Page 3 of A Little Complicated

“You’re right,” I say with a laugh. “A whole slew of seniors are waiting at my door, praying my date will fall through. And what do you know? That’s exactly what happened.” A scoff slips out of me. “Ya know, you were the one who wanted to take this to the next level.”

“Yeah, and I was wrong,” he mutters. “Like I said, I’m sorry, but…I’m trying to do what’s best for you. It is what it is.”

“It is what it is?” I repeat, convinced I’m hallucinating because this guy? He’s cold and indifferent and…a fucking asshole.

“I don’t know what else you want me to say, Ophelia.” The same heavy dose of resignation taints his sigh as he adds, “I’m sorry.”

“Can we talk—”

“I gotta go.”

He hangs up the phone, and I touch my lips with my fingers, willing the burn behind my eyes to go away, when a light knock echoes from the opposite side of my bedroom door.

Dropping my phone onto the mattress, I blink my unfallen tears away. “Come in.”

The door opens with a soft squeak, and my mom, Blakely, rests her shoulder against the doorjamb, her expression pinched. “Hey. Everything okay?”

“Dylan already told you?” I ask.

She grimaces. “She may have voiced her concern.”

“Of course she did,” I mutter as my mom walks into my room and sits beside me on the edge of the bed.

“What can I do?” she asks.

“Nothing. Actually, scratch that. I want ice cream,” I decide. “Lots and lots of ice cream.”

“Your Aunt Ashlyn would be so proud,” she muses, mentioning Dylan’s mom. “She’s a big believer in ice cream fixing everything, but I have another idea for this particular situation.”

I frown. “What is it?”

“Well, Mia mentioned the twins are coming back from LAU tonight. They’re staying for the weekend. What if Archer takes you?”

Archer.

He’s my best friend. Well, other than Dylan and Finley. We text daily and talk about everything with each other. Everything except dating. The idea of actuallygoingon a date with him? It feels like I’m crossing a line, one we’ve both drawn without ever discussing it. And after everything with Mystery Man? I’m pretty sure the timing couldn’t be worse.

“That’s a bad idea,” I murmur.

“Why? He’s your best friend.”

“It just is.” After the phone call, I’m feeling on edge. Like a shaken-up can of soda ready to explode at any second, and it’s a real possibility if I can’t get my emotions under control.

Breathe,I remind myself.

I shove my feelings deep down inside my chest cavity like a garbage compactor on steroids, adding, “Archer’s probably busy tonight, anyway, and Dylan’s date will be here in less than an hour. It’s not like Archer can be ready in time. Speaking of which, I’ve gotta tell Dylan her date needs to drive since we were all planning on riding in Mystery Man’s car. Shit.”

I start to stand, but my mom stops me. “Don’t worry about the driving arrangements yet. We’ll figure it out. As for Archer being ready in time, I’m pretty sure he can steal one of his dad’s tuxedos. Actually, I’m almost sure he already owns one. Those boys have attended events fancier than this since they were babies.”

My lips press together, knowing she’s right. Their parents are freaking billionaires. Literally. Those boys have been attending fancy soirees since before they could walk, so of course, Archer has a tux. But it doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to go with him.

“What if I mention it to his mom?” she suggests. “Let her feel him out and see if he’d be okay taking you?”

“And make me the pity-party prom girl who can’t keep a date?” I stick out my bottom lip. “No, thank you.”

“Too late!” Dylan chimes in from the doorway. “I already texted Archer.”

My adrenaline kicks into full gear, and my eyes cut to hers. “You did what?”

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