Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy

by Max Monroe

  Me: She seemed surprisingly understanding about the whole situation. Even told me it was ridiculous that I was tempted to press charges on your bastard nephew.

  Howie: There’s a part of me that wishes you would.

  Me: No shit? That’s a shock to hear coming from you.

  Howie: Yeah, well, I think I’m growing a little worn-out on all the bullshit.

  Me: You sure as shit have lasted longer than I would’ve.

  Howie: I think it’s time for a change of pace for Larry. LA isn’t good for him. I’m too busy to stay on his ass constantly. And he’s twenty-fucking-three years old. It’s not my job anymore to clean up his messes.

  Me: I couldn’t agree more.

  The sounds of Birdie’s flip-flops moving down the hall and into the kitchen fill my ears, and I look up to find her fully dressed in Kelly’s sweatpants and flip-flops and my T-shirt. Her blond hair is long and wavy and rests halfway down her back. And while her soft brown eyes look tired, she still manages to look pretty damn stunning.

  “Hungry for something to eat?” I ask, and her fingers fidget with the material of my T-shirt that makes her body look incredibly tiny beneath the cotton.

  “Actually, I’m supposed to be at lunch with my sister and Rocky right now…” She pauses. “I’m already ten minutes late.”

  “I can drive you. Where are you meeting them?”

  “No, no, that’s okay,” she says and waves me off with a nonchalant hand. “I’ll call an Uber.”

  “Birdie, don’t be ridiculous. Just tell me where I need to take you.”

  “Frankie’s,” she updates. “It’s a little diner—”

  “I know where it is,” I chime in and snag my keys and wallet off the island. “Do you have all your stuff?”

  “Are you sure?” she questions. “You don’t have anything you need to do today?”

  “Positive. My Sunday is all clear.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I really appreciate it.” She holds up her dress and stilettos and tiny purse. “You wouldn’t happen to have a bag I could borrow, would you?”

  “I’ll only give you a bag if you agree to let me join you guys for lunch.” Now that I know where the penis soldier reference came from, I have the sudden urge to see Rocky again. It’ll never happen, but it feels good to threaten her with it.

  Her jaw drops. “What?”

  “I said, I’ll only give you a bag if—”

  “I know what you said,” she cuts me off. “I’m just trying to figure out if you’re screwing with me or being serious.”

  An amused grin slides over my mouth, and I shrug. “Sorry, sweetheart. Sometimes, old habits die hard, you know.” I turn on my heel and snag a brown paper grocery bag from a cabinet underneath the sink. “Will this work?”

  “Yeah, you big jerk,” she responds and rolls her eyes. “That’ll work just fine.”

  “Man, Birdie, I take care of you all night and even offer to make you something to eat this morning, and you don’t even feel obliged to invite me to lunch… I think it’s safe to say I’m the nicer one out of the two of us.”

  She snorts at that. “Get real, Andrew. The last time we had lunch together, I ended up accidentally breaking your nose and having to drive you to the ER. I think we both know it’s for the best.”

  “Whatever makes you feel better about being so mean, sweetheart,” I respond and head toward the door that leads into my garage. But when I glance over my shoulder, I find her still standing in my kitchen. “You coming?”

  “I’m not mean,” she says, her feet firmly planted on my hardwood floor.

  “You’re right, Birdie. You’re not mean. You’re incredibly sweet. Especially when you send me flowers and heartfelt apology notes.”

  “Oh my God. Not this again.” She sighs. “You know I didn’t send those.”

  “I only know that your name was on the note.” I shrug and open the door to the garage. “Now, I think you better get a move on it if you want to get to Frankie’s sooner rather than later. Surely, your sister isn’t too thrilled about waiting on your tardy ass.”

  Birdie rolls her eyes but follows me into the garage anyway.

  And she doesn’t say another word until we’re both in my car and I’m pulling out of my driveway and onto the main road.

