Page 16 of Enemies to Lovers

I run up past the town square to the other side of the village where life peters out again, and by lucky chance make a right up a winding path that I sense could lead back to the house in a big loop. It’s longer than I’d assumed, but I don’t mind. The sun is climbing in the sky by the time the villa is back in view. Honestly, running really is the best way to see a place. I clock the odd farmer in his field, the animals grazing before it gets toohot. It’s nice to wake up alongside Mother Nature. Soothing. I do love to be outside, especially near the sea. Funny how I spend so much time chained to a desk indoors, then.

I slink around the back of the house, thinking I’ll stretch in the shade of the veranda, and am surprised to see Kate up already, laying the table for breakfast.

‘How do,’ she says, at the sound of my approach. ‘Couldn’t sleep?’

‘Not really,’ I say, panting. I put my hands behind my head to force my posture upright and to get air into my lungs.

She nods. ‘Me neither.’ She notes my breathing. ‘Water? I’ll get some ice.’

‘I love you,’ I say, regulating my inhales and exhales. ‘I don’t tell you that enough.’

She laughs lightly. ‘You only want me for my cold beverages.’

‘Doesn’t take away from the depth of my feeling,’ I shrug, and I drop down into a runner’s lunge and then flop over into pigeon pose, letting my muscles cool down and my breath get back to normal.

‘So,’ Kate says, pouring me a drink then leaning her hands against one of the patio chairs. ‘Last night.’ I knew she was going to ask before the words left her mouth.Of courseshe wants the juicy details. ‘Were you and Jamiearguingon the way home?’ She emphasises the wordarguingas if the notion of a cross word is somehow salacious. I mean, itis, but that’s beside thepoint. I don’t want to tell her too much – she already knows enough.

I don’t say anything as I get up from my position on the paved ground.

Kate senses my hesitance and further offers, ‘You wereyellingat each other …’

‘Interesting,’ I muse. ‘You asked if we were arguing, when it seems that you know we were and what you actually want to know iswhat about,’ I say, arching an eyebrow.

She smirks. ‘I was warming up the witness, Your Honour.’

‘Badly, I might add.’

She motions with a hand for me to get on with it.

I open my mouth to speak, but sigh instead. I know the best thing to do is brush it under the carpet, put it down to a few merry drinks too many, and let sleeping dogs lie. I will myself for it to be bygone. Today is a new day. Honestly, it shouldn’t be this hard to get Jamie out of my system and yet. And yet.

‘Was it foreplay or …?’

‘Foreplay?’ I bat back. ‘Yeah. Sure. We’re basically on the cusp of running off into the sunset together as lovers.’

‘I’m serious,’ she insists, giggling.

‘Kate,’ I say, draining my glass and pouring another, to leave a dramatic pause for emphasis. ‘Jamie … well, I don’t know if he hates me, but after Christmas he definitely doesn’tlikeme. We’re at the opposite end of the spectrum tolovers.’

‘So you’re enemies?’

‘I didn’t saythat,’ I counter, overwhelmingly aware that when you’re talking to a lawyer, everything you say will be taken as evidence.

‘It’s a thin line between love and hate,’ Kate says. ‘Enemies to lovers and all that …’

‘Kate,’ I warn.

She chews on her bottom lip and goes on, ‘I’m just saying, you know. I feel like there’s something there. What happened at Christmas doesn’t add up to me …’

The mention of last Christmas forces colour to my cheeks and heat to my heart. Will it ever not bother me?

‘Kate,’ I say, ‘Jamie is a pretentious drifter, who I tolerate because I feel sorry for him. All these women he uses and discards? It’s pathetic, not to mention gross. What kind of a hole must he have in his heart to womanise the way he does?’ The words pour out, surprising me, slick as oil. I can’t stop them. I don’t know what comes over me. It’s like I’m practising, rehearsing lines, seeing how it feels to really let rip. It’s like all the anger I’ve had churning inside me finally gets to come out. ‘I tolerate him because I feel sorry for him really, but honestly, if he wasn’t Laurie’s friend, if he wasn’t basically a surrogate son to Mum and Dad, if he was a bloke on the street who chatted me up at a bar, I’d run the other way. He’s got no ambition, thinks abs are a personality trait, and has the chat of a deflated basketball with a face drawn on it. To be honest, I don’t even know why you and Lauriearefriends with him.’

Kate has been stunned into silence. I don’t know where all that came from, either – I’ve never spoken like that about anyone in my life, ever. I can tell I’ve gone too far because the colour has drained from Kate’s face and her eyes have gone saucer-like and black. I’m about to take it all back when a voice from behind me says, ‘Morning, all.’

Oh, crap. I turn, confirming who it belongs to. Jamie. He’s obviously heard every last word of what I said.

‘Morning,’ says Kate, coming back from screensaver mode and suddenly becoming the hostess with the absolute mostest. She fetches cereals and milk, bread and some cheese, over-compensating for being the person I was saying such horrid things to, by being bright and chatty and effusive. Between the clattering of cutlery and unfurling of napkins, there’s no room for small talk. I know in the very corners of my mind that I should apologise, but I cannot physically bring myself to do that. Jamie would probably just pie me off again. But what haunts me, as breakfast unfurls, is that he doesn’t speak either, not even to Kate. After a while of pensive juice-drinking he peels off his T-shirt, his low-slung swim shorts letting us all know that V is his favourite letter of the alphabet, and slips into the pool to do his laps, leaving me to feel like absolute crap.

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