Screw You, Lover: An Enemies To Lovers Romance

by Michaela Scott

  Matt opens up a closet by the door and pulls out two meticulously waxed surfboards as Liam peels off his shirt, and, humiliatingly, I have to suppress a gasp at the sight of his shirtless body.

  Apparently, Liam Bryce actually doesn’t look like a Greek god.

  He looks like what the Greek gods wished they look like.

  Abs everywhere. Pecs that might just be bigger than my head.

  A few new tattoos peeking out from the deeper canyons of his perfectly ripped body. Nothing crazy, just a couple abstract patterns snaking up his back, but they’re still weird to see on someone who I remember as the biggest dork in the entire universe.

  He still is, of course. He’s just grown up a little. And I guess he’s been working out like a crazy person.

  Taking in a huge breath of freshly-cut onion, I try to snap out of it, tearing my eyes away from the shirtless body of my worst enemy as he drops his pants to reveal a pair of tight black board shorts underneath.

  I’m not sure what my problem is, but cutting this onion into even smaller pieces is definitely helping, so I keep doing that until Liam and Matt grab the boards, Matt kisses Sam goodbye, and the two of them leave, promising to be back for dinner.

  Okay…take the pizza out of the oven. Sprinkle the onions on top. Maybe cut up some of these kalamata olives…

  “Must be weird,” Sam says, “Being back here on such short notice. Like, really, actually back. It feels like it’s been forever since you left.”

  “Yeah...” I say, staring down at the olives I’m cutting, “I’m still processing it.”

  “Understandable. But hey, it’s nice to see that nothing’s changed between you and Liam. You still can’t even be in the same room without sparks flying.”

  “Well, as long as he behaves,” I say, crushing up some black pepper on top of the pizza and popping one of the anchovies into my mouth to test it, “I’ll try not to fight with him at dinner.”

  Okay, these anchovies aren’t too bad. I think I’ll put them on half the pizza.

  “Oh, don’t worry. Matt and I think it’s hilarious. Liam will literally stop in the middle of a dish he’s making to text you.”

  “I know,” I say, sliding the topped pizza back into the oven to let everything cook together, “He sends me pictures.”

  Sam crosses her arms and smirks at me as I set the oven timer and we head over to the living room couch. “Of course he does. And I’m sure you sent him pictures of your life in New York all the time, too.”

  I shoot Sam a suspicious look. “Uh, yeah, to make him mad when he sees all the cool stuff I’m doing. It’s the same type of thing we’ve been doing ever we met. What’s weird about that?”

  Sam takes a deep breath. “Well, yeah, growing up, I always thought you two just completely hated each other, and the reason you were always hanging out, calling each other, writing letters to each other, and going to the same parties was because you hated each other so much that you just had to let it out.”

  I look out the huge living room windows at the waves pounding against the sand and blink a couple times. “Yeah. Right. That’s exactly what our relationship is. We can’t stand each other.”

  “Okay, sure, but you do realize it isn’t normal for people who hate each other to text multiple times a week for five years, right?”

  I shrug. “I guess, but we really hate each other.”

  Sam laughs a little. “I always just took you two at your word when you talked about it because I’d never seen anyone else who acted like you two. But then, a couple months ago, I read this novel, and the relationship between the main characters reminded me a lot of you and Liam. And in that story, what started out as hate eventually turned into…well…something else.”

  I scrunch my nose. “Something else? Like what?”

  A little smile starts to form around the corners of Sam’s mouth, and I recoil in shock when I realize what she’s getting at. “Wait, was this a romance novel? EW!”

  I make a barfing noise and shudder a little. “I don’t care how similar the people are in that book are to me and Liam, if they ended up together, they’re nothing like us.”

  Sam makes an apologetic gesture with her hands, “Okay, okay, sorry, I know it sounds crazy, but like I said, once I started thinking about it in that way, a lot of your relationship looks less like normal hatred and more like the type of thing this book is about.”

