Page 51 of Try Hard

Fia

“Y ou really don’t have to… go so hard,” I said quietly after reading Eve’s proposed statement.

She’d brought us to her apartment in London. It was late and the place was beautiful. Smaller than you might expect, but perfect for her—for one person. Or two. Plus, there was no beating the unbelievably epic view over the Thames and the city from the wall of windows in her living area.

Now, though, we were standing in the small second bedroom that she’d turned into an office—lush, deep colours, stunning accents, comfortable but perfectly appointed.

I’d seen Eve’s work as an interior designer and never doubted how good she was, but seeing it unleashed in her own home was another level entirely.

She looked up at me speculatively. “When have I ever not gone hard, Ophelia?”

Despite the stress of the situation, something curled in my stomach with the way she said my name.

I felt ridiculously safe here, in her seventeenth-floor apartment, away from the rest of the world with her.

Part of me, a few years ago, had spent time trying to believe that, as we aged, we shouldn’t need to feel safe in the same way we had when we were children.

That the need to run and hide and have a secret spot away from the world was a childish behaviour I needed to outgrow.

Now, I knew that wasn’t true. Sure, the world tried to make you feel like that, but it wasn’t real.

Of all the things humans needed, safety was paramount.

Eve was safety. Always had been.

I breathed a laugh and stepped into the space between her legs as she sat in her office chair.

It was beginning to feel like I belonged there, like that spot was mine.

Eve gave it to me readily, wanted me there, made me feel as though it had always been mine.

Just like being in her arms was a place I’d always belonged.

“Fair point,” I said as I leaned to press my face into her hair.

It was so thick. Even short, it was thick and beautiful and had that picture perfect lock that cascaded over her forehead as I disturbed it.

“But you know what I mean. I’ll be okay if you want to go for something more measured, or if you want to pretend we’re just friends for public purposes. ”

She held me close as she rested her chin against me and looked up to meet my gaze. “I do not want that. My dearest Ophelia, I don’t think you and I have ever just been friends, and, now we get to know that, I have no interest in pretending we are.”

I nodded and looked back at her proposed statement.

The people who’d already been saying terrible things weren’t going to like it.

They’d blame me, probably insinuate that I was controlling her, that it was some weird PR relationship to boost my career, or suggest she was just with me for pity, that it wasn’t going to end well.

I wanted so badly to be okay with it all, to brush it off like it didn’t matter, but it stung. More than I liked.

Eve wasn’t leaving any wiggle room. This was it, a statement of our relationship, of how she felt about me, and how she felt about some of the attention she got.

She so deserved to finally state how those things affected her.

It was amazing that she was doing it, and I hoped her comments would make the tiniest bit of difference to how people treated her and others in the public eye.

Parasocial relationships were too integrated into society.

All of those things weren’t going away in a day, but every little bit helped.

And, if Eve could call out how she and the people in her life were treated, maybe that would one day lead to even one less person being in this situation.

But I’d gotten tangled up in it. And nothing was going to change that. In the minds of some people, this would always be a thing she did to appease an ugly, fat woman who didn’t deserve her.

It wasn’t easy playing that role.

Marnie had been right, though. Those were not people I’d ever ask for opinions on anything voluntarily.

Their disparaging opinions lived on the internet, where they thought themselves untouchable and entitled to say every cruel thought that passed through their minds.

The likelihood they’d ever say something like that to my face was impossibly slim.

My eyes lingered on Eve’s mention of critical body-based comments people had been making.

She was pointing out how wrong such comments were, but she was also pointing out the many, many comments she received about her body—several of them done with similar language—and how her fans knew the pain such things caused, how it was based on nothing, and how it hurt the people around those saying it.

She was so eloquent in her fury. She was the adult version of the kid who’d stood beside me in a science lab and told off an annoying teenage boy.

Could she scare a whole crowd of people off in the same way?

I was inclined to believe Eve Archer could do anything in the world that she wanted.

My heart rate wasn’t as even as it should have been, and there was still pain at the commentary we’d been receiving, but, as I read her words about me and our relationship again, the desire to physically shrink myself slowly started dissipating.

She wasn’t giving away much, but her words held so much love and care. This fierce adoration and protection screaming from the page in a way I was quite unused to but entirely mesmerised by.

What did it matter if some random person I’d never met and never would meet thought I was ugly because they wanted to date Eve?

It wasn’t even really about me. It was about their uncontrolled jealousy.

What did it really matter what my ex had thought?

That hadn’t been about me either, not really. It had been about control.

But there was Eve, not trying to control or weaken me in any way.

So proud to tell the world that we were together.

So strong and ready to discuss her boundaries with all of them.

She’d have managed it without me, I was sure, but she didn’t have to.

We were doing this together because we wanted to.

Maybe it wasn’t that I’d gotten mixed up in her life and wrecked it.

Maybe I’d done a tiny bit for her what she’d been doing for me—telling her she deserved respect.

To be heard and seen. To be understood and loved.

That it was okay to have boundaries and to call out those who crossed them.

