Kinda Hate You: An Enemies to Lovers College Romance

by Allie Everhart

  "And then what?" I ask, but I really don't want to know, especially if he's about to tell me he spent the night with her.

  "We had dinner." He pauses. "At her place."

  I nod, squeezing the door handle as anger rises up at the thought of him in her apartment. She was probably serving him dinner in fancy lingerie or maybe one of those French maid outfits.

  "Is she a good cook?" I ask, trying to ignore the images that keep running through my head of Lara hanging all over Cal.

  "She ordered take-out so I'm guessing the answer is no."

  We're both silent as he makes his way down the street to the parking lot.

  "I didn't stay over," he says as he parks.

  "I didn't ask."

  "But you assumed I did."

  "It's none of my business."

  He shuts the engine off. "Birdie, I think we need to—"

  "Cal, I don't want to talk about it. What you do with her is your business." I open the door.

  "Wait. Let me help." He comes around and gives me his hand as I step out of the SUV.

  "I feel like I'm going to trip in these heels."

  "Then hold on." He offers me his arm.

  We go inside the building and down to the ballroom. It's a huge room with giant chandeliers and gold walls. Cal leads me to the front of the room to a table that's reserved with his name.

  "Is it just us?" I ask, seeing all the chairs.

  "My dad said some people from the nominating committee will be seated with us. I'm sure they're all old, or at least older than us."

  Looking around, we might be the youngest people here. It's definitely an older crowd. But I like being here. This is something I've never done before, and I like being here with Cal. He looks really nice in his tuxedo. And older. Less like the boy I grew up with and more like a man. A very handsome man.

  "So what happens at these things?" I ask.

  "They serve dinner, give out the awards, and that's it. We'll probably be out of here in a couple hours."

  "You're not Lou," a man says, smiling as he comes up to Cal.

  "He couldn't make it," Cal says, shaking the guy's hand. "I'm his son, Cal."

  "I know who you are. I followed you on the tour."

  "Yeah, that didn't work out so well."

  "You were just young." The man pats him on the shoulder. "You'll come back when you're ready."

  Cal doesn't respond. He doesn't like talking about his time playing professional golf. I think he'd like to forget it ever happened.

  "I'm Birdie," I say, interrupting the awkward silence. I shake the guy's hand. "And you are?"

  "Hugh Cavanaugh, head of the nominating committee." He turns to Cal. "Your father's done so much for our organization this year he was top of the list when we were deciding who should receive an award. You ever consider getting involved? We could use some more young people."

  "If I can fit it around my class schedule, then sure," Cal says. "What do you need help with?"

  "We'd like to start some golf camps for the kids. It was actually your father's idea but it never went anywhere because we didn't have anyone to lead it."

  "I probably don't have time to lead it but I can definitely help out."

  Hugh takes a card from his tuxedo jacket. "Give me a call next week and we'll discuss next steps." He smiles at me. "So how long have you two dated?"

  "Dated? Oh. No. Cal and I are just friends. I've been friends with his sister forever."

  "Birdie's like part of the family," Cal says. "She's even gone on vacation with us."

  "Are you a golfer as well?" Hugh asks.

  "No." I laugh. "Not at all. But I know all about it from hanging out with Taylor and Cal."

  Hugh waves at someone behind me. "Excuse me but I need to go speak to this gentleman before dinner starts."

  Hugh takes off and Cal and I sit down.

  "What does this organization do?" I ask Cal.

  "They're a nonprofit that helps get kids into sports. They have summer camps and after school programs. It's a way to keep kids out of trouble but also gives them a chance to learn a sport. My dad got involved with it a few years ago."

  "Are you really going to volunteer or were you just saying that?"

  "I'd volunteer, especially for a golf camp. When I was a kid, golf camp was my favorite time of year. I'd get to hang out with kids who actually liked golf. I liked it so much I even thought of—" He stops suddenly. "Never mind."

  "What? What were you going to say?"