  I look back out at the waves outside the window, where Liam and Matt are barely visible in the distance, two little black dots darting back and forth across the curves of the crashing waves. “Oh, it’s hatred, all right,” I say, watching the one that I know is Liam from the stupid cocky way it’s moving.

  “What’s the name of the book?” I ask, after a couple seconds of watching the dot.

  “I’m pretty sure I have it here,” Sam says, getting up from the couch and digging through the bookshelf in the corner of the living room, “It’s the most recent book my publisher put out, so I got a free copy. It’s actually really good. Oh, here it is!”

  She pulls a book off the shelf, turns back towards the couch, and hands it to me, “Read it yourself it you don’t believe me.”

  I chew on my lip as I look down at the cover, which has a comfy looking male model who does look a little bit like Liam staring up at me. “Fuck You, Loverboy: An Enemies To Lovers Romance.”

  “Ugh, it’s so good,” Sam says with a sigh, “And the main characters are totally you and Liam.”

  I flip through the pages and furrow my brow. “How can they sell this in bookstores if it’s called ‘Fuck You, Loverboy’?”

  Sam shrugs. “I don’t know, but I think it’s selling pretty well.”

  “Hmm,” I grumble, narrowing my eyes at the book, “I’m suspicious, but I’ll check it out.”

  “You should,” Sam says, sitting back down on the couch, “Especially now that you’re going to be working across the street from Liam every day. I just don’t want you to leave again, you know?”

  Setting the book down on the couch beside me, I look up at Sam. “What do you mean? I left because I decided I wanted to get away from home, and Rutgers was the best out of state school that let me transfer on short notice.”

  Sam looks right back at me with a serious look on her face. “Yeah, that’s what you said, but it’s not how I remember it. I remember you being really excited to go to school here in LA, until the night you came back from your senior trip, when you stayed up super, super late, crying your eyes out. I’m sure you thought everyone was asleep, but I wasn’t, and literally the next morning, you wanted to get out of LA.”

  My lower lip retreats into my mouth. “I mean, that’s possible, but I don’t really remember what my senior trip has to do with anything.”

  Sam raises an eyebrow behind her glasses. “Nice try, but I’m pretty sure you remember exactly what happened on that trip…”

  Then, she gestures out the window to the two black dots, now getting bigger and bigger as the sun sets behind them and they walk back towards the house, surfboards slung over their shoulders. “And I bet Liam does, too.”

  Suddenly, a series of loud beeps pierces the air. “Oh, hey, the pizza’s ready,” I say, hopping up to take it out of the oven and slice it before Matt and Liam get back, “Just in time, too. It looks like they’re heading back for dinner.”

  But that’s not the only reason I’m glad I’m here in the kitchen and not talking about what happened between Liam and I on our senior trip.

  Because she’s right; something happened on that trip.

  And I’m still trying to figure out what it was.

  Chapter 8: Liam

  Five Years Earlier

  Hey Groundhog, our senior trip just got rescheduled. We’re not going to Cabo anymore.

  Wait, really?

  Yeah, we’re all going to Antarctica now, and since it’s not easy to get a flight out there, you should probably go ahead and buy your ticket now. Don’t forget to pack a parka!
<
br />   Ugh, I should have seen that coming. Definitely an original and funny joke, though! I wonder why no girl will ever date you?????

  Actually, for your information, I’ve got eight different girls who said they wanted to hang out with me once we get to Cabo, so I definitely won’t have time to hang out with you once we get there.

  GOOD. That means I won’t have to see your stupid face on our senior trip. And since we’re not in high school anymore, that also means I won’t have to see your stupid face ever again! Have a nice life with your eight girlfriends, who I’m sure are definitely 100% real…

  ***

  “Alright, boys, this is our last chance.”

  Will paces back and forth across the hotel room like a general addressing his troops, which in this case, are me, Matt, and Ryan, the top three reasons our lacrosse team went undefeated this year. I’m only half listening to him, lying on the bed with a remote in my hand, trying to watch Mexican TV.

