Page 47 of Try Hard

“We’ve done that. And, if you weren’t at the point you are now, maybe I would have taken you through some other options, but you’re not a kid anymore, Eve.

You’ve found something you care about more than rugby and you’re doing what you have to in order to protect that.

It’s your decision at the end of the day. Doesn’t really matter what I think.”

We both knew that wasn’t strictly true, but she was right. I never charged in already decided on these things. But I wasn’t changing my mind when it was Ophelia getting targeted and hurt. I’d gotten used to what people said about me, but she hadn’t chosen this life.

I sighed. “I should conference Row in. Most of the people we work with probably aren’t following gossip about my love life, but I should at least warn her about the statement.”

“Go ahead.”

I dialed Row, adding her to the call.

She sounded breathless when she answered.

“Row,” I said seriously, “you’re on with me and Andra.”

“Ah,” she replied. “The crisis management team.”

“Indeed.”

Row laughed. “You finally getting with Fia doesn’t feel much like a crisis, mind.”

It was only as I hummed in agreement that I realised I’d called her Ophelia in front of others. Whatever. That was who she was to me. My Ophelia. And I was going to protect her. “That bit isn’t. Some party guest selling pictures and information about her is.”

“Ooh, you’re so protective. I like this version of you.”

“Agreed,” Andra replied smugly, right as Row barely stifled a squeal.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Row, amused despite the situation, “are we interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” she said while trying to shush someone with her.

I barked a laugh. “Yeah, right. I like this version of you, too, for the record.”

“Nothing to like,” she replied far too quickly. She cleared her throat. “So, what do you need from me?”

“Nothing. It’s just a warning that I’m putting out a statement on my socials—wording to be determined—calling out the situation and the commentary Ophelia is getting.”

“Both of you are getting it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’m calling out everyone who thinks they have any right dictating who I love or commenting negatively on her because they think I should be with them instead. It’s weird and it’s time to call it out.”

“Hell, yes! I’ve been telling you that for years.”

That was true. It hit me like a sledgehammer.

Every time there’d been a run of discourse about my body, debating if I was too manly, too fat, too ugly, Row had wanted me to call it out.

I hadn’t. Not the way she wanted. I did campaigns about the comments without addressing them directly.

They were important. I wanted to demonstrate to every other person out there that their body was strong and capable as it was, that we didn’t have to fit these narrow, judgemental boxes to be beautiful and worthy.

And calling it out directly had always felt a little risky.

The world we lived in made it so. The ability to ruin my career, to make me a target, to ruin everything I’d built…

all because I wanted to call out rude, unnecessary comments? It felt weird now.

But, as Andra said, I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I had something worth protecting no matter the cost.

“There is the possibility,” Andra told Row, giving me a minute to think, “that your business might receive some comments or a drop in customers, depending on what Eve says, how it’s taken, and how much it blows up. I’d suggest the risk is fairly minimal, but you never know.”

“The business will be fine,” Row said quickly. “Protect your girlfriend, Eve. We’ll weather what comes just fine.”

I couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto my face. Row would have supported my choice either way, but whoever it was making her squeal and breathless on the other side of the phone was making her particularly sentimental. I was happy for her.

“Thank you,” I told them both earnestly. “I’ll stay in touch and run the proposed statement by you both before I publish it. But, for now, I have to go see Ophelia.”

Row laughed. “It’s cute how you can’t help but call her Ophelia when you’re in protective mode.”

Soph shot me a shit-eating grin like she wholeheartedly agreed.

I shook my head. “It’s what I usually call her. And I’m going now. Bye.”

I hung up after their hurried goodbyes and Row’s next squeal being cut off by the call ending. When things were less stressful, I looked forward to asking her all about that.

Soph stood with me. “You going over to Ophelia’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Good luck. I hope she’s okay.”

I smiled gratefully. A part of me worried this was going to be the thing that ruined what I had with Ophelia.

When I’d been planning, it had been easier to ignore those thoughts, but now that all I had left was going to see her when she still hadn’t replied, the fear was almost suffocating.

She didn’t want attention, had reasons it was painful for her.

I wasn’t going to force her to stay with the person who’d brought this all to her doorstep.

The thought of having to say goodbye to her again was physically painful, but I’d give her anything she wanted.

And, regardless of the outcome, I was finally ready to clearly and directly tell those who crossed boundaries to piss off.

Incredible people like Ophelia really did come into your life and give you a strength you’d never dreamt possible.

“Thank you,” I told Soph, giving her a quick hug.

“Do you want me to make macaroni cheese for dinner?”

I laughed. I really must look like shit if she was offering that. “Sounds good. Thanks, Soph.”

“Any time,” she said, and despite all the teasing in our relationship, I knew she meant it. No matter what the world threw at me, I was safe with her, with my family. I hoped I could be that safety for Ophelia.