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

by Kristy Marie

  She looks up at the ceiling for just a moment. It tends to be our go-to move when things get awkward. “Let me show you,” she finally says, scooting closer, the warm core of her body pushing into the front of my pajama pants.

  I want to step back. Wait, no. That’s a lie. I don’t want to do anything of the sort, but I feel like that’s the gentlemanly thing to do.

  But what the fuck am I thinking? I’m no gentleman.

  Vee pops off the lid to one of the lipsticks and, with a shaky hand, applies it blindly to her lips.

  “Impressive,” I muse, trying and failing not to stare at the fullness of her lips. They are more than impressive. I know. I felt them once and all hell broke loose afterward.

  She presses her lips together, and I mask a groan with something like a growl. “I’m getting a cramp. Can we hurry this along?”

  So, so shitty, Sebastian.

  But my dick… fuck. My dick doesn’t give two shits about what happened between me and Valentina Lambros. He wants to feel those lips again. He wants them around us like a tight, wet vise— “What are you doing?”

  I startle back when her hand wraps around the back of my neck. Surely I didn’t say all those things about my dick out loud? Did I? That would be weird and—

  “I thought you said you trusted me?” Her grip is firm, and, I’ll admit, I’m so hard I could be the guy who pops the holes in doughnuts. I know. That’s not a real job, but it should be.

  I swallow all the teenage-like nerves and let the cool camera-ready Bash slide over my expression. “Do your worst.”

  I don’t mean it though. Her worst could be my demise.

  Valentina shakes her head like she knows I’m full of an epic amount of shit, but she pulls me closer until her lips are on my neck and her breath is warm against my jaw. “Be still,” she whispers.

  My balls ache and my dick is rabid. I don’t nod—I’m afraid to move any closer to her face. Instead, I grunt out a word that doesn’t exist in the English language. Vee doesn’t stop to question it or even poke fun. I think she, too, is worried about accidentally letting my dick poke her center.

  I should step back.

  She should toss the lipstick back on the counter.

  But we’re not quitters.

  In the mirror, I watch as my nemesis slides the collar of my shirt to the side.

  “Ah, fuck.”

  Her lips press down on my neck, just below my jaw. My heart is pounding. My stomach is doing that ridiculous tingling thing again and now my dick is on the verge of leaking jizz.

  The asshole part of me wants to ask her just what the fuck she’s doing, but when she leans back, her hand goes to my jaw and all thoughts of saying anything are smothered by pure lust.

  “See,” she says, trailing a finger down my jaw, just like I did to her the night we became mortal enemies. “If I go with the wrong shade, it won’t show up well on camera.”

  Her thumb swipes through the perfect outline of her lips, smearing it down the side of my neck before looking up and meeting my eyes. “It’s not enough just to have a smear. The mark has to pop on the screen.”

  I have no idea what the fuck she’s talking about. All I care about is the fact that she’s now applying the other shade of lipstick to her lips.

  “You have to do it again?” My voice sounds pained and hopeful, at the same time. I’m a fucking mess. My body yearns for this girl, but my mind is like, “Eh. Slow down, champ. This is the chick we hate, right?”

  “I need to decide,” she says, already pulling me close with her hand around the back of my neck. “You promised to help me.”

  Did I? Did I promise to help her or to trust her? God, who the fuck cares Sebastian? This is the first time you’ve had anyone this close to your mouth in months. Chill the fuck out and enjoy kissing the enemy. Well, not kissing, but you know.

  “I did,” I admit softly, swallowing down a golf-ball sized knot in my throat. My head is guided to the side and her fingers slide under my collar, once again, before her lips touch the heated skin of my neck.

  It feels like she lingers there for a solid half-hour, but I know, in reality, it’s probably only a matter of seconds. “See the difference?” she asks quietly, pulling back and letting her finger drag through the mark.

  I don’t see.

  In fact, I think I’m blinded by lust.

  “Sebastian?”

