Sincerely Enemies: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (The Warr Acres High Series Book 1)

by Kelsie Stelting

  But there it was.

  Wolf: How was prom?

  Wolf: Get some action?

  Wolf: Eggplant emoji.

  Wolf: Water emoji.

  Wolf: Peach emoji.

  Emerick: STOP

  Wolf: Panty emoji.

  Wolf: Another eggplant.

  Emerick: God, I need to find some new friends.

  Wolf: rofl

  Wolf: ???

  Emerick: It was fine until I fkn blew it

  Wolf: ;)

  Emerick: Don’t be gross

  Wolf: What happened

  Emerick: I don’t wanna talk about it

  Wolf: ok

  Wolf: surgerys tomorrow right

  Emerick: don’t wanna talk about that either.

  Wolf: Meet me outside in 10

  Emerick: No. Gotta watch Janie.

  Wolf: Bring the kid.

  I rolled over on my bed, shoved my face into my pillow, and roared.

  What Wolf didn’t get was that going out and jumping in a pond wouldn’t get me past this. I wasn’t trying to get my mind off school or work. This was another person. The woman I... I couldn’t say the word. That would make it too real.

  Pathetic.

  His engine fired in the driveway, and he honked.

  The garage door opened, and Janie poked her head in, looking like a little, annoyed version of her mom. “Can you tell your friend to be quiet? I’m trying to read.”

  I glanced at the book in her hand. “You reading romance?”

  She hid it behind her back.

  Wolf honked again.

  “Tell him to be quiet!” she cried.

  I grunted. “Put that book down.” I got out of bed, hopped to my dresser, and threw a shirt on. “Come on.”

  She put some flip flops on and followed me out the garage door, out into Wolf’s El Camino, which he was actually keeping clean lately.

  Janie got into the middle seat. “We have a doorbell, you know?”

  I lifted my eyebrows at Wolf, and he laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind, kid.”

  She scowled at him. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one in a shit mood today.

  Wolf took off down the road. “So what happened last night?”

  I glanced back at Janie, her nose already buried in some book with a shirtless man on the cover. She was only ten. What the hell did she want to do with a book like that?

  I made a mental note to tell Aunt Linda to hide her books better and sighed. “I blew things with Nora. She won’t talk to me.”

  Wolf glanced at me. “You gonna piss and moan about it, or you wanna do something?”

  I glared at him. “I tried texting her. She won’t answer.”

  “You call her?”

  “Straight to voicemail.”

  He frowned. “What’s plan B?”

  Janie piped up from behind her book. “Ice cream.”

  A smirk cracked Wolf’s expression.

  I shrugged. “You heard the girl.”

  He drove to a Sonic, and we got out of the car. I hopped to a table with Janie holding onto my arm, making sure I didn’t fall over.

  We ordered and sat around.

  Janie shoved my shoulder. “Why are you moping around?”

  Coming from a ten-year-old? Ouch. “What do you mean?”

  She gave me a no-nonsense stare. Yeah, she might have been a ten-year-old, but she knew a thing or two. Or three.

  I sighed. “Prom didn’t end the way I wanted it to.”

  “What happened?”

  Wolf leaned in.

  Another sigh. “She figured out who I really was.” And that was all I could say, because even Wolf didn’t know about the column. Living with my dad had made keeping secrets so natural, I didn’t even know how to be open, and I didn’t want to blame my problems on daddy issues, but I didn’t want to ignore my problems either.

  I looked Wolf right in the eye. “Snitches get stiches.”

  He just looked confused.

  “You can keep a secret?”

  He looked at Janie. “If she can, I can.”

  She nodded.

  I looked around the empty outdoor area, the sparse parking stalls, making sure no one would overhear us. “I’m Adam. I’m the one who’s been writing the advice column.”

  Wolf shook his head. “You’re shitting me.”

  I tilted my head toward Janie.

  Wolf’s lips pulled back. “Sorry...Seriously?”

  I nodded. “And you can’t tell anyone, or I won’t graduate.”

  An employee wobbled out on skates and set our ice cream down. Thankfully, she was more focused on staying upright than on us.

  Wolf covered his mouth with his hand. “That means Nora was...”

  I nodded.

  “What?” Janie asked.

  I shoved my spoon in my sundae, trying to shove down all the feelings Nora had dragged up the night before. “Nora was writing me as the advice columnist, but she didn’t know that it was me. And I told her last night.”

  Janie’s eyes widened. “She wasn’t happy about it?”

  I shoved a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth and shook my head. Could brain freezes freeze thoughts too? I’d like for all these bad feelings to stop.

  Wolf patted my back. “She’ll come around.”

  I looked right at him. “You mean that?” I wanted to believe him. More than anything.

  He nodded, and Janie took my free hand, saying, “If she doesn’t, she doesn’t deserve you.”

  My throat got tight, and I ducked my head down so I could wipe away the proof of how much this hurt.

  Janie studied me. “Got something in your eyes?”

  Wolf snorted. “Yeah. Some tears.”

  “Whatever.” I shoved him, but I was laughing.

