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

by Lola West

  “What the fuck, assholes? What are you doing here?” There was no jest in my voice. I was downright bitter.

  Conner didn’t answer. He just pushed past me into S.A.F.E.’s lobby and I noticed he was holding a case of beer.

  An obliviously drunk version of Pete said, “We came to celebrate with you, douchebag.” Then he too clambered into the lobby, also carrying a case of beer.

  I didn’t want them at the door, and I wanted them in the lobby even less. I turned to face them both. Conner had already made himself comfortable on a couch by the front desk and was tearing into his case of beer to pull out a can. Pete actually dropped his case on top on the front desk and then plopped his bottom down on the desk, right between the two computer monitors. I started to feel panic in the pit of my stomach because it was clear these two fuckers intended to stay.

  “Celebrate what?” I bit out.

  Pete threw out his arms dramatically. “This shit is over, man. Isn’t it?” I must have quirked my head at him because he decided to elaborate. “This is your last night in this hellhole. You never have to set foot in this fucking den of man-hating hairy-legged feminists again!”

  Of course, this was the moment when Lua appeared.

  Paying no heed to her, Conner laughed, took a big swig of his beer, burped, and said, “Time you got back to humping pussy rather than being one, dude.” Then he lifted the beer can and toasted the air.

  “Haazaa!” Pete cheered, lifting his can as well.

  Lua rolled her eyes and immediately turned and headed up the stairs. Pete and Conner continued to act like assholes, but I stopped listening. I watched Lua’s ass as she climbed. When she got to the landing at the top, she turned and looked at me. I tried to tell her with my eyes that I didn’t want this. I tried to will her to understand that I didn’t know how to get rid of them. I wanted to be with her. I wanted to go into the lounge with her and watch a movie and feel her curl into my armpit. I wanted to hold her hand and walk her back to her dorm room. I wanted kiss her more, pin her to her door, maybe make her come again and then bow out like a gentleman. Go home with blue balls because I wanted to wait with Lua. Because I wanted to make love to Lua. Because I wanted Lua to really be ready, because I wanted her to know that she was safe, that we were safe together, because I was as scared as Lua, because I was as undone as Lua, because we were fucked.

  But she didn’t see that. She looked at me from the top of the landing, shook her head, and walked away.

  I wasn’t going to be able to fix it. Not like this.

  30

  Lua

  For three and a half hours I sat in the lounge at S.A.F.E. and wondered, on repeat, how did I do this to myself again? I did not stay downstairs with Drew and his frat buddies. Two minutes of that was more than enough for me. I turned on the television, but I didn’t watch. I was prepared to answer the phone. I would have welcomed the distraction, but it didn’t ring. I could hear the two of them downstairs, gregarious. Drew was quiet, and I knew it. But he wasn’t here with me and he didn’t kick them out. And he didn’t say something when they acted like chauvinist scoundrels, and that was the core of it. No matter how it felt when we were together, the world kept going all around us and Drew was Drew, a rich white frat boy, the political equivalent of American royalty, and I was Lua, a hippie activist who grew up on a commune.

  It was a moment. A beautiful moment. And yes, we changed each other. And yes, I lost control and cried in his arms like a broken rag doll. And yes, he held me like we belonged together, like my skin was his skin. We mattered to each other. We knew that. We were drawn to each other. It was lusty and overwhelming and hard to stay away from. But he wasn’t coming to live on my side of the line and I sure as hell wasn’t taking one step toward the lines his people drew, so checkmate.

  In the kitchen, as soon as the phone rang, I remembered. I had a plan. I was at S.A.F.E. to do a job, help people. I was at Hamilton for the same reason. And Drew Scott was a distraction that made me lose sight of that. He made me weak, lost, and unfocused. I couldn’t let him in anymore. I couldn’t let him distract me. And I most definitely couldn’t let him hurt me. We needed a clean break.

