Page 38 of Try Hard

Eve

A night with Ophelia, sleeping beside her, waking up to her in my arms, her glorious hair fanned across my pillows, a whole morning watching planes with her while pretending we weren’t exhausted from last night… and I still missed her in the few hours we were apart.

I was also ridiculously nervous. Sure, last night we’d both admitted we like each other, that we’re trying something more than friends, but this dinner mattered .

Ophelia was carrying a lot of damage from her past relationships, she needed and deserved so much time and space and care, and I so badly wanted to get it right.

But, we were having dinner with my family and I had no control over how that was going to go.

And we weren’t doing it as a couple. We were doing it as friends.

I looked in the mirror one more time, straightening clothes that had already been adjusted to within an inch of their lives, and headed downstairs.

“You dressed up,” Soph accused as soon as she caught sight of me.

I eyed her outfit, trying to fight against the clenching in my stomach. “So did you.”

Terrance laughed from the kitchen. “Don’t worry, Hercules is out-dressing us all tonight.”

I leaned around the door to see into the living room.

Sure enough, Mum was in there, brushing Herc’s fur into a sleek side part.

She’d put him in a little waistcoat and bow tie too.

I couldn’t help but laugh. At least any initial tension could be eased with the world’s most stylish dog.

He hadn’t spent much time with Ophelia yesterday—already tucked up in Mum’s bed long before we got home—and we’d been rushing out the door again this morning, but he’d liked her, and I was sure she’d appreciate his outfit.

“He’s definitely going to woo a pretty lady tonight, aren’t you, Hercules?” Mum asked him as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Tension shot through me again. “Yeah, about that. Can we all refrain from calling Fia pretty or beautiful or whatever tonight?”

Mum looked at me consideringly, clearly hearing something important in my tone and attempting to figure out whether that was coming from me or Ophelia. “Of course.”

“No comments from me,” Terrance called from the kitchen. Not that I’d been imagining any from him.

Soph eyed me. “But she is gorgeous. What’s the harm in naming that?”

I sighed. “She’s coming to dinner to have a nice time, not to be treated like a piece of meat with nothing to offer but a pretty face.”

“I love it when people tell me I’m a pretty face.”

I stared at her, deadpan. “You’re a pretty face.”

“Thank you.”

“Not everyone wants to hear that, though. So, please, around Fia, keep it under wraps.”

Soph smirked knowingly, but I wasn’t sure she actually was in the know. “You’re just worried she’s going to realise I’m way cooler than you are and she’ll stop spending so much time with you.”

“Sure, Soph. That’s what I’m worried about. Whatever you want.”

Hearing my underlying frustration, Mum stepped up and put a hand on Soph’s arm. “No comments. We’re all going to have a lovely evening with Fia and not ruin it by making comments about how beautiful she is.”

Mum’s tone told me she, too, knew that Ophelia was stunning, but I wasn’t worried it was the same way Soph thought that—or how I did.

Soph sighed dramatically. “Fine. But, if she flirts with me first, I’m not refraining from flirting back.”

My insides boiled at the thought. “She’s not going to flirt with you,” I said, attempting to keep my voice light.

“Just because you don’t want her to, doesn't mean she won’t. We’re all adults here.”

“Are we?” I muttered, following Mum into the kitchen.

Honestly, I didn’t feel much like an adult with how nervous I was about seeing Ophelia—or with how irrationally worried I was that she might flirt with Soph.

I knew she wasn’t going to. She’d told me more than enough times that she wasn’t interested.

It had just been a long time since I’d cared about anything this much, and I’d lost the only other thing I’d loved like this.

Of course, caring about rugby was nothing like caring about Ophelia, but the intensity of the two was not dissimilar.

Neither my mum nor Terrance would let me help with food prep—if that hadn’t been a regular thing, I’d have thought they just didn’t want someone so obviously nervous helping, but they liked looking after everyone else.

They were well-matched like that. However, it did mean that I was stuck simply standing in the kitchen, waiting.

I suppose I could have sat down with Soph or Herc, but I couldn’t focus on anything but the clock and when Ophelia would arrive.

She was exactly on time. Unsurprising, really. She’d always been on time or early.

The first sign that anything was happening was Herc running for the door, the sight of which caused my heart to feel like it was plummeting through my body and out through the soles of my feet.

That was a new sensation. Apparently, there was no end to the feelings Ophelia could elicit in me.

