I Hate You, Propose: An Enemies to Lovers Fake Engagement Romance

by Jamie Knight

  Grandfather Morgan is upstairs in the large master bedroom. It has a balcony with French doors that opens up to an amazing view of the estate, but the old man never goes out there anymore. He can barely stand or walk. A mechanized hospital bed has taken the place of the original king-sized bed. Various medical equipment flocks to its sides; a ventilator being the most important. It hisses every few minutes.

  We all gather around his bedside.

  “Thank you all for coming,” the old man says with a cough. My mother moves to his side table and pours him a glass of water. “Thank you, Margarette.” He nods his head to her and takes a sip of water, then he looks over all of us. “I don’t know how much time I have. You see, time is a funny thing. You think there is enough of it then ‘poof’ it’s gone.”

  Arron and Collin have blank looks on their faces. My mother and father frown but there are no tears in their eyes. I’m pretty sure one of my uncles is still selling stocks on his phone.

  “But… I’m not dying yet!” Grandpa says with a wry smile. He laughs a bit as we all look around nervously.

  I smile to myself. That’s my Grandpa—always defying expectations! I knew he had something up his sleeve. And I notice Arron and Collin are more alert now. They thought this was the end and they’d be getting their inheritance soon, but they were wrong.

  “I have enough left in me for one more contest,” Grandfather Morgan explains, holding up a boney finger. “One more challenge that I hope the younger generation of Morgans will rise up to meet.”

  The old man has always been so competitive and likes to get the whole family involved. So, this news comes as no surprise. In fact, I don’t know why Arron and Collin are standing there with their mouths open. They should have known this was coming.

  In the past there were foot races, horse races, even boat races. We took part in archery competitions, rowing contests, golf, one-on-one basketball, skeet shooting, and hurling. Billiards was always a casual favorite, although Grandpa was a bit of a shark when he was healthy. We played chess, checkers, Risk, Stratego, Monopoly—any game you could think of in which a winner could be declared. We even had an arm-wrestling tournament once.

  Our school grades were even seen as a contest. Arron and Collin rarely bested me there.

  “Family is the most important thing in the world,” Grandpa continued. “I won’t be able to pass on into the afterlife until one of you, my beloved grandkids, makes the most important commitment you can make. Do you know what that commitment is?”

  Arron and Collin nod in understanding.

  “We know, Grandpa,” Arron says. “We have to be committed to our studies and graduating.”

  The old man shakes his head. “No, Arron,” Grandpa calmly states. “I’ll be long gone before any of you finish college, especially you, my dear grandson. No, the contest I propose is quite simple, actually. The first one of you to get engaged—and I’ll know if it is real or staged—will be the winner and inherit my entire fortune.”

  The entire room gasps. I want to smile but I hold it back. The sly old man isn’t letting up, even with death knocking on his door. He grins at us all.

  “That’s not fair, Grandpa,” Arron says in protest, his hands balled into fists. “I have been working hard on my grades for the other contest you challenged us to. I’ve been doing it to make you happy. Why not just make that the contest?”

  “Arron, I am a bit disappointed in you,” Grandpa says in an admonishing tone. “You shouldn’t get good grades just to win some prefabricated challenge. And you certainly shouldn’t do it to gain my approval. That’s not what a real man does. A real man does it for himself and because he wants to have a bright future. A real man knows that balance is important in life.

  “This is really lame, Grandpa,” Collin chimes in. “What if we’re not ready for marriage?

  “Nonsense!” Grandpa says in a raised voice. He has to stop for a moment to cough. “I don’t care if you feel you’re ready or not. You are not children anymore. Do you think I was totally ready when I dove in? No. I did it with a smile on my face because I knew it would turn out fine. So, accept my terms or none of you will get the money. Go out there and find some wives!”

  The room is silent for a moment. Arron and Collin exchange glances. They are clearly taken aback by this. Everyone else in the room is waiting for one of us to speak up.