  I shake off the feelings of wanting to ravage the girl in front of me. It’s a challenge. It wouldn’t take much for me to shove her back onto the sink, yank both our pants down in seconds and fuck all the hate out of our systems in one blessed go. Maybe then we would really be able to start over.

  “Sebastian?”

  She shakes my shoulders and my brain finally sends a signal to my dick to calm the hell down.

  “Yeah.”

  It’s not a great answer, but it’s something.

  “See?”

  My patience is gone or maybe I’m so damn sexually frustrated that all I want to do is beat the hell out of something.

  “Yeah, I see,” I lie, removing her legs from around my waist and stepping back. “The one on the right looks better against my shirt—” Okay, so after a few seconds, I see what she means, but it was a painful test, “—which I’m not wearing.”

  In a dick move that will forever haunt me, I yank off the shirt and use it to wipe both marks off and toss it to the floor. “I’m not in the mood to do this anymore.”

  I thought I could, but I was so fucking wrong.

  “You will fucking do this,” she says, grabbing my arm. “We made a deal and you’re not going to let your PMS get in the way of our success. Tuck your bitchiness away and let’s do this dance that you just had to do with me.”

  Her bossing me around is less than ideal, but for some reason, my dick digs the attitude.

  I clench my jaw, trying like hell not to break my teeth. “Fine.” I yank her down and pull her behind me. I don’t care if she’s been nice and cleaned up my house or that she’s taken care of me all day. All I can think is that her Good Samaritan time is up. She needs to be gone, only to return when I’ve calmed the fuck down.

  I pull us in front of the mirror. The hem of my shirt hangs just past the curve of Vee’s ass. It’s painful to look at.

  “Do you need to watch the dance?” I ask her, pressing play and holding my phone out in front of her. I know she needs to watch it. I can’t imagine Valentina knowing any of the trendy dances. She might be popular on MyView, but it isn’t because she spends her time learning all the trendy dances. She probably only knows the “Thriller” dance, given her specific viewing tastes.

  “Yeah. Can you play it once more?”

  I don’t want to. Not because I don’t want her to learn it but because I’m uncomfortable from standing so far back. Apparently, the flannel is sexier than I thought it would be. The last thing I need is for Valentina to see this raging boner tucked into my pants.

  I let the video play a couple of times and ignore her hand over mine when she pulls my phone closer for another look.

  “I think I have it now,” she says.

  Thank fuck.

  Clearing my throat, I tip my chin and step back. I secure my phone into the tripod and motion for her to come over. “See if it’s good.”

  Vee walks over and avoids my eyes, which is good, because my shirt on her is distracting the fuck out of me.

  “It’s good,” she says, after a moment of looking through the additional lens I use on my phone. “I think all we need is a little more light.”

  I’m certainly not going to object, considering I still look a little peaked, and she looks a lot fuckable.

  I flip the switch on the wall, and Vee looks through the lens once more. “Perfect.”

  Yeah, a little too perfect. “Should we do a couple of test shots?”

  I nod. Any MyViewer worth their popularity knows you always do test shots. Apart from what viewers might think, nothing is on the fly. Everything
is scripted and staged.

  Vee presses record and rushes to the mirror to stand in front of me before the music starts. The beat is slow and hypnotic with this Latin feel that Vee’s hips naturally find the groove to. Her arms go up over her head as her hips sway against my front, my dick hardening with each motion. My shirt rises up her thighs and stops dangerously close to her pussy.

  “Why aren’t you dancing?”

  I shake off the haze and meet her gaze in the mirror.

  “I was giving you time to practice,” I lie.

  Those honey brown eyes of hers narrow into slits. “How considerate of you. Now go restart the video. I don’t want to be here all day.”

  But she already has been, hasn’t she?

  “You think I’m enjoying this?” I spit, rounding the tripod and resetting the video. “I had shit to do too.”

  Vee scoffs. “Please, I know what you do on the first weekend of every quarter, Sebastian. It literally takes you all of an hour.”

