Page 13 of Enemies to Lovers

He loves my stairs, though.Lovesthem. He’s been racing up and down them all day.

“Brewster, jeez.” My breath comes out in pants as I jog to keep up with his curious pace. The little white spot on the top of his head is shaped like a diamond, and as we walk through the neighborhood, Christmas lights reflect off him like red and green beacons.

I love him already. I don’t know him at all, but I’d punch anyone who dares to hurt him.

The sound of Ariana Grande’sSanta Tell Mecuts through the night air, and I pull my phone out to check the text that just came in. My heart leaps like a ballerina when Miles’ name lights the screen.

Miles: Hi Val. This is Miles. I was wondering if you had any plans this week. Besides Christmas, I mean.

Miles is asking me about my plans. Miles is texting meperiod. The last message I got from him was telling me he finished his part of our group project last year, and that was in a group text with five other people.

I twist Brewster’s leash around my wrist, and he pauses to sniff a tree. I take the opportunity to text Miles back.

Me: Just some last-minute shopping. Why? What’s up?

“Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t you dare do it, Val,” I tell the night air and my new pup. Brewster continues to sniff the tree like it’s hiding buried treasure, and Ariana breaks through the air again.

Miles: Would you like to get a bite to eat or something? With me, I mean.

My breath shoots from my lungs. Miles is asking meout. It’s been years and years and years and I’m a freaking old lady it feels like, but the day has come!

My gloved fingers shake as I type back, but I only tap the Y before I jerk forward. Brewster yanks the leash, and my feet slip from underneath me. I stumble and trip and scream… face-first into a pile of snow.

The leash drops from my wrist, and Brewster’s deep barks muffle in my snow-covered ears. I pull my face from the wetness, blinking and wiping clumps of the packed fluff from my cheeks.

“Brewster!” My vision blurs, and I blink the snow from it, focusing on the pup. He’s taken off, his tail bouncing down the street and out of my view.

I struggle in the snow pile, slipping and sliding my way to my feet. I wonder how many neighbors saw that through the window. I shake the snow off onto the sidewalk, a chill running down my spine. The wind is not my friend as I check both ways before crossing the road.

“Brewster, boy!” Dang, I wish I could whistle. I clap my hands, hoping and praying he comes prancing back to me, but he doesn’t. His collar jangles in the distance, and my amusement morphs quickly into panic.

I dig my phone from my pocket, my fingers trembling and wet as I notice Miles’ message still there.

Yes, Miles! He works at the shelter, knows Brewster.

Me: Can you help me? I’m out walking Brewster and he took off :( Please?

Not a second later, my phone pings.

Miles: Where are you?

I drop a pin, and he says he’ll be here in less than five. He lives close—not that I haven’t purposely walked by his place a time or twenty.

I push my phone into my pocket and start calling out Brewster’s name.

“I promise lots of treats and snuggles! Please, boy, come here!” My short little legs carry me across the sidewalk, but I’m starting to freeze, and the bite of the wind turns every wet part of my body to ice. I curl in on myself, following every jangle that sounds even remotely like Brewster’s collar.

Great, day one of owning a dog, and I’ve already lost him. What a vet I’ll turn out to be.

A few minutes later, a flash of headlights flood the road. Relief melts my chilled center, and I rush to the driver’s side when he pulls over.

“He just took off on me. I think he’s somewhere over there. I’m following his paw prints.”

Miles nods, something that looks a lot like triumph glimmering in his hazel eyes. I scrunch my nose and hitch a hip.

“Do not make fun of me.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

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