Page 55 of A Little Complicated

“So?” she prods, looking down at her dress. “What do you think?”

I set the protein shake on the counter and walk toward her, my movements slow and controlled when I’m anything but.

My mind’s a mess. Like I’m caught in some fucked-up deja vu loop. Is this what she looked like before prom? Before I broke up with her? Before I let her go?

I’m a fool.

I said I wanted her to be happy, even when it wasn’t with me. But why him? Why my brother? Why do I have to put up with front-row seats to the girl of my dreams moving on without me? But even if I could choose someone different, would I? He treats her better than I ever could. He fucking worships her the way she deserves. And it’s what I want. For Ophelia to be worshipped.

This dress, though? She’s even more stunning than I imagined. And fuck me, I spent a lot of time imagining how pretty she must look when she was trying on her dresses in the store earlier today. She’s gorgeous.

“You’re hesitating,” she notes, “which isn’t exactly a good sign in case you’re wondering.”

When I reach her, I keep my voice low and lick my lips, reminding myself she isn’t mine. Not anymore.

“You don’t wear dresses,” I remind her.

She tilts her head. “Is that a nice way of saying I look like shit?”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

“I wasn’t…” Her voice trails off, and she sighs, sucking her pouty lips into her mouth and gracing me with a glimpse of her eyes. The warm brown sugar is lined with a smokey brown and shoots straight to my groin.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

“It’s like you said,” she murmurs. “I don’t usually wear dresses, and I have no idea if I’m pulling this off or not, but…thank you for deflecting? It’s giving me agreatconfidence boost exactly when I need it, so you’re a real peach.” She gives me a thumbs up and tries to move past me, but I step in front of her, slowly dragging my hand from her fingers and up her forearm. Her skin feels like silk in my palm as I tug her closer, looking over the top of her head to confirm we’re alone.

“You want the truth?” I rasp. “You look like a wet dream, Ophelia.”

Her breath hitches, and she peeks up at me through her thick lashes. They’re darker than usual, accentuating her caramel-colored eyes. Heat licks along my erection, and I nearly groan.

“And that’s a…good thing?” she whispers.

“For my brother, yeah. The rest of us?” I press my tongue against my cheek and let her go. “Fucking torture. Have a good night.”

I storm out the front door, pull my phone from my pocket, and shoot the group a text, letting them know I’ll meet them at the bar because if I spend one more minute in Opie’s presence, I’ll lose my mind.

18

OPHELIA

As I watch a show on my laptop, a soft knock hits my bedroom window, and my brows dip. The same sound comes from the glass another time, and a muffled “Opie, it’s me” filters in from outside.

It’s almost midnight, and I have school tomorrow. I should be sleeping. The rest of my family is. So what’s Maverick doing outside? It has to be him. No one else calls me Opie. Or at least, no one who lived to tell the tale. But he’s supposed to be at LAU, so…

Curious, I toss my legs over the edge of my bed and push the white curtains aside. Sure enough, there he is.

Maverick Buchanan.

I unlock my window and push it open, coming face to face with the most attractive guy I’ve ever been lucky enough to know. I’m on the first floor, so it’s not like it’s hard for Maverick to sneak in through my window, but coming over unannounced?

This is new.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper, glancing at my closed bedroom door. If anyone catches us together, I’ll have to answer some questions I’m not sure I’m ready to answer. Like how long I’ve been hooking up with Maverick Buchanan and if I’m sure it’s a good idea.

“You gonna let me in or what?” he prods.

I roll my eyes but step aside when a small bag of something flies through the window and hits my comforter with a soft pfft.

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