  “Even though you’re super-flipping annoying and seem to enjoy getting a rise out of me all the damn time, thank you for doing this.”

  “My pleasure, sweetheart,” I respond and glance out of my periphery to take in the view that is Birdie Harris sitting shotgun in my car.

  Even slightly hungover and in sweatpants and flip-flops, she looks damn good.

  And I can’t deny my gaze steals another quick once-over, moving from the top of her pretty blond hair all the way to her cute yellow-painted toes, before focusing back on the road.

  I also can’t deny my mind starts to wonder if she’s wearing all of the clothes I gave her.

  “Did the clothes work out okay for you?” I ask, and she hums out a response.

  “Mmmhmm.”

  “The sweatpants fit okay?”

  “Yep.”

  “The sandals?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And my boxer briefs?”

  Instantly, she snaps her eyes to my face. “What are you trying to get at?”

  “Nothing.” I shrug and flash a grin in her direction. “Just making sure you’re comfortable.”

  “Are you seriously thinking about me wearing your freaking underwear right now?” she questions, and her eyes narrow.

  Yep. That’s exactly what I’m thinking about.

  And hot damn, what a sight that probably is…

  “I’m just making sure you’re comfortable. That’s all,” I lie. “I can’t help that it includes me asking about my boxer briefs. Which, I’m assuming you’re currently wearing…”

  “Dear God.” She sighs. “Sometimes, men are such dogs.”

  She doesn’t take the bait, but the slight flush of her cheeks and her annoyed response tell me everything I need to know.

  Oh yeah, she’s definitely wearing my underwear.

  And if me thinking about that sexy fact makes me a dog, then woof, woof, sweetheart.

  Birdie

  Seeing as I didn’t have sex last night, I’m not sure if this qualifies, but walking into a diner with a brown paper bag filled with last night’s clothes and wearing underwear that aren’t mine certainly feels like the walk of shame.

  The last half of the fifteen-minute drive from Andrew’s to the diner I spent fielding text messages from Howie and my assistant and my sister.

  Howie apologized profusely for what happened, and I told him not to worry about it. It was all forgiven.

  Samantha had a million damn questions about what went down last night, and I told her I’d give her all the details when I got back from lunch. Truthfully, I’d rather not have to speak or think about yesterday ever again, but she certainly deserves an explanation.

  And Billie, well, I told her to hold her freaking pregnancy horses because I was on my way.

  I was anticipating Andrew pushing the whole “joining us for lunch” thing, but to my utter shock, he simply dropped me off at the entrance and drove off once he saw I made it inside.

  And when I stepped inside Frankie’s, I spotted Mel and Franco, Billie’s two burly security guys, first. Then, nestled in our usual booth at the back, I located Billie and Rocky sitting across from each other, chatting and eating their food.

  My lunch companions officially found, I begin to walk their way.

  The sandals on my feet flip and flop against my heels as I head toward the table, and I’m more than thankful that I didn’t spot any paparazzi staking out with their cameras outside.

  Jesus. Today is the absolute last day I’d want to have my picture splashed across some gossip column.

  When I step closer to the booth, Billie looks up from her half-eaten plate of food. At first, she starts to smile, but then, when she takes i
n my new hobo-esque fashion of sweatpants and a T-shirt that’s several sizes too big for me, her lips turn down at the corners.

  “What in the hell happened to you?” she asks, and Rocky glances up from her plate and gives me a curious once-over.

  “I had a bit of a night,” I say through a sigh and sit down beside my sister. “And I’m sorry for being so late.”

  “A bit of a night?” Billie questions with an amused grin. “Sis, you look like you got dressed in the dark. Seriously, what in the hell are you wearing? I mean, I get the whole dress casual thing, but this is taking it to another level.”

  “And you have a grocery bag as a purse,” Rocky adds through a laugh. “What is happening right now?”