  Maybe ice cream couldn’t fix everything, but at least I wasn’t alone.

  Ma, Uncle Ken, and I sat in the orthopedic surgery lobby. These places were the worst. You didn’t know whether you’d get some weird shit from touching the chairs or whether the old people hobbling around in front of you would fall over or not.

  And yeah, it didn’t help that Ma wouldn’t stop wringing her hands and that I’d have to go in for a second surgery on my leg, be put under, and then go through months of rehab just so I could walk with a limp.

  My phone went off.

  Wolf: Good luck man.

  Emerick: Thanks

  I looked at the time. In three minutes, the first bell would ring. Nora would sit down in homeroom with the rest of our classmates. She’d start her day at Warr Acres High School, knowing her future was set. Whether she forgave me or not, she’d have her perfect friends, her family.

  And what did I have? A list of rejection emails in my inbox longer than my right arm.

  I went to my inbox again, wishing there would be a message from Nora. Something to say she’d changed her mind this weekend. But nothing.

  “Emerick Turner?” The little Mexican nurse said it like E-mare-ick, but I still stood up.

  My phone went off again, probably something from Wolf, but I left it in my pocket. It was time.

  Twenty-Six

  Nora

  I stood by the school entrance, watching everyone race past me to make it to class before the tardy bell rang. Wolf had walked in without Emerick earlier, and I wished I’d been smart enough to ask why he hadn’t given Emerick a ride.

  Emerick had texted me after prom. Apologies, asking me to talk. And now that I wanted to, he was nowhere to be found. Where was he, and why wasn’t he replying to my message?

  Then it dawned on me. He was having surgery.

  The tardy bell rang, and I did something I had never done before. I walked back out to my car and skipped school.

  He’d been at St. Anthony’s before, so I crossed my fingers and drove across town to the hospital. At the front desk, I asked if he was there.

  Yes, he was.

  No, I couldn’t see him. He was in surgery.

  No, they couldn’
t tell me how it was going.

  Yes, I could wait in the waiting room.

  I readjusted my purse over my shoulder and went to the elevator, wondering how I had been so stupid. Emerick was in surgery right now, had been anesthetized without knowing where we stood. Who knew how long it would take for him to wake up. Or if he would.

  As I got on the elevator and pushed the button, I tried to remind myself of my faith in the medical system. In God. But that all went away when I reached the orthopedic surgery waiting room.

  There were several people there, and none looked as nervous as the two back in the corner. They were the only black people there. The woman had her arms wrapped around her middle, bent forward like she was holding herself together. The man next to her had his hand on her back and his eyes closed, his lips moving.

  Even though we were in a public space, I felt like I was intruding on them, walking in on something intimate and private.

  I didn’t know whether to leave or introduce myself, but sitting down in one of the empty chairs seemed wrong.

  The woman looked up and met my stare. She had Emerick’s eyes—dark, round orbs that could cut through you and comfort you without warning.

  “Hi,” I said, stepping closer.

  The guy looked me up and down curiously, but it was Emerick’s mom who spoke. “Do you know Rick?”

  Feeling more nervous than ever, I nodded. “We went to prom together.”

  I watched her expression to see if he’d told her anything, but she just smiled for a fraction of a second and nodded. “You can sit with us, baby.”

  Despite myself, I smiled. “Thank you.” I didn’t deserve it, but I could already see Emerick in her. I hoped he would be just as forgiving.

  She caught me up on the situation. Right now, they were taking off the external fixator—removing screws they’d used to stabilize his leg. And then he’d move on to a regular cast. She said he would be done in about an hour, if all worked as planned.

  A doctor walked out and called, “Turner.”

  We all stood up, and he came over. He looked young for a surgeon, but I didn’t mind the thought of Emerick being worked on by some kind of prodigy.

  He grinned at us. “Everything went well.”

  My phone went off, and my cheeks heated. “I’m so sorry.” I reached into my purse and pushed the button to silence it without looking at the screen. It was probably my mom, calling because she found out I hadn’t shown up to class.

  The doctor nodded and continued. “The bones are healing nicely, and we have a new cast on.” He chuckled. “Actually, after the nurse got his things for him, he was shooing us out of the room so he could make a call.”

  My eyes widened, and I dug back into my purse. One missed call from Emerick.

  The three adults watched me, smiling.

  The doctor looked between the three of us. “You’re welcome to go back and see him.”

  I started back, but suddenly realized I didn’t know his room number. And it was probably weird for his not-even girlfriend to see him first.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’ll wait here while you all visit.”

  His mom smiled, relieved, happy. “That’s alright, baby girl. We’ll talk to the doc while you go back.”

  “Room 205,” the doctor said.

  “Right.”

  But now, on my way back to the room, my heart beat faster than ever before. Emerick had called me. He’d wanted to talk again. I might have been upset at first, but now I had to reckon for my actions.

  The sign beside me read 204. Only a few more steps before I’d come face-to-face with Emerick, the guy who’d had my heart before I’d even seen his face.

  Outside the door, I heard him talking. “I want to talk to you about all of this. I want to make it right. Just call me. Please.”

