No Good: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Stevie J. Cole

  A group of screaming kids ran by, catching Arlo’s attention before he ran off as I came to a stop at the end of the picnic table.

  Bellamy looked at me. The tormented expression that rippled over his face caused a knot in my stomach. “Thanks again for getting him.” Bellamy scrubbed over his neck. “Nora’s family wasn’t there, and I—”

  “It’s fine, Bellamy. He’s a good kid.”

  He could barely look at me, and I could imagine he felt all kinds of shitty right now.

  “You know I could have brought him to your house,” I said, gesturing to the park behind us.

  “Yeah. The house is still a mess.”

  I wanted to ask him what had happened and why he was the one who got carted to jail. But I had a feeling he wouldn’t tell me anything. “Are you okay?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

  His gaze held mine like he was trying to read me just as hard as I was him.

  “Bubba!” Arlo sprinted back over, dust kicking up behind him before he skidded to a stop.

  Bellamy knelt down when Arlo reached for his face and attempted to whisper: “There’s Tina. See her? In the pink cat shirt? By the big kid swings.”

  Bellamy glanced in the direction of the swing set, then smiled. “Yeah. You gonna talk to her, Arlo?”

  Arlo’s eyes grew wide. “No.”

  “If you like her, you gotta talk to her.” The exchange was so cute, my stupid heart hiccupped.

  Arlo scuffed his shoes over the pea gravel, his gaze drifting up to me. “Like you’re talking to Miss Drew?”

  “Yeah.” Bellamy snorted a laugh. Then scruffed a hand over the kid’s dark hair. “There. Now you look savage. Go tell her she’s pretty.”

  “But...how?”

  “I’ll show you.” Bellamy pushed off the bench, closing in on me in an instant. He grabbed my chin while I stood there, frozen, transfixed. “You’re pretty.” His thumb brushed across my lip. “Beautiful. Fucking stunning.”

  Holy shit. It should not have made me melt on the spot, but it absolutely did.

  His teeth raked his lip on a smile that said he knew exactly what he was doing. “Just like that,” he said, dropping his hand from my face.

  I barely noticed Arlo run off.

  “You’re an asshole,” I mumbled.

  “Whatever. You liked it.”

  I watched Arlo skid to a stop in front of the little girl, then grab her chin, just like Bellamy had mine. Whatever the kid said made her cheeks turn pink, then she threw her arms around his neck.

  “Little player in the making,” Bellamy said, grinning.

  “What is he, six?” The fact that I was predestined to lose to boys like this since childhood was disturbing.

  “Yeah…”

  “He’s cute. And even my dad thought he was well behaved, which is more than he says for me, so…” Comes to something when a six-year-old is held in higher esteem than me. “If you need me to watch him again—”

  He grabbed my face and dragged me in, slamming his mouth over mine while the screams of children faded into the background. His tongue parted my lips. His thumb grazed my jaw. And just when my lungs felt they might explode, he pulled away.

  “You’re fucking me up, baby girl.” He took a slow step back, that familiar sexy smirk of his settling over his mouth. “Come on, Arlo,” he shouted across the playground. “We gotta go.”

  I felt like I’d just been through a spin cycle as I watched him walked back to his car.

  When I got home, I went straight to the freezer for a Push-Pop, noticing the pale-yellow Post-it note stuck to the fridge.

  Drucella. Emergency business meeting. Out of town for a few days. My American Express is on the counter. For food ONLY. Do not use the car. I will check the mileage. -Your father

  A few days. It was Tuesday. My birthday was this Friday. Despite being a shitty father, he’d always made an effort on my birthday, like that annual act accounted for his yearly parenting quota. He’d be back. Even he wouldn’t miss my eighteenth birthday. I took my Push-Pop to the living room and sat on the sofa. In the silence of this massive house, the loneliness that constantly remained on the periphery of my life crept over me.

  I tried to call Genevieve, but it went to voicemail, and so that ebbing sense of abandonment dug its claws in further. With no car, I couldn’t go see Nora. It was just me. I hated it. Hated this house, this life, my dad...

