Page 11 of Enemies to Lovers

‘I’m going to cool off in the sea,’ I say, getting up and heading down to the water quickly. I’m cross that my quiet afternoon of reading has been hijacked by a group of people who don’t know how to exist in sociable silence. Also, with Jamie. I’m annoyed by Jamie, and I’m annoyed that I’m annoyed by him.

As I go, Kate shouts, ‘Your arse looks amazing in that swimsuit, babes!’

I deliberately chose something that covers me up a bit more today, after Bikini-gate yesterday, and I spin around to give her the finger. I do it with a smile to let her know I’m only half serious, cementing the fact with an over-the-top bum-wiggle.

Kate screeches, yelling out, ‘Yassss, queen!’ I throw her a cheeky grin, pleased to have made her laugh, and that’s when I see Jamie shaking his head disapprovingly.Well, excuse me for having some fun, I think, before diving into the cool of the gentle waves.Like, I get it: you’re mad I exist, too.

I head out a little way and lie on my back, like yesterday, practising the deep breathing my therapist taught me – in through the nose, out through the mouth. Bonus points if you put your hand on your heart and give a little massage of reassurance.

I’m okay, I tell myself.I’m okay. This is what happens: all my thoughts get noisy and loud and threaten to overwhelm me: uni, the PhD, what comes next, stupid boys being stupidly judgy with their stupid head-shakes …

Then there’s movement in the corner of my eye. Jamie.

Okay, this dude is making it really hard to avoid him, given that he seems to be in every breath I take today. He walks with so much swagger, too, like he belongs anywhere he chooses to be. What must it be like to be that sure of yourself? I can’t even begin to imagine.

‘The water feels warmer here,’ Jamie says, when he’s closer. ‘You’ve not peed in it, have you?’

‘What?’ I say. ‘No.’

I realise too late that he’s pulling my leg, and it flusters me. I clamber out of the water in a panic. I donotwant to have to talk to him, or try to talk to him and be disregarded, or waste energy pretending he’s not there, when he’s very obviously trying to get my back up by following me in.Just leave me alone, dude. Jesus.

I barely manage to issue a simpering ‘Enjoy!’ but I do, because I am mature and level-headed and determined not to be outwardly rattled. All over again I flush with frustration that the first time I have to see Jamie since everything happened is for two whole weeks on a family holiday. That is someintenseexposure therapy, goddammit.

‘Flo …’ he says, like he’s telling me off.

‘No thank you,’ I retort, and I’m not sure what that even means. No thank you, I do not want your words? No thank you, I do not want you? I hear him sigh, an expulsion of air that I take to mean I have disappointedhim, and I could turn round and scream at him, shout at him for being here, for daring to show his thoughtless, horrid face, but I don’t. Instead I scamper up the beach, dripping everywhere, focusing on nothing but the sand in front of my feet and willing myself not to cry. It’s not actually that hard when I’m this angry. I don’t want tears. I want to break something.

‘That was quick,’ notes Laurie. He and Kate are eating cherries and competing over who can spit the stones the furthest. ‘Did you get scared by a jellyfish?’

‘No,’ I shoot back, settling onto my towel. I can’t explain any further, so I leave it at that. I grab my sunhat and pull it over my face so that I can have a little snooze – or just a great excuse to ignore them all.

‘What’s got into her?’ Laurie asks Kate, in a fake stage-whisper.

Kate tuts. ‘Leave her be, she’s fine,’ she says.

But I’m not.

It takes everything I have in me not to cry.

4

‘To family,’ Alex says, raising his glass so that the rest of us follow. ‘You all do my absolute nut in, but I love you, and I’m glad we’re all here together.’

The seven of us are having a quickaperitivobefore we head out, all of us various shades of pink except Jamie, whose tan, impossibly, seems to have darkened even more, despite the fact we’ve only been at the villa for twenty-four hours. He’s wearing cut-off denim shorts and a white vest with huge armholes, so that half his torso is on show. Should nipples be allowed at dinner? I can’t believe nobody seems to mind. There’d be uproar if I wore something even a degree as revealing. Where is his self-respect?

‘To family,’ we all echo, smiling. I can’t speak for anyone else, but it’s touched me that Alex would be so uncharacteristically sweet, even if he does let out a massive fart as he lifts his glass.

‘Pardon me,’ he says, not meaning it at all.

‘Oh mygod, Alex!’ Jamie coughs, his eyes watering at the smell.

‘Mate, don’t,’ Laurie warns him. ‘If we don’t collectively ignore him, it only serves as encouragement. Alexdoesn’t register the “negative” part of “negative attention”, if you catch my drift.’

Alex farts again.

‘Told you,’ Laurie says. Alex grins.

As we marvel at the sunset and quaff down our beers, nibbling on crisps and some olives, I sidle up to him and ask, ‘You okay, bro?’

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