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

by Kristy Marie

  I level her with a bored look. “We’ll see. Let’s eat first.”

  She shoves the iPad back into her purse and nods. “Fine, but you’re buying since that’s what guys do on dates.”

  I’m not even going to argue because, one, this was my idea, and two, she’s right. Guys typically pay on dates, and if this date goes smoothly then my bank account will have no problem losing five bucks on the cheapest meal I think I’ll probably ever spend on a girl.

  Vee addresses the guy behind the truck by name. “Do you know him?” I say, when she finishes ordering two fish tacos. “Yeah, that’s Juan.”

  I arch a brow. “Do you know Juan… personally?”

  No, I’m not jealous. I simply want to know if I’ll have to worry about Juan blowing our cover as we film bits and pieces of this date. Speaking of which, where the fuck is Brick? I thought I was clear when I told him seven.

  “Are you asking if I’ve slept with Juan?”

  I pull out my phone and scoff. “Uh, no. I’m just wondering if Juan will need convincing that we’re a real couple. I would imagine that your friends would find it strange that you’re, all of a sudden, dating the enemy.”

  I know Maverick spit out his water when I told him I was taking my neighbor out for dinner and I wouldn’t be able to meet him at Gigi’s. I’m pretty sure he knows something is up, but he won’t ask me because, he too, likes his secrets.

  We have a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ type of friendship.

  “Juan isn’t my bestie.” She laughs. “I just eat here a lot.”

  Somehow this bothers me. In all the stalking and prank plotting, I feel like I would have discovered this about her.

  “I don’t ever remember you coming to eat here when we were—you know—friends.” It’s awkward saying the f word. I try not to remind myself that we were once friends, but sometimes, it just comes up, and I can’t help it.

  “I just started,” she says softly. “It was after, you know.”

  Our friendship ended.

  “What do you want?” she asks me, motioning to the menu above Juan’s head, blessedly changing the subject. She always knows when the conversation starts heading into tense territory.

  “I’ll take what you’re having.”

  I don’t want to waste any more time looking at the menu. I allowed myself two hours to film this date and discuss the rules. I’m hoping that Vee and I, being the professionals that we are—insert sarcasm here—can do it in half the time. Less time ordering food will contribute to that rushed timeline.

  Juan puts two baskets on the counter, and I hand him a twenty and tell him to keep the rest. Again, this isn’t a nice gesture on my part. This is me speeding this date up as fast as I possibly can because being around Vee is hard on my liver. Just ask my trash guys who side-eye each other when they hear nothing but clanging bottles in my bags.

  Juan tips his chin and I grab the baskets, following behind Vee like a dutiful boyfriend bitch. Where the fuck is Brick? He should be here filming. This is primo boyfriend material and his ass is missing it. I don’t plan on repeating it for the sake of getting it on film.

  I set the baskets of food on the table and take a seat next to Vee, leaving the bench on the other side of the picnic table open because cuddling up on the same bench is what a good boyfriend would do, right? He would sit next to her in case she couldn’t eat all her food. Waste not, want not, and all that.

  “So,” I say, snagging one of Juan’s tacos and taking a huge bite.

  “So,” she repeats, waiting for me to finish chewing.

  Huh. Juan’s tacos aren’t half bad.

  When I’ve swallowed, I wipe my mouth with the paper napkin Vee hands me. “So, I was thinking we should be seen together around campus and at each other’s houses. It’ll be easier convincing our friends that this relationship is the real deal.”

  Vee nods her head but looks pensive. “You don’t think they will believe the video?”

  Her lips tip at the corner, just as her head cocks to the side.

  “I think it will be easier to convince them this relationship is real if they see us together without a camera.”

  Vee waves me off. “I know. I’m not saying we shouldn’t be seen together.” She shrugs. “I just think the video shot at the party was pretty convincing on its own.”

  “You watched it?”

  She huffs. “Of course. I had to see what the hell you were all excited about.”

  “I wasn’t excited,” I correct. “I was merely pointing out the business opportunity that presented itself to us.”

