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

by Lola West

  I know what people think I believe. I know that I am a conservative senator’s son and that it’s my job to toe the party line. I know that when the cameras are on, I am pro-life, anti-gay marriage, pro-trickle-down economics, anti-big government, and pro-hard hammering-military. That’s my role. I was born with those views. I’m not like Lua or any of the other motherfuckers in that room. I don't get to speak up or fight for what I actually believe in or want for the world. I am not afforded that freedom. Honestly, not for a second do I think that abortion is murder, nor do I care if two men or two women want to love each other. And if you asked my opinion, I’d argue that the senator doesn’t give a shit about any of that either. He just wants to be fucking powerful. Those issues are divisive. He uses them to woo mindless ignorant sheep.

  That’s what I know. I know that it is all lies and that the people in power do and say anything to stay in power. I know that nothing changes. I know that people like the crew at S.A.F.E. can talk about my privilege and their oppression till they are blue in the face. I know that they see me as representative of the man I am. I am the man. What they don’t see is that it’s all fucking lies, hogwash. I have always known that it’s completely out of my control and yet watching Lua blows me away because she’s inspiring. She’s fucking of the people, something the senator would sell his soul to be, and she makes me doubt everything I know to be true. That’s what makes Lua mind-blowing, mind-bending, life-altering, whatever the fuck. That’s what makes her irresistible.

  Well, that and the fact that she is balls to the wall. All the time. I mean there was no reason that she should have felt a need to rescue my ass from the scorn and scowls of S.A.F.E.’s liberal mafia. No. Reason. At. All. She and I were, I quote, ‘not friends.’ Honestly, I’m pretty fucking certain that she was absolutely still angry at me, but nothing compromised Lua. I could see it in her eyes; she was fuming mad that the people who supposedly stood for acceptance were being disrespectful and unaccepting. I couldn’t be certain that the rage she was feeling had anything to do with me, but I’d take it. If the bullshit I’d endured all morning was the catalyst that brought out super-Lua, then no biggie. Render me the victim.

  Every head in the room watched her, Raina and Isaac included. Lua put her plate down in front of the chair directly across from me. She didn’t acknowledge all eyes that were on her, not for a second. I looked up at her and couldn’t help myself. I smiled. She didn’t smile back.

  Instead, gruff and growly, she asked, “This seat taken?”

  I shook my head no.

  In response to my nod, her tone dripped sarcasm all over the place. “Awesome, then I’ll sit here. But if I do, if we’re going to have a frank discussion about the nature of our privileges and oppressions, you’re probably going to have to open your mouth and spit out some words, like actually talk to me, not just to the people around me. Deal?”

  I smiled again, like a damn fool. She noticed I wasn’t really talking to her. I nodded, slowly, deliberately, confirming that I agreed to speak. I didn’t mention that all she had to do was ask. She sat. I still felt the glare of an awful lot of eyes on us. I shifted my gaze to my plate, so no one could see my lips moving and keeping my voice low, I asked, “Are you sure?”

  She picked up her sandwich, no fear. “Am I sure about what?”

  “That you want to do this.”

  “Do what? Stand up to this ridiculous ass-a-holic behavior. Yeah, I’m all in.”

  I fucking loved her.

  “You realize that you are aligning yourself with the villain.”

  “Does that make me a superhero?” A hint of a smile played on her lips.

  “I mean it. I can handle it, Lua. You don’t have to rescue me.”

  “It’s not a rescue; it’s a protest. You’re an ignoramus.”

  If she was in, I was going to throw the door open. I mirrored her by picking up my sandwich. I took a gigantic bite and then mouth full and giddy as a schoolboy, I teased, “Takes one to know one.”

  She shook her head and those wild dark rivulets of hair that I wanted to bury my nose in, and then she rolled her eyes at me. It felt good to talk to her, warm in my chest. The comfort of us being together, Lua and Drew, made breathing a little easier, even though we were out in the open amongst stares, gaping glances, and potential amateur journalists.