I wasn’t upset about that, even if I did feel wobbly as I moved to get the door, pretending I couldn’t hear the excited chattering in the kitchen.

“Archer,” Ophelia said, failing to fully bite down on her smile when I opened the door.

She was so fucking radiant. I could have stood there all day, just looking at her, talking to her.

The way she carried herself, all those thoughts that were so obviously brewing under the surface—I wanted to know everything that ever happened in her mind, every single thing she’d ever loved, ever hated, ever wanted.

I desperately needed to know every answer she’d ever want to give to every question the universe could ask.

“Ophelia,” I managed to get out, but I sounded ridiculously breathless. I wasn’t even particularly embarrassed. She was breathtaking and she deserved to know that. “Come on in.”

The whole thing felt exactly like I was introducing the love of my life to my family—and to my sister, who fancied her. How awkward.

She looked down as she walked past me into the house, but her proximity was clearly calculated because she reached her fingertips out to brush against my hand as she moved, and I was about ready to die before we’d even made it to dinner. Nobody had ever made me feel so enthralled in my whole life.

“Fia!” Mum said, appearing in the kitchen doorway as if she hadn’t been eagerly awaiting her arrival.

“Ms.—oh. I just realised I don’t actually know your last name.” Ophelia blinked rapidly.

“It’s still Archer. I liked that a lot better than my maiden name, so I just stuck with it, but that’s irrelevant anyway. Call me Marnie.”

“Marnie. Nice to see you again.”

I blinked. She remembered meeting my mum. At some match a million years ago. She remembered meeting my mum.

Mum smiled. “You too, dear. Only, this time, you’re looking after my other daughter. I should start paying you.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Ophelia said promptly, waving her hands rapidly.

I couldn’t help the snort that escaped me. Given all the things I wanted to do with Ophelia, the idea of my mum paying her felt deeply inappropriate.

“Well,” Soph said, appearing beside Mum, “Eve’s clearly not looking after you very well, so maybe you do need compensation.”

I shot her a look.

She grinned deviously. “Shall I take your coat?”

Fuck. I absolutely should have asked if I could take Ophelia’s coat. How was my younger sister better at this than I was?

Ophelia laughed. “That’s not necessary. Thank you.”

She handed me her bag momentarily to take her own coat off, apparently eager to be rid of it before Soph tried simply taking it from her. At least we all knew Soph was a good partner when she was dating. I, clearly, had some areas for improvement.

I hung Ophelia’s belongings in the coat closet, a little too happy about placing hers next to mine, the two of them touching.

I was like a child. And, by the time I was done grinning at a pair of coats, Mum and Soph had led her into the kitchen, gotten through introductions with Terrance, and Soph had claimed the seat next to Ophelia at the breakfast bar.

“Do you remember how much Mr. Haverall used to hate me?” Soph was saying, which seemed to have come from somewhere, but I’d missed the preceding conversation.

“ Hate is probably a strong word,” Ophelia hedged, shooting me a look as I stood close behind the two of them.

Soph snorted. “No, it’s not. That guy could not stand me.”

“You refused to listen to him in class,” Mum interjected, shooting her a stern look. “The poor man was exasperated with you.”

Soph threw her arms out in outrage. “He didn’t know what he was talking about! It’s not my fault he wasn’t qualified to do his job.”

“I’m sure he was qualified.”

“Maybe on paper, but he told us loads of stuff that was wrong, and he was a shit teacher.”

Ophelia grimaced. “He was uniquely bad at making a succinct point while teaching,” she allowed.

That annoying, jealous part of me poked at my heart. I hated it. I was not a jealous person and it was entirely irrational. Ophelia wasn’t interested in Soph. But I knew Soph would be taking Ophelia’s support as a good sign.

Terrance laughed. “Is that right?”

Ophelia nodded and lunged into a story about the man in question.

I hadn’t been in that class with her. I’d never had Haverall as a teacher.

I found myself wishing I’d been there to share the experience with her.

I knew it wasn’t realistic or possible, but I wanted to experience everything with her, to share a life with her.

Or just to be the place she came home to, to support her as she carved out the exact life she wanted, to be the person she told her stories to.

She cleared her throat as everyone laughed and I lit up at how easily she fit in with them. Even with the risk of Soph flirting with her, my family loved Ophelia. They liked her exactly as she was, and that was magical.