Page 45 of A Little Complicated

“Because Reeves has been checking you out from the window.”

She looks at the windows and turns back to me. “Well, it looks like he’s had his fill because he isn’t there anymore, so what’s the problem?”

What’s the problem? She’s lying half-naked in my backyard. That’s the problem. I’m trying to keep my distance. Trying to fucking respect how she’s moved on after I pushed her away and I can’t have her anymore. But this? This is fucking torture, and I’ve never been the strong one.

“Just go inside, Opie,” I order.

“Why? I’m kind of at a good part.” Lifting her book, she wiggles it back and forth as if to prove her point, but I don’t budge.

“You really think Archer would be okay with you out here looking like this?”

“Like what?”

Like a fucking snack.

“Half-naked and shit,” I clarify.

Pushing herself to a sitting position, she looks down at her outfit choice and tilts her head at me. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing. I’m just saying…if you’re looking for Vitamin D, you might get more than you bargain for while wearing shit like that.”

Again, she looks down at her sports bra and spandex shorts. “From who?”

I look toward the bright blue sky and pray for patience, knowing my mom would murder me if she knew I was acting like this, but I can’t help it. Ophelia’s killing me right now. “Look, I’m trying to be nice, okay? Go get some clothes on. Do it for Archer.”

“Archer already saw me out here.”

My eyes bulge. “And he didn’t care if you look like this?”

“Like what?” she repeats.

“I already told you, half-naked and shit.”

“He doesn’t care how I dress. And he doesn’t care if Reeves checks me out, either.”

Another dose of annoyance floods my system, and I throttle the lawn mower’s handle, caught between wanting to smack some fucking sense into my brother and wanting to rip off my own shirt so I can cover all the bare skin in front of me. But I stay still, my jaw set tight.

“You okay over there?” Ophelia questions. “You look like you’re about to blow a gasket.”

“Do you think my brother would care if he knew your mystery man could see you out here dressed like this?” I demand.

“Oh, so we’re finally acknowledging you’re the guy who ditched me before prom?” she tosses back at me. “Sorry, but I’m a bit surprised since you refused to answer any of my texts or calls afterward. For all I knew, I was secretly dating a ghost until now.”

Regret spreads in my gut, and I squeeze the back of my neck, muttering, “I was a little preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied?” She laughs, but it sounds squeaky and sharp. “Glad to know how little I meant to you.”

“Guess I could say the same thing since you wound up dating my brother afterward. You couldn’t even wait twenty-four hours, could you.”

One of her tan, freckled shoulders lifts into the air. “I guess not.”

The dejection in her voice twists my self-loathing into something even less palatable, but I choke it back. “Good to know.”

I bend down and turn the lawn mower on so my mouth doesn’t get the best of me, and I say something I shouldn’t. Still, it doesn’t stop the words from filtering through my mind.

Too bad I’ll never be able to move on from you.

14

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