Page 40 of A Little Complicated

The last remnants of cream have finally dissipated into the dark liquid, turning the coffee a rich caramel color. It reminds me of Ophelia’s eyes, and a humorless chuckle grates my throat. “Does it ever bother you? How our parents planned everything out for us? Our futures. Our friends. Our living arrangements.” I motion to the house behind us, bought and paid for by our parents and their college friends. “Everything is mapped out. All of it. Do you ever wonder if it was even our choice to be friends with Everett, Griffin, and Jaxon? To play hockey? To attend LAU? To sign with the Lions when we graduate?”

Archer shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Mom and Dad have a picture of us at six weeks old, Arch. Six weeks. And we’re at the Lions’ arena, watching Uncle Theo and Uncle Colt play together. Fast forward to when we were ten, and we’re playing on the same ice with everyone’s kids, decked out in matching LAU jerseys. And here we are, almost twelve years later, living the life they mapped out for us.”

He scrubs his hand over his face. “Let me get this straight. You’re pissed at our parents for sharing their love of hockey with their kids?”

I shake my head. “It’s not that.”

“Then, what is it?”

“It’s everything. It’s our friend group. It’s where we spend our holidays. It’s the custom duplex all our parents built together, so we could watch out for the girls when they finally graduated high school and could attend LAU—the same school our parents attended. Doesn't it feel manipulative?”

“We chose to go here, you and me.”

“Did you even look at any other schools?” I counter.

“I didn’t need to. This is where I wanted to be. This is whereyouwanted to be.”

“Yeah.” I scratch at the scruff on my jaw, lost in thought. “I guess.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“I don't know.” I rest my elbows on my knees, letting my coffee hang between them. “Life is short. Sometimes, I look back and wonder where the time goes and how I got here. Part of me wonders if they even have spouses mapped out for us or some shit.”

“Spouses?”

“You said so yourself, man. Ophelia’s your potential wife, right?” The words taste sour, so I sip more coffee, hoping it’ll wash away the remnants. It doesn’t do shit, but I swallow the foul taste anyway and turn back to my brother. “Tell me something. Would you have asked her to prom and saved the day if Mom hadn’t told you to?”

His frown deepens, and he sets his untouched coffee beside him. “She didn’t tell me to ask Ophelia out.”

“She told you Ophelia’s date bailed at the last second,” I argue.

“Technically, Dylan reached out to me.”

“We both know Lia’s mom would’ve reached out to ours and asked you to take her,” I grit out as my frustration finally gets the best of me.

Sensing it, Archer nods and gives in. “Okay, you’re right,” he concedes. “She probably would’ve, so Ophelia’s night wasn’t ruined by some dick who bailed on her.”

The irony that he’s talking to the dick who bailed on Ophelia isn’t lost on me. I smile sardonically against the rim of my cup, muttering, “Exactly,” as I take another sip.

“But I was glad I could take her,” Archer continues. “You know I’ve had a thing for Ophelia for a couple of years. She’s been my best friend since middle school, and not long after sophomore year here, I wanted her.”

“Yeah, I know.” I scrub my hand over my face, ignoring how I wanted her long before then, as the guilt settles in my gut. It was never Mav and Ophelia, though. Not to our families. And I was too young to think I could change their perspective, so why try? I shove aside my resentment and continue, “But you proved my point. You were chosen to be hers from the beginning.”

“Bullshit,” he snaps. “Yeah, Mom and Dad always joked about me winding up with Lia, but no one ever took it seriously until I went to prom with Ophelia and kissed her. Besides, even if they didn’t joke about it, I would still want her, she’d still want me, and everyone wouldstillbe okay with it. Mom and Dad have been nothing but supportive. Hell, everyone’s been supportive.” He pins me with a stare that burns the side of my face as I look out at the trees and overgrown grass stretched in front of us. “Everyone but you,” he adds.

Yeah. Because I’m the one with the stick up my ass. The one standing in the way of his future and his happiness. The one who had her first and let her go, only so my brother could be the one to pick up the fucking pieces.

And he has no idea.

It’s been weeks. Weeks of torture. Of knowing what she tastes like without being able to savor her. Of knowing she’s moved on and left me in the past. Of knowing I want to hate her new boyfriend while also knowing my brother is theonlyperson on this planet with the power to treat her the way she deserves. But the worst part is knowing I can’t even be bitter about it or blame her for choosing him. Because he’s the better choice. For so many reasons. He’s better than me. He’s always been better. It only took Ophelia’s heart breaking to see it. How good they could be together. And yeah, we might be young, and their intimate relationship might still be new, but the prospect of marriage when they’ve known each other for as long as they have? It isn’t so crazy. Not really.

“I need your support, Mav,” Archer tells me.

“I’m your brother,” I mutter into the mug. “I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

“Thank you.” He stands and slaps his hand against my shoulder. “Because I can’t do this without you. I’m sick of playing referee between you two, so do it for me, yeah?” He squeezes my trapezius muscles. “Play nice?”

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