Kinda Hate You: An Enemies to Lovers College Romance

by Allie Everhart

  "John? I don't know. He doesn't really do much for me."

  "Maybe you just need to get to know him. You only met him one time."

  "I think I'm getting pickier in my old age. I'm not as willing to go out with just any guy."

  "Old age? You're only 19."

  "But in dating years I'm like 30. I've dated a lot of guys."

  "Not enough to age you 10 years."

  "Feels like it. You're lucky you found Luke. Finding a hot guy who isn't a dickhead who you actually get along with and who makes you feel something is virtually impossible."

  "You just need to keep looking. You're at a huge school that's full of single guys. You'll find someone."

  "I've been there a week and haven't found anyone that even catches my eye. Except for that one guy. But he turned out to be gay."

  "What about that other guy?"

  "What other guy?"

  "The one you saw after the gay guy. You said you were going to talk to him. You never told me what happened."

  That guy turned out to be Cal. Something was clearly wrong with me that day. Maybe my eyes weren't working. I don't know how else to explain why I felt so attracted to him. Attracted enough to go over there and talk to him. When he turned around and I saw it was him, my heart was beating out of my chest. I'd almost asked out Cal!

  "Birdie, you're not answering me. What happened with that guy?"

  "Um, nothing. He had a girlfriend."

  "Well, you'll find someone else. Or maybe you'll like John once you get to know him."

  "I doubt it. If I don't feel something right away, it usually doesn't go anywhere. There has to be that spark, or whatever that feeling is that gets your heart racing and makes you feel all hot inside."

  "Like when I met Luke. I'd never felt like that with any other guy. My heart was going so fast I could barely breathe. And I got really hot. I'm sure I was sweating. And now here we are, living together. Except now he's in Florida and I miss him."

  "He's only gone for a couple days, right?"

  "Yeah, but it feels like forever. I miss him so much when he's gone. I wish I could've gone with him but I couldn't leave with classes starting."

  "Any idea when you'll be coming home? And don't say Thanksgiving. That's too long."

  "I know. I'll talk to Luke and see if we can make it down there for a weekend."

  There's a knock on my door. "Birdie, can I come in?"

  "My mom's at the door," I say to Taylor. "Hold on. I'll tell her I'm still on the phone."

  "You can talk to her. I have to go. I'm meeting with my golf coach this morning."

  "Okay. Talk to ya later." I end the call and open my door. "Hey, Mom, what's up?"

  She comes in my room and closes the door. "Max's friend just cancelled their play date for today and he's feeling really sad. Your dad and I are going to take him to breakfast and then maybe to the park. Do you want to come along?"

  "No, I have to study and then I have to work."

  "That's right. I forgot you start work today."

  "So what's the deal with Max's friend? Why'd he cancel?"

  She lowers her voice. "He wasn't really a friend. I met his mother at school and asked if her son would like to come over sometime to hang out with Max. I'd seen the boys talking a few times and it seemed like they got along well. We set up this playdate but then I guess the little boy changed his mind." She sighs. "I don't know what to do. Max just doesn't have much in common with other boys. He'd rather be out taking pictures of ants than playing football. And I hate that he gets teased so much about his weight."

  "Is that the real reason he doesn't have friends? Because kids make fun of him for his weight?"

  "It could be. You know how it is. If a kid gets picked on, the other kids sometimes think being their friend will mean they'll get picked on too."

  "That's bullshit," I say, shaking my head. "What a bunch of assholes."

  "Birdie," my mom says in her scolding tone. "Language."

  "I don't care. I'm pissed. Max is a little strange but he's also really sweet. He doesn't deserve to be treated like that just because he's overweight. Kids should have friends no matter what they weigh."

  "I agree, but children can be cruel sometimes. You always had friends, honey. Maybe you could talk to him."

