Page 54 of Try Hard
Mum gasped, accidentally inhaling some of her tea, and I suddenly had to wonder how much gossip Dad told her because she recovered remarkably smoothly. “Fia, that’s wonderful! Oh, I’m sure you’re going to have the best time. I hear she’s a wonderful player.”
“She is.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make you soup and tea and things to keep you warm.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be that cold,” I protested, not wanting her to put herself out, but still grateful for her care and excitement. Maybe it was nice to be looked after sometimes.
Mum waved me off. “And we’ll make sure you look absolutely stunning and there won’t be space in her mind for any other woman. Don’t you worry.”
I laughed, trying hard to ignore the pang of discomfort that the only way I could impress Eve was with my looks. Instead, I concentrated on worrying that my mum was too into this whole thing and wondering if I should have let on that I still liked Eve.But, even with all the complications, I couldn’t exactly deny that I wanted to be the woman on Eve’s mind.
Chapter Sixteen
Eve
Sometime in my late twenties, I’d learned that conflicting schedules were not conducive to a good relationship. Maybe, for some couples it could work, but, in my experience, it had always been the death knell. And, while my work schedule had gotten a little more traditional since retiring from rugby, I was still an early riser, with the need for a morning workout.
Which probably went some of the way to explaining why, when I received a message from Ophelia at twenty past six in the morning, I was elated. Similar schedules, early morning workouts. Superb sign. And, maybe, it was a little bit to do with the fact that the message was accompanied by a photo. One taken outside the pool, with her smiling and looking directly at the camera—directly at me.
It was forward for her, but I was ridiculously into it.
Perhaps she’d been spurred on by the fact that I’d texted her basically all night. At least, I did once I’d finished dinner with Dad and Soph—and gotten Soph to stop talking about how very hot Ophelia was.
Of course, the woman was gorgeous. She always had been. But there was so much more to her, so much to discover under the surface that she kept hidden away—like that cheeky, teasing side that had lightly tugged my waistcoat just to have another second to say goodbye. I wanted all of her. But I wasn’t foolish enough to think Ophelia didn’t get hordes of people wanting her simply because she looked so beautiful.
I wondered, not for the first time, whether that was part of why she kept people at a distance. I hadn’t known her before secondary school, but, even with the amount of sports I played and how many comments I got that my figure wasn’t feminine enough, I knew exactly how the world’s reactions changed once you hit puberty. Had that happened to Ophelia and shut her down? Had she always been wary of people? Perhaps it was nothing so dramatic and she really just didn’t love being around lots of people. I hoped it was the latter. But… her warmth when she started letting you in, the way she still was with Tanika and Kim, after all these years and with very different personalities, suggested she didn’t hate people the way I imagined some people read her doing.
I concentrated on her message, smiling to myself again that she’d initiated contact, mere hours after I’d bid her goodnight.
I glanced around, looking for a nice background, before positioning myself in front of a tree and taking a picture that made it clear I was in running gear.Snap, I sent back.
I could imagine the way she’d smile, the curve of her lips, the way her eyes lit up and crinkled. Maybe it was a sign that I’d spent too much time looking at her if I had a crystal clear image of her smile in my head after only two days, but, in my defense, I’d watched her smile like that for years when we were teens too, and nothing about it had gotten any less beautiful with age.
Swimmers do it wetter,she sent back only moments later and the bottom of my stomach dropped straight out of my body.
Sure, I was trying to just think of her as a friend—and I was grateful for her friendship—but thathadto be flirting. I’d been flirted with more than enough times to know. The fact that it was Ophelia jarred in my brain and insisted that she mustn’t be flirting, but… how else was someone supposed to interpret that?
I lunged into some stretches, ostensibly because I’d interrupted my run to text her. Realistically, because I didn’t know how else to get the nervous, excited energy out of my body.
Trying to play it cool, and painfully aware it wassoeasy to misinterpret someone’s tone and meaning over text—even with those eyes staring at me from her photo—I took a steadying breath and messaged her back.That rather depends on the British weather, don’t you think?
She was fast on her reply again.Plunged into a pool in very little clothing versus out running in the rain, likely with a rain jacket of some sort? Pretty sure I’m still going to end up wetter.
She was killing me. And she had to know it. Ophelia was one of the smartest people I’d ever met. She was incisive and quick. She understood and observed things. And there was absolutely no way she couldn’t understand what she was doing to me.
Part of me loved it. Part of me soared with hope. All of me was dying. But what a way to go.
I suppose you’ve got me there, I sent back, still trying not to seem like she was wrecking my whole life in the very best way.
I don’t, actually, but it’s a public pool, she replied. Quickly followed by another message that was probably not a moment too soon to prevent me from changing course and running straight over to the pool.But, I should go now because I’m ready to swim. Have a great run.
How was anyone supposed to handle the one person they’d had a crush on for over twenty years—even in their absence—flirting with them?
Had she been changing as she messaged me? What did her swimwear look like? What did she look like when she swam? I was certain she’d leave me in the dust, but I wanted to see her in action so badly.
It was a good job I was already running to the gym or I’d have exploded from the sheer force building up inside of me.
Enjoy your swim, I replied before I could get too distracted, and then I ran hard, all the way to the gym.