  My phone beeped like Bellamy could sense my turmoil.

  Dickhead: I can’t get enough of your lips.

  My heart stuttered for a split second, and a smile threatened.

  Me: Who knew you were romantic?

  I knew that comment would annoy him.

  Dickhead: I’m not.

  Me: Uh-huh

  Dickhead: How is my choking you romantic?

  Me: I happen to like being choked.

  Dickhead: No shit.

  Dickhead: Arlo keeps coming in my room, shouting at me to tell you Hi.

  That made me smile.

  Me: He’s cute. Did Peehead get a date?

  Dickhead: I took him by the 7-11 for a Slushie, and he got her a ring out of a gumball machine.

  Dickhead: So much for him being a little player...

  Me: Aw! That’s so cute.

  Me: You let him be a nice boy

  Dickhead: Nice boys get shit on.

  Dickhead: Shat on.

  Dickhead: WTF ever you say. Girls take shits on them.

  I wasn’t sure anymore whether Bellamy was the nice boy or not.

  Me: OMG. That’s why he thinks I’m pooping on you?!

  Dickhead: No. I’m not a nice boy. I’m an asshole

  Me: I know.

  Dickhead: And you like it.

  I hated that I did because if that didn’t scream daddy issues, I wasn’t sure what did. Bellamy left me caught between wanting something and being terrified of having it.

  As I stared at our open message thread, I questioned what the hell I was doing.

  We had just over a month left of school, then summer, and then college. And I was falling for a guy who played his cards so close to his chest, I had no idea what I was doing anymore.

  Dickhead: This is where you say: Yes, Bellamy. I like it...

  Me: I like it.

  And that would undoubtedly be my downfall.

  34

  Bellamy

  Arlo put his open palms beneath the automatic hand sanitizer pump once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  “That’s enough, Arlo,” I said, watching liquid drip from his hands to the hospital floor.

  “It smells good.”

  I sanitized my hands, then opened the door to mom’s room.

  She pushed up in the bed, smiling the second she saw us. “There’s my boys.”

  The bruises on her face were an ugly purple, and the gash on her head had been stitched up. Gritting my teeth, I dropped my chin to my chest and stared at the hospital tile.

  I hated him. I hated that he’d done this to her for most of her life.

  “Momma!” Arlo ran to the bed and crawled up, snuggling in beside her. “I stayed at a castle last night.”

  “You did?”

  “Uh-huh. Miss Drew had Push-Pops and Cokes in glass bottles. And more bedrooms than the Motel-8.”

  “Really?” Mom’s gaze slowly lifted to me with an arch of her brow. “And who is Miss Drew?”

  I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. “This girl I’m…” I wasn’t even sure what was going on between Drew and me anymore. But whatever it was, when I wasn’t around her I missed her. “I’m dating. She came and got him last night while…” You were carted off unconscious to the hospital, and I was hauled off to jail for assaulting Dad.

  “Anyway.”

  She nodded, tugging at her hospital blanket. “That was sweet of her.”

  “I like her,” Arlo said with a curt nod. “She’s nice and smells good.”

  “The officers said your charges wou
ld be dropped now that I’ve been able to give witness and…” Her jaw tightened. Tears built in her eyes that she quickly swiped away. “I’m sorry.”

  “Mom, don’t. You didn’t do anything.”

  “I just…” She pulled in a ragged breath, then pressed a kiss to the top of Arlo’s head. “I wish they’d let me go home today. I’m fine. Really.”

  They’d held her for observation since he’d given her a concussion.

  “They said you can be discharged tomorrow.”

  “Just want to be able to bill us more,” she grumbled.

  I sank into the chair at her bedside, clasped my hands, and leaned over my knees, staring at the hospital tile.

  Before I left the jail this morning, Officer Robins had helped me fill out a temporary restraining order--the guys at the precinct were all too aware of the shitshow that went on at my house, and I couldn’t just let her stay in this mess. I couldn't let Arlo stay in it. Because what would happen when I eventually left?

