Page 47 of A Little Complicated

Literally.

“Should I leave so you can finish talking shit, or are you douchebags finished?” a low voice questions from behind the couch.

My breath stalls as I turn around and find Mav. He’s in a pair of basketball shorts with his T-shirt tucked in the back. His glistening chest is on full display, and a smile plays at the edge of his lips as he crosses his arms after catching us talking about him, though he doesn’t look offended. He looks amused. My eyes fall to his biceps. I gulp, turn back around, and face the blank television.

Peaked, my ass.

The guy’s a Greek god. It’s honestly kind of a problem.

It’s funny. How Maverick and Archer are technically identical twins, but I could tell them apart in a lineup of clones while blindfolded. I’m not sure if it’s a me thing or a them thing, but I’ve always been able to tell the differences, even when we were younger. There’s something about both of them that sets them apart. Soft. Hard. Sweet. Sarcastic. Respectful. Jealous. The list goes on and on. Adding the tattoos along Maverick’s bare chest is simply icing on the cake of differences between the Buchanan twins.

I wonder if it’s why he did it. Why he got the tattoos after I started dating Archer. If it was his way to prove they aren’t interchangeable.

Duh.

Trust me. I’m well aware of how different they are, both inside and out.

“Ah, the man of the hour,” Griffin says, snapping me out of my funk. “Help us out, will you? Have you peaked, or are you just distracted?”

“Dude, I peaked in elementary when Madisyn Montgomery asked me to be her boyfriend for a week,” Mav jokes as he rounds the arm of the couch. “Been going downhill ever since.”

“So you’re not distracted?” Everett prods.

Maverick’s eyes hold mine for a long second until he looks at Everett again. “What would I be distracted by?” He rocks back on his heel and takes a backward step toward the hall. “I’m gonna shower. See you guys.”

My lungs constrict as he turns around and leaves me with way more questions than answers. Then again, it’s Maverick. Why would I expect anything less?

15

MAVERICK

Asoft creak grabs my attention from the window, and I glance toward it, finding Lia. I should’ve known she’d find me up here. We used to escape to one of our roofs after everyone went to bed more times than I can count. At first, it was so we could argue more about how I cheated during Monopoly or why the Bruins would be idiots to trade Tukani to the Grizzlies. I shake off the memories as she climbs through the window and heads toward me on the roof. Her eyes are glued to her feet, making sure she doesn’t slip as she approaches me with careful footsteps.

The window’s connected to the study, and it’s jammed with desks and old textbooks. It’s where we go when we need to focus on homework, and let’s be honest, it isn’t used half as much as our parents hope it is. I’m okay with it, though. It gives me more opportunities to come out here without anyone noticing. This is one of the flattest spots on the roof, but it’s surrounded by high peaks on both sides, shielding the area from view. Archer knows I come up here sometimes, but he also knows it’s where I come when I need to be alone. When I need to think. When I need the chaos to quiet, even if it’s only for a little while.

Apparently, Lia doesn’t feel like granting me the same space.

Of course, she doesn’t.

It’s been a couple of hours since I walked in on Ophelia and Archer snuggled up on the couch like a cute as fuck couple. I’ve seen them together here and there since she moved in next door, but other than the one time on the front porch, they’ve never acted super lovey-dovey or anything. They’ve been their usual selves. Lia and Archer. The inseparable duo like always. Honestly, I wouldn’t even know they’re hooking up if I didn’t swear I heard her soft moans or my brother’s low groans through the wall since she moved in. Thankfully, they’ve started spending most of their nights at her place, but it hasn’t made me feel any better.

This is on you, not her, I remind myself for the thousandth time as I rest my forearms on bent knees and stare up at the big dipper in the sky, wishing she’d go away so I wouldn’t want to pull her closer.

“Can I ask you something?” Opie takes a seat beside me without waiting for an invitation.

I keep my eyes glued to the sky as I grunt, “Shouldn’t you be with Archer?”

“He knows I’m out here.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“I’m with Archer all the time,” she clarifies, stretching her legs out beside mine on the roof. “And when you didn’t come back out after your shower, I think he’s afraid he or one of the other guys offended you.”

My eyes slice to hers. “So he sent you to do his dirty work?”

“I asked to come see you,” she clarifies.

“Now you need his permission?”

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