  “Give me your card from this morning,” she said, brushing the crumbs off her hands and reaching in my direction.

  Her hand hung in front of me, but I didn’t reach for my card. I wasn’t all that eager to hand it over. Clearly, I was the litmus test for oppression/privileged games. I am a fit, white, wealthy, heterosexual, Christian male. In other words, I am privilege, privilege, privilege, privilege, privilege, and privilege.

  Instead of starting out our newly opened lines of communication backed into my clearly over-advantaged corner, I opted to attempt a duck and divert maneuver by turning the attention back in her direction. “Why don’t we start with your card?”

  A truly amused expression crossed her face and with a wry smile, she said, “Feeling guilty flashing all that privilege around?”

  Clearly, ducking didn’t work. Ducking never worked with Lua. “No, yes, whatever… I just…”

  She interrupted my incoherent dribble. “You’re right; let’s start with my card. How about you tell me what it says?”

  “I got this. You’re a woman, middle class, able-bodied, heterosexual…” I couldn’t help myself. I smirked and worse, I may have winked. She kicked my leg under the table, but she also blushed, just at the cherry of her cheeks. There was a certain stirring in my nether regions, but I ignored it and went on. “… Jewish?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I am descended from Jews, although not really religious, perhaps more pagan or atheist, that aspect of me still remains indiscernible, and yet marked with Jewish blood, which means that in an alternative Philip K. Dick universe, I’d be exterminated. Have you read The Man in the High Castle?”

  “I watched the show.”

  “There’s a show? Was it good?” She was legitimately excited.

  “Sometimes I forget you’re from the medieval times.” I wasn’t being mean. I was being silly, and it was received that way. She scrunched her nose at me, and I held up my hands, conceding to her possible attack before it could begin. “It’s good. You can watch it on your phone or your tablet or whatever. I’ll show you.”

  She gave me a half smile and then swallowed uncomfortably, reminding me that even if we were at ease for the moment, there might not be a later for me to show her something as simple as Amazon Instant Watch.

  She reined us back in. “Go on, woman, middle class, able, heterosexual, Jew-ish…” She tilted a flat palm facing the floor back and forth as she said ‘ish’ to imply that she was sort of Jewy. “And…”

  Her body size. That was the trait that I hadn’t touched on yet. I knew Lua wasn’t model skinny and that the culture was brutal when it came to women’s bodies. Because of that, I was sure that there might be spaces where people saw Lua as less than, but that was a load of shit. And maybe she had legitimate reasons to circle oppression when it came to body size but that was not my reality. Lua’s body was radiant; she was soft and strong, and she was fucking sexy as hell. There were times when Lua’s body literally stunted my brain, like her beauty was so overwhelming for me that forming basic sentences could become complicated when she was close. Those were the facts, my facts, so that was what I went with. “Fucking irresistible.”

  She didn’t smile. I thought she would.

  “Don't,” was all she said.

  It was immediately clear that I was sticking my finger in a raw wound and poking around. I dropped my face into my hands and pressed my thumbs into my temples. I wanted to say I was sorry, but I didn’t know how to begin because I didn’t want to apologize for one moment. I wanted to apologize for it all. I looked up at her again and floundered about trying to co
llect my thoughts, saying nothing.

  She took a deep breath and attempted to push us back on course. “So, do you think I suffer oppressions?”

  You had to be fucking kidding me. I couldn’t just sweep it all away, pretend there was nothing. Lua was all-encompassing for me. I wanted her to know that I was so wrong, that I never should have acted so hard and unrelenting in New York. That even if there was no middle ground, I should have talked with her about it. I should have stolen just a few more minutes with her, muted the phone, crawled back into her arms, and made her giggle. I should have pledged my fucking allegiance to her. I needed her to know that I was wrong, even if it changed nothing. I needed her to know that if I was afforded the freedoms that she had, I would devote myself to her, every breath. I was desperate, all ice shards and blisters on the inside. I reached for her hand, but she pulled away before I could touch her.