  He turns to me. "Don't tell anyone this, okay? It's just an idea."

  "Yeah. What is it?"

  "I was thinking if I don't go back to playing professionally, I'd maybe start a golf camp for kids. But kids who are serious about golf, like Luke was when he was a kid. If Luke didn't have Albert paying for his golf, he'd be working in a shipyard like his dad. Instead he's one of the best golfers in the country. As soon as he goes pro, he'll be a millionaire. I want to give other kids that chance. If Luke can do it, other kids can too, but not without support. And not every kid has an Albert."

  "So you're saying the camps would be free?"

  "Only for kids who can't afford it. I'd pay for it using my profits from the golf course."

  "What golf course?"

  He lowers his voice. "This is another thing I need you to keep private."

  "You're buying a golf course?"

  "I'm still looking. I've found a few I might be interested in but I'd need my dad's help. These courses cost millions. I saved a lot of the money I made from when I played pro but not enough for the type of course I want to buy. My dad would have to help."

  "Then why haven't you told him?"

  "I'm not ready to. He still thinks I'll play professionally again."

  "Maybe you will."

  "Doubt it." He picks up his water and takes a drink.

  "You should talk to him. Sounds like you've thought about this a lot and it's what you want to do."

  "But it's not what I'm meant to do. I'm supposed to be on the course like my dad, and my grandfather."

  "Just because they did that doesn't mean you have to."

  A woman stops at our table. "Can I get a photo?"

  "Sure." Cal stands up. "Birdie, get up."

  "What? Why? I'm not getting an award."

  He leans down to my ear. "They take photos at these events. Just go with it."

  I stand up next to Cal while the woman takes a few shots.

  "Thanks!" she says before moving to the next table.

  "Where are these photos going to end up?" I ask Cal.

  "They put them in the society pages of the paper, or they'll show up online with some story about the event. Or sometimes they'll end up in fundraising materials for future events. You'll probably never see them."

  Hugh appears again, this time with his wife and another couple. They join us at the table as a man up front gets on a microphone and welcomes everyone to the event. After that, dinner is served while a band plays jazz music in the background.

  "Not as fun as a monster truck show, is it?" Cal whispers to me as we're waiting for dessert.

  "It's not that bad," I tell him, because I'm actually having a good time. I get to wear a gorgeous dress, the food is great, and Cal and I are actually getting along. He hasn't made one rude comment to me all night. Maybe it's the tuxedo. Maybe wearing it makes him act more mature. Listening to him talk to the people at our table, it doesn't even sound like him. He's serious and businesslike, which isn't the Cal I know. I'm seeing a whole different side of him tonight.

  He surprises me again when he goes up to accept his dad's award. He gives a short but really nice speech, saying a few words about his dad and then talking about how sports can change a kid's life, using his friend, Luke, as an example.

  "Great job," Hugh says to Cal as he returns to the table.

  The awards continue and a half hour later we're out of there.

  "Sorry it took so long," Cal says as we're leaving the parking lot.r />
  "I don't mind. I had a good time."

  "You did?" Cal glances at me. "I didn't think that was your type of thing."

  "It's not but I still had a good time." I motion to my dress. "And I got to wear a really nice dress. Too bad I'll probably never wear it again."

  "Wear it to the next one."

  I smile. "I don't think I have any more charity balls to attend."

  "If I have to go to another one I'll invite you to come along."

  I look at him to see if he's kidding. He doesn't seem to be, but with him you never know. Why would he want to go with me again? Why me and not the girl he's dating?

  "What was Lara doing tonight?" I ask.

  "Bridal shower for her cousin. It's an all night thing. They're staying at a hotel and in the morning they're getting spa treatments and having brunch."

  "I hope Taylor doesn't expect something like that."

  "What do you mean?" Cal glances at me. "Are you saying Taylor's getting engaged?"

  "Why are you acting so surprised? You know Luke's going to ask."