  Before I lost my nerve, I stepped into the room. “Emerick?”

  He jerked his head up, and those eyes landed on me. Those eyes that saw right through me. He lowered the phone to his lap, hit the end button. “You came here?”

  I nodded. “I needed to tell you what I should have Saturday.”

  Emerick stared at me, his eyes wide open and totally vulnerable for the first time. “No, I owe you an—”

  I held up my hand. “Can I go first?”

  His full lips came together, and he nodded.

  Taking in a deep breath, I stepped closer to the bed, stared at his hands in his lap. I took one in mine, watching our fingers come together, the contrast in our skin tones, the roughness of his palm that still hung on from how hard he’d worked.

  I held our intertwined hands to my chest and rested my chin on our laced fingers. “Emerick. Adam.”

  He smiled slightly, but his eyes lit up.

  “I know you,” I said. “I know you’re rough around the edges and cuss and that your dad’s in jail.”

  His chin tipped down, but I lifted his head with my free hand, so he had to turn those eyes on me.

  “I didn’t finish,” I said, and he just waited, looking so conflicted my heart hurt for him. I held his hand even tighter. “I know you’re kind. And you listen. And you have a heart for helping other people. And that you’re the most amazing prom date I’ve ever had. The thought of not emailing you anymore, not talking to you anymore...I can’t fathom that. Because I need you. As my friend. As more. If you’ll have me.”

  His lips trembled before he pressed them together, and he looked over his shoulder, pressing his cheek into my hand. And then he didn’t say anything, just pulled me into his chest, breathing heavy.

  I stayed there, feeling my heart slow. This was how things should be between us, where I needed to be.

  He took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

  I shook my head against the rough fabric of his hospital gown. “I understand.”

  Tears leaked out my eyes, and I squeezed them shut. I’d been a mess when I’d first emailed him, and I was a mess now, for completely different reasons. We all had our flaws, and I’d just been lucky enough to share mine with him.

  When I pulled back, he took my face in both of his hands, studying me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  I took him in, really, for the first time. The scar over his eyebrow, the way his lashes curled up. The full curve of his lips and how they turned from deep brown to pink where they came together.

  Slowly, he brought my face closer and pressed those lips to mine, sweeping me into this new world where the guy in the leather jacket and the student body president could be so much more than strangers passing the hallway.

  That was the thing I was starting to learn. Some of the people I’d idolized—my dad and Trey—they were nothing but a pretty picture covered in flaws. And some people you thought you’d never connect with might just be exactly what you needed.

  Epilogue

  Emerick

  I walked into Mrs. Arthur’s office for the last time, maybe ever. All the bobbleheads were still there—still annoying as hell—but the space felt different now.

  She looked up from her computer screen and smiled. “Emerick. I’m just finishing up some paperwork.” She clacked a few more keys on the keyboard. “Congratulations, by the way.”

  I grinned back at her and shifted the plastic bag holding my graduation cap and gown to my other hand so I could slide the laptop bag off my shoulder and give it to her. “I brought this back.”

  “Thank you.” She nodded toward the chair. “You can set it there.”

  I put it down, and this awkward feeling hung in the air. How did you thank a guidance counselor who gave you the worst and ultimately best assignment of your life? “I—um. Thanks. For everything.”

  She seemed to get it. “Is Nora waiting for you?”

  I shook my head. “I’m heading to her place after this.”

  “Ah.” Mrs. Arthur nodded just like her bobbleheads and reached behind her desk, pulling out two wrapped gifts. “I got these for you.” She handed me
the smaller one. “Open this first.”

  My ears felt warm. Teachers never gave me presents. Still, I took it and peeled back the paper, then opened the brown cardboard box. Inside was the broken Bob Stoops, the one Nora had ripped in half.

  I chuckled and grinned at her.

  “I thought you’d like that.” She smiled and handed me the other gift. “Now this one.”

  I ripped the paper and flipped open the leather scrapbook. The pages held every article I’d written over the semester, pages and pages of lost students and my words helping them through. My throat got tight thinking of all the pain this scrapbook held.

  “Go to the last page,” she said.

  I did, and my eyes fell upon the last column I’d written for the paper, a note to the student body.

  “I think you should read it again,” she said.

  And I did.

  Dear WAHS,

  Adam here. You might be surprised by this, but when I started the column, I wasn’t exactly ready to give advice. Honestly, I thought the whole thing was kind of dumb. I had this chip on my shoulder thinking everything I was going through had to be worse than you guys. That your problems weren’t real. But then I started hearing from you, reading your emails. I started learning what other people have to deal with every day.

  None of us get out of high school without scars, whether you’re the student body president or a fly-under-the-radar guy like me. I think the thing that matters is what you do with those scars. You could try and pass your pain onto other people, or you could be honest—with yourself and others—and reach out. And then use what you’ve learned to help someone else.

  I know this column was meant to help all of you, but you helped me. You showed me what it meant to be vulnerable and open. You taught me how to heal. You taught me how to thank the people who helped you up when you thought you’d be on the ground forever.