  “Well okay,” Arron says breaking the silence. “If that is what you want, Grandpa.”

  “It is,” he says firmly. “But you all better get cracking on this. I can hold out for as long as I can, but the Grim Reaper won’t wait forever.” He laughs at his own joke.

  “Jeez, Grandpa, that’s pretty dark,” Collin says.

  “Man up, grandson!” Grandpa replies. “Go get yourself engaged. And remember: I’ll know if you’re faking it!”

  Everyone in the room is still pretty stunned. But after a few moments the realization of the contest starts to sink in.

  “Now leave me be for awhile, I need some rest,” Grandpa orders.

  The group turns to leave and head back down to the dining room. Grandpa grabs my hand to stop me.

  “Brent, wait a moment,” he says.

  “Sure thing, Grandpa,” I say, as I pull up a chair to his bedside.

  We wait in silence for the room to clear. Arron gives me a funny look as he turns to go. I can sense the jealousy he has for my relationship with Grandfather Morgan. But my cousin just shakes his head and walks down the stairs with the others.

  “Brent, listen to me,” Grandpa says, pulling my attention back to him. “I want you to take this contest seriously. It’s very important that you do.”

  “I will,” I tell him.

  He really does seem more serious now. Before I could tell there was a bit of theatrics, but this feels completely real. I do my best to listen and take in his words.

  “Do you know any deserving girl who might be right for you?” he asks. “You know, someone sweet and caring?”

  “Oh wow, Grandpa. I don’t know. Let me think...” Talk about putting me on the spot! I nervously run my hands through my hair. “I can’t say I know of anyone. I’ve barely been dating.”

  “Now think,” he says. “What about that one? The little sister of your friend. The one you’re always talking about.” I shrug my shoulders again. “Brent, I think you know who I mean. The funny one?”

  “Lindsay?” I ask in disbelief. “She gets upset easily. I just like to tease her. I never think about her romantically, certainly not as a potential wife.”

  “Are you sure?” Grandpa asks. He gives me a wink. “Perhaps you should look at her again.”

  I nod, but the thought seems ridiculous. Lindsay is just a silly girl. She’s Robert’s sister and I can’t imagine her as more than that.

  Grandpa takes my hand in his again and gives me a light squeeze. “You should get back to campus. Don’t want to fall behind. And while you’re there, make sure to find a fiancée.”

  I nod. Grandpa means a lot to me. I don’t want to let him down.

  Chapter Three

  Lindsay

  I’ve been back at school for a few weeks now. During that time, I’ve taken Robert’s advice and am doing my best to make some new friends. It took a couple of days to identify the popular girls and then sort through some cliques to find the right group to engage.

  There’s a girl named Sarah who has a loyal entourage. I looked up her last name and she comes from a wealthy family. She is a star lacrosse player and was homecoming queen at her high school. Definitely seems like she knows how to make friends and influence people.

  While studying her group I noticed she and her friends all dress in a similar fashion. Pleated skirts and sweaters or designer jeans and stylish tops, and they almost always wear heels. Throw in some modern sensibilities and there you have it. I am not sure what the exact style is called. I’ll just consider it an amalgam of sorts and it seems like designers matter.

  I don’t have much mon
ey to pull off a new wardrobe. But I have put together a few cute outfits Sarah and her friends might take notice of. Fortunately, some of the thrift stores had items to sort through. I looked for brands such as DKNY, Vera Wang and Victoria’s Secret. I even found a piece by Zara. The rest I ordered off brand online at deep discounts.

  I don’t like spending any extra money at all, but I view this as an investment for my future. I simply cannot allow the current status quo to continue. I need to make friends! And besides, the new outfits have helped put more bounce in my step. It’s nice to feel good about myself for once.

  Continuing my research, I also found out the places Sarah and her friends like to hang out. There’s a build-your-own Korean style bowl place they eat at. They also hang out at the coffee shop on campus and basically hold court there. And if it’s nice outside, they take up a huge section of comfy chairs on the patio and sip their lattes. If it is cold or raining, they hang out inside by the fireplace inside. They like to be cozy, it appears and I’m fine with that.