  I stopped by the family court and dropped off the paperwork after I picked Arlo up from the park, and part of me thought I should tell Mom, but then, I knew I needed to tell her that when Arlo wasn’t around.

  “Grandpa’s coming up,” I said.

  “Yay!” Arlo clapped. “Pop-Pop’s coming.”

  “Dad? You called him?”

  “Yeah. I don’t want you staying at the house alone.”

  Mom drew in a heavy breath.

  All these years, she’d never breathed a word to him. Had made me promise I wouldn’t tell, because Grandpa was bat shit crazy.

  I’d listened to her back then because I was a kid, and that’s what kids do--listen to their parents even when they know it’s wrong.

  I wasn’t a kid anymore, though. And someone had to take care of her.

  After we left the hospital, I swung by Home Wares and grabbed locks for both the doors, changing them before I made dinner, then made Arlo get ready for bed.

  A peaceful silence hung over the house without the hum of a baseball game in the background, or the constant creak of Dad’s recliner. And maybe that’s why Arlo snuck into my room at one in the morning. It was too quiet. We didn’t know how to handle peace.

  He crawled into my bed, tucking Spike between us on a huff. “Are they gonna get divorced?”

  The chirp of crickets outside my window filled the silence of the dark room. “Yeah.”

  Arlo knew Dad was mean, but he was still young.

  I could clearly remember being his age and loving my Dad, even after he’d hit me. I spent years trying to figure out why I sought out his approval. Why I loved someone who hated me. I’m not even sure when the need to love him morphed into rage-filled hate.

  “Does that mean I have to go stay with him sometimes?” Arlo whispered. “Billy has to go stay with his daddy every other weekend, and I don’t want to stay with Daddy without you.”

  I turned on the pillow to face him.

  He petted over the unicorn, refusing to look at me. With a restraining order, he wouldn’t get visitation, and even if he tried, there was no way in hell I’d let Dad win anything but supervised visitation. With any luck, he’d be serving a couple of years in jail anyway.

  “No. You’re not gonna stay with him. Don’t worry about that, okay?”

  He nodded, then grabbed my arm and tugged on it in a silent plea for me to let him on my chest.

  I wrapped my arm around him and patted his back. “It’s gonna be different from now on. I promise.”

  I put the last coat of paint on the living room wall and stepped back on a smile.

  The places where I’d mudded the holes weren’t even visible.

  Wiping the paint over my jeans, I snagged the bucket and brush, and headed onto the back porch to clean up.

  I’d spent the last day patching holes and cleaning up the shit my dad had broken in the middle of that scuffle. The coffee table broke in two when he threw me into it, but I went by the Salvation Army and found one I thought she’d like for ten bucks.

  The back door banged against the side of the house when Arlo sprinted out, wielding my phone above his head. “Baby Girl’s texting you!” And that was weird coming from my six-year-old brother.

  Baby Girl: When are you coming back to school?

  I stared down at the message and smiled.

  Me: Don’t know yet

  Me: Come over?

  Baby Girl: I can’t drive my car. Dad’s threatening to check my mileage now.

  Me: I’ll come get you

  I just wanted to see her. Bad. It had only been a few days, but I couldn’t stand it any longer.

  Baby Girl: Just come over here

  Me: I have Arlo

  Baby Girl: Bring him

  Baby Girl: Don’t park your car on the drive though. My dad likes to appear like a freaking genie

  I shoved my phone in my pocket, then slung the water from the paintbrush. “You wanna go to Drew’s after dinner, Arlo?”

  “Yay!”

  “She said they aren’t castles, but I think she’s lying.” Arlo stood outside my car, hitching his pants up in the dark while he waited on me to scoot across the passenger seat.

  “These aren’t castles,” I said.

  “They look like them.”

  And they kind of did--at least compared to the houses in Dayton. Two and three stories. Brick. Manicured lawns.

  “Why’d we have to park all the way down here?” he asked as we started up the small hill.

  “Because.”

  “Because isn’t an answer.”

  God, I loved him, but sometimes the kid was exhausting. “Because Scrooge McDuck doesn’t want people to visit her.”

