Falling for the Opposition: An New Adult Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Lola West

  I was so caught up in watching her that I kept pausing mid-bite and letting melted gelato dribble on my chin. We were sitting on a bench just outside the gelato shop, and we were close. Lua’s thigh rested against mine. It was closer than I would have liked, considering my waning sense of control.

  Lua made fun of me. “You are the worst ice cream eater I have ever met.”

  I nodded and then dropped my head, feigning embarrassment. She giggled. I loved how much she laughed, how easy it was for me to make her laugh.

  “You have chocolate…” She pointed to my chin. “… right there.”

  I wiped my napkin where I thought she pointed.

  “Nope. Closer to your mouth.”

  I tried again.

  Before I could stop her, she was holding my face in her hand and swiping her thumb softly across my bottom lip. It took everything I had to stay still. In my mind, I wandered to the places I would go from this moment if Lua was mine for the taking. I thought about drawing her thumb into my mouth, sucking on it and hearing her breath catch. I thought about moving so that my hand supported her neck, gently tucking her thick hair behind her ear and whispering all the things I wanted to do to her, telling her how I wanted to slide my hand between her thighs, feel her warm and wet, shuddering and bucking against my fingers, right there on that bench.

  When she moved her hand away, I stood up—quick. I had to. I couldn't be touching her any longer. She followed my lead.

  “Are we done?” she asked oddly, like I was the leader of our journey, and it only then occurred to me that everything we had done had been decided by me. I didn’t want that. I wanted the night to be about us.

  “I don’t know, are we?”

  “Um…” She was standing right in front of me, so she had to tilt up her chin to look me in the eye. “I’m gonna say no.”

  “No, huh? Well then, fearless leader, where to?”

  She bit the left side of her lip and her eyes drifted up and to the left. I’d once read somewhere that we look up at the different sides of our brain when we are creating or processing stuff, and that FBI guys and other law enforcement specialists were trained to tell if someone was lying by watching how they look up while they’re talking, but in this case, I knew Lua was just searching the recesses of her mind for a plan.

  “Have you ever gone to the Empire State Building?”

  “Really?” I was not expecting that.

  “Well, have you? I mean, I know you’ve ridden the subway, but not everyone does all that New York touristy stuff.”

  I would never admit that my first time on the subway was with her. Never. But I would give her this one. “No, I’ve never gone, but is it even open now? It’s almost eleven o’clock.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Of course, it’s open now. Do you honestly think that they’d miss the opportunity to make money off the New York City skyline at night?”

  “Who’s they?”

  She turned, looped her elbow around mine like I’d done earlier in the evening at the hotel, and said, “Don’t give me a hard time, Drew. Just come with me to see the pretty lights, okay?”

  I conceded. Not a problem.

  14

  Lua

  What I did with the ice cream was just wrong. I’d never done anything like that in my life. I don’t know what possessed me. Don’t get me wrong, I think of myself as sexual. I had sex with Lucas, and it was pleasant, but the way Drew was watching me while I ate that ice cream cone… oh my God. I don’t know what was going on between us, but it was explosive. For a second toward the end of Fuerza Bruta, and a little bit after, I thought maybe he wasn’t into me, but he gave me a peek at his cards when he reacted to Joe not being my boyfriend, and then when the opportunity to tease him presented itself, I just couldn’t control myself.

  The first lick was just me eating ice cream. I literally just brought the cone to my mouth and licked. No biggie. Um, not for Drew. His eyes went wide, his lips parted, and he shifted in his seat, trying to move so his leg wouldn’t touch mine. Then, like maybe as a test, I stuck out my tongue and swirled the radius of the scoop. He swallowed, hard. The way he was looking at my mouth made my whole body vibrate, and I couldn’t stop. Drew’s eyes were desperate and hungry. I wanted him to look. I wanted him aching, bothered, and out of control. I wanted him dirty and raw, like he was at Bonnaroo.

  When he didn’t act or respond to my titillating behavior, I felt a little weird. Drew was obviously choosing not to give in to his desire, which by the way was clear as day. Anyone who took a quick gander at the area below his belt could make a pretty informed guess about Drew’s state of affairs. But he didn’t act, not even when I ran my thumb across his lip. He’s entire body tensed, he closed his eyes, his breathing sped up, but nothing. He just jumped off the bench.

  I was all twisted up inside, cold and hot. Being with Drew was easy and fun. True, we had pretty much avoided politics, which was probably for the best. But all night we were laughing and connecting, and I liked him, like as a person. I also liked him, like I wanted him to grab me, to paw at me. Every time he smiled at me, I wanted to whimper. So, after the ice cream display, I almost felt rejected. I tried not to because clearly, it wasn’t about me.

  I kept thinking about the bandana in his pocket. I kept thinking about Drew sitting next to me on the couch in the television studio and saying if I screwed up, at least people would think I was hot, about the way he talked to the assistant, and the way he treated me in the car. I couldn’t reconcile that Drew with the Drew who caught me on the subway and the Drew who raced downtown to show me a show he thought I’d love. They didn’t seem to be the same person and the Drew I liked—the sweet, funny, sexy Drew—wasn’t willing to cross the line, to close the space between us and kiss me.