  So much for being hopeful that I could get through this lunch without delving into last night’s shenanigans…

  “Well…it’s a long story, and if you don’t mind, I’m going to order myself some food and try to act like I’m not wearing someone else’s underwear.”

  “What the heck?” Billie bursts into shocked laughter. “Someone else’s underwear? Birdie, you’re going to have to give a little more detail than that.”

  Rocky giggles. “Yeah, I’m with Billie. Tell us what in the hell is going on with you.”

  I sigh again, and thankfully, a nice waiter with a friendly smile steps up to our booth to take my order. I take my sweet time, asking him several questions about the menu, before my impatient sister stops the madness.

  “Yeah, okay, that’s about enough of this.” She steals my menu from my hands and hands it back to the waiter. “She’ll have a cheeseburger and fries and a Coke to drink.”

  “Hey now, what if that’s not what I want?”

  “I guess you’ll just have to find a way to enjoy it.” Billie rolls her eyes and smiles at the waiter. “That’s definitely what she wants. Thank you.”

  The waiter stands there for an awkward moment, glancing between me and my sister.

  Poor guy. He doesn’t deserve to be in this cross fire.

  “Are you sure that’s…?” he starts to question, and I nod.

  “Yep. I’ll have a cheeseburger. Fries. And a Coke.” I put him out of his uncomfortable misery. “Thank you.”

  Eventually, the waiter leaves our table to put in my order, and Billie doesn’t waste any time.

  “Spill it, sister,” she says and takes a sip from her water.

  “Ugh.” I groan. “It’s embarrassing.”

  “Yeah.” Rocky giggles. “That’s more than apparent, honey.”

  “Are we dealing with a walk of shame situation right now?” Billie asks, her eyes brightening with each word.

  “Slow your excited roll. I didn’t have sex last night.”

  My sister narrows her eyes. “Then what in the hell happened?”

  “Well, prepare yourselves, because I’m about to take you on quite the freaking ride…” I pause, and Billie waves her hand impatiently.

  “Stop dragging this out and tell us, for fuck’s sake.”

  So, I do.

  I tell them all the gory details about my night.

  The pot brownie.

  Andrew taking me home because my accidental high had turned me into a liability.

  Waking up naked in his bed.

  The fact that I’m wearing his freaking underwear and that he’s the one who dropped me off.

  I tell them everything, and by the time I finish, both my sister and Rocky are just sitting there, staring at me in shock.

  “This has got to be one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard in my whole life,” Billie mutters.

  “Tell me about it.” I snort. “When I woke up this morning completely naked and in a bed I didn’t recognize, I thought I was going to have a stroke.”

  “Do you remember anything from last night?” Rocky asks, and I shrug.

  “Not a whole lot, but the memories are slowly starting to come back to me.”

  “Wow.” Billie shakes her head. “Color me impressed.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “Impressed? By your sister going on an accidental bender and being a raging lunatic?”

  “Nope.” She shakes her head again. “Impressed that Andrew Watson was such a fucking gentleman.”

  I start to open my mouth to refute her gentleman claim, but then I quickly realize it’s pretty hard to deny it. I mean, he legitimately took care of me last night. Hell, even this morning.

  I’d have to be a total bitch not to acknowledge his kindness.

  The waiter drops my burger and fries and Coke off at the table, and I don’t hesitate to dive right in. Apparently, champagne/pot hangovers make you real damn hungry the next day.

  But I only get two bites into my burger before I notice that Rocky is looking at me with a funny look on her face.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” That funny look turns full-on smile, and I narrow my eyes.

  “Rocky.”

  “I’m just having a hard time getting over the fact that you’re sitting across from me in Andrew Watson’s underwear. I told you that cock soldier was the enemy, and here you are wearing his uniform!” She snorts.

  Billie giggles. “I second that, Rock!”

  “Oh my God, shut up. Both of you.” I take a sip of my Coke. “You act like I actually want to be wearing his underwear right now. Like I even had a choice.”