  I glanced up at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes till six a.m., and then I was out of here, and this mess with Drew was over. I could hear him ushering those Neanderthals out of the lobby. Raina would arrive to relieve us at six and there was no way he wanted her to see them here. And then it would be over; his penance at S.A.F.E. was complete, and I’d make sure that his time with me was as well. I stood up and headed in his direction to tell him just that.

  He was already on the stairs headed for me when I got to the landing.

  “Lua,” he begged, his face pallid. He stopped halfway up the stairs.

  I smiled sadly at him. I wasn’t going to be angry this time. “It’s better this way.”

  “No…” He was stern, but I wasn’t having it.

  I cut him off. “Drew, everything’s the same. You’re still you and I’m still me.”

  “I’m not. It’s not.” He started to climb the steps toward me.

  “This was an oasis, these nights sequestered here, spending time together. No matter how awesome it was, it’s not real. We have lives that are complicated and honestly, you were right in New York; there is no way around that.”

  “No.” He was starting to sound frustrated. “Lua, I wasn’t right. You were right. Please, listen to me…”

  He was almost close enough to touch me, but I wasn’t going to let him. I put my hands up and took a step backwards, physically signaling to him that contact wasn’t welcome, and he was visibly affected. It was a kind of angry sad.

  “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He raged hot for a second, clenching his fists in front of him like he wanted to hit something, and then there was so much sadness in his face I thought he might actually cry. “How are we here again?” he asked, dropping his face and covering his eyes with his hands.

  Even though I was physically reeling at his sorrow, my stomach clenched, my mouth dry, my heart broken, I remained unwavering and said, “This is the only place we live.”

  He didn’t uncover his face; he just made a hollow sound, a guttural lament, a sound so harrowed that I thought he might puke.

  I closed my eyes and imagined ice encasing my heart. “I think it would be best if we stayed away from each other.” I paused to take a deep breath and then put the final nail in the coffin. “I think the experiment that was our friendship is officially over.”

  His head snapped up; there was shock on his face. I moved to get past him, and he took a step to the side, so we were face-to-face. “Lua, don’t.” He choked a little on his words, like it was hard for him to speak at all. “Please don’t do this. It’s a mistake.”

  He reached out and fluttered his fingers against mine.

  “Don’t,” I said.

  The door downstairs opened, and Raina’s voice bellowed, “Mornin’, biatches… I’ve got coffee!”

  I moved to his right and left him standing on the stairs.

  31

  Drew

  I had too much to drink, but I wasn’t sloshed. It was New Year’s Eve, after the ball dropped, and my family was at the New Year’s Eve gala at our country club. Post-midnight on New Year’s Eve is a weird time. It’s akin to a deflating balloon; initially it was all play and celebration, but now it’s floating midair, like am I still doing this or should we just call it a night. Most of the partygoers had already gone home, but the senator was having cigars and cognac with some other assholes, including Katie’s stepdad and Pete’s dad, so my family and friends were still lingering.

  I started the night starched and dapper, clad in the full-blown monkey suit, but by this point I was sitting at a big round table, alone, bow tie and cummerbund discarded somewhere along the way. There was a tumbler of scotch in front of me. New Year’s Eve was an acceptable exception from the senator’s sanctimonious bullshit. We were all pretty much allowed to be ineb
riated on holidays. The only exception might be James, but I mean, he’s in middle school so that’s not unreasonable. Actually, the club’s policies against press kept me relatively safe from judgment so honestly, I don’t think he would give a fuck if my little brother was shooting up heroine in the bathroom, as long as no one reported it and the kid didn’t OD because we were all expected in the church pew on Sunday, sparkling clean and prepared to shit ice cream. But my mom cared, so James was probably close to sober. I mean middle schooler’s sneak sips, right?

