Page 98 of Try Hard
“Hateis 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, toshare 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.
“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.”
