Subscriber Wars: An Enemies-to-Lovers-Romantic Comedy

by Kristy Marie

  My self-destruction is ending.

  I’ve found the motherfucking light at the end of the tunnel.

  Fuck the hot neighbor and her sweet smile. They both can kiss my ass. Literally, if she wants to. I’m not selfish. Giving of myself is my best attribute.

  I swipe the shirt from the trashcan, take a jump shot, and ring the hamper, following it up by bagging up the trash. Several jars clang together and I cringe. I really need to lay off the moonshine Rowan distills in his spare room. I don’t know what he puts in the brew, but the shit knocks me on my ass. Not to mention, I feel like I’m on an episode of Moonshiners when I go over and grab an armful.

  I’m pretty sure his neighbors know what he’s doing simply from the smell, but no one is crazy enough to complain. Rowan is like an angry version of Vin Diesel, which serves Maverick well, since Rowan is his game enforcer on Wednesday night poker. For me, though, he’s just a big ol’ grouchy teddy bear that I like to text The Fast and the Furious memes to.

  Opening the door, the heat stops me in my tracks. Fuck. You’d think it was midsummer rather than late spring. The shorts were definitely a good idea. Taking the back steps barefoot, because I can’t be bothered with shoes, I stuff the bag inside the rolling trash can and let the lid slam shut. Trash pickup is tomorrow. I can’t miss it again.

  I chance a glance over at my neighbor’s front stoop. Her trash can isn’t out yet, but I bet it will be by morning, along with separate cans with her recycling.

  I shake my head remembering the lectures she used to give me about throwing all my shit in one can. “This is plastic! Do you know how long it takes for it to decompose in a landfill?” I didn’t know at the time, but a few weeks later, I bought another stupid trash can. I don’t use it now, since she shit all over our friendship, but I still have it, and, occasionally, I consider throwing a milk jug in there just to spite myself.

  Turning back, a bright light catches my eye, stopping me. Shielding my eyes, I ease my head down and notice a set of keys dangling from Vee’s front door.

  Don’t do it, Sebastian. She has your pillow.

  I nod to myself, fidgeting with my bottom lip.

  She does have my pillow, and while I thought she would beg me for the return of her chair this morning, she didn’t. Which, I’ll admit is slightly disappointing.

  What Valentina Lambros needs is a little more incentive, and maybe a lesson in self-preservation. Just because we live in a decent neighborhood, we can’t assume we have decent neighbors.

  See exhibit A, me stealing her chair and exhibit B, her stealing my pillow.

  But that’s sort of what neighbors do, right? Loan each other sugar or some shit?

  That’s all this is. A little bit of borrowing with a little bit of menace behind it.

  With a quick look around, I sprint across the hot as fuck sidewalk, ignoring the first degree burns on the bottom of my feet and swipe the keys from her front door, slipping them into my pocket smoothly and quickly then leaping onto the grass between our houses. Vee’s side is professionally landscaped, which I’m sure her daddy paid for; whereas, mine is overgrown with a few random weeds that have sprouted flowers.

  I used to pay a guy to come and cut the grass, but since my sponsored ads reduced drastically, I don’t have the kind of money I used to. I meant to buy a push mower. Instead, I was impulsive and bought a wakeboard that I’ve yet to use because I don’t have a boat. I’m a dude. We do stupid shit sometimes.

  Laughing bubbles from Vee’s back door, and I hurry to my back patio, only swearing twice when I step on something prickly.

  “Are you sure we don’t need the duct tape?”

  I recognize that voice. Aspen Von Bremen, my nemesis’ roommate and childhood bestie. She’s the reason our neighborhood get-togethers are tense and awkward. Her brother’s roommate, Bennett, is like her personal bodyguard or party pooper. I can’t quite figure out which. All I know is Aspen is fun and Bennett is…not so much.

  “I’m not duct taping my boobs, Asp. If this game gets that out of hand, I’m quitting. I’m not flashing the neighbors.”

  The word, “flashing,” grabs my attention as I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, staring at a blank screen. I don’t want the traitor thinking I want to see her boobs or even imagine her wrapping tape around them, plumping them into round globes—What the fuck kind of game are they playing anyway?

