Page 20 of A Little Complicated

OPHELIA

Imiss Dylan. And Finley. But especially Dylan since we grew closer after Finley’s family moved across the country a few years ago. Not that it matters. Once they move in, Dylan will catch Finley up on all the drama in my life, and they can both laugh at me together. Regardless, I could really use a wingwoman to help me get through tonight. I’m still not sure why I’m here. Why I decided this was a good idea, especially after my conversation with Mav this morning. But I can’t help it. I’m curious. What the Buchanan twins’ lives are like when the veil is stripped away, and I can see what therealLAU college life is like instead of the glimpses I caught while visiting. The life they’ve kept separate from me until tonight. Until this moment.

Puffing out my cheeks, I stare at the boys’ side of the duplex and try not to puke as I wipe my sweaty palms on my frayed jean shorts. There are so many people. Even the front lawn is packed with strangers holding cups of alcohol while laughing with each other. The front door is wedged open, allowing the glow from the entryway to spill onto the porch, highlighting a couple who are currently swallowing each other’s tongues.

Wow.

Keeping my focus glued to the ground, I head to the front door and step inside, avoiding the tongue hockey competition on my right. The bass is thumping and all the furniture lines the walls, leaving a makeshift dance floor in the center of the family room. The open floor plan leaves the kitchen in sight from the front door. Different glass bottles, liters of soda, and plastic cups cover the kitchen table and granite countertops. Of course, there’s free booze, and truth be told, I kind of want some. The lights are dim, and the scent of sweaty bodies, cheap cologne, and too-sweet perfume clings to the air as I head toward the kitchen. My nose wrinkles from the smell, but I don’t retreat to my side of the duplex. I’m here to experience college, and if this is how some people experience it, then dammit, so will I.

I grew up absorbing my parents’ stories of their experiences at LAU. How it was the best time of their lives. How it changed them forever. They only fed my curiosity more. Now, here I am. It’s surreal.

And kind of terrifying.

“Lia, you’re here!” a gruff voice greets me. It’s Griffin, one of Dylan’s older brothers. He pulls me into a bear hug.

“Hey, Griff!” I squeeze him back, and he lets me go. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah, it’s been way too long,” he agrees. “I didn’t know you’d be coming to Game Night.”

“You got a problem with me being here?”

His eyes thin as if he’s caught in a silent debate with himself. “You sure you’re ready for Game Night?”

“Why does everyone make Game Night sound so ominous?” I challenge.

“Because it’s Reeves’ turn to pick,” he jokes. “Speaking of which, I’m going to make you a two.”

“A two?”

“Reeves chose a game involving partners. Half the people here are ones, and the other half are twos.” He grabs my hand, writes a big number two on the back of it with a permanent marker, and motions to the side table beside him. There’s a massive glass bowl, a Sharpie, and a small stack of papers on the entry table. Griffin picks a slip of cardstock up and hands it to me. “Write your name on this.”

“What’s it for?”

“It’s for the game.” He motions to the half-full bowl. “This is how we make it random. People with a one on their hands will pick a name in a few minutes, and people with a two on their hands put their names in the pot.”

“Okay, then.” I uncap the black marker with my mouth, and after scrawling my name along the paper, I fold it in half and shove it into the bowl with the others.

Satisfied, Griffin presses his hand to my back. “All right, let me introduce you to a few people before the game begins. But first, you need a drink.”

“You have no idea,” I mutter.

Weaving between people, we make our way along the least crowded path to the kitchen, and I pour myself a rum and Coke while Griffin catches up with a few of his classmates. The carbonation bubbles tickle my nostrils as I take a sip, letting the soothing warmth spread down my throat.

Within minutes, Griffin’s introductions blur together, and I have no idea if I could regurgitate a single name or fun fact, even if my life depended on it. Regardless, I appreciate his friendliness. His attempt to welcome me into the fold. There’s a difference between being friendly at a family function and being friendly at a college party. Being friendlyhere? When I feel like I’m on a different planet? It means more than I want to admit.

If only it would erase the niggling in the back of my mind. It’s like a woodpecker is inside my skull. A baby woodpecker. One without the strength to give me a full-blown headache, but it’s still annoyingly persistent and keeps me scanning the main floor in search of a certain twin I want nothing to do with despite my best attempts to ignore him.

“Archer’s not here,” Griffin says as if he can read my mind.

I look up at him and smile in an attempt to seem like he didn’t catch me doing something I shouldn’t be. “I know. I was looking for your bathroom.”

“Ah.” He nods, gesturing toward the hallway. “Same place as yours. The layouts are just flipped.”

“Got it,” I reply. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sounds good, but don’t be late.” He checks the time on his phone. “Game starts in five.”

“Okay.”

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