me. “I’m going now. And you’re going to go text Fia and tell her you love her.”

“Not doing that.”

“You should. It’s written all over your face.”

It wasn’t. We’d only just gotten back in touch. But I knew wanting to get there with her was written all over my face, so I was going to let that slide.

I simply smiled at her. My best friend who had finally found someone she liked enough to eat beans for. And here she was, pushing me off the phone to text a woman I’d eat literal dirt for if she asked me to. “You should text your mystery woman too.”

“It’s definitely too early. I don’t want her to think I’m needy.”

I frowned. “Row, you like attention from the person you’re with—which is completely normal. Don’t feel like you can’t be yourself to win her over. You need to show her who you are, and I’m sure she’ll love you.”

“I hate it when you’re insightful.”

“No, you don’t,” I laughed. “You’re just anxious about this and that’s okay. But she probably is too, and she’ll appreciate you reaching out.”

Row scoffed. “There is no way that woman is anxious about anything. You should see her.”

I smiled softly. Plenty of people would say the same thing about Row, but maybe we were all just a little anxious when it came to matters of the heart. I wasn’t going to let my nerves stop me from messaging Ophelia.