  “You can’t quit!” Aspen laughs. “I made a bet with my brother. If we lose, I have to clean his bathroom. Don’t ask me to take on that torture.”

  “You shouldn’t have a made a bet in the first place! You know I suck at most sports.”

  A grin tugs along my lips. She does suck at sports. A lot.

  “Shit. I don’t have the keys to lock the deadbolt, do you?”

  And that’s my cue to leave.

  University CamFlix Competition Submission

  Entry Number: 75

  Sebastian and Valentina

  First Interview Continued, or that few minutes I wanted to poison Sebastian’s water

  “So you were a singer?” The producer asks, looking confused. The sofa Sebastian and I are sitting on shakes. The bastard is attempting to hold in his laughter, but the stupid pig snort he smothers with his hand only makes it feel like I’m sitting right next to Old McDonald’s idiot pig.

  I narrow my eyes at Sebastian. “No, I wasn’t a singer. I—” Sebastian actually snorts, and I swear to God, I am going to key the shit out of his Jeep the minute we leave this studio. “I was practicing a song for my uncle’s birthday party. He owns a karaoke bar.”

  I’m not giving him all the details. All he needs to know is that I wasn’t labeling myself as a singer. I was simply trying to practice. My family is musically inclined and well, I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. It’s a little defeating to be the only one who can’t sing or play a musical instrument. And it’s that defeat that led me to this moment right here, playing freaking Bash-hole’s loving (gag) girlfriend.

  I’m naked.

  Well, not really. Let’s just say this bikini Aspen picked out leaves little to the imagination.

  “You look fine. Stop messing with it.”

  I level Aspen with a flat look. “I swear I will never forgive you if my tit pops out of this thing.”

  I’m being dramatic. My boobs are secured, but they have never been on this much of a display.

  “Your girls are nice and secure. Stop worrying about it.”

  Easy for her to say. Aspen never worries about anything. She’s a make-life-decisions-over-beers kind of girl. I’m the more reserved one. I would rather know what I’m walking into. “I just don’t think a strapless top is the right choice given the fact that I will have to run when I kick the ball.”

  A loud snort interrupts our walk across the courtyard. “Since when have you ever gotten on base in any of the games we’ve played?”

  Dressed like a Hollywood celebrity in his Ray-Ban aviators, Fenn Von Bremen, star pitcher of Havemeyer University, shoots me a shit-eating grin.

  “Don’t be a shit this early in the afternoon, Fenn. We just ate.” Aspen pretends to gag just as Bennett walks up behind him.

  Oh shit.

  I nudge Aspen in the side as Bennett’s eyes narrow into slits, seemingly right at Aspen’s top. “I think you forgot the rest of your swimsuit,” he drawls, his voice simmering with barely controlled rage.

  Aspen shrugs a shoulder and snatches the vinyl sheets from Fenn. “Where do you want these set up?”

  A low growl rumbles in Bennett’s chest, making Fenn drop his head to his shoulders. “I swear I will lock you in the trunk of my car if you piss him off again, Asp. I’m tired of living with Bruce Banner.”

  I chance a look at Bennett. He’s still staring daggers at Aspen’s body. “I think I’ll go check on Drew while you guys get things sorted out.”

  Fenn flips me off, but Aspen grins and waves. “Bring me a drink when you come back out.”

  I nod, inch
ing around Bennett before hightailing it across the lawn with my sights on a familiar black door.

  Midtown Heights, the townhome complex where we live, lines two parallel streets with green space in the middle. Basically, all the backyards face each other. The complex has done a good job with creating shrubbery walls for privacy and adding gardens and fountains so you can walk your dogs, but it’s still as private as an outdoor shower.

  When I get to the guys’ back door, I don’t even bother knocking. I just barge right in.

  “Drusilla!” I call. “Are you making me a drink, biotch?”

  A rumbly laughter comes from the kitchen and I follow the sound until I’m greeted with a pair of board shorts with the word LIFEGUARD down the side and a grin that makes all the freshmen girls swoon. “Your bubba is about to yell at Aspen. I figured I’d come help you where it’s safe and quiet.” I look at the counter full of liquor bottles and wince. “Are you planning on celebrating your birthday with alcohol poisoning?”