  She means I had friends despite being fat. For most of my childhood, I was an overweight kid. Not huge, but definitely not in the acceptable weight range for my height. Kids tried making fun of me but it didn't work. I ignored all the nicknames and cruel comments and then did stuff that I thought would take the attention away from my weight. I wore all black. Gave them the death stare. I even drew fake tattoos on my arms with a black marker. It was enough to scare the bullies away and a few of them even wanted to be my friend.

  Soon after that we moved and I transferred to a new school. I thought I'd have to endure all the name-calling and bullying again but my all-black attire and death stare kept that from happening. I met Taylor that year. With her blond pigtails and pink dresses, she looked the complete opposite of me, but we quickly became friends and have been ever since.

  "I don't think I can help," I say to my mom. "It's different for girls. I don't know how boys that age work. You'd have to ask Dad."

  "He doesn't remember. It's been too long. Times have changed. Things aren't the same as when he was a boy."

  "Then I don't know what to tell you. I could go to Max's school and scare the shit out of whoever's bothering him."

  My mom sighs. "I think we can find a better solution than that." She walks to the door. "Good luck at work." She starts to leave, then turns back. "So what happened with Cal last night?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You went to his apartment." She smiles. "Spent the night."

  I roll my eyes. "Mom, it's not like that. It wasn't even my idea. You're the one who told me to stay. Or you told Cal."

  "You know, Cal is a very handsome young man. And he has a bright future."

  "And your point is?"

  "Maybe you could stop seeing him as your friend's brother and see him as maybe someone you might want to date?" She smiles even more.

  "Cal? Are you serious? He's conceited. Obnoxious. He makes stupid comments. I hate him!" I say, getting so riled up I feel out of breath.

  "Honey, I'm just saying he's a nice young man. And he seems to get better looking every time I see him. Has he been working out more?"

  "I don't know! Who cares? I'm not interested in Cal, not even as a friend. I can't even be around him five minutes without us fighting."

  "You were with him all last night. Did you two fight?"

  "No, but I was drunk." I cringe, wishing I hadn't said that. "I mean, I wasn't drunk. I'd just had a few drinks, which I know you don't approve of but someone spiked the punch and I didn't know so I kept drinking it and—"

  "Birdie," she says, giving me that look that says she knows I'm lying. "I was a college student too back in the day. I went to my share of parties. I know what goes on there. I just want you to be careful, especially if you're drinking."

  "I AM careful. And last night nothing bad happened. It couldn't have. Cal had his eye on me the whole time."

  She leans against the door frame, smiling. "He really cares about you."

  "He does not."

  "He does. When he called me last night, he sounded so concerned. He said you weren't feeling well and asked me what he should do. I told him to give you some water and let you rest. He said he would and assured me he'd take good care of you."

  "He said that?" I ask, skeptical he really used those words.

  "Maybe you don't see it because you don't want to but Cal has changed. He's not the little boy who used to tease you. He's growing up. Becoming more responsible. More mature."

  "You don't know him that well."

  "I've known him since he was a little boy so yes, I DO know him. And I know he cares about you, despite how much you two fight."

  "It's only because I'm friends w
ith Taylor," I mutter.

  "I think there's a part of you that cares about him too."

  I don't answer.

  "So about last night. Did you two argue?"

  "Not really."

  "What did you do?"

  "Ate cereal. Watched TV. Talked."

  "Sounds like a good night."

  I shrug. "It was okay."

  "Don't be so hard on Cal. If he was that bad of a guy, he wouldn't have taken care of you like he did last night. And he wouldn't have called your mom to let me know you were safe."

  "I never said he was a bad guy. He's just annoying."

  She smiles. "Your father can be annoying too sometimes. But so can I. And you."

  "Hey!"

  She laughs. "Bye, honey. We'll see you tonight."

  After she leaves I close my door and get my laptop from my backpack. I really don't feel like studying right now but it's the only time I have to do it.

  An hour later I've read the same article three times and still haven't answered the assignment questions. My mind keeps wandering to Cal and what my mom said about him. Maybe she's right and he has changed, but that doesn't mean I have to be friends with him. Or more than that. Why would she even think I'd consider that, knowing how much I can't stand him?