  All in all it was a quiet night. The senator was too busy pressing the flesh, making nice with his cronies and laying the foundation for future campaign donations, to hound us. Pete and Katie danced most of the night, sloppy, draped all over each other like lovers. At this point the music had shifted to slower more romantic beats. Katie had her cheek pressed to Pete’s chest, and he definitely rested his hand lower than what’s appropriate for friends, but they were always a little in the gray. It was actually kind of sweet and made me think that it was too bad they weren’t lovers. I mean, they were all fucked up and broken like me, but they were suited. Since Lua, I’d started to notice that when they were together, they seemed less anxious. It was something in the brow, like tension left their expressions when they were in the same room.

  I watched from across the room as my mother left the group of women she was talking to and headed my way. She looked older than I remember and tired, but she was definitely still beautiful, not a wild free beauty like Lua, but she had a waifish elegance. Sometimes she reminded me of a blue heron, long, fragile lines, very graceful posture, gorgeous, made perfect by nature but always a reminder of what it feels like to be lonely. When she was in front of me, she reached her hand out and asked, “Dance?”

  I felt the corner of my mouth lift in a half smile and I nodded, standing. Normally, when I danced with my mother, it was like practicing for a cotillion, but tonight she put her head on my shoulder and we swayed. All night I wondered what Lua was doing, and this moment was no exception. I wanted to be present. I knew my mom was trying to show me love. She always tried to love me, but I’d been angry at her for staying married to the senator for as long as I could remember, and loving her felt like as much of a lie as everything else. She didn’t protect me from him. She didn’t protect Molly or James. I hated her for that, even when I loved her.

  She leaned back a little, looking up at my face. “Did you have fun tonight, baby?”

  I knew my expression grew more stern, and I nodded tersely. She stopped swaying, reaching up and touching my jaw. I could see in her eyes she’d had one too many drinks too. Actually, it was probably pills; the glaze in her eyes looked more like drinks on top of pills.

  Still holding my face, she smiled but her eyes were sad. “Always so serious, my first baby.”

  My stomach turned.

  “Even as a little boy, you were dark. Always so dark.”

  It had never occurred to her to ask me why or if I was okay, not standing in that ballroom on New Year’s Eve, not the first time my father called me a loser after my little league lost a baseball game, not after Bonnaroo, never. I hated her for that too. Sometimes I wondered if my mother was what becomes of the type of women who only wanted me because I was a senator’s son.

  I drew her back into my chest and started to sway again. I didn’t really hate her. I mostly felt sorry for her. Her breaths shuddered against my chest. She was too fucking sad to take care of us.

  We stayed swaying like that until the senator came crashing into the ballroom, headed straight for us. His rage was tangible. His target remained unclear, possibly me but most likely my mother, but he’d gone full bull, looking to gut his victim. He didn’t fear press here; he had drinks, and the party had thinned out so there was no expectation that he’d contain himself. He pulled Molly by the wrist behind him. The back of her dress was unzipped, gapping at the side as she used her free hand to hold the bodice to her chest. Molly was silent but her cheeks were wet with tears. My mother and I broke apart. Neither of us had the familial instinct to jump in front of the other. We just stood there, bracing for the onslaught.

  The senator stopped and then wrenched hard and whipped Molly’s arm around in a semi-circle, so that she tumbled forward in my direction. I caught her, but I had to step toward her, and we were both on the ground by the time she was in my arms. The senator spit his wrath in my mother’s direction. “I found this little whore you raised on her belly, bent over a desk while some fucking bus boy plowed into her.”

  My mother’s jaw dropped just a touch; it was about as much of a reaction as I’ve ever seen out of her. I honestly wasn’t sure if she was offended by the senator or Molly. Molly was literally clinging to my shoulders. The few people left in the ballroom were listening and watching. I turned and glared at a group of whisperers off to my right. That’s right, motherfuckers; take a good look at your senator. His children aren’t beaten, but they sure are scarred.

  Pete and Katie had been on my left, but they appeared next to me. Katie quietly knelt beside Molly and started zipping up her dress. Then she started shifting Molly into her arms, and Pete moved so he was standing in front of them both. I stood too. Molly and Katie were no longer in the senator’s line of sight. But there was no hope for my mother.

