Page 27 of Try Hard

Eve

Playing while I knew Ophelia was watching was a new experience entirely. Her hair constantly reminded me of the most mesmerising fire, but, running down the field with her eyes on me felt like I was the one who’d been set alight. I loved it.

Even when I wasn’t in possession of the ball or holding up a scrum, I could feel her gaze on me.

Every break in play was an opportunity to look her way, find her eyes glued to me, and drink in how beautiful and alive she looked.

As far as I could tell, even when Brooke was talking to her, she was mostly looking at me—which I knew Brooke wouldn’t mind.

Eight years since she’d met Hurley and the two of them still couldn’t keep their eyes off each other.

They were the poster children for deep, happy love, and I relished seeing it.

I loved seeing Ophelia chatting with my friends. She was still so completely herself, but she fit in, they got her. It felt like she belonged there—with me, with my friends.

Luna nudged me as we set up for what would likely be the last scrum of the game and I reluctantly pulled my gaze away from the proud, secret smile Ophelia was giving me.

She laughed as she took in the look on my face. “I’m glad you’re one of those people for whom falling in love spurs you on, rather than those people who can’t get their heads in the game as soon as a pretty person enters it.”

I moved around her so I could look up into her face without the glare of the floodlights. “The double standards are ridiculous in this place.”

Luna gasped theatrically. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

I shot her a dark look as I took my spot. She rewarded me with another laugh. As if we all hadn’t been perfectly patient with her game of fifteen fumbles the first time she brought her girlfriend around.

The two of them were another gorgeous couple. The team seemed to be full of them. And Luna brought Avery to almost every game these days, managing to not get so distracted she fumbled the ball every time she touched it.

The scrum started and bodies pressed into mine with force, my own colliding with those around me.

I couldn’t help wondering how it felt for Ophelia to watch.

My mum had always said that, aside from actual injuries, scrums worried her the most when she was watching a match.

Was it the same way for Ophelia? Or did it feel like being in them did—a rush?

The final minutes were a blur of pushing the ball forward and keeping it in play until the clock ran out. We didn’t squeeze in a final try, but knowing we’d won with Ophelia watching felt like we had.

The second the game was over, I beelined for her. Ophelia was the only thought in my head, like a beacon calling me home. She was cheering like we’d won the World Cup. Seeing her there, pulling her up into my arms, and spinning us around together felt like we had.

She squealed—a sound I was certain she’d think was undignified, but I loved it. “You’re supposed to be celebrating with your team,” she told me.

“In a sec,” I called back, inhaling the scent of her as I stopped spinning and simply held her close. “I celebrate with them every week.”

She breathed a laugh, holding me just as tightly. “You win every week, do you? No beating the famous Eve Archer, even in retirement.”

She was joking but she didn’t sound surprised by the idea. It was as if she really thought I was good enough that my team won every match. Rugby didn’t work like that, but I couldn’t help the happiness that sparked my insides from her belief in me.

“We do not,” I told her. “Seems like you’ll have to be here every week, good luck charm that you are.”

She hummed, and my brain was clearly prioritising every little thing about her because, with the noise of the pitch, the sound should have been lost, but all I could focus on was her little hum and the way she nuzzled her face into my shoulder, apparently unafraid of how filthy I was post-match.

“No place else I’d rather be, Archer,” she said quietly a moment later.

I could have exploded from happiness.

However, after another second, Ophelia laughed and looked up. “I think they want you.”

I groaned, finally stepping back from her. “I’ll be right back.”

Hurley met me halfway, and I assumed it had been them yelling my name and interrupting my moment with Ophelia.

They gave me a knowing look. “This is the hardest launch this team’s ever had and we’re all a bunch of saps.”

“We’re not launching anything.”

“Tell that to your devastated superfans.”

I sucked a breath through my teeth and glanced in the direction of the group wearing my face. There was a pretty even split between people swooning over my moment with Ophelia and those clearly wishing it had been them.

“It’ll be all over the internet before you know it,” Hurley pointed out.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s a handful of people, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

They shot me a doubtful look as I glanced across Luna kissing Avery and Brooke walking back over to Ophelia.