  “Why!”

  “She’s in trouble.”

  Arlo shook his head. “Your fault, huh?”

  This one actually wasn’t my fault. It was all on her and her anger, ramming a Maserati into my car...“No it’s not my fault.” I gave him a playful shove and he giggled.

  “I don’t think she’ll poop on you.”

  “No?”

  “Nuh-uh. She’s nice. Nice girls don’t poop on people.”

  I laughed, scrubbing the top of his head before we started up her drive, the enormous house lit up with landscape lighting. “I hope you’re right, buddy.”

  He took off, running up the porch steps to ring the doorbell. Repeatedly.

  Light cut across the porch when the door swung open. He darted inside without a Hello.

  “Butthead! You’re supposed to say hey first,” I shouted, kissing Drew on the lips as I stepped inside.

  He stomped back over. “Hello, Miss Drew.”

  “Hey, Arlo.” Drew cut into the living room, then came back with her hands behind her. “I got you presents.”

  Arlo jumped up and down before she gave him another unicorn toy, this one with a blue shiny horn. “Thank you.”

  She lifted a brow. “No, that one you won.” Then she handed him a pair of SpongeBob swim trunks. “You can swim in the pool this time, Peehead.”

  He snatched the shorts, squealed, then hugged her. “I like you, Miss Drew.”

  “I like you too, Arlo.” She smiled before leading us through the kitchen and outside.

  Arlo stopped on the porch steps and gasped. A massive unicorn float drifted across the surface of the illuminated pool.

  “A horse with a horn!” he shouted, barely stopping to change his shorts.

  Drew sunk into a lounge chair then sat right back up when Arlo jumped in, her gaze focused on water. “He can swim, right?”

  “Good enough…”

  She started to push up, and I latched onto her arm.

  “Yes, Drew.” I almost laughed, but didn’t because that shit right there was chipping away at my armor. “He can swim.”

  “Asshole.”

  Yeah. This girl was doing my heart in, for sure.

  I tapped her shoulder and motioned for her to scoot up. She hesitated before she shifted, allowing me to sink
behind her. Her stiff body slowly relaxed against me, and I rested my chin on the top of her head.

  “Where’d you get the shorts from?” There was no way the girl had a pair of kid’s SpongeBob pants on standby.

  “Me and Nora went to Wal-E-Mart and got some, in case he came over again. Kid gave me hell about swimming last time.”

  And for the first time, I thought I might understand why people fell in love. Because that...that made my chest go a little tight when nothing else ever had. “And the float?”

  “That I actually bought last summer. Dad says it’s a monstrosity so we never get it out.”

  I skimmed my chin over her soft hair. “It is a monstrosity…”

  “Arlo doesn’t think so.” She nodded toward the pool.

  His legs were wrapped around its neck. He fist pumped the air and let out a war cry. “To the death, Horny Horse!” Water splashed when he kicked his feet.

  “Now I’m just picturing a horse with a boner,” Drew laughed.

  “You’re sick.”

  A long beat of silence stretched between us, filled with the sounds of Arlo splashing around.

  She took a deep breath and turned her cheek to my chest.

  “Is your mom okay?” Her words were barely a whisper.

  This was the crap I wasn’t good with.

  No one outside of the guys and Nash knew about what a shitshow my life was, and she did. There wasn’t much in life I was embarrassed about. I’d grown up wearing thrift-store clothes and shoes with holes, just like most everyone in Dayton, but that shit--the crap with my dad, that wasn’t someone not finishing school, not making the cut. That wasn’t someone who hit the bottle a little too much or got hooked on a drug that controlled their lives. That shit wasn’t just a lifetime of bad decisions; it was inherently who he was.

  And now she knew that, and she was still right here.

  “She comes home tomorrow,” I said.

  “That’s good.”

  Minutes passed. I watched Arlo have the time of his life, playing some make-believe shit with that unicorn float.

  “Are you going to get in any more trouble over it?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Her fingers played over my arm before she let out a heavy breath. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.