  For the first time she scanned the room to see who was watching, and I realized that the depth of our connection could embarrass her. Once she confirmed that no one saw me overstep the perceived boundaries of our supposed level of intimacy, she turned back and firmly emphasizing every word, she said, “I don’t want to talk about it. If you keep trying to talk about it, then I’m going to get up and leave. Got it?”

  All the muscles in my jaw clenched and the creak of my teeth grinding together echoed through my skull. Without a moment’s hesitation, I’d gone from guilty and sorrowful to seething. I couldn’t understand how she could keep me from cleaning up my own fucking mess, but that’s exactly the position she was trapping me in. There was absolutely nothing I could do about it. So, I just nodded and glared at her.

  “Focus. What oppressions do I suffer, Drew?”

  I pushed my hand through my hair and still angry, I spit out “Fucking all of them, basically. You’re white, you’re a white person so you have that going for you, but otherwise you’re fucked.”

  “And what about you, what oppressions do you suffer?”

  “I don’t suffer, Lua. I’m a fucking entitled bastard.”

  She scowled at me. She didn’t like that. She started to gather her things like she was going to get up and go. I didn't want her to leave.

  My voice was still tense, but I quieted it to almost a whisper because I didn’t want her to walk away embarrassed and upset. I also didn’t want anyone to perceive that we could be talking about something more than the stupid fucking orientation exercise. “What? What do you want me to say? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

  She stilled. “Is it?”

  There was so much desperate honesty in her voice. She wouldn’t let me apologize but she was asking me, sort of begging me, to confirm that I wasn’t everything she feared me to be. We were fucked up. I fucked us up. I had to be honest now.

  “I don’t know. Sometimes. Not with you. Since I know you, not always.”

  She didn’t smile or look sad. She just kind of stared at me. Then her face relaxed and shrugging her shoulders, she seemed to concede. “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “Okay, we can be friends.”

  I had thought that would be enough to be her friend but as soon as she said it, I knew it wouldn’t ever be enough.

  “I don’t want to just be your friend, Lua.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “That’s your entitlement talking.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Friends don’t do that sort of thing.”

  “They can.”

  “Not us. Already tried that, doesn’t work. Too big, too complicated.”

  It was like a solid left hook to the gut. Friends. That was all she was offering me. Nothing to do but make a sad cocky joke.

  “That’s what she said.”

  Under the table her leg shot out and nailed me in the shin, again.

  I took a deep breath. “Do you want me to show you how to watch The Man in the High Castle?”

  She handed me her phone, all big, goofy, toothy grin. “Yes.”

  I let her use my account, because why not?

  Just about the time I had my Amazon up and running on Lua’s phone, Isaac approached our table. Lua was no longer sitting across from me. She had moved so she was sitting next to me, not touching me, just peering over my shoulder, but even without contact, the physical closeness of her was delicious. We were sharing my earbuds and I had just hit play. A few minutes earlier Raina had made a little closing of the ceremonies speech that included some back and forth from the crowd but neither Lua nor I had really participated. Following Raina’s speech, the festivities were over, and people began to leave, but Lua and I hadn’t made a move toward the door and I think that drew Isaac’s attention. He sat down in the seat Lua had vacated.

  “Looking chummy,” he said. And then he went all super professorial, which kinda seemed to be his personality but for me it was still awkward on a dude in his late teens or early twenties. It made me feel like I wasn’t mature enough to hang with him. “Did we even attempt to complete the orientation assignment, or was this all just a smiley shit show for the unsuspecting audience?”

  Lua who up until that moment hadn’t taken her eyes off her phone’s screen, paused The Man in the High Castle and looked up to answer Issac. She liked eye contact, and I liked that about her.

  “Drew’s an entitled bastard and if I wasn’t a white girl, then I’d basically be at the bottom of the food chain.” She didn’t pause. “Did you know they made The Man in the High Castle into a show?”

  Isaac laughed, so did I. She was sort of manic and weird and really adorable.