  He did take good care of me last night, but that could've been a fluke. Like he said, he can be nice sometimes, meaning it won't last. Next time I see him, he'll probably be back to the Cal I know and hate.

  Chapter Ten

  Cal

  I'm bored. I was supposed to golf with my dad and his friends today but my dad had to fly out of town for a last-minute business meeting about an endorsement deal. He texted me last night to tell me the golf outing was postponed a week.

  It's only noon and I already worked out, showered, and had lunch. I should be studying but I can't seem to make myself do it. I don't like any of my classes this semester. I'm majoring in business but I'm not excited about it. I don't even know what I'm going to do with my degree when I graduate.

  This wasn't the plan. I wasn't supposed to be here.

  I was supposed to be a professional golfer, make tons of money, and retire early. My dad did it. And his dad did it. So why can't I? I was on the right path. I qualified to play pro. But then I choked. It was too much pressure. My hands were sweating before I even walked out on the green. Every tournament I was so nervous I felt like I was going to get sick. And instead of getting better, it got worse. I played so badly I didn't qualify anymore.

  Now here I am, back at college. A failure. A disappointment to myself, my late grandfather, and my dad. I thought I might go back to it if I could get over my nerves but then my shoulder started hurting. I found out I might need surgery. If I do, it's over. I'll never play professional golf again. If that happens, what the fuck am I going to do with the rest of my life?

  I set my stats book down and walk over to the window. It looks out at the pool, which is filling up with people. I wonder if Birdie would go in this pool. It’d be good for her to practice being in a pool with other people instead of always being in the one at my parents' house. She'll freak out and say the people are trying to drown her but I'm prepared for that. With Birdie, you have to be prepared for anything and everything. You never know what you're gonna get with her.

  Getting my phone out I go to text her but then decide to call her instead.

  "Hey, Cal, did I leave something there?"

  "No, I was just checking in to see how you're feeling."

  "Better. I still have a headache but my stomach is fine."

  "Keep drinking water. It helps."

  "I will. I should probably eat something too."

  "Go with carbs. They're easier on the stomach."

  "So cookies?" she says with a laugh.

  "If that's what sounds good."

  "It does, but we're out. Max probably ate them. I'm in the kitchen and it looks like cereal is my only option."

  "Lucky Charms?"

  "Cocoa Puffs."

  I hear her pouring it in the bowl.

  "So what are you up to today?" I ask.

  "Studying. And then I have work at 3."

  "You have a job?"

  "At the coffee shop near campus. Didn't I tell you?"

  "No. I didn't even know you were looking for a job."

  "I wasn't, but this guy told me about it and I need the money so I applied and got the job. Today is my first day. I'll just be training. I won't actually be making drinks or running the register. Hey, aren't you supposed to be golfing with your dad right now?"

  "I was, but he had to cancel. He had to fly to LA for a meeting."

  "So what are you doing today?"

  "Studying. But I'm not feeling it. I just can't get in the mood."

  "Same here. I'm always that way the first few weeks of school. I need time to get back into it. So what are you doing instead? Going to the gym?"

  "Already did. I was thinking of going in the pool. Do you want to come over?"

  "Come over?" she asks, sounding confused.

  "To swim. Or just get in the pool. I thought it'd be good for you to try being in the water with other people."

  "I don't think I'm ready for that."

  "If you're really doing this so you can swim on spring break then you'll have to do it eventually. Those pools are gonna be packed."

  "I know. I'm just not ready yet."

  "Okay. I just wanted to offer."

  She's quiet, then says, "So was that it?"

  "Yeah. That was it."

  I want to talk to her longer but I don't know why. Am I that bored that I want to stay on the phone and talk to Birdie? Or is it possible I actually like talking to her?

  "Then I guess I'll go."

  I hurry to think of something to say. "Were your parents mad you stayed over last night?"

  "I only talked to my mom but she wasn't mad. You said she told you to have me stay there."

  "She did. Never mind. I don't know why I asked that."

