“Cherry?”
God, that stupid nickname. Given to me by a cocky seventeen-year-old Finn who caught me stuffing my face full of cherry pie and thought it hilarious enough to remind me of it for the rest of my life. Unfortunately, ever since he drove me home a few months ago, the nickname has had a completely different intonation.
Before he can anticipate what I’m doing, I wrap one leg around him and use my weight to throw myself on top of him, bringing him down onto the grass.
“What the fuck?” he groans as his back meets the ground. Wide, hazel eyes watch me as I straddle him. I’m so wrapped up in the competition, completely immersed in the adrenaline that rushes through me when we compete that I don’t bother to acknowledge how inappropriate this position is.
I smile down at him wickedly. I rip the notebook from his hand and hover above him for an extra second, my face all but a millimeter away from his. Okay, yeah, now I’m aware of the current situation. I’m pretty much sat on him, perfectly lined up with a part of him that I’ve felt through his pants once before.
Once, that was somehow both more than enough and nowhere near it.
“Touch my shit again and see what happens,” I say sweetly, giving him the nicest smile I can muster before pushing myself off him and standing up.
I’m almost at the door, ready to hug my best friend, when I hear Finn’s low voice say, “Be careful of the challenges you put in front of me, Cherry.”
My steps falter, but I still follow Wren into the house.
Asshole.
“Okay, so this time it was…”
“My goddamn notebook,” I growl, taking a seat at the kitchen island where a week’s worth of groceries lie scattered. My notebook that holds part of the manuscript for my debut novel. The debut novel no one has read yet.
Wren rolls her eyes as she unpacks the bags. I sit without helping, mostly due to the ice pack currently on my toe. Thankfully, her fiancé Gus is helping out.
“You two are honestly going to be the cause of each other’s deaths.” Wren shakes her head.
“That may very well be true, and I’m hoping that I’ll get to him first.”
“Why are you so competitive?” Gus asks as he places something in a high cupboard with ease.
Finn and I stay silent. I don’t answer because no matter how much I search for one, I simply can’t find it. I can tell you a thousand reasons why we hate each other, but not when or where that hatred stemmed as far as this insistent need to be better than one another.
“Oh, I know the answer to this one!” Wren shouts happily, jumping up and down on the spot with a hand up, as if trying to get the teacher’s attention.
“I can’t wait to hear this,” I mumble.
She sticks her tongue out at me before turning to Gus. “They constantly compete with one another because every competition is a way to hide the true feelings that they have for one another because neither of them understands why they feel the way they do.”
Gus and I both stare at her like she’s grown two heads. The only difference is that Gus’s expression neutralizes before he shrugs and says, “That makes sense.”
“How the fuck does that make sense?” I shout.
“Can you quieten down, please? Some of us are trying to rest over here.”
I glare over at Finn, cursing him internally. He’s on the couch, one arm covering his eyes to block out the sunlight coming in through the front window.
“Don’t you have a job? It’s the middle of the day on a Wednesday.”
“Says the one sitting at her best-friend’s kitchen table at the same time on the same day.”
“My working hours aren’t simply my company’s operation hours.”
“The beautiful part about owning a company, Oakleigh? I can do whatever I please, including have a nap at two in the afternoon,” Finn says.
My eyes roll. “Well, are you not hearing what your sister is trying to say about us?”
He shrugs. “Nothing my parents haven’t been saying for years.”
