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She tilts her head at me, her brows pinching together. “Why am I afraid to ask what you mean by that?”
“Because evolution embedded a fight-or-flight response in each of us.”
“Are you suggesting I should run away?”
“Nope. You’re all fight. And that’s what makes you dangerous.” I play it cool despite my own instinct to run in the opposite direction of her. It’s a feeling starting from deep within me, whispering how nothing good can come from this. A feeling I need to hold on to, for the sake of my dwindling sanity.
I don’t want to like her. Bloody hell, I don’t want to crave her like a lovesick twat who can’t keep his dick in check. And I sure as fuck don’t want to let her in.
Some people have defense mechanisms while I have weapons of mass destruction.
And like a detonated bomb, I can’t take them back.
“We’re so proud of you. You’ve been having such a splendid performance this year.” My dad’s pride carries through the phone.
“Who knew I had it in me this season?” I hang around the garage, checking in with mechanics after my earlier qualifier round.
“We did. We always knew you’d be a front-runner once Liam left. We love him, but we can’t help being happy for you. I mean, what an amazing qually today! You’re a powerhouse this season.” My mum’s voice gets louder as my dad hands the phone to her.
“Don’t keep boosting my ego, Mum. Elena won’t be able to keep me in check if you keep it up.”
“Who is this Elena girl you’ve mentioned a couple times?” my dad grumbles into the phone.
“He talked to her last week when you went to the bathroom. I think Jax likes her.” My mum attempts to whisper except the phone’s microphone picks up everything.
“Should we run a background check on her?” My dad’s voice drops low.
I picture my dad rubbing his eyebrow as he thinks about contacting a private investigator. Might as well nip this concern in the bud before they get carried away. “I hope you both know I can hear you. Let’s not overreact. I don’t have a crush, and I wouldn’t exactly appreciate someone snooping into my past, so let’s leave hers alone.”
“Oh, yeah. He’s definitely interested in her.” My dad laughs.
“Are you two for real? What has gotten into you? I barely know her, let alone like her. It’s the opposite actually of what you think. Can’t stand her presence.”
Mum giggles. “Oh, enemies-to-lovers. Nice. That’s a great story to tell people when they ask how you fell in love.”
I exhale a wheezy breath. “Who the hell said anything about love? She’s my PR rep for fuck’s sake. I’ve been around her for all of three weeks.”
Three weeks of heated conversations and disgruntled reactions. Days filled with palpable tension neither one of us tries to alleviate, which leads to more awkward moments. Mornings of her puckered nipples taunting me as she pours herself a cup of coffee. Evenings of her lounging on the couch with her toned legs on display, begging me to grip onto them and explore her body. And worst of all, there’s no escape from her laughs and daily challenges. I look forward to hearing the shit coming out of her mouth, which adds to the level of concern growing in my chest with each passing day.
Basically, living with Elena is like treading water by myself in the middle of an ocean—deadly, useless, and one wrong move away from going under.
“Mums get these types of feelings about things.”
My clammy fingers grip my phone. “Dad, please control your wife. She’s delirious.”
Dad’s laugh sounds like thunder rumbling. “Why would I want to control what makes her special? That’s like asking the sun to stop shining.”
Their romance makes acid crawl up my throat. Not because I dislike how they love each other, but for how bitterness takes up a spot in my heart knowing my mum will be robbed of these moments. My dad will wither away with her once she gets worse, losing a part of himself too.
Their random call to congratulate me means everything to them, but it destroys me bit by bit. It’s sickening to pretend I’m okay despite the mentally exhausting war I’m losing week by week.
Instead of voicing my concerns, I keep them hidden. “I’m going to hang up before you both ruin my appetite. When I call you tomorrow, please keep the flirting to a minimum. It’s rather gross.”
Mum snorts. “Maybe if you flirted with the right kind of woman, then you wouldn’t be disgusted by us. Imagine going on a real date. And I’m not talking about the rubbish you do with random women.”
My dad takes over. “Ignore her. She’s only having fun with you.”
I let out a laugh. “All right. I need to get going before Elena reams me about being late to a press event. Talk to you both tomorrow.”