  I have been staying back and out of the way at all of these various locations so I can observe. But today I woke up, and unlike most days, I know things will be different. I have a plan and I’m going to execute it.

  I transferred over to a history class that Sarah is in. I will wait for the right moment, walk up to her in one of my nicest outfits, and then ask a question about what we’ve been studying. She’ll look me over, see the clothes I’m wearing, gauge my positive attitude, and then treat me like a regular person. From there we’ll chat a little more about common things we like, and after that we’ll become the best of friends. Well, it might not happen that fast, but it will be a start. And it starts today!

  I sit in the back of the history class and watch as Sarah and her friends take their spots in front. Everyone knows this is where they always congregate, and they leave the seats open for them. It’s kind of like they have a reserved section at a VIP club. No bottle service I am aware of, but I wouldn’t put it past them. Oh, I’d give anything to be that confident!

  At the end of class all of the students head outside. I know Sarah and her friends hang out for a bit by a piece of modern art in front of the building. It’s an abstract sculpture that goes twenty feet into the air. It’s quite striking, particularly on days when the sky is clear blue. This is one of those days. They usually chat for a few minutes underneath it before breaking off to go to different classes. Today they seem rather animated, as I watch from just inside the door of the building.

  Sarah is clearly the leader and guides the conversation from girl to girl and then back to her. She is like a queen holding court. I want to be a part of her royal party. I need to make this happen and I need to make this happen now. I can’t be on the outside forever.

  I sneak outside, see an opening in the conversation and walk up to the group. I’m definitely a bit nervous. I’ve never been face-to-face with popular, rich girls like this before. Even in high school I never really hung out with any of the uber super popular kids. I was always in study groups or doing homework. I had to get a scholarship to be able to even set foot on this campus. These girls probably never had to work very hard to get anything they wanted. But I don’t hold it against them. I want to be like them.

  They notice me approaching and turn to face me. Sarah is in the middle, flanked on both sides by several members of her squad. She has white-blonde hair styled in beachy waves, and her makeup in on point. She could be a model; she’s even tall enough.

  “Hi there,” I say desperately trying to sound confident. I feel so plain in comparison to these girls.

  “Hello,” one of Sarah’s friends says. “Can we help you?”

  “I’m Lindsay. I just transferred into this class,” I say, turning slightly to awkwardly point at the building we just exited.

  The girl speaking give me a warm smile. “I’m Madison,” she says. “This is Milli, Alison, Brandy and Brit.”

  “Nice to meet you all,” I say. “I just have a question.”

  “What’s on your mind, darlin’?” Sarah asks.

  Her vernacular sets me off for a moment. I hear a slight southern accent, but it’s

  been diluted and refined a bit. I wonder for a moment as to who calls someone “darlin’” these days? But I quickly adjust and adapt to how she speaks and push forward.

  “Do you know how often homework is handed out and how important it is to the getting a good grade?” I ask directly. I doubt they like someone who is wishy-washy and flip-flops. “I know in some classes the tests are more important.”

  “It’s best to just do the homework,” Sarah says. “The professor is kind of old school. He likes to grade papers and do things by the book. It’s kind of routine and mundane, but at least you know what you’re getting into.”

  “That’s good to know,” I say, giving her my best smile. “Some classes the homework seems more like practice runs for exams. I’ll make sure to do my best.”

  Speaking of tests and exams, Sarah’s friend Brit eyes me up and down looking at my outfit. She’s wearing a Kate Spade chiffon blouse and so am I. My research is paying off. Like I said, I was always studying in high school. And now, I’m able to apply that skill not only to college work, but also side projects. And during my shopping I was able to locate and purchase an older Kate Spade item of clothing from a thrift store in the downtown area off campus. It was an incredible find because new tops of that brand can run $200 or more.