  After the ice cream escapade, we took a cab to the Empire State Building, and he clearly drew a line between us, practically hugging the door on his side of the car. I sat normally on my side of the seat and tried not to be offended. Even though I knew he was tense and uncomfortable, Drew looked cool. He was sitting casually, one hand on each knee and talking to the cab driver like they were old friends. Drew started the conversation by asking the man where he was from and that spun off into a conversation about immigrating to the United States from Ethiopia, missing his family, many of whom were still thousands of miles away, and then finding good Ethiopian food in New York. Apparently, for really good Ethiopian, you need to go to DC. Drew listened and responded, never really adding anything to the conversation, but somehow making the driver feel comfortable enough to chat away. I wondered if Drew learned this skill from being a politician’s son.

  While they spoke, I watched him, and I made no attempt to hide the fact that I was looking. I liked looking at him, and I had decided that if he was going to keep me at a distance, that was fine; it was probably the smartest choice, but looking wasn’t something he could control. So I looked.

  Nighttime in New York City is odd because you know it’s night, the sky is dark above you and everything is in shadow, but there are so many streetlights that the dark has a golden glow to it. Sitting in the cab, Drew was bathed in that glow. And he looked good, but he wasn’t perfect. He had a horizontal little scar, like a centimeter long, that cut through his left eyebrow. He furrowed his brow constantly, and it made him look angry a lot. His two front teeth on the bottom overlapped a smidge. And I was certain that if I could just get him naked, there had to be some other imperfections, more scars maybe. Honestly, he was tall, rugged, and broody. His looks were messy and masculine, long tight muscles, cut angles, high cheekbones, the constant shadow of dark hair along his jaw, a strong nose, big hands with long fingers. And somehow, he was also beautiful and sweet, rumpled hair that he dragged his hands through, full lips that were naturally pink, light-green eyes, like the reflection of a leaf in dew. Sure, he was a little too preppy, but that was easy to forget because he was everything else that you see women drool over in novels. I just didn’t want him
to be that guy.

  But he was. He was that guy, and he was in my system. I wasn’t just looking at his big strong man hands and thinking, well, now those are lovely. Nope. I was all wrapped up in those hands. I was picturing them on my skin. I was wondering what it would feel like to have the hand on his left knee slide up my torso and cup my breast, to have him roll my nipple between his fingertips. Earlier, at the beginning of the night, I promised myself that I was going out with Drew to make my life easier. I told myself that I was going to make peace with him, and then when we were at Hamilton together, it wouldn’t be awkward, and no one would ask me about my connection to Drew Scott. Just a few hours later I was sitting in a cab, wondering if sleeping with him would make things worse or better.

  The cabbie pulled up in front of the Empire State Building, and I let Drew pay without saying anything. It was late-ish, and I had kind of resigned myself to the fact that we were on a date, even if we were pretending otherwise. In my world a date didn’t always mean that the guy paid, but in Drew’s world it did, so whatever. We quickly made our way inside to the second-floor ticket booth. Back to super friendly, Drew wanted to buy the tickets for the top deck on the 102nd floor, but I convinced him that the splendor of it all was the observation deck on the 86th floor. The observation deck was what you saw in photos and movies. It was where you could go outside and hear the air whipping around the building and the sounds of life below.

  It was close to twelve, but there were still people milling about sightseeing. The elevator was full. Drew and I were in the back corner and no one was talking. The only sounds were the rustling of bodies as people shifted their weight. Standing next to each other, Drew and I were facing forward, leaning our palms on a gold bar that was attached to the wall behind us. In the silence, we were connected, communicating without talking. The guy in front of us was… a little pungent. No, honestly, he was a lot pungent. And when I tried to subtly cover my nose, Drew swallowed a little laugh. It was almost like he coughed. I turned my head to the right and looked up at him. He was looking straight ahead, but he had his entire lower lip pulled into his mouth in an effort to quiet his laughing, which was made apparent by a tiny rhythmic bouncing of his chest. As the elevator rose, he started to lose control, and without meaning to, I threw him over the edge by literally cinching my nose closed with my fingers. When Drew broke free, raining laughter into the small space, it was odd at first. People looked back at him in curiosity, but even while he was trying to contain it, his laughter was contagious. First, I joined his solo act, creating a duet of notes, his deep sounds whirring with my high ones. Then the guy standing next to me joined in and soon we were an entire chorus. Twelve or so adults laughing because we could, most of them for an unknown reason, including the smelly guy who had started the whole performance without ever knowing he was the cause.

  Once we were out of the elevators and we said our smiley goodbyes to our new stranger friends, Drew looked at me and said, “Okay, captain, you lead. I’ll follow.”

  As far as I was concerned the view in every direction was amazing, and during the day you could really see the water and feel that Manhattan was an Island, which was something that was so easy to forget when you were down on the concrete sidewalks. However, at night my favorite view was uptown because the Chrysler Building was like a blinding beckon. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could see it from space. Not one to deny myself gratification, I took him there first.

