Page 9 of Try Hard

Fia

I was annoyingly cold by the time it was late enough to excuse myself and head to bed.

It hadn’t been that cold out at Gatwick, but, for some reason, I hadn’t been able to warm up since we’d gotten home.

Maybe I’d needed this break from work more than I realised, because one morning out with all of my dad’s friends had somehow wiped me out.

One unexpected encounter with someone from my past surely wasn’t enough to explain all this?

I grabbed the TV remote and my phone, and clambered into bed, mentally thanking my mother for all of the extra blankets.

There was a knock at the door, right as I moved to turn the TV on, and my mum waited a second for me to answer before she opened the door with a smile.

She crept into the room like she was trying to avoid getting in trouble and held up a mug for me, handing it over as she sat on the edge of the bed. “I thought you might like this.”

I smiled, placing the mug carefully on the bedside table. Homemade hot chocolate.

She placed a hand on my knee through the layers of blanket. “Are you doing okay?”

I nodded. “Great. Just a little tired.”

“You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

I shook my head but allowed her to press the back of her hand against my forehead. “I’m completely fine. Nothing a good night’s rest won’t fix.”

Her eyes ran over my face, studying me. “Your dad said you ran into Eve today…”

I could hear the question in her tone and I fought the urge to frown. I’d never talked to her about Eve Archer’s… inadvertent assistance in realising I was bi, but I wouldn’t put it past my mother to have known. She always seemed to know everything.

I pushed myself up in the bed, picking the mug back up and sipping it. The first mouthful was mostly just whipped cream, but it was sweet and rich, and the mug was warm. I cradled it close to my chest.

“It would be reasonable,” my mum continued, “to feel a little out of sorts after something like that.”

“Something like what?” I asked curiously. If she was going to bring the topic up, she couldn’t really get away with being cagey.

She relaxed, shaking her head. “Fine. Running into someone we once had feelings for is always difficult.”

“ Feelings implies a much more serious relationship than anything that ever existed between us, Mum.”

“Maybe, but it’s hard to forget your first love, even if you’ve moved on.”

I laughed, grateful I hadn’t taken another sip of my drink. “She was not my first love.”

“Are you sure?” She frowned deeply.

“Yes! I had a little crush on her, realised I was bi, and that was that.”

“If you say so…” she ventured, sceptically. “It was a crush that lasted quite a long time, though. Longer than just a crush might.”

My chest felt uncomfortably tight as I pressed the warmth of my mug harder into it. “So glad you kept track of that.”

She smiled at me, her eyes crinkling. “You’re my daughter, Fia. Of course I pay attention.”

I hummed, hoping to get out of the conversation.

I, categorically, had not been in love with Eve Archer.

Sure, I’d had a crush—just like half the other kids at school—but that was all it had been.

And years had passed since then. The fact that my mother even remembered was more than a little embarrassing.

I imagined most people hoped their family politely forgot their more shameful formative years and actions.

I sipped my drink again, watching her. It tasted like bribery.

“It would be okay if seeing her again threw you,” she said, and I could hear something optimistic in her voice. “Even if you’re long over her, it would be understandable that seeing her brought those feelings rushing back. Or if, you know, the opposite happened and made you feel uncomfortable.”

“It didn’t make me feel any kind of way,” I lied, keeping my expression impassive.

“Your dad said you spent quite a lot of time together, that you went for a walk and everything.”

“We did,” I allowed. “But I don’t know whether that means anything. Dad was out there with all his friends. He spent a lot of time talking to Jeremy, for example, and I don’t think he’s harbouring a secret love for Eve’s dad.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m certain he’s not, but you’re allowed to have feelings, you know?”

I bobbed my head, almost nodding. “So I’ve heard. I promise I’m fine, though. I’m just tired and a little cold. Back to normal tomorrow, I promise.”

She sighed, squeezing my knee again. “Well, okay. But, if you want to talk, I’m here.”

“I know, Mum. Thank you.” I lifted my mug in the air. “And thanks for the drink.”

“Of course,” she said, smiling widely before she walked back across the room. “Got to take every chance I can to spoil you. You’ll be back across the world again before I know it.”