  “Look at you sounding all professional. Those business classes are paying off.”

  And we’re done.

  I take another bite of my taco and try to find the patience to get through this date that is definitely not going to end well.

  “Are we in agreement to try and be seen together?” I wipe my hands. “You think Aspen will believe it?”

  Vee keeping something from Aspen is my biggest concern. Best friends tend to share everything, at least girls do. Maverick and I like our secrets.

  “Yeah.” She sighs. “Unfortunately, I think she’ll believe it.”

  I want to prod as to why she added unfortunately, but then I remember my timeline and let it go.

  “Can I ask a favor, though?”

  She’s asking for a favor and not demanding? That’s new. “Sure.”

  “Can we do some of the filming ourselves?”

  “What’s wrong with Brick?” Other than the fact he isn’t here filming when he should be.

  She shrugs. “Nothing. I don’t really know him. I think I just prefer shooting some of the more—” she covers a cough, “—intimate shots ourselves.”

  The word intimate shoots straight to my dick, and he rejoices at the mere thought of doing any kind of intimate related things with the enemy. I never said he made sense. “Are you not worried about using the tripod?”

  I know she doesn’t like to use them.

  “I think between the two of us we can manage,” she says.

  I nod. “Agreed. We’ll use Brick for the public shots, and we’ll film the raunchier ones ourselves.”

  I feel a grin emerge before she says anything.

  “At no point will we be doing anything raunchy together.”

  I shrug. “Whatever you say. Just remember when you suggest our next date be at a hot dog truck in an abandoned alley, you’ll have to add the time for us to stop and have a quickie while we’re running for our lives.”

  Her face scrunches up, and I can’t hold my laughter in.

  “That makes zero sense,” she finally says when I take a breath.

  “I agree. But the characters in your crappy horror movies seem to think sex is the best way to go out, even if they hated each other the entire movie.”

  University CamFlix Competition Submission

  Entry Number: 75

  Sebastian and Valentina

  First Interview Continued, also known as those five seconds I didn’t hate Sebastian

  “Back from your break?” I nod to the producer. “Yes. I’m much more relaxed now.”

  “Good.” Tom nods, looking eager to get back to the love story of Sebastian and Valentina. “Do you want to pick up where you left off?”

  I eye Sebastian who just shrugs. “Up to you.”

  He’s no help. Sighing, I twist my fingers together. Here goes nothing. “Sebastian is right, I did try to prank him, but he always caught on to my antics and ended up spoiling my videos instead.”

  For some reason, when I look at Sebastian, he doesn’t seem as smug as I thought he would.

  “You were close a couple of times, though,” he adds, trying to make me feel better. And it does, a little, because I know it doesn’t matter how many failed attempts I had; when it matter most, I nailed the prank of all time.

  “He’s still not up,” I mumble to myself, fishing out my phone and checking it for the two thousandth time.

&nbs
p; After spending more time than I intended at the taco truck, Sebastian and I parted ways with a smile and a promise to meet for lunch to discuss scenes and strategy for the competition.

  But by two o’clock, lunch had come and gone with no word from the shitty neighbor. I’m thinking he either had a change of heart or overslept at someone’s house, because my trusty binoculars and I have yet to see him emerge from hell.

  Breaking into his house would be like checking on him. And checking on him would be a business decision. Right? I mean, we have a deal and although no pillow or chair was exchanged last night, it doesn’t mean we didn’t shake on it.

  Shaking on it is like law in my house. You don’t go back on your word and if that’s what Sebastian is doing then I’m going to steal way more than his pillow. Maybe I’ll take those car keys of his and make him dig them out of my pocket.

  Wait! His Jeep.

  I rush out of my room and onto the front stoop. If Sebastian is home, his car would be here. And wouldn’t you know it, there it is. All shiny and yellow, taking up two parking spaces.

  I swear if he’s pulling this stunt, claiming that he didn’t sleep well without his pillow, then I am going to smother him with it.