  “This is the last thing we’re ever going to be doing as a high school class. After this, we’ll all be going off to college, to work, and, in Ryan’s case, to his dad’s law firm.”

  Ryan fist-pumps the air with a self-satisfied smile on his face, and I start surfing through the channels, only half-listening to Will.

  Will stops in the center of the room and looks at each of us. “And we all know what that means: we’re running out of time to get with the girls that we never managed to close the deal with during our high school careers. Pretty depressing, right? But here’s the thing: almost all of them are literally in this hotel with us right this second. They’re all around us. And the second the sun goes down, this place is going to turn into a giant party. So let’s hear it, boys. Who are your last chance hookups going to be?”

  He points at Ryan. “Ryan! Let’s hear them!”

  Ryan looks deep in thought for a couple seconds. “Hmm…definitely Brittany…and then also Morgan, Katie, Rachel, Meagan, Rae, and Emily.”

  Will nods approvingly. “Ambitious, I like it. Matt! We all know I’m going after either Kara or Sarah Martin, do you want the one I don’t end up with?”

  Matt shrugs, looking down at his phone. “Nah, I’m okay, thanks.”

  Will looks shocked. “Are you serious, dude? Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that nerdy sophomore girl.”

  Matt looks up from his phone to glare at Will. “She’s not nerdy, she just wears glasses.”

  “Wow,” Will says, “Look how the mighty have fallen. Alright, that means it all comes down to Liam. Who do you have your eye on?”

  I flick through a couple more channels, stopping on a crazy-looking cooking show. “Right now, I have my eye on these tamales.”

  Will steps in front of the TV. “Come on, you can watch TV when we get back. Just give me something to work with so I can help set you up tonight. Sarah? Kara? One of the eight girls that Ryan’s definitely not going to hook up with?”

  His eyes light up. “Wait, you know what would be hilarious? What about you and Groundhog?”

  The cheap plastic remote cracks a little bit in my hand as I tighten my grip on it. “Don’t call her that.”

  He looks confused. “Why not? You call her that all the time.”

  “Yeah, because I’ve been doing it since we were little kids. It’s weird if you do it.”

  Will throws up his hands. “Okay, fine. What about you and Riley? You’ve definitely been talking about her more than any other girl lately.”

  “They hate each other,” Matt says, looking up from his phone again.

  “Exactly,” I say, “I don’t know why you think we’d ever do anything like that.”

  “I don’t know,” Will says with a shrug, “I mean, you’re not going to see each other after this, right? I’m just saying, it’s our senior trip, crazy things can happen.”

  “Not that crazy,” I say, turning the volume up behind Will and causing him to step back out of the way.

  “Fine,” he says, “I’ll just hook up with Sarah and Kara, and you guys can stay in the hotel and learn how to make tamales.”

  Ryan high fives Will, then leans down, pulls his jersey out of the suitcase at the foot of the bed, and starts changing into it.

  “Oh, yeah, good idea,” Will says, “Let’s hit the clubs in uniform.”

  “Yeah,” I say, “When the girls down here see you in your high school lacrosse jerseys, they’re going to be all over you.”

  “Exactly,” Will says, throwing his jersey on, “That’s why I think we should start drinking now, so that we’re the first guys out there when the girls start to show up.”

  “Holy shit, that’s so smart,” Ryan says, throwing his jersey over his head, “You’re right. Let’s get out there right now.”

  “I’ll pass,” I say, “I want to watch this show.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Matt says.

  Will scoffs. “Alright, losers. Have fun up here doing nothing.”

  “I plan to,” I say, as Will and Ryan both quickly check their hair in the mirror beside the TV and head out into the hotel hallway.

  “I guarantee you they’ll be throwing up by 9:30,” Matt says, a couple seconds after they leave.

  “Yeah, they’re not going to be the only ones, either,” I say, looking out the window at downtown Cabo, the street packed with beach bars.