She wasn’t too far off. After my break for Kim’s wedding—and just a general holiday from work—I had a visit to Scotland, followed quickly by a trip to New Zealand.

In no time at all, I’d be half a world away.

Which was a really good reason not to get involved with Eve or any…

residual feelings her presence was stirring up.

Mum hesitated in the doorway. “If she wants to be friends, though, let yourself have good things.”

I frowned as I listened to the door click shut. Had Dad heard Eve talking about staying in touch? It was possible, I supposed. Or, was Mum just using her supernatural parenting abilities to put together the pieces and somehow happen upon the correct answer?

In truth, I’d spent all afternoon and evening wondering whether I should text Eve.

The ball was in my court. It would be rude not to reach out.

Our dads, evidently, hung out, and bad energy between the two of us might impact that.

And… I didn’t really want bad energy between us.

Not because she’d once given me my gay awakening.

That was neither here nor there. I just needed to know if she ever would win that Tizer.

I flicked the TV on, scrolling until I found a repeat of a comedy show I’d seen before.

If I was going to message Eve, I needed background noise, but not something that required all of my attention.

And as the sound washed over me, I stared down into the hot chocolate from my mum.

She’d long since sworn off powdered mixes, instead brewing up her own drink from milk, cream, vanilla, and pieces of chocolate she melted down in the pan.

No matter how many hot chocolates I tried around the world, none of them tasted quite as comforting as hers.

This time, however, it felt like she was less trying to warm me up and more like she was buttering me up—or, at the very least, giving me courage. How did you keep a single secret in a world where Lorraine Pendrick existed?

I shook my head and slipped back down in the bed, carefully holding the drink so as not to spill it. I couldn’t think too hard about my mum and her insinuations if I was actually going to text Eve. My mum was angling for some kind of rediscovered romantic feelings. I was… looking to win a bet.

Two unread messages from work flashed across my screen. They’d keep. Everyone knew I was out of the office and I couldn’t bounce between them and Eve. Especially not on a Saturday night while I was working on chasing away a bone-deep chill and my mother’s knowing glances.

As I stared at the screen, it occurred to me that I couldn’t recall the last time I’d attempted to send such a message.

Sure, I sent plenty of them for work, but they were professional contacts.

I’d messaged Kim back—once I’d finally figured out who was attempting to contact me—and she’d messaged pretty frequently since, but the last time I’d been given someone’s number and tried to reach out to be friends?

I wasn’t sure it had ever happened. Ordinarily, we’d become friends and then exchange numbers.

And none of them had such a storied past with me.

If they didn’t text back, it wasn’t exactly the end of the world.

Not that Eve refusing to text back would be the end of the world. It just might make things in Eddlesworth—and for our dads, maybe—a little complicated.

I swallowed another huge mouthful of hot chocolate. A little too much for comfort, and still a little too hot. It ached in the middle of my chest, my oesophagus getting scalded.

A fantastic start.

Hey. It’s Ophelia , I typed, my phone balanced awkwardly against my stomach so I could type with one hand. Just thought I’d give you my number in case you ever do figure out how to win that Tizer.

Before I could overthink it, I hit send. The message was probably fine. Fairly light, breezy, a continuation of the morning’s joke. Nothing too much, no expectation of a reply.

However, it only took two minutes to receive one.

Ah, Ophelia Pendrick, is it?

I shook my head, immediately moving to respond. How many other Ophelias do you know? It’s not exactly the world’s most common name.

Almost immediately I was alerted to the fact that Eve was recording a voice message in reply. My stomach tensed unnecessarily. I’d spoken to her all morning. I didn’t need to stress about hearing her voice.

Without getting out of bed, I reached over to the desk, yanking my headphones towards myself. I couldn’t promise that my mum wouldn’t be outside the door, listening for any signs of conversation. What other explanation was there for how much she seemed to know?

Eve’s message arrived and my heart pounded painfully as I hit play. Maybe I was coming down with something.

Her laughter played directly into my ears, somehow even more intoxicating than earlier. It was like concentrated sunshine when heard directly through headphones while I lay in bed.