  I snatch my hoodie from the chair and slip it on, slamming the front door and finding myself at Sebastian’s back door. It’s locked, of course, so I pull out my trusty set of keys—aka my lock picking tools—and let myself in.

  I’m sure I’ll be sorry if I walk in on him and a lady friend, but I’m willing to take the chance and witness someone slapping that stupid dimple on his face. “Honey, I’m home!” I yell, hoping if there is a girl in his bed, she’ll realize he is a cheating scumbag. “Good news! I’m pregnant!” When no one screams and runs past me in tears, I close the door and pocket my lock pick set.

  “Sebastian? Are you dead? Did someone finally murder your ass? I told you those jokes you make up are so not funny.”

  Nothing. Nada. Not even an argument that he is funny—which he isn’t.

  The living room is eh. It’s not messy, but it’s not necessarily picked up. There’s a hoodie and a glass on the coffee table and one sock on the floor. Why just one? I have no idea, but it doesn’t surprise me.

  “Sebastian?” I call out. “Are you here?”

  I could have missed him. It’s possible he woke up earlier than me and went out. With Sebastian, there is no telling. He’s irresponsible and sporadic.

  A groan that sounds a lot like “Vee” comes from his bathroom.

  I take a few hesitant steps down the hall. “You missed our lunch meeting, dickface. You better not be hungover.” I am not nursing this man back to health. I came over here out of curiosity.

  “Go away,” he rasps out between groans.

  I pause. “Why does it sound like you’re dying? I do not want to perform CPR. Heaven only knows where your mouth has been.”

  “Agreed,” he calls, sounding pitiful and seriously sick. “I’d rather die than have you save me.”

  At least we’re in agreement.

  “What’s wrong with you anyway?” I’m at his bathroom door with my hand on the knob.

  “Go away! It’s your fault.”

  What? “How is this my fault?” I inhale, not waiting for him to answer and open the door. If he’s naked, he’s naked. We all have to have scars. Seeing Sebastian naked will just have to be mine.

  “No!” His raspy voice stops me. There, on the bathroom tile, is a man who looks a lot like my asshole neighbor, but instead of a smug grin and tanned skin, he lays on the floor, sweaty and pale, with a grimace and a pair of boxers that cling to his ass like a second skin.

  “Oh my gosh!” I rush to his side and drop to my knees, putting my hand to his forehead.

  “Go away,” he moans, trying to swat my hand away.

  I roll my eyes and ignore his pitiful attempts to stop me. “You aren’t running a fever.”

  He tries to push up from the floor but stops when he realizes he can’t lift his own body weight.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” I try again.

  His head rolls to the side, and his red-tinged eyes stare up at me hatefully. “What’s going on is that you had Juan poison my food.”

  I burst out laughing. “No, I didn’t.” This man is delirious. Funny, but delirious.

  “You did.” His eyes are hard. He really thinks I tried to poison him.

  “Sebastian, I ate the same thing you did. You grabbed both plates, remember? You probably tried to poison me and switched our plates by accident.” Honestly, that sounds like something Bash-hole would do. He has the attention span of a gnat.

  He groans and rolls away from me. “Just let me die in peace.”

  I smother a laugh. “Since when have I ever let you do anything in peace?”

  Please. He should know better.

  He shivers, and his words come out broken. “Come on, Vee. Show a little mercy.”

  What does he think I’m going to do to him? Force him up and make him recite the alphabet backwards?

  “I am showing you mercy, dick. Come on, sit up.” Gah, here I am thinking I’m going to come over here and catch the douche in bed with another woman and end up helping the ass.

  “Have you been able to keep anything down?” I pull him into a sitting position.

  His head falls back onto my shoulder. “Nothing.”

  Eww. That’s not good. I remember one time when I had this virus, I ended up having to suck on ice chips just to get something into my stomach.

  “You think you can shower?”

  His chest rises with a sarcastic scoff. “Yeah, sure. I just slept in the bathroom all night because it was comfortable.”

  At least his sarcasm is still strong.