  When the video is reset, I stand up and glare over the top of the camera. “Don’t act like you know me, Valentina.” I say her name for the simple fact that she said mine like she had some kind of dirt on me. “A lot changes in two months.”

  She shrugs. “Maybe. But I bet you still do it regularly.”

  I roll my eyes. She isn’t wrong but that doesn’t mean I will admit she actually knows one of the few secrets I keep all to myself.

  “Let’s do this shit for real,” I say, coming to stand behind her. “You’ve worn out your welcome.”

  Her lips flatten. “Agreed. Let’s get this over with so I can go home and scald myself in hot water.”

  Ditto but I’ll start with a cold shower first.

  The music starts again and when Vee’s arms go up above her head, mine meet them and trail down the length of her body until they stop at her hips. My gaze meets hers in the mirror. We’re rumpled and sexy as our hips move in sync with each other. My head lowers to her neck, and I nip the soft skin there, amping up the thrill for our fans. My hands inch Valentina’s shirt up just far enough that you can see the milky soft skin of her upper thighs.

  My dick loses all restraint and digs into her back as the tempo picks up and her arm goes around my neck. She flashes the camera a sleepy, mischievous grin that indicates that this dance is only a precursor to what happens next. She’s a natural, flirting with the camera, and all I can think is the man behind her looks as if he’s in pain and in love at the same time.

  The music stops and I take a step back, knocking the tripod over. Right now, I could throw my phone and the attached tripod out the window and not give a single fuck, just as long as Valentina leaves with it.

  “Fun’s over. You weren’t half bad, bro.”

  Calling her bro feels better than calling her Valentina. It changes the dynamics of the room, reminding me that we are enemies and not a real couple.

  “Agreed,” she says, heading into the bathroom. “I’ll text you.”

  I nod, the hurt and angry asshole in me coming out and putting her back into the enemy bucket where she belongs. “Don’t forget to take my pillow because you’re not getting your fucking chair back.”

  University CamFlix Competition Submission

  Entry Number: 75

  Sebastian and Valentina

  Second Interview Continued, also the time Vee couldn’t keep a fucking secret

  “Wow. Okay. Interesting story.” Tom looks to Vee. “How about you, Valentina? When did you know you loved Sebastian?”

  I can see the evil grin stretch across Vee’s face. “Well, Tom. I think I knew he was the man of my dreams when he was shit-faced drunk, and I had to drag him to the car after he puked on the courthouse lawn.”

  Tom’s brows raise. “The courthouse? Why the courthouse?”

  Vee shrugs, and I groan. I know where this dreaded story is going. “You see, Tom. We had been at a party, and well, Sebastian, here, had wanted to see the stars and he insisted you could see them best on the courthouse lawn in the square.”

  I interrupt. “I was really, really drunk. I wasn’t making any sense and I find it hard to believe that I gave a shit about some stars.”

  “Oh but you did, honey. In fact, you told me when you were a little boy you would lay out in your yard, in awe, because that same star could be seen from all over the world.”

  I’ve been up since five and jerked off twice in the shower before I decided that I needed something more physical to burn off the tension raging through my veins. Instead of going to the gym and reminiscing about the times Vee and I worked out together, I headed to the hardware store. A few hundred bucks later, I’m shirtless and sweating from the eighty-five-degree weather, but my grass is starting to look somewhat kept.

  “And I thought the only thing you knew how to run was your mouth.”

  I’d know that snark anywhere, even yelling over the motor of a lawnmower. I flip the switch and turn slowly, eyeing my neighbor who’s back in her own flannel shirt with a tight tank top underneath. Her shorts are high on her thighs and her boots look like they could use replacing.

  “You’re trespassing,” I tell her, making sure I give her a look of boredom.

  “And you’re an asshole, but let’s not get technical.” She shrugs. “I’m just stopping by to let you know that I won’t be able to meet for lunch. I have a thing.”