  He cocks a brow, those mint green eyes alight with amusement. “My bubba, huh?” He gives me a thorough once-over. “Did my bubba also yell at you?” The replica of Bennett narrows his eyes at my bathing suit but with much less anger. “You left half your swimsuit at home.”

  The Jameson bothers are hotheaded, but fortunately for me, Drew is the easier one to sweet talk.

  “It was Aspen’s idea. I opted for a t-shirt and shorts.”

  Drew makes a face like he can’t decide if my t-shirt would be better or worse than this bikini. “I bet it was. Let me guess, her bathing suit is worse than yours?”

  Honestly, neither of our bathing suits are that revealing. Sure, mine shows a lot more skin than I’m used to, but if I were to rate it from fully covered to a cheek hanging out, I’d say it was a solid, appropriate, college two-piece.

  “Aspen’s bathing suit is fine. You both are being ridiculous. You don’t see Fenn making a big deal about it.”

  Drew raises a brow, and I quickly wave him off.

  “Never mind. Forget what I said.”

  Fenn is a little different; half the time he doesn’t give two shits about anyone and the other half, he’s a downright asshole. It probably doesn’t bother him because he knows no one will say anything in front him about me or his sister, without him ending the evening with an assault charge.

  Drew chuckles, probably thinking the same thing as me. “Here,” he pats the countertop, “come put the ice in the blender for me. I assume you want something where you can’t taste the alcohol.”

  Eh, not really, but I’m not going to correct him. Truth is, over the past few months, I’ve learned how to shoot tequila and drink moonshine, without gagging or throwing up. Fruity drinks are no longer in my repertoire of alcoholic beverages. Nevertheless, I hop up on the counter and begin scooping ice from the bag in the sink, dropping it into the blender. “So, who all did you invite to this little shindig?”

  Drew eyes me funny while he pours way too much Jäger into his own glass. “Any one person you’re particularly interested in?”

  Yeah, the damn neighbor. If Sebastian graces this party with his presence, then his house would be unattended, and he’d be a whole lot of distracted.

  “I was just curious if you invited some of the neighbors. Like the girl who lives next to what’s his name…” I point to Sebastian’s house. There’s no reason for Drew to get any ideas about my and Sebastian’s issues.

  “You mean, Pam?”

  I grin. “Yep, that’s the one.”

  Drew nods and presses the button on the blender. “Yeah, we invited her and the rest of the neighbors. Bennett thought it’d be easier to head off the noise complaints if we invited everyone.”

  Of course, Bennett would be logical about his birthday party.

  “That’s really sweet of you two.” I rub his shoulder. “So, am I supposed to slide on my stomach or butt with this whole waterslide kickball thing?”

  Drew turns and grabs his drink, taking a big gulp. “Oh, you won’t be running in that thing.” He eyes my bikini up and down. “I’ll be your pinch runner.”

  “Pinch runner is a baseball term,” I correct him.

  He winks. “No one knows the real term because kickball isn’t a sport.”

  This ridiculous human. “So why did you pick it to play for your birthday? Why not bikini baseball?” He is the university’s star catcher after all.

  “Dammit, Vee! Why didn’t you offer up that idea earlier?”

  “I didn’t know you were looking for wet sporting events; otherwise, I would have suggested swimming or a lake party.”

  Drew shrugs. “The ‘rents are at the lake house this weekend. There’s no way I was scoring with my Dad breathing down my neck.”

  “Are my parents there too?” My mom didn’t mention it when I talked to her a few days ago but maybe she forgot.

  “Nah. Just Dad and Uncle Theo.” He shrugs. “Yearly fishing trip.”

  “Ah. Well, we can always go another weekend when they aren’t there.” I love the lake house. Aspen’s parents own it, but we all have a key and can use it any time. It’s about an hour from the University, but it feels like it’s miles away from everything. I miss it.

  “Asp and I were talking about maybe taking a road trip to see your brother in Cali. Since it’s Asp’s last year and all.”

  I open my mouth, and Drew holds up one finger. “Hold that thought.” The blender whirls to life, and after a few seconds, he hands me a strawberry daiquiri. “Do I not get a Jäger bomb?” I nod to the drink next to him.