“Don’t worry,” Luna said when she broke away from Avery. “We did our best to block any pics. Everyone got the feeling Fia wouldn’t like them.”

I shot the pair of them grateful smiles. I hadn’t thought about pictures or press or anything like that when I’d run straight to Ophelia. I’d simply felt elated and she was the one I wanted to feel it with.

We probably needed to have a conversation about that whole thing. Nerves shot through me. Ophelia enjoyed her privacy. She didn’t want to be the personality on camera. I was nowhere close to being an A-List celeb, but would the small amount of celebrity I had be too much for her?

Hurley clapped a hand on my shoulder, sensing the need for a change of subject. “I hear your girl knows rugby.”

I laughed despite myself. I probably should have denied her being my girl, but I didn’t want to. “Brooke’s been giving you the report already?”

“You know it. And she seems to think Fia’s been watching you for quite some time.”

I held my hands out in question. “Why are we assuming I’m the reason she knows the rules?”

They snorted. “Because you clearly are.”

Luna smiled widely. “It is really sweet how she couldn’t keep her eyes off you. Like, I looked at her when I scored at one point and she barely seemed to register it. Too busy watching you .”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” I said, but I couldn’t help glowing.

The fan club and the attention might be a problem, but, from my perspective, I’d felt like any other player who had someone they cared about watching, someone they wanted to impress.

The crowd could have been ten times the size and I’d still have only cared about Ophelia.

I was really glad the crowd was not that size, though. I’d played my larger crowds. I wasn’t interested in having my casual, weekly game destroyed by all of that.

Hurley flicked my shoulder. “It’s true. Deal with it. The woman is just as into you as you are her, and everyone here knows it.”

I couldn’t help turning back to look at Ophelia. Sure enough, she was talking to Brooke but her eyes found mine the second I glanced in her direction.

“See?” Hurley poked me again as they laughed, the rest of the team joining in.

“We’re happy for you,” Luna said, moving to get us all into a loose formation for a team photo—a tradition after every winning match.

I shook my head, getting in with the rest of the team for the shot.

Between my mum and the team—and how Ophelia was with me—I couldn’t help but feel elated and hopeful.

Of course, there was still a part of me that just felt like that following a win.

Even after years in the game, every win still felt like a triumphant gift.

One I still spent every day working for, even as I was working for other things too.

How much sweeter all of those things were with Ophelia here to witness them.

The team cheered and Dai took the photo, his refreshments stand now packed back into his car. He’d send it out to us all before the end of the night.

The team disbanded, people racing off home, calling out about seeing each other next week—an important game against our biggest rivals—and I joined in, but mostly, my mind was on Ophelia, beaming at me as I made my way back to her.

Unable to help myself, I paused a couple of feet from her and dropped into position like a player from the opposing team was about to charge me.

Her eyes became comically wide and she laughed in surprise, but she didn’t move as I charged and scooped her up with ease.

She was a lot lighter than many of the rugby players I went up against—a lot lighter than I was.

Unsurprising given it was my job to be sturdy and difficult to move, really, but she didn’t seem put off by that.

“Oh, my god,” she squealed, gripping tight to the sides of my jersey as she was slung over my shoulder a lot more carefully than I tackled people on the pitch. “Eve!”

I laughed, glowing as she said my first name. Perfect, lyrical, ethereal in her voice. A gift to be the name she was saying, to know that, while I loved her using my last name, I was still Eve to her.

“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “I’m not going to drop you.”

“Interestingly, not my concern,” she replied, her usual bite back in her tone, but I could hear her enjoyment too. I loved every second of it.

“Oh? What are you afraid of?”

“That I’ll drop myself.”

I laughed again. “I’m very good at my job, Ophelia. I don’t let go of things once they’re in my grasp.”

“Yes, yes. I know your record and how great you are, but that’s not helping me when I’m dangling over your shoulder.”

I bent my knees and put her down on the field again.

She shook her head at me but her eyes were so alive.

“Have fun?” I asked, gripping the edges of my grass-stained, mud-streaked jersey and yanking it over my head.