  After the awfulness of the dance, Vee left, and we didn’t speak again until around midnight, two hours after I posted the video of us dancing and the thousands of comments that came in. The competitor in me kicked in, and I decided that with enough jerking off, I could handle being Vee’s fake boyfriend. At least until the contest was over. So I texted her.

  Me: Lunch? Strategy? I promise to take my Midol.

  She made me sweat for a couple of hours, but she eventually texted back.

  Pretend To Like Her: Fine. You pick the place, Princess. I’d hate for us to spend it in the bathroom again.

  I didn’t respond.

  “What ‘thing’ do you have to do that would be more important than strategizing?” I try to keep the frustration and curiosity out of my voice.

  She smirks. “Now, now. This isn’t how this game is played anymore.” She turns, intent on leaving me with the same comment I once said to her when she inquired what I was doing.

  I grab her by the elbow and haul her into my sweaty chest. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? You better not be going on some ‘save the tree frogs and their plastic ecosystems’ expedition with fucking Vance. We had an agreement.”

  She pushes her palm against my chest and frowns. “Slow down, Major Douche. I’m just going to work. You know those places where broke people go to earn money?”

  I narrow my eyes. “I know what a job is. The question is, why are you working? Don’t you make enough in sponsorships?”

  I know I do. Seems like she would too.

  “I do, but believe it or not, sometimes I like helping more than just tree frogs.”

  I narrow my eyes, and she sighs. “I work with rescue dogs.”

  “Dogs?” How did I not know she had a job before now? “You work at the pound or something?”

  She hitches her bag up her shoulder. “No, not the pound. It’s a rescue shelter for military dogs that have lost their owners. Some don’t adjust without their owners and fall into a depression. My uncle runs it.”

  She rolls her eyes. “When I get back, maybe you can pop another Midol, and we can talk strategy on the phone.”

  I’m not so sure about that. Talking to her is worse than seeing her. Hell, everything that deals with Valentina sucks.

  “What kind of dogs are they?”

  I’ve always wanted a dog, but due to my sister’s condition, the only time I ever got to pet one was when they would bring the therapy dogs, so she could pet them. My mom said she couldn’t take care of me, my sister, and a puppy too.

  “Different kinds. Mostly German Shepherds but there are few others. Why?�
� Vee is suspicious and rightfully so.

  I shrug and put my hands in my pockets. “I’m just thinking maybe it would be cool if we did a shot of you and the dogs. Everyone loves dogs, right?” It’s true. “Animal videos go viral just as much as human ones. Who’s to say that we wouldn’t knock it out of the park with a dog video?”

  “These aren’t puppies.”

  “I know that,” I argue, “but they are rescues, which is even better. Who doesn’t like a couple doing charitable work with dogs?”

  What could go wrong? Famous last words.

  “So, what do you think? Want to try a video there? If it’s terrible, we don’t have to use it, and besides, it’ll be good publicity for your uncle’s charity, right?”

  Vee still doesn’t look convinced, but I can tell she’s going to say yes. Even if she would like to junk punch me, she won’t, because, like me, she wants to win.

  “I’ll call Brick. He can meet us there,” I say, pushing my new mower onto the patio because I have no idea what I’ll do with it until next week.

  “Us?” Her voice is amused. “We aren’t riding together.”

  I open the back door and nod for her to follow. “Why not? Aren’t you all about conserving fuel and shit?”

  Her head tips to the sky, and she exhales loudly.

  “I need five minutes to shower,” I promise. “You can have a popsicle while you wait.”

  The last bit gets her, and she drops her head and follows me in.

  The shelter Vee works at is a small outfit deep in the country. All rolling hills and wheat fields. “You make this drive every day?” I ask her.

  “Not every day. Just a few days a week. My uncle doesn’t want me too distracted from my studies and sometimes I think he just likes being out here by himself with the dogs.”

  “Oh,” I mumble. “Was he like your dad?”

  I know she told me her father was once homeless and Aspen and Fenn’s mom helped him out.

  “Yeah,” she says, but I can tell she doesn’t want to say much. “He’s better now, though.”