Page 2 of Enemies to Lovers

‘Luck isalwayson your side,’ I say, reaching over for my beach bag. I need my sunglasses. ‘I have honestly never met somebody for whom all traffic lights turn green, all doors open, complimentary coffees are freely given …’

‘Speaking of which,’ she shrugs, noticing that I seem unable to find whatever I’m looking for. She figures out it must be my sunglasses and pulls out a second pair fromherbeach bag, which I take gratefully. ‘We did get complimentary croissants at Pret, to apologise for the wait.’

‘You almost missed the flight because you were at Pret?’ I shriek, and she motions for me to hush. ‘How?’

‘Shush!’ she hisses, looking in my dad’s direction tocheck he hasn’t heard. She lowers her voice. ‘I made Laurie swear he wouldn’t dob me in for it. But I needed a ham-and-cheese croissant, and you know I can’t function without a coffee in the morning.’

‘You’re preaching to the converted,’ I say. ‘Coffee is life.’ I gulp down my beer and take in the perfection of our surroundings: powdery-yellow sand stretching all the way around the cove, endless water, the sun lowering in the sky to envelop everything in its syrupy flame. With my back to Jamie, I can almost forget he’s here – and then Mum titters at him yet again, and I’m reminded that he is. Before Kate can ask me about it, I say, ‘Anyway. Your “Christ alive”. Don’t letmedistract you from taking the Lord’s name in vain …’

‘The Lord’s son, technically,’ Kate points out, and I can’t help but notice that she’s already glowing, looking relaxed and in the holiday mood.

I can’t even imagine having relaxation so readily to hand. It will take me days, if not a full week, to get my shoulders to unclench from up by my ears. I’m just built that way. Hope says it’s better to be highly strung and know it than to think you’re low-key and chill, when everyone around you knows the truth. I have to say, I think Hope has a point. But Kate is low-maintenance through and through, and I envy that.

Kate continues, ‘I was going to tell you that you lookridiculousin that bikini, actually. Your waist, your boobs … if that’s what almost getting sectioned does toa girl, I might need a breakdown myself. You, my friend, have never been hotter.’

I pull a face at her that’s supposed to meanare you seriously joking about what happened?, but it goes unnoticed. Unnoticed or ignored, which is quintessential Kate. Of course I don’t mind, not really, because these past two years she’s been one of the few people to keep treating me like normal. In fact I have exactly zero friends left from ‘before times’, because nobody knew how to handle me. I met Hope in the waiting room at the therapist’s office, and we bonded over mental health and a love ofBluey, the kids’ cartoon. Hope’s theory is that when you’re sad,Blueyis the best thing to cheer you up; and when you’re happy,Blueyis the best thing to remind you to treasure it. She’s backpacking around Europe right now. Her breakdown has led her to embracing everything that life throws at her. My breakdown has left me craving safety and sameness. We’re mostly a text-based friendship for the foreseeable, although Hope’s determined to get me to join her. This will never happen. I am not the YOLO, go-backpacking-for-a-summer type.

‘Although,’ Kate muses, ‘I suspect that an episode of my own would involve a lot of comfort-eating, thus thwarting my desire to get as snatched as you are.’

‘You could arrange one of those happy breakdowns,’ I suggest. ‘Put it in the contract between you and your brain.’

‘Oh yes,’ she agrees. ‘Great idea. Dear brain, please refer to clause Three C, pertaining to getting my titties to sit as nice as Flo’s in a teeny-weeny string bikini.’

‘This isn’t tiny,’ I squeal, thrusting a hand over my admittedly very bare chest. ‘This is a family holiday!’

‘A family holiday in Greece, where the locals look like gods. Play your cards right and you should have afantastictwo weeks looking like that, baby.’

I arch an eyebrow. ‘Sex hasn’t been on my mind for quite some time,’ I remind her.

‘More’s the pity,’ she shoots back. I don’t dignify that with a response. ‘By the way,’ she adds, lowering her voice and leaning in, ‘how are we feeling about …’ She nods her head in the direction of Jamie, who’s now got not only Mum, but also Dad and my brother Alex, eating out of the palm of his hand. He’s always telling some anecdote about the rich and famous that he works with, name-dropping and embellishing. I’m sure half of the stories of what allegedly happens out there on the boats aren’t even true. I roll my eyes, pausing mid-derision, just in time to see Jamie crick his neck, flexing it to one side and rubbing the taut, bronzed skin of his left side. He’ssoperformative.

‘What?’ I say, playing dumb. Kate hasswornshe’ll never tell Laurie what she knows about last Christmas, or confront Jamie about it either, and I trust her to honour her word. I simply want to forget about it all. Jamie is around a lot, because a couple of years ago he lost both his parents in a car accident, and so Mum andDad have unofficially made him their fourth child. I do actually have a heart, so he gets leeway for such painful trauma because, god, I can’t even imagine something that devastating happening. I feel for him over that. I do … But he was still awful to me, and is awful to most women, as far as I can tell, so I know I’m better off keeping my distance.

‘Okay,’ Kate says, slowly. ‘I see what game we’re playing …’

‘There’s no game,’ I tell her, too quickly, and even I know I sound defensive.

‘Sure,’ she retorts.

‘There’s not!’ I say, right as Laurie reappears from wherever he’s been, asking, ‘There’s not what?’

He plops down on the sand between Kate’s legs, and she kisses the top of his head. They’ve been married just over a year and are disgustingly in love. Kate tells him to mind his own business, and I close my eyes to luxuriate in the heat and shut everybody else out. It’s not often that I’m thankful for Laurie’s interruption, but right now I am. As I inhale and exhale, letting the tiniest of sea breezes tickle my skin, I can hear the waves gently lapping against the shore. It’s like a real-life Spotify playlist of ‘relaxation noises’. Hope has issued a stern text warning me to fully enjoy everything this vacation has to offer, because she’s a bit like a smoker who has given up, and thus becomes evangelical about everybody else giving up: she’s embraced the YOLO lifestyle and has made it her mission to get me to do so, too.

Ahhh. Sun. Sea. Sand between my toes. A moment to reflect and recommit to relaxing. And then Laurie says, ‘Shall we eat?’

Of course ten minutes of silence from him is asking too much.

‘I’m bloody starving. And did anyone think to bring down a speaker? We need to up the holiday vibe, now the whole crew is here!’

‘I hadn’t known we were waiting for anybody else to join the crew,’ I say, without opening my eyes, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. I practicallyhearLaurie shrug and, peeking through one eye, see him already on his feet again, heading towards the hamper to start setting out the food.

‘Flo, don’t be ridiculous. It was all on the family email chain,’ he yells over his shoulder.

I open my other eye, surprised. ‘There’s a family email chain?’ I say to Kate.

She pulls a face. ‘Babe,’ she replies, looking over her sunglasses dramatically, ‘if you’re not getting those emails, trust me: you’re better off out of it. I love your mother as much as my own, but since she retired …’

‘She’s sending you the equivalent ofWar and Peaceevery day?’ I supply.

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