Page 31 of Enemies to Lovers

There’s a line at concessions, what with it being a Monday night. Family night is a thing in the good ol’ state of Utah, and a lot of families pick Mondays. I didn’t grow up Mormon, but I knew a lot, and I was always jealous of the family-centered religion. When I asked my parents if we could do family nights even though we weren’t Mormon, they laughed at me. Apparently, family nights aren’t a Mormon-only thing. Logan pretended he wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but I noticed the twinkle in his eyes and the wideness of his grin whenever Monday night approached.

Family nights sort of disappeared when Logan and I moved out—at least in a scheduled sense. I call Mom every Monday, and Logan texts Dad. And there’s an unspoken agreement that if Logan and I have no plans, our plans are together on Monday nights.

Logan dodges a flying elbow from the little girl in front of us, who turns with rosy cheeks and mouths an apology before sidling up to her dad. A twinge of envy pricks the edges of my mouth, turning them downward. I wish I was six years old. I’d go back to that day at the park and ignore the cute boy flying across the monkey bars.

The sound of popcorn popping, kids laughing, and arcade games buzzing and zinging calm my erratic heart. This is my place, and I can relax and unwind. I got my brother here next to me, and my worries can shut the hell up for a couple of hours.

Logan turns to me. “What do you need tonight?”

I wave pretty aggressively to the counter. “Popcorn…”

His shoulders move with silent laughter. “I meant from me.” He holds one hand out. “Do you need protective brother?” He holds the other hand out. “Or comforting brother?”

As fun as it’d be to witness Logan’s protective side, I high-five his left hand. “Comforting, please.”

He groans but pulls me in for a hug. I take advantage, squeezing tight until we’re called up to order our snacks. I tuck my blanket over my arm, snuggling the popcorn bucket and taking kernels out with my tongue as we make our way to our theater.

Logan turns his nose up. “You’re getting your spit all over that.”

“Am not. Watch.” I stick my tongue out and tap one kernel at a time, pulling it into my mouth and grinning. The wrinkle above his nose deepens, and a bubble of laughter pops around my mouthful.

We’re early, and since it’s family night, most people made their way over to the family friendly film. We find our seats in the near-empty theater, and Logan slumps into his with a relaxing sigh.

“Do you have to pee?” I ask, taking my coat off anddraping it and my blanket over my seat. He takes a handful of popcorn from the side I wasn’t picking at with my tongue and tilts his leg rest up.

“Nope.”

“You know if you don’t go, you’ll be going at the best part.” I nod to his large drink, but he waves me off. I shrug and head to the bathroom. If I don’t go now, I’ll be going at least three times instead of two.

After way too long of trying to pee with no avail, I get to my seat. The popcorn is already half gone.

“Geez, give me that.” I take the bucket from Logan, who gives it up easily. I cozy up under my blanket, my recliner up, and my brain ready to watch some Chris.

“All right,” Logan says, wiping his buttered fingers on a napkin sitting on his thigh, “you’ve got about three minutes.”

I laugh and shake my head, popping a few kernels into my mouth. I’m a talker during movies, and it’s one of Logan’s top pet peeves.

I quickly catch him up on Miles and me being lab partners, and how I hate his guts, and he said he was sorry, but then he went and defended what he did because he wants the internship so bad, but the thing that stung the most was…

“He said things come easy for me.”

He frowns, setting his drink in his cup holder. “What did he mean by that?”

My teeth crunch on a not-yet-popped kernel, and I cringe and turn to the big screen playing an ad for Vitamin Water. “Probably that I don’t deserve the internship. That I didn’t deserve anything I’ve done this far in my life.”

My stomach hollows, even though it’s got about a fourth of a bucket of popcorn in there. I stare at the bucket, not sure if I want to drown myself in the butter or chuck it a few aisles in front of me.

“You better not believe him.”

“I don’t.” I toy with the bottom of the bucket, my nail catching on the seam. “Doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

The guy completely used me, lied to me, played with my heart… and yet, I still care about what he thinks. I hate that I care. I hate that he takes up so much space in my head.

I hate that I use the word hate now. Look what he’s done.

Logan nudges me, and I blink my gaze to meet his. “It pains me to say this, because I am your brother, and I should tease the hell out of you.”

“You’ve never been good at that.” I’m the teaser out of the two of us.

---