Page 82 of A Little Complicated

“So.” I juggle my book and Oreos in my grasp, folding my arms. “I’m doing my due diligence as her teammate, and I’m curious if you’re interested in her.”

His chuckle is sardonic at best as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is that what you’re doing? Your due diligence as afriend?”

I hate how he can see right through me. But what I hate even more? It’s how I care enough about his answer to keep pushing when I know I shouldn’t.

With my head held high, I argue, “Yes. I’m doing my due diligence. Are you interested in her, Maverick?” As the words tumble out of me, the Oreos slip from beneath my arm and crash to the ground like a puck hitting the ice. I flinch but don’t bother picking them up. I’m too amped up from our conversation. Too invested in his potential answer and what it’ll do to me.

His eyes fall to the cookies, but he finds my gaze again. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah, I really want to know.”

His shoes brush against my bare toes as he steps closer, careful not to step on them. “No, Opie. You can tell your teammate I’m flattered but not interested.”

He’s not interested.

I shouldn’t be relieved, but I am.

Ignoring the feeling, I push, “Why not?”

“Because I’m not.”

“Is there someone else?”

He cocks his head. “Are you asking if I’m seeing someone?”

I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off. “No, Ophelia. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Wereyou seeing someone?” I whisper. “Is that why you broke things off?”

His expression falls. “Opie—”

“Just answer the question, Maverick.”

It comes out as a plea, and I hate myself for it. The way I need to know if there’s someone else. If there’s ever been someone else.

His movements are slow as he raises his hand and brushes his fingers along my jaw. “Where is this coming from, Opie?”

“Just answer the question,” I repeat.

He lowers his hand again, like he’s just remembered I’m not his to touch or to comfort. It only hurts me more.

“Of course I wasn’t seeing someone else,” he murmurs.

“There wasn’t some…girl here?” I run my thumb along the edge of my book and look down at the battered pages, unable to hold his penetrating stare for another second. “Some girl who caught your attention or something?” The thought leaves a trail of bitterness on my tongue, and my nose wrinkles. How had I never considered this possibility? That he was seeing someone else? That I didn’t matter.

“Opie, look at me,” Maverick orders.

My teeth dig into the inside of my cheek as I steal the courage to look up at him. To actually communicate with the asshole in front of me instead of dancing around the subject like we always do.

His eyes soften in the moonlight. “The only girl who’s ever held my attention is you.”

The last of my resolve crumbles, and I close my eyes, soaking up his admission no matter how much it hurts. I believe him. Maybe I’m stupid, but I do. And the truth is…the feeling is mutual. I tried being all-in with Archer. I’ve done everything in my power to move on and to be happy with someone who, by all accounts, is perfect. It’s done nothing but made me more miserable, more defeated, and more sure of my feelings for the man in front of me, even when it doesn’t make any sense. Even when I'm better off running in the opposite direction.

But the idea of fighting those feelings for another second is more than I can bear.

“Listen,” I whisper. “After the kissing booth, you said you were done playing this game. And…well, so am I.” I take a deep breath, forcing my lungs to work.

“Lia—”

---