“With the game or being thrown over your shoulder?” she asked, her voice a little distracted.

I looked at her, concerned, and my heart took off racing. Her eyes ran over my now exposed stomach, tracing the muscles I worked hard to keep toned.

Even in the short time I’d been hanging out with Ophelia again, I’d noticed she had a complicated relationship with physical compliments—something beyond the fact that Brits were notoriously uncomfortable with compliments generally.

I got the sense she wasn’t the type to be interested in someone simply for their looks, and I’d had more than enough people interested in me for superficial reasons.

If everyone was right and she was interested in more than friendship, I wasn’t worried it was because of my abs.

That didn’t mean, however, that I didn’t enjoy her looking at them.

I stayed still, watching her in amazement as she took me in, waiting until she’d had her fill. I wasn’t the kind of fool who walked away from Ophelia Pendrick checking them out.

Eventually, her brain seemed to catch up and she turned bright red, cleared her throat, and looked away.

“Both, obviously,” I said, curious over whether she’d even remember the conversation we’d been having.

She furrowed her brow, trying to place it. “Indeed,” she said with a curt nod, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You aren’t worried about your fans taking pictures of you?”

I knelt by my bag, pulling out a sweatshirt for the drive home. “They won’t be the first pictures of me in a sports bra out there.”

“I guess that’s true.”

I zipped my bag, pulled the jumper over my head, and stood before her, my expression more serious. “Are you worried about the pictures they got of us together?”

She sucked in a slow, audible breath. “Maybe.”

“I’m sorry. I should have thought it through before I ran over to you after the match.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, it’s not that. I don’t blame you. It’s just… part of being around you, isn’t it?”

My stomach tightened like I was going to throw up.

I couldn’t tell her that it wasn’t. I couldn’t promise her a completely quiet, private life if she was with me, no matter how much I wanted to.

“A bit. It’s always going to be worse in rugby or sporting spaces, but I do occasionally get recognised in other places. ”

She watched me with the most serious expression I’d seen on her face.

We weren’t carefree kids with no responsibilities anymore. We were adults with lives and personalities and this was real, something I couldn’t fix for her no matter how much I wanted to. She nodded slowly.

“You can stay away from future games,” I offered. “I—”

She breathed a light snort. “And miss you playing your mortal enemies? No way, Archer.”

I laughed around the lump in my throat, relief flooding through me. We still needed to figure this whole thing out, but she was coming to the game next week, and that felt more promising than anything.

I flung our bags over my shoulders and nodded towards the car. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips, and didn’t say anything further until we were back at my car where she glanced around to check we were alone. “I have a surprise for you.”

My eyebrows shot up my head and I froze, watching her excitedly.

For the first time all night, she unzipped her jacket. It only took a second for the surprise to register as she stripped the thing off.

“Where did you get that?” I asked, elated.

She frowned. “Your website, obviously.”

“This thing hasn’t been on sale for about… six years. And you got it shipped from the US?”

“You’ve forgotten you offered international shipping? I understand it wasn’t just you, in a basement, shipping every order that came in, but come on.”

I bit my lip and stepped closer to her, reaching out to touch the soft sweatshirt that had a quote I’d said in an interview once emblazoned across the chest: Never tone yourself down.

It had become something of a mantra for so many of my fans, something that encapsulated not letting other people’s ideas of what it meant to be a woman limit you.

I loved that it had resonated with her, too.

She should never tone down a single thing about herself.

Ophelia turned willingly when I tried to twirl her. And there it was. Archer and the number three written across her back, like she was wearing my shirt.

“I cannot believe you bought this,” I said, awed.

She couldn’t quite meet my eye when I turned her back to me. “Just… supporting the cause.”

I breathed a laugh and pulled her in for a hug, her arms wrapping around both our bags and me. “Sure you were.”

She hummed and stepped back, looking at the car. “Come on. Mum will be annoyed if I don’t feed you that soup.”

“Can’t wait,” I said, taking her jacket from her and putting it in the backseat with my bag.

My eyes followed her around the car. My name was easy to read with her hair up in a bun, like she’d done it on purpose just to show my name and number off.