Page 15 of Enemies to Lovers

Whatever Jamie does under the sink works, because the fountain of water stops with a whimper. All I can see of him are his waist and legs: he’s lying on his back fiddling with pipes and bolts, head hidden, with Dad handing him things from a toolbox he’s found. Jamie’s shorts are low, below his belly button, with a soft tuft of hair trailing down to … well, underneath his shorts. His legs are bent to support him, every move of his arms rippling down to his torso, shimmering as it is with water, and sweat.

I don’t mean to, and it repulses me, but … I gasp.

‘I second that,’ whispers Kate.

I scowl at her.

‘Hey, we’ve both got eyes, babe. I see what you see.’

Okay, fine.Sometimes – very occasionally– Jamie can be in the ballpark of ‘attractive’.

Rarely.

But yes.

Every now and then. If you forget his actual personality.

Mum comes back with as many towels as she can carry and points to the cleaning cupboard under the stairs. ‘Get the mop, would you, love?’ she says.

In the more shallow areas they sop up all the excess with the towels. I go back and forth between them, pushing water into puddles, so it’s easier to get up. It’s hard work, to be fair, so we’re all quiet, the jovial atmosphere of earlier ebbing away. It’s only when we’re about done, and we all pause for breath, that I remember how furious I am at Jamie’s attitude from before. Everyone is shaking his hand and slapping his back, to saygood job on leaping into action– if anyone else remembers Jamie and me shouting gangbusters at one another, they’ve forgotten it fast. I’m going to call it a night, before I bring it back up again. I just can’t be bothered to deal with all this. I am calm and serene. Thoughts of Jamie roll off me. I am untouchable. Unbotherable.

‘Before you go up, Flo,’ Mum says, as I give her a goodnight kiss on the cheek, ‘Jamie’s going to have to bunk up with you tonight. His room is totally trashed.’

‘What?’ says Laurie, with about as much shock as I feel.

‘His room is flooded, and the sofas are all two-seater things. They’re not big enough for anybody to sleep on comfortably,’ Mum explains. ‘I saw there are twobeds in Flo’s room when I was looking for the linen cupboard.’

She looks between me, Laurie and Jamie, and all of us have approximations of the same outrage painted across our faces.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, you’re all such prudes! Laurie, first of all I’m not asking anybody to do anything I wouldn’t ask of any of you. Also,’ she adds, her features darkening with mischief, ‘butt out.’

Laurie gasps, practically clutching his pearls.

Mum turns to me and Jamie. ‘I know you like your own space, Flo, but in times of need we all have to compromise. Jamie darling, it’s only a single bed you’ll have, but at least that’s better than the floor. Alex’s room is basically a cupboard with a tiny bed in it, plus he snores like a dinosaur. Flo doesn’t.’ She winks at me. ‘Well. As much.’

‘I’m sure Jamie doesn’t want to—’ I start, right as Jamie says, ‘That will be more than fine, Veronica. Thank you.’

He shrugs at me, as if he’s helpless. Surely Alex will swap, so that I can have the one-bed room andhecan share with Jamie in the twin? I wait for him to offer. He doesn’t.

I look away from all of them and stare at the ceiling. I cannot believe I have to share a bloody room with Jamie now. Why does he even have to be here?

This isnotthe holiday I signed up for. I storm off and grab my phone. I pull up my texts with Hope.You won’t BELIEVE what’s happened now!I type, flames practicallycoming out of my fingertips, I hit the phone screen so hard.

‘Try looking up from that thing,’ Jamie says, when he spots me. ‘There’s a whole world beyond it, you know.’

Urgh.

5

5.30 a.m.

I have slept for maybe ten minutes the whole night, because Jamie’s mere presence in my room has been enough to keep me awake. I cannot believe this turn of events. I cannot believe that not only has Jamie Kramer invaded my summer holiday, but now he’s invaded my bedroom. And he’s slept soundly, too, barely moving, his breath shallow and as if none of this is unusual or unfair at all. The moon came through the curtains to illuminate his face: the slope of his cupid’s bow, his stubbled chin, long eyelashes on carved-from-marble cheeks. He almost looks sweet when he’s asleep. Of course I know better.

I tossed and turned and got madder and madder, all night, and now I need to get out of here.

I slip out from between my sheets and grab my running gear. At least it’s cool enough this early to get one in, considering that I missed yesterday’s. A run always sorts me out. I’ve been running in one way or another since Year 7, when I started cross-country. I love that feeling of one foot in front of the other – that you don’t need to know anything other than that. You simplykeep going, and after the first two or three minutes it’s like meditation. I never listen to music or podcasts, it’s always just me and my footsteps. I’ve always done it because I love it, but it turns out I’m good at it, too. I’ve won competitions – even nationally. It’s been years since I’ve competed, but me and a dirt track, or a nature trail, or at a push a long path beside a quiet road, and I’m happy. Much happier than when I don’t run, anyway.

I pull on my trainers by the front door and automatically follow the path down into town, the one we took last night. But I don’t slip into a meditative state easily. Instead I think about the near-argument last night. I didn’t mean to call Jamie a farthead per se – I was merely embarrassed that I’d acknowledged his kindness and he pied me off. That’s what I get for having four glasses of wine: my judgement slipped. I’ll have to get back on it today: a dignified detachment and keeping out of his way. I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight, even if Mum thinks it’s not possible. Jamie can take my room, unjust as that feels.

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