  The senator continued. “How about our son? Have you seen him tonight?”

  My mother glanced toward me.

  “No, not that one, you idiot,” he hissed. “Your younger son. Because he’s in the library. Passed out next to a puddle of his own vomit. You have two jobs, Sarah. Looking presentable and wrangling our fucking kids, and clearly you’re not capable of either.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “Jesus Christ.” I rolled my eyes.

  He turned to me. “You got something to say, because it’s not like you aren’t a disappointment.”

  A few months ago, I would have stood there, stoic, solid steel against his attack, but I had nothing to lose; Lua was already gone. So it just slipped out; all the hatred flowed from my mouth, consequences be damned. “Thank fucking God,” I popped. “Because if you saw value in me then I’d probably be a morally bankrupt asshole. I mean, look at you. You’re a fucking monster. Your kids are all broken; your wife is terrified, and your whole life’s a lie. So, thank fucking God that I’m a disappointment to you, because I don’t want to be anything, anything that you would value.”

  To my surprise, he didn’t hit me. He stood there flabbergasted. A part of me loved that I’d shocked him. Another part of me was terrified of what I started, and a tiny little flicker in the center of my core knew that this moment was my beginning.

  I stepped toward him. Close enough that he could feel my breath on his face. Calmly, quietly, I said, “We are going to leave now, Senator. We’re going home and going to bed. Make your own way.”

  I turned to my family and friends, who also looked a little shell-shocked and motioned for them to move. “Molly, Mom, time to go. Katie will help you two to the car. Pete, will you help me with James?”

  Pete nodded.

  And we left.

  Just before I cleared the ballroom doors, the senator called out, “This is not over, young man.”

  But it was, and I’d finally won a round.

  Lua was right. I could fight for what I wanted.

  32

  Lua

  Before everything with Drew imploded, I invited Raina and Isaac to come and visit the thrive. We made a plan that they would come up together for the last few days of winter break. Isaac had a car and they both grew up in the New York metro area so traveling together was convenient, and then after their visit we would all drive back to school together. I knew they were interested in where I came from, and I thought that having them at the thrive would make me feel more secure in our friendships.

  After what happened with Drew before the winter break, I didn’t really want to see anyone. I spent my holidays moping about the thrive. At first, I was angry with myself,
angry that I wanted him, angry that I gave in to that want. Then I was angry that we couldn’t make it work, angry that touching him was so incredible that I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and angry that moving to another planet where there weren’t so many complications for us wasn’t an option. But in the end, I was mostly just heartbroken. I missed him. I missed laughing with him and seeing him smile. I also missed the way I felt when I was with him, like everything was real, like I was really breathing for the first time. That’s right, Drew even affected the oxygen around me. So now, I was sad.

  But I didn’t feel comfortable talking to Raina and Isaac about how I was feeling, so they came, and I pretended I was fine. My father treated them like everyone who lived on the thrive, meaning they were asked to cook meals, paint fences (in the freezing cold), scrub pans, carry jars, and anything else he thought they were qualified for. For some people my father’s demands might have been uncomfortable, but Raina and Isaac loved it. All they talked about was how cool it was to see people working together, and so efficiently. I think Rania said efficiently a thousand times in three days.

  On the last night together before we packed up and headed to school, all the thrivers threw us a party. The general consensus on the thrive was that any excuse for a party was a good excuse. We had a big buffet potluck in the central meeting house, and then we made s’mores outside and played music around the fire pit. The thrive fire pit isn’t some rinky-dink tin can you buy at Home Depot. This is an honest-to-goodness outdoor fire pit with rocks we dragged in wheelbarrows from the lake and then set in a circle. Honestly, it's more bonfire than fire pit, but we don’t actually build a fire taller than humans, which is what I think of when someone says bonfire. This is just like a big ol’ fire pit with a lot of Adirondack chairs and rocks and wood stools around it.