  “Let’s at least wait for the sun to go down,” Matt says, and I nod in agreement, leaning back against the headboard and watching the chef on TV pile one steaming tamale after another onto a huge plate.

  “Yeah,” I say, “Good idea. I don’t think we need to make this any weirder than it’s already going to be.”

  ***

  “Room 435!” I shout at Kara and Sarah over the ear-splitting music as they pick Ryan up off the dance floor, trying to drape his arms over their shoulders without getting vomit on their clothes. “It’s the last room on the left once you get out of the elevator. Do you want me to go with you?”

  “No, it’s okay,” Sarah says, “There’s a big group of us heading back.”

  She gestures towards about ten of our classmates gathered by the door, half of them looking like they’re about to throw up, the other half of them looking like they already did.

  “Alright,” I say, “Have a good night.”

  As the twins drag Ryan’s barely conscious body towards the front of the bar, I hear the unmistakable sound of someone about to throw up behind me and jump out of the way just in time to avoid a vomiting kid who looks like he’s starting high school, not finishing it.

  And somehow, the dancefloor is still packed full of people. I guess the people who come to a club whose name I’m pretty sure is Spanish for “Fake ID” know what they’re getting into. Shit, maybe if I leave now, I can catch that big group; I’d probably have more fun back at the hotel at this point.

  But you know what? Nevermind. Because over on the other side of the bar, hugging the wall with a clear plastic cup of tequila in her hand, is my least favorite underground rodent.

  As I weave through the crowd of clearly underage drinkers about six hours away from learning what a hangover is, Riley spots me, her eyes lighting up for half a second before she glares at me, angrily sipping her tequila as I approach.

  “Buenos dias, marmota,” I say, touching my plastic cup to hers.

  “That better not be Spanish for groundhog,” she says, “Or I’m kicking you in the balls in front of half our graduating class.”

  “I mean, it’s not like any of them are going to remember this tomorrow,” I say, looking over my shoulder at the dancefloor, “But no, marmota is Spanish for valedictorian. So make sure you go around telling everyone you meet down here ‘Yo soy Riley, la marmota!’”

  My hand shoots down to catch Riley’s knee as it flies up between my legs, stopping it just short of its target.

  “Fine,” Riley says, lowering her leg, “I guess I’ll just have to wait until you’ve had a little more tequila.”

  I feel someone bump i
nto me from behind, and before I can turn around to see who they are, they stumble up against the wall next to Riley.

  “I knew it,” Will says, grinning from ear to ear as he leans up against the wall for support, “And you were giving me shit for calling it back at the hotel room.”

  “Knew what?” Riley asks.

  I roll my eyes. “Nothing. He’s just drunk. I think he’s been here for eight hours.”

  Will’s eyes get wide. “Nine. By the way, have you seen Sarah and Kara around here anywhere?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. They must have gone to a different club.”

  “Ugh, that sucks,” Will says, “And I don’t know why, but I’m starting to get the worst fucking headache of my life. I think my body’s trying to tell me to drink more tequila.”

  I shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe you should just keep looking for the twins. I mean, they have to be around here somewhere.”

  “You’re right,” Will says, “I should keep looking for them. After all, this is my last chance…”

  With a determined look on his face, Will strides back onto the dance floor, disappearing into the drunken crowd.

  “What was that about?” Riley asks.

  “Who knows,” I say, “Will’s good at lacrosse, but he’s crazy.”

  “You know,” Riley says, sighing into her tequila, “I’m starting to think I would have had more fun on a trip to Antarctica. At least then, there would be penguins.”

  I look around the bar. “I mean, there are probably a bunch of ways to have fun down here…this just isn’t one of them.”

  “Actually,” I say, looking back towards Riley, “I think this bar has a patio area that looks out onto the beach. Do you want to try and find that?”

  Riley nods. “Yeah, that sounds way better than staying in here.”

  “Great,” I say, “Let’s get some fucking air.”

  And with that, I turn around, grab Riley’s hand, and lead her across the dance floor, looking for the exit out onto the patio.