  "Yeah, but I didn't think it would happen soon. I thought they'd wait a few years."

  "Why wait? They already live together."

  He turns to get on the freeway. "Taylor's too young to get married. She has to finish school first."

  "You sound just like your dad. Why are you two so against Taylor being with Luke?"

  "We're not against it. We just don't want them rushing into anything."

  "Didn't your dad marry your mom when she was 20?"

  "Yeah, but that was like a hundred years ago. Things were different then." He merges onto the freeway then slams the breaks as we hit a wall of traffic. "Must be an accident up ahead. It shouldn't be this backed up this time of night." He turns to me. "You want to go somewhere?"

  "Right now?"

  "It's either that or sit in traffic. We could get off at the next exit."

  "And do what?"

  "Get coffee, or something to eat."

  "We just ate."

  "I'm still hungry." He looks behind us, then moves to the other lane. "I'm getting off. I don't want to sit here all night."

  "Cal, we can't go out looking like this."

  "Like what? We look nice."

  "Too nice. People will wonder why we're dressed this way."

  "Since when do you care what people think?" He gets off the freeway and turns right, like he knows where he's going. I'm completely lost. I don't know this part of town.

  He turns into a parking lot next to an old brick building.

  "Where are we?" I ask.

  "You've never been here?"

  "No. What is it?"

  "C'mon. I'll show you."

  We go inside. There's a line of pinball machines along the wall.

  "An arcade?" I say.

  "And restaurant." He takes my hand and leads me to a hightop table with stools.

  Why is he holding my hand? Is it because he thinks I'll fall in these shoes or is it some other reason? He has a girlfriend so I'm going with the shoe excuse. I'm terrible at walking in heels. I always wobble and look like I'm about to fall.

  "What can I get you?" the waitress asks. She's dressed like the Fifties in a blue poodle skirt and white button-up shirt with the restaurant name embroidered on it.

  "Cheeseburger combo for me," Cal says.

  "I'll just have a Coke," I tell the waitress.

  She leaves and I turn to Cal. "How can you still be hungry? You just ate a big steak."

  "I get hungry when I'm nervous."

  "What are you nervous about?"

  "I'm not now. I was nervous when I had to give that speech."

  "Really? Nobody could tell. You didn't seem nervous."

  "I was better once I got up there." He takes his tux jacket off and sets it on the stool beside him. "I wish I didn't get so nervous when I have to do shit in front of people."

  "It's not just you. A lot of people get nervous when they have to do public speaking. My mom breaks out in hives."

  "I wasn't talking about giving speeches."

  The waitress stops by with our drinks.

  When she's gone, I turn to Cal. "You mean golf."

  "What?"

  "You wish you could control your nerves when you golf in front of people. Like when you were on the tour."

  "Birdie, don't start." He takes a drink of his soda.

  "You could get over your nerves. Maybe you could meditate. I've heard that helps."

  "It doesn't. I tried. I tried everything and I still felt like I was going to hurl before every tournament."

  "What does Luke do? How does he stay calm?"

  "By never getting nervous."

  "Why doesn't he get nervous?"

  "Because there's no pressure. People don't expect him to do well. It's different for me. I'm Cal Tuckerman, son of golf legend Lou Tuckerman and grandson of another golf legend. Everyone expects me to be just as good as them and I'm not."

  "You are when you're not nervous."

  "But that's the thing. I can't NOT be nervous. There's so much damn pressure on me to play like my dad, I choke. Every fucking time."

  "So what are you going to do?"

  He sighs. "You can't tell my dad this. Or Taylor. You can't tell anyone."

  "What is it?"

  Chapter Sixteen

  Birdie

  Cal shakes his head. "I can't even make myself say it."

  "You're done playing professionally."

  He looks at me. "How'd you know?"

  "I could tell. But are you sure about this? You're not going to change your mind?"

  "It's not what I want to do. I play golf because I love the game but when I played pro I hated it. Instead of being fun it was like I was doing a job and being graded on it. The comments from the announcers were bad enough but the online comments were even worse."