  Why am I acting like an idiot? And why do I feel nervous all of a sudden? It's just Birdie.

  "My mom really likes you," Birdie says. "I have no idea why, but she does."

  "Your mom's always liked me. Unlike her daughter, she sees how amazing I am."

  Birdie laughs. "Amazingly full of himself."

  "Seriously, what did she say?"

  "She said it was nice of you to take care of me last night. But you really didn't take care of me. I just slept on your couch."

  "You slept on ME, not my couch. And I DID take care of you. I got you home from the party safe. I held you up when you were too drunk to walk. I even held your hair back when you puked."

  "Yeah, that was disgusting. You really didn't have to do that."

  "I also saved you after you fell in the tub."

  "You didn't save me."

  "If I hadn't picked you up, you'd still be in there."

  She laughs. "I wouldn't still be in there. I would've got out in a few hours."

  "Freezing to death from being wet and naked with no towel."

  I keep trying not to think about that but my mind goes there anyway. I saw Birdie naked. Completely naked. I was so fucking turned on I had to get out of there before she saw what she was doing to me.

  "Can we not talk about that?" she says. "Like ever again?"

  We may not talk about it but I'll definitely still think about it. I'll be thinking about that for a very long time.

  "I also fed you," I say. "I even let you have all the marshmallows in the Lucky Charms."

  "Yeah, that was nice."

  "And I let you pick what we watched on TV."

  "So I guess you did take care of me last night."

  "Despite what you think, I'm actually not that bad."

  "I never said you were bad."

  "You never say anything good about me."

  "You don't say anything good about me either."

  "I told you how good you looked in that dress last night like thr
ee times. Speaking of the dress, I dropped it off at the dry cleaner this morning. They weren't sure if they could get the stains out but if they can't, I'll try a different dry cleaner."

  "Cal, just forget it. It wasn't expensive. I got it at a garage sale."

  "You bought a dress at a garage sale?" I ask, shocked because I've never met a girl who buys used clothes. Taylor never has and my ex-girlfriends wouldn't be caught dead wearing clothes from a garage sale.

  "I buy clothes at garage sales all the time," Birdie says. "Or thrift stores."

  "Guess I didn't know that."

  "How else would I be able to afford all my clothes? You know how much I love fashion."

  She does. She jumps on every trend and always wears whatever's in, even if it's a little out there. I like that she's fearless like that. She doesn't care what people think. She wears what she wants.

  "You've had some interesting looks over the years." I chuckle. "Remember the flamingo pants?"

  Back in ninth grade she showed up to school wearing these white cotton pants with flamingos printed all over them. They fit loose at the legs and tight at the ankle and had this pink belt that looked like a scarf. The pants were hideous, but she wore them with so much confidence that nobody made fun of her, except me. But she knew I was only kidding. We have that kind of relationship.

  "Flamingos were in that year," she insists.

  "Year? I think they were only in for a week, maybe two."

  "Whatever. I only wore those pants for a season. And I looked amazing in them."

  She didn't, but she told herself she did. I wish I had that kind of confidence. The kind where you can go out there and do what you want without worrying what people think. If I had that kind of confidence I would've kicked ass as a professional golfer instead coming in last and having to quit.

  "Or remember those dresses you wore that looked like sweaters?" I ask. "You'd wear them even when it was a hundred degrees out."

  "Sweater dresses. I loved them but I was sweating so bad I almost passed out. But they were sooo cute. And sexy. Wearing those got me a lot a dates."

  Those dresses are what made me start noticing her body. The fabric clung to her big breasts and curvy hips. Every guy in school was checking her out, even the guys who thought she was fat.

  Birdie looks good in almost everything she wears. I think it's because of her confidence. Even when she has on something crazy, she holds her head high, shoulders back, and struts in a room like she owns the place. Back in high school, some of the girls would laugh at her behind her back but they knew better than to confront her with an insult. Insults don't work on Birdie, unless I'm the one doing it. I can get to her more than anyone else.