  “You never know with you,” I say, untangling myself from behind him, and stand. I reach for his hands. “Will you puke on me if I help you up?”

  He gives me a flat look. “I haven’t thrown up since around three this morning.”

  Good to know. “Come on.” I shake my hands and after staring at them angrily, he finally takes them and lets me pull him up. It’s not easy. I almost fall backwards, but I don’t.

  “Brace yourself against the cabinets,” I tell him, before turning to the tub and seeing my chair. “What’s the combination?”

  His eyes harden. “No. Just leave it in the tub. It needs a good rinse.”

  And he needs a good punch in the dick.

  “Sebastian.”

  “Valentina.”

  “I swear I will drown you in the toilet. Give me the combination.”

  We have a stare off for a few seconds but then he finally gives in. “22, 18, 24.”

  I turn the dial clockwise, then counterclockwise, before turning the final number clockwise and popping the lock. I don’t get excited to finally have my chair free, even though I really, really want to. Instead, I lift it out of tub, only struggling a little before setting it down.

  I turn back to the tub and twist the knob on the shower, feeling the spray until it warms. “Have you not showered since you stole my chair?” I ask him. What’s it been? Like two days?

  He makes a noise that sounds amused. “Of course I have. I take it out during the day, so I can pile dirty laundry on it. At night, it goes back to the time-out tub.”

  I should have had Juan poison him.

  “Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious. Take a shower and try not to drown. I don’t want to have to cover your dick when I call 911.” I shiver like the thought is disgusting.

  He waves me off. “Glad you broke in to check on me,” he says. “You can go home now and tell Juan your plot fell through.”

  I side-eye him and open the closet, grabbing a towel and setting it on the counter. “Get in the shower, Bash.”

  I go with Bash. Not Sebastian but Bash. The name I used to call him when we were friends. He swallows and stares at me for a beat but then pushes off the counter. “Are you going to watch me get naked?” he asks, pulling back the curtain and
giving me a smirk that usually annoys the fuck out of me. But it doesn’t today. I guess it’s because I think he had to force it. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he seemed almost shy. But we’re both feeling a whole lot of awkward right now, so maybe that is it.

  Friends don’t let friends see their ding dongs.

  I grin. “I’ll spare my eyes, thank you.”

  I close the bathroom door behind me and let my head fall back onto the door.

  Don’t do this, Vee. He wouldn’t do it for you. Would he?

  I think Sebastian would have taken care of me—at least at one point in time. It’s also what a girlfriend would do, even a fake one.

  Ugh. This is such a bad idea.

  I push off the door and head back through the living room and hall, leaving the front door unlocked while I dart across the greenspace between our houses. I grab my bookbag and a tote, filling it with crackers, Gatorade, and popsicles—all stuff Aspen and I raided from the guys’ house the other day when we had forgotten to go to the store. Lastly, I snatch Sebastian’s pillow that currently has a yellow pillowcase on it. Yes, I’ve slept on it while I’m holding it hostage. Sebastian is not wrong. I sleep great with it.

  Hightailing it back to Sebastian’s, I slip through the door and unload the groceries onto his counter. When I have everything put away, I snag a blanket from his hall closet and lay it on the sofa with his precious pillow.

  “Sebastian?” I knock on the bathroom door. “You okay in there?”

  The door opens before I can knock again. His hair is dripping wet and the towel I put out for him is around his waist. “I need pants.”

  I grin and step aside. “By all means, get pants.”

  He grunts out something I can’t make out and brushes past me. I leave him in his room to dress and head back out to the kitchen. I pull a glass from the cabinet and fill it with ice and pour the Gatorade over top.

  “Are you trying to finish off Juan’s piss-poor job of poisoning me?”

  I grin, not bothering to turn around quite yet. “Not today.”

  Sebastian approaches and I finally get a good look at him post shower. He looks rumpled and clean in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a white t-shirt that somehow manages to brighten up his pale coloring. He takes a seat at the island and lays his head on the bar top. He looks exhausted and plain pitiful.