  He looked at me. “Did you purposely distract her?”

  I got the feeling that he was more aware of our relationship than most. “It doesn’t take much.”

  Lua pouted. “If you two are going to talk about me like I’m not here, then I’m going to hit play.”

  Isaac turned to me again. “Sorry about the behavior of the crowd earlier. I don’t even know what to say.”

  Lua answered him before I got a chance. “That was bad. B-A-D.” She tilted her head toward where all the other people in the room had been. “How can these people think of themselves as open-minded?”

  I defended them. “Honestly, Lua, I’m the entitled bastard, right? They don’t know any different. They are just practicing self-defense.” I wanted her to like it at Hamilton. I wanted her to have friends, so that she wouldn't disappear back to her sequestered life on the thrive.

  She wasn’t having it. “No excuses. If you are the entitled bastard they think you are, then they should be trying to enlighten you.” She was so fiery.

  Sparring with her made my hair stand on end, in the good way. “Pot meet Kettle. You should be trying to enlighten them.”

  “I am. What do you think I’m doing over here?” She directed her words at me with an intense haughty energy. “They know through our mutually shared experiences that I’ve already confirmed that you’re chock-full o’entitlement. My kindness toward you highlights the smallness of their behavior. And if I do say so myself, it does so in a wonderfully passive-aggressive way. I’ve shamed them. They all know we have a history of animosity, and I was the one who chose to be the bigger person.”

  Isaac was laughing again. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Interesting. Very, very interesting.”

  Lua made a sound, a “Ughgch,” sound in the back of her throat. And then she narrowed her eyes at him. “Just leave it, Isaac. I get the feeling that you and I are going to be tight but right now we’re just barely friends, and you don't know what you think you know.”

  My head snapped in her direction.

  Isaac held his hands up in innocence. “As far as I’m concerned, nothing to see.”

  Interesting.

  Raina walked up behind Isaac. She pointed at Lua and in an old-timey news reporter’s voice, she said, “You two are the talk of the town.” For dramatic effect, she followed the comment with a very exaggerated wink. We all laughed. In her no
rmal voice, she said, “No, really, everyone’s talking about you.”

  Under my breath, I grumbled, “See, villain.”

  Lua didn’t flinch. “Is it torrid? Am I the town harlot?”

  Raina answered her. “Maybe a little, but basically they all feel like assholes.” She pulled out the chair next to Isaac, flipped it around so she had to straddle it to sit facing us, and then she pointed at me and said, “If I had to guess, this one here has you to thank for a much easier transition than he would have had otherwise.”

  Lua confirmed Raina’s point by saying, “Damn Skippy, he does.”

  “Damn Skippy? Really? Where did you get that expression?” Raina asked.

  Without considering that what I was saying could easily be misconstrued, I offered, “She also uses the verb ‘bed’ to discuss having sex. It’s fucking weird.”

  Both Raina and Isaacs’s eyebrows jumped up in curiosity. Raina leaned forward on her elbow and propping her chin up with her hand said, “Do tell…”

  “Fuck. No, that’s not… It wasn’t in the context that you’re thinking it was.”

  Lua was unfazed. “He asked me if I was dating Joe, my best friend, and I told him I would sooner swim in barf than bed my best friend, he’s like my brother for Christ’s sake. And P.S. I still maintain that ‘bed’ is a perfectly good verb.”

  Raina interjected again. “So are you two actually friends? I thought that whole interview was a load of shit.”

  I looked to Lua and she looked to me. I liked sitting with her at that table. I liked chitchatting with Raina and Isaac. I felt at ease. I liked keeping Lua close. So, even though my cock was pressing into my zipper, begging me to say otherwise, I conceded. She wanted us to be friends, so we would be friends.

  I looked back at Raina. “You’re right on both counts. We’re friends and that interview was a load of shit.”

  Raina wasn’t one hundred percent ready to accept my declaration of friendliness. “Really, because the rumors I’ve heard don’t tend to cast Drew Scott as a friend to women everywhere.”