Page 63 of A Little Complicated

My eyes find Ophelia’s. She’s staring at me.

You thinking about last night, too, Goose?

Realizing she’s been caught, she hops off the counter and sneaks a coffee cup from beside the stove, bringing it to her lips.

“You’ll be fine once you get laid,” Reeves argues. “And September, my ass. The girls need help with a fundraiser next week, remember? And Coach Sanderson already lined up a scrimmage against the Snappers too.”

“It’s next week?” I ask.

“Come on, man. Do you not hear anything Jaxon says?” he asks.

“Jax is the girls’ coach, not ours,” I remind him.

“Dude, he was at the bar last—” He shakes his head, not deeming my question worth the effort of a full explanation. He scrubs his hand over his face. “Remember the girls we met last night? A few of them are playing for the Lady Hawks this year.”

The night’s fuzzy as shit, so I don’t even bother trying to recount the evening. Besides, I was too busy getting wasted in an attempt to erase the image of Lia smiling at me until realizing I wasn’t Archer to pay attention to anything else.

Fuck, that hurt.

Instead of announcing it to the rest of the room, however, I prod, “So?”

“So, they want help building hype for their team since it’s their first year. We’re in charge of an ice plunge, and the girls are doing a kissing booth at the Lockwood Heights carnival.”

His words turn to a low buzz in my ears as I turn to Archer and demand, “You’re going to let Lia kiss random guys?”

His eyes cut to Ophelia, proving we’re on the same page, though I doubt he’d ever admit it out loud. He looks at me again, his eyes clouded with restraint as he lifts a shoulder and smooths his expression.

Rolling her eyes, Ophelia leans her hips against the edge of the granite countertop and announces, “Whether or not a kissing booth is dated and a little barbaric, the truth is, it sells tickets, and the girls’ team needs tickets sold if I have any hope of breaking the stupid stigma and turning hockey into a respected women’s sport. But the good news is, Jaxon said I can man the ticket booth, so you can take a chill pill, gentlemen. I’m not going to be kissing any random guys.”

“And if someone calls in sick?” Reeves jokes.

“Then I’ll have to take one for the team, which is fine because Archer and I trust each other.” She gives him a pointed look. “Right?”

My brother snakes his hands around her waist and kisses her temple. “Right.”

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to my place to shower.” She takes a long swig of her coffee, sets the mug on the counter, and smiles at my best friend. “Reeves.” Rising onto her tiptoes, she brushes her lips against Archer’s cheek. “Archer.” Her eyes find mine, and her heels hit the ground. “Maverick.”

Her familiar scent hits my nostrils as she slips past me and walks outside, leaving me anxious and frustrated and so fucking confused I’m not sure if I’m still drunk or if I’ve actually processed what’s going on.

“The Lady Hawks are seriously doing a kissing booth?” I demand.

“Dude, did you hit your head last night when I wasn’t looking?” Reeves questions. “Yes. I already told you they’re doing a kissing booth. Why do you care?”

Fuck.

“Because if it was Rory, I’d be shitting my pants,” I argue, mentioning my little sister as I pin Archer with a look.

He nods his agreement and lets out a sigh. “Yeah, I get it. I’m not too excited about the booth either, but Lia worked her ass off to get here. I’m gonna support her however I can.”

Support her?

That’s bullshit.

It’s also none of my business.

“You’re a better boyfriend than I would be,” I mutter, and I hate how he’s proving it.

I wasn’t always this jealous of an asshole. Before, it was different. I didn’t care who she talked to or what she wore because I knew she was mine. I knew I was the only one touching her. The only one who knew what she tasted like. But it’s not the case now, and it’s driving me mad and turning me into a fucking asshole. One I can barely look at in the mirror most days.

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