By the time I pull up outside of Oakleigh’s cottage, I hear soft, steady breathing beside me. My fake enemy is curled up on the passenger seat, eyes closed, her face curtained by dirty-blonde hair. The strands shift as she exhales a long breath, telling me that she’s fast asleep. No wonder her jabs had ceased.
With a rather violent exhale, I hop out of my car, making my way round to her side. I’m about to open the door when I freeze, my hand halfway to the handle. Carrying her inside isn’t what someone who’s meant to dislike her would do. I’ve never done it before, so how the hell would I possibly explain suddenly being so chivalrous?
My fist clenches as I pull it back to my side.
Hate her today, so she’ll love you tomorrow.
Does the saying make any sense? Fuck no, but I’ve been telling it to myself for years in the hopes it’ll help to dull the longing inside of me. I convince myself to find the fun in the situation—to try and enjoy the way she glares at me; the way she sasses me with a flick of her hair and a raise of her brow. I tell myself to forget about the fact that she never smiles because of me and to find comfort in the fact that while she offers nothing but annoyance when I step into the room, it’s better than no reaction at all.
I’m not trying to change her mind about me—you can’t force someone to love you—but I can at least keep her close to me the only way I know how.
I give the window two loud raps and Oakleigh startles, looking around frantically. When she sees me leaning over so I can see in the window, her expression immediately goes from panicked to furious. I smirk.
“I said I would drive you home. I never said I would carry you to bed like Sleeping Beauty. Get up.”
With an angry huff, she opens her door, not even bothering to wait until I’ve moved. I lean back just in time.
“White paint typically looks shit with blood smeared on it,” I point out.
“Oops.” She smiles sweetly.
I move to the side. “Get out.”
“Touchy, touchy.” She’s still smiling as she steps out of my car. There isn’t a whole lot of space for her to stand as she gets out. While I’m not bulky like my sister’s fiancé, Gus, I can still fill out a space. When she realizes that I’m not going to move out of the way, her smile falters. “Still touchy because I friend-zoned you?”
“Again, you didn’t fri?—”
“Didn’t friend-zone you, yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waves me off. “What’s French for broken record?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Look, you’re just bitter, and I get it. It’s upsetting knowing that you’ll only ever be annoying to me, but you really have to get over it.”
“You think I’m upset?” I take half a step closer and she shrinks, watching me cautiously. “Cherry, if I wanted to make it out the best-friend’s-brother zone, I could.”
Even though she’s still cautious, her eyebrow raises. “Oh, you think so?”
“I know so.” I lean closer to her to make a point. Her breathing shallows, her eyelids droop. She hates me, but even she can’t deny that there is a chemistry between us that cannot be explained.
She scoffs pathetically; it’s more like a release of breath she’s been holding. “Yeah, right.”
“You scared, Cherry, baby?”
“Ha! In your dreams. You have absolutely no effect on me. You could kiss me right now and I’d be completely unfazed.”
“Be careful of the challenges you put in front of me, Cherry.”
She steels her spine, staring me dead in the eyes, and for the first time I see the way lust mixes with fierce determination, making her brown eyes darken until they’re blacker than the roads I just drove down. I lean my head forward, hoping that at the height Oakleigh is at, it will steal her attention away from the way my pants are starting to tent.
“I mean what I said,” she whispers, the words falling between us, filling up the little available space and choking us with their meaning.
I move so close to her, my lips brushing hers. The smell of her fills my nose and it takes everything in me not to close my eyes and savor how good she smells.
Her breath fans mine, and mine hers.
“Have it your way.”
In general, I’m a soft kind of guy. I act with chivalry toward all women. I buy flowers for my mom and sister, and I genuinely just try and mold myself to what others need me to be. But, when it comes to my romantic life, it’s never really accurately reflected my personality.