  The air outside was warm, and we sidled up close to the metal bars that kept people from falling, or worse, jumping. For a while he was quiet, scanning the endless sea of little flickering lights. When he spoke, he was a weirdo, and it made me like him more.

  He said, “I thought it was going to be like the sky, but it’s not. It’s like a computer.”

  I stayed quiet, waiting for him to explain further.

  “Did you ever see images of server rooms, like the huge ones in the movies? Or like Tron? It’s like the future come to life. Like technology breathing. It’s beautiful, but it’s scary too, like humanity is too big for its britches.”

  I leaned in toward him and he kept his eyes on the lights, but he put his arm around my shoulders.

  I didn’t wait for him to thank me. I just said, “You’re welcome.”

  He pulled me tighter against his chest and kissed my forehead. “Thank you, Lua.”

  It was the first time I heard him say my name, and it was soft and sweet, and I wanted to hear him say it again.

  After the observation deck, something changed. I thought we might continue our adventure through the city, but Drew said that he had to be up early for his flight. He seemed to crawl inside himself. He was quiet and pensive, but at the same time he kept me closer than ever before. He never retreated after kissing my forehead. He left his arm draped over my shoulders in a way that was both casual and intimate. We walked in tandem, tucked together like a couple who had been together for years, like there was a physical comfort between us that usually came with time or a lot more physical intimacy than we shared. In my life I had strolled like this with only two men, Lucas and Joe. And that was the thing. The way he was touching me was about care, not about sex. It wasn't the way you held someone you hooked up with. It was the way you reinforced a friend and also the way you casually told a lover that you belonged at their side. It was solid and flippant at the same time; it was the kind of affection you could take for granted because it was impenetrable.

  It scared me. I didn’t move away from him, but I felt tight in my chest. I felt the kind of fear that you’d feel if you knew the future, a feeling like I had no control. It was like running your fingers over the soft skin on a plucked rose petal and then realizing that even though it felt ripe and full of life, it was already dead. It wasn’t a hateful feeling; it was a lonely feeling, like I was about to lose my grip and float out into the starry abyss. Trying to stop the expansion of the hole that was taking up residence beneath my sternum, I reached up and held the hand that Drew had rested on my shoulder. He didn’t flinch at my touch. He just intertwined his fingers with mine. We weren’t really holding hands, just fingers, and it only made the feeling worse.

  When we got in the cab to go back to the hotel, he kept me next to him. I started to scooch over to my side, but he wasn’t having it. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his armpit. We pressed together like canned sardines, but he stayed quiet. He kept his gaze focused on the city going by out the window. His eyes were soft and melancholy, his mouth turned down. Any time I tried to shift or speak or engage in any way, he tightened the muscles in his arm and gripped my shoulder tighter, pulling me closer. After a few minutes, I gave in. I stopped thinking about what was happening, rested my head against his shoulder, draped my arm across his waist, and looked out the window with him.

  The city was dark but still drowning in streetlights and there was the expected late-night sidewalk traffic, gaggles of partygoers, couples walking home arm in arm, a homeless woman pushing a shopping cart. Though I had visited New York many times, this was my first time in the city as an independent adult. I had never been one of the laughing people stumbling out of a bar, careening raucously toward drunk eats. I didn’t know late-night New York. It was new to me. I was learning it for the first time, and the lesson was colored by the warmth of Drew’s body next to mine. I realized I had never been to the city alone before, and it still felt that way, like I would always think of this time in New York as time spent with Drew.

  On the curb in front of the hotel, Drew shoved his hands into his pockets and walked next to me. I felt our separation in my bones and couldn't quite bring myself to walk right by his side. Instead, I trailed him by half a step. Before entering the revolving door, he paused and turned so that his body was facing sideways, and then he nodded toward the door—ladies first. We crossed the lobby and waited for the elevator in silence. He pressed the button, and the doors closed. I watched the numbers rise on the little screen above our heads as w
e ascended. We moved slowly down the hall with the ugly carpet, and then there we were, standing in front of our hotel doors, Drew on the left and me on the right.

  Trying to make him smile, I pointed to him and then to me and said, “They’ve got this backwards, you on the left and me on the right.”

  The left corner of his mouth lifted, but nothing akin to joy reached his eyes. He looked at his hands for a second, rubbing one thumb over the other, and then said, “It was a nice night, Lua.”

  “It was.” I sighed, already feeling nostalgic.

  “Well.” He jutted his hand forward, offering to shake mine. It was absurd. I didn’t even think about taking it. I stepped forward, slipping my arms under his armpits, and pulled myself tight against him until my cheek was flush with his chest. I didn’t look up. I could feel the tension running through his body. He went completely rigid as soon as he realized I was going to hug him, but I didn’t care. I stayed where I was until he relaxed, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his nose in my hair.

  He held me like that for a while, and then he leaned in, kissed my cheek, and whispered, “I’m gonna go now.”

  I stood there in the center of the hall as he turned and pulled his key from his wallet. I stood there as he scanned the key. I stood there and watched the little light turn green. I stood there and saw him wrap his fingers around the knob and start to turn it, and when I heard the tumblers of the lock spin and he started to push the door forward, it was then that I said, “Why was my bandana in your pocket?”