Page 39 of Try Hard

“He did often ask me to talk to Sophie about how she was doing in his class,” she admitted.

Soph cackled. “I knew it! He’d constantly tell me he wasn’t checking in with you, but I always knew he was.”

“It was rather my job to help keep you on track with your classes.”

“Ugh. You know how much I hated all that crap. And, if he wanted me to care more about his class, he needed to teach it better.”

“Let us assume he’s improved as a teacher these days.”

“Doubt it.” Soph shot her a look and it felt like being transported twenty years into the past—Soph, some infatuated young kid, this dynamic I’d never known existed flowing between them.

I just wanted to introduce this woman I adored to my family without having to worry about my sister. Maybe it was a good thing we’d never had similar tastes otherwise. I hated this. Although, if we’d agreed on more things, maybe I’d be more practiced and less jealous.

I cleared my throat. “I’m just running to the loo.”

I winced as I walked away. Plenty of people commented on how American I sounded since living in the US, but that had been obnoxiously British.

Like I was trying so hard to be cool and normal that I’d massively overshot and ended up at some Received Pronunciation accent I’d never once in my life used. Smooth.

In the bathroom, I splashed water on my face, careful not to wet my clothes and grateful I wasn’t one for makeup. I could only imagine how much worse things would be if I went to the bathroom and returned with mascara running down my face.

After staring at myself in the mirror for several long moments, willing myself to stop acting like a dick, I shook my head, yanked the door open, and froze.

Leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, was Ophelia.

“Sorry, did you…?” I gestured to the room around me.

She shook her head, a smile growing on her features as she pushed off the wall and approached me.

“I can’t imagine,” she said, amused, as she rested her hands on my shoulders, “that jealousy is a particularly familiar emotion for Eve Archer.”

I groaned, scrunching my face up even as my fingers found her waist before sliding around her back to pull her closer. Touching her was sweet relief. “Am I that transparent?”

“Only to me,” she murmured as my face fell to her shoulder, her neck, breathing her in. “And maybe to your mum. She had a… knowing look when I left the room.”

“Yeah, she’s annoying like that,” I laughed.

“My mum’s the same, don’t worry.”

The way she said it had my heart jolting, like her mum knew she had a crush on me too. For some reason, that made the whole thing feel real. Perhaps because Ophelia gave so few things away to the world. If she’d given that up, it had to be so desperately real to her.

I felt her rising up on her tiptoes as I hugged her tighter, almost picking her up. Even in the bathroom, it felt spectacular, like one of those ridiculously cute shots from a movie. I was just glad I got to live with her.

“You don’t have to worry about Sophie,” she said quietly, one hand teasing gently over the nape of my neck.

“No?”

“Not at all.”

“I think it’s pretty clear Soph’s got a serious crush on you.”

Ophelia breathed a laugh. “Indeed. She’s never been particularly subtle about it, but she knows we’re just friends.”

“Does she?”

“Yes, and I’m happy to spell that out clearly to her. But, either way, it’s not her I’m interested in, Eve.”

I sucked in a deep breath at my name on her lips. I loved the way she said it—loved the way she said everything. “Sorry. I’m not usually like this, I promise.”

“What? Tactile?” she asked humorously. “I’ve seen more than enough of your games to know that’s not true.”

“Not that.” Touching her was possibly the best thing I’d ever felt. She was so soft and warm, toned, strong, fragile, beautiful . She always had been. “Jealous. I don’t think I’ve ever been jealous of anything before. Definitely not with a… um. Well. Person?”

She laughed gently. “We’ve all got something we care about enough to get jealous over, but you don’t need to worry about Sophie. I like her, always have done, but there is nothing remotely romantic about it. She’s not the Archer I spend all my time thinking about.”

My heart raced, my stomach bottomed out again, and my brain buzzed in the most unexpected, delightful way. Ophelia Pendrick thought about me. What had I done to deserve that? “What’s the thing you care enough about?”

“You.”

I was going to die. And I’d go happily. It came to us all eventually, and I couldn’t think of a better way to go than in Ophelia’s arms, breathing her delicate scent in, as she told me she cared about me just as much as I cared about her.

I wasn’t sure a better paradise existed.

Maybe I was already dead. If this was the afterlife, I was good with that.

“I’m sure Sammy’s a lovely woman but I cannot stand the way she looks at you, touches you.

It feels like an inferno inside of me when I see her hitting on you.

Of course, I’d never do anything. You’re allowed to be with whoever you want, but, yeah.

” She shook her head and I opened my eyes to watch the way her hair danced down her back when she did. It was so perfectly wonderful.

I pulled back to look her in the eye. “I’m not interested in Sammy. We had words last night, actually. Assuming she remembers, I don’t think she’s going to like me very much anymore.”

Ophelia winced. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Not my first time dealing with something like that, and I really needed her to get the message. It’s hard to properly hit on you when someone’s constantly trying to get in the way.”

Her smile was the best one in the world. “Like Sammy. Or your sister.”

“Hm. One of those is more awkward than the other, but yes.”

Ophelia’s eyes dropped to my lips and she moved to trace her index finger over the lower one. When I shuddered deliciously from the touch, she smiled, not taking her eyes off me. “Eve, what are you doing later?”

“Lying in bed thinking about you,” I whispered, leaning closer. I wouldn’t kiss her without her explicit say so. I knew what that meant for her, but I could feel it brewing between us. How close we’d been last night in bed pounded in my every atom.

“I don’t have the house to myself, but do you want to stay at mine tonight?” Her teeth grazed across her bottom lip as she leaned in and my heart pounded in my ears.

“More than anything.”

She smiled, her breath coming just as fast as mine. I could barely hear anything but the moment between us and the reaction my body had to her.

Her hand traced from my lips along my cheek to cradle the back of my head, both of us breathing together. I could practically feel her lips on mine.

“Eve! Dinner!” Soph yelled from downstairs, crashing straight through the moment, and Herc charged up the stairs, seeking us out.

Ophelia laughed, burying herself in my neck. “I guess we should have known that was coming.”

“Doesn’t make me hate it less,” I said as Herc jumped up at me, clearly too excited by the whole evening to contain himself. Relatable.

Ophelia stepped back, smiling briefly at him and his little waistcoat. “We can pick this up later, Archer.”

“Thank goodness for that.” I gestured towards the stairs. “For now, let’s go have dinner with my family while my sister flirts with you.”

She shook her head ruefully, leading the way towards the stairs, but any concern I was feeling was soothed by the way she reached to hold my hand until we were back in view of everyone else.