  Rocky tilts her head to the side. “But did you really need to wear his boxers beneath those sweats?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I think what Rock is trying to convey to you, sis, is that you willingly put on Andrew’s underwear, even though you definitely could’ve just gone commando beneath the sweats. It’s not like anyone would’ve noticed.”

  “You two are insane.”

  They both grin at me.

  “And cut me some slack here, you bitches,” I continue. “I was a little out of sorts this morning when I woke up in a stranger’s bedroom without any freaking clothes on. Pretty sure anyone would’ve just put on whatever clothes were handed to them.”

  Billie just keeps on grinning. “I think he’s growing on you.”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t be absurd.”

  “Whatever you say, sis,” she adds. “I mean, I guess you’d know best. You are the one in his underwear, not me.”

  I flip her the middle finger and go back to eating my burger.

  No way Andrew Watson is growing on me…right?

  You can’t deny he was pretty sweet to you last night and this morning…

  Ugh. Whatever. So, he was actually nice to me for once. That doesn’t mean I’m going to start erecting statues in his honor and declaring my undying love.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what kind of underwear does Andrew prefer? Boxers? Boxer briefs? Something else?” Billie asks with a devilish smile, and I roll my eyes.

  “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

  “Nope,” she says, pressing her lips together and popping the p.

  Rocky grins. “You have to admit, Birdie, the whole situation is nuts. Like, the one guy you pretty much hated and called an asshole is—”

  “You also said he was an asshole.”

  “Very true,” she agrees, but I know something else is coming when a sneaky smirk kisses her mouth. “But I’m not the one who woke up naked in his bed this morning. I’m just the one who told you to keep your distance from him.”

  I hate that she’s right.

  But she is right.

  Fucking hell. I swear to God, the instant I get back to my rental, I’m hopping in the shower and putting on my own damn underwear.

  “Can we talk about something else?” I ask. “Obviously, I’m enjoying being the butt of your jokes so much right now, but it’d be nice to, you know, catch up on other things besides whose underwear I’m wearing…”

  “All right, fine.” Billie waves the white flag. “I guess we’ve given you enough of a hard time.”

  “Ya th
ink?”

  Rocky offers an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Birdie. Forgive us for being such bitches.”

  I shrug. “I can’t say I blame you, but I’m ready to move the conversation along, if you know what I’m saying.” I look toward my sister. “How did your OB-GYN appointment go Friday?”

  She smiles and rubs a hand over her protruding belly. “Everything is looking good. Baby is healthy and happy in there, and less than two months to go until we get to meet him or her.”

  “I think it’s a girl,” I say and Billie laughs.

  “Last week, you said you thought it was a boy.”

  I smirk. “Well, this week, I think it’s a girl.”

  “Holy shit. Less than two months. That’s so soon,” Rocky muses after she takes a sip of her iced tea. “I can’t believe how quickly the time has already passed.”

  “I know,” Billie agrees. “Although, I am getting to the point in this pregnancy where I feel like a whale and I’m just so ready to meet my baby, time is starting to drag the heck out.”

  “God, I remember that feeling,” Rocky answers, understanding in her voice. “Are you planning on breastfeeding?”

  “That’s the plan.” Billie nods. “So, if you have any tips or tricks, I’m all ears.”

  “Girl, I could go on for days.”

  Billie grins. “By all means, tell me all the things.”

  While the two of them dive into the wild world of proper latch techniques and feeding schedules and how to avoid nipple confusion, a foggy memory of last night pops into my mind, and I grab my phone to get confirmation.

  Me: Was I calling you Andy last night?

  He responds a minute later.

  Andrew: Yes, and just so you know, I do not approve.

  I grin. I can’t help it.

  Me: So, you don’t want me to call you Andy?

  Andrew: Nope.

  Me: Personally, I think it’s cute. The nickname Andy, I mean. I don’t know why you dislike the nickname Andy so much.

  Andrew: Christ. Enough with the Andy bullshit.