Page 120 of Try Hard
“Right.” I winced. “Sorry.”
Sophie shook her head, glancing around to check nobody else was listening. “Not your fault. Maybe it would have gone more smoothly if I’d—well, if I hadn’t been so insistent on complaining about you being with Eve and continuing to flirt with you.”
“Maybe.”
“But, you know, if you and they were a little more similar, maybe it would have been okay?”
I laughed, sympathetic and surprised. “I don’t think sitting around a table with both of you dating versions of me would have been less weird.”
She grimaced. “Okay, yeah, fair point. I just mean… maybe they’d have been more ready to believe I was actually into them if you were more alike.”
Something soft and sweet took root in my chest. If Sophie’s person was upset about that, it meant they were interested. She probably hadn’t screwed it up irrevocably.
I put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve always been very good at conveying how you feel about people. I’m sure you will be with them too.”
“You think?”
“I really do. Just don’t worry about playing it cool. That’s nonsense. If you like someone, play it completely uncool. Let them see how much you care, tell them, bask in it. Even if it ends, while you’re in it, beinit.”
She shot me a look, clearly taking the advice to heart but trying to cover it with her usual snark. “You’re such a sap when you’re with Eve.”
I scowled back. “Maybe I was always a sap and just covered it well.”
“Oh, I totally believe you’ve been a sap for her the whole time you’ve known each other. Your taste is clearly that terrible.”
I laughed. “I look forward to meeting your person.”
“Oh, god,” she said, eyes wide. “Be nice to them if you ever meet.”
“Like you’re being nice to me?”
“That’s different.”
“What is?” Marnie asked, joining us by the door.
“Nothing,” Sophie said quickly.
I took pity on her and looked at Marnie. “This whole publicity thing is quite different for me.”
“Ah.” Marnie looked at me just like my own mother did, except she knew how the media circus went. She’d been through it before. “Don’t take the opinions of those you wouldn’t ask for help. That’s gotten us through the years—and the things people have felt entitled to express about Eve.”
“It’s good advice. Thank you.”
“Any time, dear.” She turned to look at Eve, who was happily chatting with my dad, before pulling me into a hug. They were a generous family. “We’ll see you soon.”
I found myself glad of that.
As Sophie and Marnie left, and my parents settled into the living room for the evening, I found myself wishing I could leave too. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be there exactly, morethat, with everything, I needed somewhere quieter, someplace familiar and comforting to this adult version of me who felt stressed and unsure. I usually travelled too frequently for things like this to catch me up.
Eve’s arms circled around me from behind, not touching me, and she held there, waiting for permission. She was comfortable, familiar. Safe.
I nodded as I leaned back into her chest, her arms encircling me, and she felt like coming home, like I’d spent the last twenty years building up who I was just for her.
She pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Let’s get out of here?”
Some frustrating part of my brain wanted to brush her off, pretend I was okay and could stay—and I could have, but I wanted that breather. And Eve knew it. I didn’t want to cause her further problems, but she knew I needed out.
To be seen, understood—to beknown—was a new and unusual experience. It made me want to cry, but in a way that felt okay. I knew her too, knew she wouldn’t get annoyed by strong emotions or tears, by my need for space. She knew that space included her, that my personal bubble had expanded to cover both of us, just as I knew hers had expanded to fit me.