She’d stood beside me in that science lab, and now we were standing by each other against the world.

That made everything okay and worth it. Because, what did it matter what anyone else thought of me when Eve Archer thought I was beautiful?

Sure, she’d respected my wishes and avoided physical compliments, but she didn’t have to voice her thoughts for me to know.

Previously, all I’d thought I’d known without words was how disgusted partners were by me, because that was all they’d ever said.

All those poking, prodding comments designed to break me down.

But, there she was, building me up, even without saying it.

And the rest of the world couldn’t touch that.

I nodded and smiled at her as I took a step back. “Yeah. Send it to Andra and Row.”

She looked so cautiously proud and hopeful. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay.” She turned back to the computer to type a quick email to the pair of them.

Andra was getting it for obvious reasons, and Eve would be open to her feedback, even if she didn’t currently believe Andra would request changes.

Row was getting it both as Eve’s best friend and, more professionally, as a ‘just in case’ thing for their business.

Eve thought her only suggestion would be to literally declare her love for me in massive, sparkly letters. Neither of us wanted that, though.

Not in public, at least.

She sighed once the email was sent, an obvious weight off her shoulders. Of course, she still had to post it for the public, but Eve was the type to make a decision and be completely at peace with it once the wheels were set in motion.

I reached out to allow her to take my hand, noticing the way she melted when we connected, and I led her out of the room.

The rest of the apartment was still mostly in darkness. One lamp in the living room was lit up, but that wasn’t where I was heading.

Sex had been such a complicated concept for so long now. And I hadn’t suddenly changed my opinion that sex and safety were inextricably linked, but I was safe. Finally.

I stopped at the bedroom door, feeling myself blushing as I looked up at Eve. “Remember that conversation we had… about a chair?”

It took her all of one bewildered second to catch up with what I was asking. She nodded emphatically. “I absolutely do.”

“Eve,” I breathed, “I’m ready.”

She stepped back, looking me over. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“For you? Not for me, or ridiculous internet chatter, or anything or anyone else?”

I smiled softly, tears prickling my eyes again, and nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Okay. Great. Yeah. Yes. Absolutely.” She paused, her expression looking like her head was spinning and she was delighted about it. “I, um. I have a better chair for this than the one that’s in there. So I’m just… gonna grab that.”

I laughed as she shot off towards the living area and the dining chairs, reappearing a moment later.

She nodded at the closed door. “After you.”

Her room was—just like the rest of the apartment—beautifully, perfectly decorated. Deep, muted colours that felt simultaneously sultry and like they beckoned you into the best sleep you’d ever had.

We were sleeping here tonight. We’d both known that without really discussing it. I couldn’t wait to sleep in that sumptuous bed with her, and I was pretty sure, one day soon, I’d be ready to have sex in it with her too.

For the first time, though, I needed those parameters we’d set. And that was okay.

Well, most of them. I wanted a slight adjustment to one of them.

Eve shut the door behind us and set the chair behind it.

I smiled, more grateful to her than I could convey, as I moved my fingers to the buttons of my shirt. “How do you feel about negotiating?”

She breathed a laugh, her eyes flicking between mine and my fingers undoing buttons. “I’ll give you anything you want, so I don’t know if it really counts as a negotiation.”

“That’s a dangerous statement, Archer.”

“I stand by it.”

I nodded. She really did. She’d already given me so much, and she really would give me anything I needed. “Well, hopefully you’ll like this thing.”

“If it involves you, I already love it.”

Her breath caught as I undid the final button on my shirt and just paused. I did want her to have a clear head as we discussed this.

“Are you okay?” she asked when I didn’t move, completely snapped out of the seductive fog.

How had the world ever made anyone so perfect?

I smiled, noticing again how easily that came around her. I wasn’t sure I’d ever smiled as much in my life as I had with her. “I still want to keep to most of what we said, and I don’t want to be touched to get off.”

“Right. Of course. I promise I won’t do that to you.”

“I know.” My heart soared. “But… foreplay, I suppose? I want you to touch me in other places.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that. I promise I’m good. I don’t want to do anything that doesn’t make you feel completely and utterly happy.”

“Eve,” I breathed, stepping closer to her again. “I know . And I want this. I promise.”

She held her hands out to the sides, a safe distance from me. “You’re really sure?”

“Absolutely. Not a doubt in my mind.”

She nodded slowly, eyes wide. “Anything you want.”

“I want to give you what you want too.”

“You already are. You’ve already given me everything.”

I slipped my shirt off, letting it drop to the ground. “Can I kiss you now?”

“ Absolutely ,” she said, fast and enthusiastic, and even she developed a little blush at her eagerness. I wasn’t sad at seeing any of it.

Her lips were soft, delicate against mine, but they sent delighted shocks of electricity through my body, making me feel more alive than I ever had. Just her and me and the most perfect kiss I could have imagined.

I took her hands, still held at a safe distance, and moved them to my sides. She gasped beautifully into the kiss when she touched my bare skin, her thumbs immediately caressing like she’d been dreaming of it every day for the last twenty years. And it was everything .