Page 56 of Enemies to Lovers

“You know what you should do,” Ransom says at the table behind me. I test my swing, eyeing my older brother as he points a fry at Paxton.

“No no…” I interrupt, and they all turn to look at me. “Don’t listen to anything he says.” I jab my driver at Ransom. “His advice is shit.”

Ransom holds his hands up. “What the hell did I do?”

“You told him to date that girl he’s obsessed with,” Paxton mumbles. He burps, then hiccups, and Hunter slides Paxton’s beer out of his reach.

“Obsessed is a little strong, don’t you think?” I lean on my driver, my ball sitting untouched on the astroturf.

“In love with?” Ransom says. Hunter smacks him on the back of the head, and I’m grateful again for my oldest brother.

“Miles is right.” Hunter turns to Paxton. “Don’t listen to Ransom. He doesn’t know shit.”

“Hey, hey…” Ransom sets down the nearly empty basket of fries. “I don’t even know what the hell you are all talking about.”

“You being a dipshit.” Evan frowns at the basket, then moves on to the nachos. “I wasn’t even there, and I know what they’re talking about.”

Ransom lifts a brow in my direction, and I huff out a breath. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No.” He crosses his arms, his too-tight shirt straining. “If you’re pissed at me, I want to know why.”

“I’m not pissed.” Not really. I don’t even blame him. “I’m joking around.”

Ransom glares at me, but I ignore it and swing at the ball. It’s a pitiful drive, only making it halfway into the course and hitting none of the targets. I take another shot—we do five at a time—and manage to get the corner of a yellow target. In the end, I get five whole points. Compared to the fifty Ransom just got, I feel a little pathetic as I take my seat, and Paxton gets up for his turn.

Ransom slides his stool closer. “Look, if you’re upset with me—”

“I’m not.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

I scratch at my scruff, my beard growing back slowly but surely. “I’m just dealing with some shit with Val.”

“From what I heard, I thought things were going well.”

“Sleeping together doesn’t equate to ‘going well.’” The cat’s out of the bag, anyway. Might as well be blunt.

Paxton sways as he swings and misses the ball. Hunter’s fists curl against his arms as he crosses them over his chest, his jaw tight. He’ll call the night soon, I’m sure of it.

“If I promise not to offer any advice, will you tell me what’s going on?” Ransom says, pulling my attention. I let out a hollow laugh, then take a swig from my Coke. Hunter always designates two drivers on Top Golf night, and since I’ve got finals coming up, I took the sober role.

“I told her how I feel, and she told me to put a lid on it.”

“So Paxton’s right?” His brows rise. “You like her, then?”

“Of course I do.” I shake my head and take another swig. “And that’s also your fault.”

He leans back, scratching at the nape of his neck. “What in the world is this advice I gave you?”

I clear my throat, putting on the ‘dumb voice’ we all use for each other in moments like this. “‘Get her to like you, Miles. She’ll give you the internship, Miles.’”

He laughs. “That? Shit, I was hopped up on cold medicine.”

“Then you texted me and blew a hole in the whole thing.”

“I was kidding. Shit.” Ransom runs a hand through his hair, then slaps a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was that big of a deal. Thought you liked her.” He frowns, lines forming in the corners of his mouth. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Because it wasn’t your fault.” I wipe a drop of condensation off my glass, catching it before it soaks into the napkin it sits on. “And I do like her. She doesn’t trust me on it. Not with the internship hanging over our heads.”

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