  "You shouldn't have read that stuff, and you definitely shouldn't have believed it."

  "Some of their comments were true. I was playing like an amateur. I didn't belong on the tour. Some days I didn't even belong on the course. ANY course."

  "I think you're being too hard on yourself. Taylor's the same way. You guys put too much pressure on yourselves."

  "Doesn't matter. Even if I tell myself that, it won't help my game."

  "Then try something else. There's got to be something you could do to get rid of the nerves."

  "Birdie, you're not getting it."

  "I am. You don't want to do it anymore. I get it. I just wanted to make sure this is really what you want."

  "It is. I think about it all the time and I keep coming back to the same decision."

  "Then you know it's the right one."

  "Except I'm the only who thinks that."

  "But it's your life. You don't have to repeat your dad's life just because it's what people expect."

  He leans forward, his elbows on the table as he looks down. "I can't believe I just told you that."

  "Why?"

  "Because that's not how we work. We don't tell each other stuff."

  "We could. We're kind of friends."

  "Friends who hate each other."

  "Only sometimes."

  His eyes shift to mine. "You're saying you sometimes like me?"

  "I don't know if 'like' is the right word. I can sometimes tolerate you, which is similar to like."

  "Not really," he says with a laugh.

  "How about you? Do you sometimes like me?"

  He pauses. "Sometimes."

  "Hey!" I shove his arm. "You should ALWAYS like me! I'm awesome!"

  "You're not bad."

  "Cheeseburger and fries," the waitress says, setting the plate in front of Cal. "Anything else?"

  "No, we're good." As she leaves, he pushes his plate toward me. "Want some fries?"

  I take a few, then look around the restaurant, noticing all the Fifties decor.

  "Why'd you take me here?" I ask.

  "For the pinball. You used to l
ove pinball."

  "I didn't love it. I just liked it. I liked all the different machines."

  "Now it's hard to find them, but I looked online and found this place."

  "You looked it up online?" I ask with a smile. "That sounds like something you'd do for someone you actually like. Someone you like more than sometimes."

  He takes a bite of his burger, pretending he didn't hear me. He doesn't want to admit he likes me, even just as a friend. I'm the same way. Admitting Cal and I are friends would change the dynamic between us. It's already starting to change and neither one of us knows how to handle it.

  Cal finishes his meal and sets the money down for the bill.

  "Let's go," he says, getting up.

  "I'll text my mom that we're leaving. She just texted asking when I'll be home."

  "We're not leaving." He grabs his tux jacket. "Tell her you'll be home late."

  "Where are we going?"

  "We're staying here. Playing pinball. That's why I took you here."

  "I'm playing pinball in an evening gown?"

  "Are you saying you can't?"

  "I can. It's just strange."

  "Good. You love strange." He takes my hand as we walk over to the pinball machines. "This one first." He points to a machine that has monster trucks.

  "Oh my God, this is the best machine ever!"

  "I knew you'd like it." He smiles and hands me a roll of quarters. "I've got more when you run out."

  "Where'd you get this?" I ask as I unroll the paper from the quarters.

  "Had to go to the bank."

  I stop and look at him. "Wait—are you saying you planned this? You planned to take me here?"

  "I didn't know it'd be tonight, but yeah. I thought you'd like it." He goes to the pinball machine next to mine.

  "That was really nice." I smile at him. "I suddenly don't hate you."

  "Right back at ya."

  "I'm sure it won't last." I hand him some quarters.

  "Probably not." He yanks hard on the spring-loaded plunger, shooting the silver ball into the game. His machine has a jungle theme, with monkeys scattered around a green background. I watch as the ball makes it through the course and down the alley. Cal hits the flipper to shoot it back up.

  "You gonna play or what?" he asks, his eyes focused on the ball as it goes through the course.

  "I wanted to see if you still sucked," I say as I put quarters in my machine.