Page 16 of Enemies to Lovers

Wake up.

Smoothies.

Emerson took hers, but Sammie turned her nose up at it.

They’re all pissed about this charade, but I’ve convinced myself it’s harmless.

I take Val on a couple of… dates… and then I plead my case.

Innocent.

Yeah.

I clear my suddenly clogged throat and crack my neck. It’s a win-win, like Ransom said. I get the internship and she gets me… for a little bit. Like I’m some sort of prize…

My hand goes for my hair, but I stop before I can pull at the ends. Showing up a mess will be an automatic giveaway to my nerves.

This isn’t a test. It’s a date, damn it. I’m not a twelve-year-old kid heading to the sixth-grade dance.

A flash of that twelve-year-old kid prods my brain, invading slowly. Hunter tied my tie for me. Ransom picked my shirt—pink, for Valentine’s Day. He promised he was doing me a favor. “Girls love a dude who’s confident in pink.”

I’ve yet to see him in the color.

Val was there, of course. She wore black, which I found bizarre. She stood out like a sausage at a vegan dinner, her round cheeks the only splash of pink on her. When Jeremy Bryce asked her to dance—as a joke, I later found out—she took to the floor and showed off an excellent worm. In a dress.

Always confident.

I learned how to down an entire punch bowl after falling on my ass during the first dance move I attempted.

My tire bumps against the curb as I pull up to her condo, and I let out a slow breath. She’ll be confident during this date, no doubt. I send up a silent prayer that I don’t make a giant ass of myself, then ask God to forgive me for saying ass in a prayer.

A booming bark greets me as I get halfway up the walk, and the familiar sound sets a smile on my face. Give me dogs; they calm the nerves every damn time.

The door eases open, then closes slightly, then again as Val fights the unseen force of Brewster just behind it.

“Sit, boy. Oh my gosh, stahhhhp.”

I stifle a grin. Okay… maybe not everything comes easily for her.

She slithers through the small gap and shuts the door before the pit makes an escape. I stuff my hands into my coat pockets and wait for her to lock up.

“Sorry,” she says breathlessly, turning toward me. Her cheeks are red already, her hair fraying from a high ponytail poking out of a crocheted headband covering her ears. Her makeup is done, her breath puffing into the cold air between pink, puffy lips. “Hereallylikes the snow. We’d spend all night just trying to get him out of it.”

“Not a bad night, if you ask me,” I say, surprising myself that my voice is steady, amused, almost easy. Damn. Prayer works.

“Maybe after shopping.” She slides on a pair of fingerless gloves, the same yarn as her headband. It’s pink and glittery and loud. “Do you have a lot left?”

We fall into step together, my elbow brushing her shoulder slightly as we make our way to my car, sending a wave of nerves to bundle in my stomach. I almost go to the driver’s side before remembering I should open her door.

“Just Emerson… my sister,” I clarify, in case she doesn’t remember my family members.

“She’s the youngest, right?”

Her memory is impressive, not that I’m surprised. “Yep.”

Val plops into the passenger seat, and I make sure all her limbs are in before I shut the door. I slip on the icy walk as I make my way around, and I hope she finds my clumsiness endearing. The way her teeth bite into her plump bottom lip as I get behind the wheel makes me think I’m doing something right.

“Is Emerson the hardest to buy for?” she asks, and I lift an eyebrow. “Since she’s the only one you have left.”

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