  “Hell no,” he laughs. “Jäger makes the undies drop. Yours are staying put tonight. Mine, however, are not.”

  I take the drink and shrug. My panties weren’t coming off anyway, but it’s nice to know I have back up in case Vance takes this invite as a code word for hookup. “So, we’re taking a road trip soon?”

  Drew shrugs a shoulder. “Bennett isn’t on board yet. I’m working on it.”

  I nod. Bennett is always a tough sell. Why he’s so grouchy and responsible, we’ll never know. “Well, I’m sure if anyone can sell him, you can.”

  He does this stupid little wink that makes me laugh. “Did you see that competition Malcolm is bragging about?”

  I fake a gag. If there was ever someone who I loved to hate more than Sebastian, it’s Malcolm Desantis. “I try to stay clear of anything Malcolm says.”

  Drew’s forehead scrunches. “But it’s a million dollars. How have you not heard about it? Isn’t the internet like your personal playground?”

  “Yeah, but…”

  I don’t want to tell him I already entered. For some reason, I don’t want him to know quite yet.

  “But?” Drew prompts me.

  “But I don’t follow Malcolm. He’s a vulture.” He never plays by the rules. Copying others and spoofing their videos is his go-to technique. He lacks originality.

  Drew takes a sip of his drink and nods. “I agree, but it’s still a million dollars, Vee. You’ll be seen by millions of viewers. Who knows? Some studio or production company could be in the market for a makeup artist. It’s a big opportunity.”

  I know and I’m on board three thousand percent, but the thing is, the rules weren’t exactly clear.

  Drew grabs his phone and shoves it in my face. He’s like a little boy all excited to show me what he found. “This is what I’m talking about.” I take his phone and grin; this boy has always been my biggest fan. Scrolling through Malcolm’s page, I act like this is the first time I’ve seen the announcement. I haven’t seen Malcolm’s entry, so I snoop through his hashtags, clicking on the one #unicamflixcompetition. There I find the ad for the upcoming reality show.

  I read aloud to Drew, “Looking for the next rising MyView star. Producers, actors, cameramen, and writers are all welcome. Use hashtag #unicamflixcompetition on your daily videos as entries. The top two accounts with the most subscribers will face off with a final fan vote. The winner will be awarded one million doll
ars and a one-year MyView reality series.”

  I finally look up and meet Drew’s glassy eyes. I snatch the drink from his hand and toss a piece of ice at him. “Pace yourself, Drusilla. I’m not dragging you to your room again. I sprained my ankle last time.”

  Drew catches the ice easily and tosses it into the blender, mixing another drink. “The competition is cool, huh?”

  “Yeah, it’s cool. I just don’t know if my videos will qualify.” I’m not sure it’s a skill they are looking for.

  “Message them and ask,” he says and shrugs. Nothing is ever a big deal to Drew. That’s one of the reasons I love his crazy ass.

  “I hate that Malcolm is participating, though,” I say to myself. “He’ll be a nightmare to deal with.”

  Drew takes another drink and cocks a brow. “Why is that?”

  “About a month ago, this one guy claimed Malcolm copied his videos before he posted them. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but I don’t put it past Malcolm to cheat.”

  I’m pretty sure Drew hasn’t heard a word I’ve said since something on his phone snagged his attention four sentences ago. “You got this, Vee-Dog,” he mumbles, giving me a thumbs up.

  “Ugh.” I jump from the counter.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” His head jerks up quickly.

  “Outside. I was going to see if Bennett and Fenn needed any help since you seem to have this managed.” Really, I just want to see if Bennett and Aspen are still arguing, and if not, maybe I can use the excuse to separate them and go back home and plot ways to get my chair back.

  Okay fine, I really just want to stalk Sebastian. He didn’t wear those ugly shorts for no one. And the fact that he won’t tell me who only ramps up my curiosity.

  “Alright but be careful out there.” He eyes my swimsuit one more time. “I’d hate for you to get dirty helping me bury a body tonight.”

  This crazy fool.

  I stand on my tiptoes, and he leans down, so I can kiss him on the cheek. “Will do. Happy birthday, Big Dog.”