  “I like your top,” Brit says. “It’s lit.”

  I’m not as versed in slang as I would like to be, but I will catch up fast. I smile, touch my top gently like I don’t realize what I’m wearing, and say thank you. I’m just about to compliment her top, when a noise stops me.

  Suddenly, from across the quad, I hear a familiar voice call out this way. I cringe, because I know who it is. And what he is saying… it’s horribly embarrassing. The timing couldn’t be worse.

  “Franny Flustered! Hey Franny! I can see you!” Brent yells from a distance.

  Sarah’s ears quickly perk up and she turns towards the noise. The other girls look around wondering where the voice is shouting from and to who they are directing the call to.

  “Is someone yelling Franny Flustered?” one of the girls asks. They all look confused.

  “I think that’s Brent Morgan,” Sarah says. She points at Brent and they all turn to look.

  Oh no! This is getting worse and worse. It started off so great too! I was actually making headway. Now all that progress is going to be ruined by that big jerk!

  I feel my face go beet red. It always happens when I get embarrassed or upset. No matter how hard I try to hide my reaction, it never fails to out me. And now Sarah picks up on this tell.

  “Wait a minute...” she says, he eyes going wide. She points at me with one finger. “Is Brent yelling at you?”

  “Yes,” I say with a big sigh. I drop my shoulders and feel like collapsing into myself. “He’s yelling at me. Teasing me.”

  Sarah and the girls immediately break into gossip talk. I’ve never seen a group of girls click in such chatter like this before. I guess I’ve never been exposed to how popular gals act in such situations. But the topic of their discussion is the last thing I want to hear right now.

  “Brent Morgan? Oh...my...god! He is so flippin’ hot,” one of the girls says.

  “He totally is,” Sarah says agreeingly.

  “He has to be the best looking guy on campus,” Alison says. “And have you seen the car he drives? The Ferrari?!”

  “He is not that hot!” I say out loud, clenching my fists at my side. “He’s my brother’s best friend and they’re both dorks.”

  “Who is your brother?” Milli asks.

  “Robert Miller,” I reply.

  “The Robert Miller?” Madison asks to confirm.

  “Yes,” I say.

  They all gasp.

  “Oh...my...god! He has to be even hotter than Brent!” Madison says with a squea
l. “You’re so lucky he’s your brother and Brent is his friend.”

  This conversation has taken an odd turn and suddenly I feel too embarrassed to deal. Brent is ruining my chances at making friends and he needs to stop. I look across the quad and see that Brent is tossing a football around with some friends. I need to get over there and let him know what he said was not appreciated. I am so mortified!

  “Excuse me,” I say to the girls.

  I turn make a bee-line directly towards Brent and his friends. After a few steps I pick up the pace. A few yards out he catches the football, turns and sees me.

  “Hey there, Franny Flustered!” Brent says with a laugh.

  I charge him and grab his collar, putting my little fists right under his chin.

  “Whoa, Franny, slow down!” he says, blinking at me with bright green eyes.

  I pull him down by his collar, so he has to look me directly in my face.

  “Stop calling me that!” I yell.

  “Call you what? ‘Franny Flustered’?” he says. “Well guess what, you’re acting like one right now. When the shoe fits--”

  “Shut up!” I command angrily. “Never call me that name ever again. You know how much it embarrasses me.”

  I let loose of his collar. He backs up and adjusts it and his shirt. He starts laughing. His friends join in. I am feeling all alone out here even though I am amongst so many other students.

  “I can’t take you seriously, Lindsay,” he says. “And that’s because you take yourself and everything that happens so seriously. You are always walking around in a huff. That’s why I call you ‘Franny Flustered’.

  I feel as if I might cry. I push him away and walk off. I don’t know where I’m going right now, I just know I want to be far away from Brent.

  The nerve of him! And now he’s totally ruined my chances of being friends with Sarah and her group. I will never ever be cool. I rub my eyes and wipe away tears.