I rolled my eyes at myself.

“Okay, that’s a fair point,” Eve said. “Also, sorry, I’m just recording this because Hercules doesn’t like it when I’m not touching him. He’s very jealous. I hope that’s okay?”

I frowned and typed a reply. I didn’t mind her voice messages, but I wasn’t going to embarrass myself by sending some back. Hercules? Greek god or Disney hero?

She was laughing again when her next message came in. It felt like she never stopped. As if, for Eve, the world was wonderful and bright, and a laugh was never more than a breath away. She’d been like that at school, too.

“My mum’s dog. He’s a huge ball of fluff who needs nothing more than kisses and cuddles. Here, I’ll send a picture,” she said.

And she did.

Right as I finished listening to her message. There it was. A photo of the two of them, lying on the floor.

Well, Eve was lying on the floor. A giant Old English Sheepdog was lying on top of her, looking at her like she was the best thing he’d ever seen.

Oh, I’m sorry, I sent back, fighting against a smile, I didn’t realise your attention was already claimed for the evening. Send my regards to Mr. Hercules and I’ll see you another time.

She replied quickly. “Oh, no, you don’t. You texted me. I got your number. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I wouldn’t want to cause Hercules any undue distress.

“He’ll be just fine. So long as I’m stroking him, he’s fine with sharing. Unless you’ve turned into a small, fluffy dog since I last saw you. Then, he’d have something to say, but I think we’ll be fine.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. It came easier around her too, like she was so ready with her amusement that it was impossible not to join her in it. Plus, she was funny. Always had been.

I chewed my lip, hesitating just a second longer to reply this time. Well, okay, if you’re sure.

“I am,” she replied immediately, followed by a second, voice message. “So, what should I save your number as?”

My name, probably. Unless you’ve got some odd system where you save everyone under a random name just to make calling and texting more of an adventure?

“Ha. Ha. Interestingly, that’s not how I handle phone management.”

Probably for the best.

“No, I mean… do you want to be Fia or Ophelia? Because Alistair corrected me, but you just sent a message saying ‘Ophelia’.”

Oh.

I scrunched my face up, considering. I had done that. Well, most people call me Fia.

“But?” she fired back, and something warmed inside me at the fact that she’d even heard the but…

But… you can call me Ophelia, if you like.

“Would you prefer that?” There was something amused in her voice, almost giddy.

I wasn’t sure how to admit I would prefer it. If I said I wanted her to use my full name, was I required to tell her why? And, if I did that, she probably wouldn’t be using it for very long anyway.

Sure, I replied, praying she wouldn’t ask.

She did, of course. In a roundabout way.

“You’re not required to say yes, you know?” she said gently. “You can tell me which you prefer and I’ll happily go with it. I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable just because I spent twenty-five years thinking of you as Ophelia.”

I groaned. She was too nice and I was going to have to tell her. You can call me Ophelia. I like it when you do.

“Because nobody does anymore?” Her smile was so apparent in her voice. How did she even do that?

Sure. We can say that.

She laughed openly in her response. “That means that’s not the reason. But I can see you’re not quite ready to tell me. So… maybe one day I’ll guess it and then you’ll owe me that Tizer.”

I laughed, breathing a sigh of relief that she wasn’t going to push it. Sure. And I wondered if she could tell just from a one-word text that I was amused too.

“Great!” It sounded like she could. “Should I call you Fia around other people?”

No. I sent the message quickly, too quick for reality to hit me in the face. But, once it was delivered, reality found me. Well, maybe? Around my parents, probably. Otherwise I’ll have to… explain.

“Okay. And we wouldn’t want them figuring out it’s because the way I pronounce the letter ‘o’ amuses you, would we?”

I knew that was her first guess, her first shot at winning the Tizer. I also knew she’d gone for something she considered purposely ridiculous, something that would put me at ease.

The problem was that she wasn’t too far from the fact that I just liked hearing her say my whole name.

Her. Not people in general. Usually, I didn’t care what people called me, so long as it was some variation of my name that I knew to respond to.

But Eve? She’d said my whole name like it was something magical, and I wanted to hear her say it over and over again. Just her.