Page 66 of Try Hard
“Well,” Mum said, sounding more than a little smug, “the good news is that, now, you have another shot. So, stop worrying about whether Sophie wants her, get up off your arse, and go get your girl.”
I laughed, finally releasing Hercu as I fell to the floor, my arms over my face so he couldn’t lick me in demand for more snuggles. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I’m telling you now.” She coughed. “So, don’t be late. It makes a bad impression, even when the woman is already smitten.”
Chapter Nineteen
Fia
Eve smiled when I stepped out of the house before she could even finish parking her car. I didn’t want to risk the fact that she might get out and come to the house. There would be no stopping Mum from fawning over her while shooting me knowing, encouraging looks that she inexplicably thought Eve wouldn’t pick up on.
“It’s been days since I saw you,” she said after I’d put my bag in the boot and climbed into the passenger seat.
“I sent you a photo yesterday morning.”
“Days and days,” she said, clutching a hand to her heart dramatically.
I shook my head. “You made it twenty years without seeing me, I think you’re fine.”
“Incorrect. I had our leavers’ photo. So I’ve seen you in the interim.”
“Me at eighteen. Is that the same?”
She shrugged. “I had to take what I could get. Despite being somewhat in the public eye, you keep a very low profile.”
I shot her a look. “Not all of us can be sapphic heartthrobs.”
“You think I’m a heartthrob?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows and clearly delighted.
I laughed and looked away from her piercing eyes. “I think…we should get going. Don’t want to be late for your game now, do we?”
Her hand found her heart again as she made a noise like she’d been shot with an arrow. “Leaving me hanging, Pendrick.”
“Absolutely.”
She handed me her phone as she chuckled. “Have at it.”
Excitement shot through me. I hadn’t really expected her to simply hand her phone over. I knew I’d done the same thing, but she was Eve Archer. I imagined she got a hell of a lot more interesting communications—and communications in general—than I did.
She clearly saw the emotions on my face but didn’t comment. Instead, she simply pulled away and let me start the music.
I opened the app, surprised she’d handed me an unlocked phone on the homescreen. It wasn’t hard to find, right there on the first page, but still, it was a level of trust I hadn’t been expecting her to give me. My stomach felt like I’d swallowed a sweet, warm pill that was glowing inside of me.
Rather than browsing, I simply opened her liked songs and hit the randomise button. I knew tastes changed and there was a possibility of hearing songs she hadn’t listened to in years, but I wanted to know all the music she’d ever loved.
“So,” she said when a Paramore song that I’d loved when we were at uni kicked in, “are you planning to play too?”
My head whipped in her direction. “Absolutely not. I’d get killed out there.”
She laughed and shot me a soft look. “I wouldn’t do that to you, don’t worry. I’m just wondering about the bag. Looked as big as my kit bag.”
“Oh.” I cleared my throat, shifting as much as the seat belt would allow. “My mum sent soup and tea.”
“Nice one, Lorraine.”
I laughed, unable to help myself. “Said like you know her.”
“I don’t need to know the woman to know she makes amazing soup.”
