Page 4 of Enemies to Lovers

‘Michael,’ Jamie says. ‘You and me as the dream team, opposite Laurie and Alex, then?’

Of course he isn’t asking me to join in.Of coursehe isn’t! I think it’s the indifference that makes me so mad. I have to work so hard to stay out of Jamie’s way, but for Jamie I don’t even cross his mind. How self-centred and mean do you have to be? It truly beggars belief.

‘There’s life in this old dog too, I’ll have you know,’Mum asserts, leaping up and going to stand with Alex and Laurie, her allegiance clear.

In unison, everyone turns to me and Kate, the expectation unspoken but written on their faces: we need to make up the numbers, because right now it’s three versus two.

‘I’ll umpire,’ smiles Kate, like butter wouldn’t melt, reaching over for more pitta bread and tzatziki.

‘Flo?’ asks Dad.

I get up. Right. Well then. I might not have been anybody’s first choice, but that doesn’t mean I can’t dominate the court. Jamie assumes he’s the sporting champion amongst us, but he’s miscalculated how competitive us Greenbergs can be, when it is against one another. He should know that by now. You don’t need to be the size of Goliath to reign supreme – he’s underestimating the smarts of David – i.e.me.

‘I’m playing to win,’ I tease my new teammates, wagging a finger, letting it be known they’re not to let me down. Dad winks at me, a subtleThat’s my girl!Jamie is already rigging up a makeshift court, drawing lines in the sand and hoisting up a very sorry-for-itself net that he must have found on his scavenger hunt for firewood.

‘You’re toast,’ Jamie says to Laurie and Alex. ‘Sorry to break it to you, but I could beat you lads single-handedly.’

‘Do I have to remind you of the uni sports day where you broke your leg doing a simple egg-and-spoon race?’ Laurie says. ‘Hardly the bastion of sporting ability.’

‘I’d been drinking,’ Jamie retorts. ‘You got a groin injury at that charity football match, stone-cold sober!’

‘That was the mud,’ Laurie says. ‘And if you remember, we called time not long after, so it didn’t happen to anybody else. That pitch wasflooded. I did everyone a favour, really.’

‘Nothing to do with being on the losing side, as per?’

‘Not being funny, mate,’ Laurie laughs. ‘But you’ve got Dad and Flo as teammates for this. You might be able to beat us single-handedly, but consider their help a hindering force. I’d save the big talk, if I were you.’

Before I can defend myself, Kate yells from the sidelines, ‘I wish I had a whistle.’

‘Just shout loudly!’ Laurie yells back.

‘Okay,’ she bellows.

Jamie grabs the ball that Mum brought down from the villa and commands Dad to keep left and he’ll keep right. I stand behind them both, awaiting my orders from our self-appointed team captain, but they don’t come. That would involve Jamie acknowledging my presence, after all.

Kate yells, ‘Go!’ and Jamie throws the ball up confidently, the muscles in his shoulders rippling like they’ve been told a joke, and he thwacks it over the net in the direction of Alex, who bats it back with surprising grace.

‘You’re moving fast, for somebody who came last in cross-country!’ I rib my brother over the net.

He pretends that a dagger has gone through his heart, with a ‘sad’ face.

‘Long-distance running is for people with no brute strength,’ he yells back. ‘Your words don’t hurt me, Florence.’

Mum hits the ball beside him, towards Dad, who bats it back, and then to Alex, who fouls out by pushing it into the net.

‘Is that the brute strength you were talking about?’ I goad, and he responds by lifting the ball and hitting it so hard that Dad doesn’t see it coming, and it gets him square between the eyes.

‘Michael!’ Mum cries out, and Dad blinks several times like he’s trying to catch up with what happened.

‘Mike, you okay?’ Jamie asks, shootinga lookat me, like Alex’s overzealousness is somehowmyfault. How dare he! I want to tell him to fuck off, out loud, in front of everybody. That I don’t do so is a reflection of my deep inner resolve and self-discipline.

‘You’ve got me at a disadvantage, I think,’ Dad mutters, rubbing his forehead. ‘I might have had one glass of wine too many for the A-team …’

‘You four play,’ Mum pronounces, coming round to take Dad by the hand and marching him off to sit down. ‘Honestly, Michael,’ I hear her say. ‘You can’t go getting hurt on our first bloody afternoon. Just calm down a bit, won’t you?’

We loiter for a second, to make sure he’s okay, before Kate bellows, ‘Get on with it then!’

It’s me and Jamie now, a team of two. Except Jamie obviously didn’t get the memo, because although Alexand Laurie work together irritatingly well, Jamie and I don’t gel at all and he keeps getting in the way of all my attempts to hit the ball. Jamie’s massive, overbearing frame flashes deep tan in front of me, to the side of me, around the back of me, but Alex and Laurie score a point, and then another. I can tell it’s bugging Jamie, butstillhe doesn’t speak to me, still doesn’t break the fourth wall of his one-man show to strategise with me. I’m going to have to break first, if there’s any chance of getting the game back – and, to wipe the smug look off my brothers’ faces, right now I’d sit down for a tea and a chat with Voldemort.

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