Kittenfish: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy

by Brenda Lowder

  Giselle needs to say something flirtatious, something encouraging that at the same time challenges him to pursue her and tantalizes with the promise of a future for them.

  Giselle Bisset

  There’s no solution, sweet man. Love’s not a sickness you get over. It’s a carnival ride that spins until you’re dizzy. If you’re lucky, it will last for a good, long time.

  Tarek Oliver

  I guess some people are looking for the ride to last forever.

  Giselle Bisset

  Exactly.

  ∞∞∞

  “Dildo fest.”

  Ally from reception is standing in front of my desk, her curtain of white-blond hair covering half her face.

  “Excuse me?” I stare at her. At the half of her I can see past the hair, anyway.

  “Dildo fest.” She always speaks slowly, but she seems to draw these two words out especially long, like she’s enjoying saying them a little too much.

  “Um, okay. Enjoy yourself.” Weirdo.

  “No. Look.” She lifts up a section of the paper I hadn’t noticed earlier. “All of the first letters of the classified ads here,” she waves a finger down a portion of the columns, “spell ‘DILDO FEST.’ People have been calling like crazy about it for the last twenty minutes.”

  “Really?” It was unusual for the paper to get much response from our online or print editions.

  “Yeah. We’ve gotten five calls. It’s insane out there.”

  I take the paper from her. “Uh oh.” Sure enough, she’s right. “DILDOFEST” is straight down the left column, impossible to miss. Or to believe that Blaire could have missed it.

  “Has Blaire seen this?”

  Ally shakes her head and her hair swings, threatening to cover the other half of her face too. She pushes it back with a pale hand. “I can’t find her.”

  “I’ll find her. Thanks for letting me know.” I stand and consider running, but she’s blocking my way.

  “It’s on the online edition too.”

  My stomach drops. Of course it is. I quickly pull up our online issue. The classifieds align to spell “Dildo Fest” there too. Blaire got both of them to do that? Serious talent.

  “What should I tell the callers?” Ally asks in her slow voice.

  I put a finger to my lips, thinking. “Tell them they’re very smart to have noticed. And that no one else has. They were the first. And assure them that sometimes text just randomly lines up to spell odd words like that.”

  “Does it?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” With a last look at me, Ally inches away, but my boss Ronnie tromps to my desk to take her place, looking as goose-ish as ever.

  “Where is she?” Her tone is not kind. I don’t even pretend I don’t know to whom she’s referring.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” I don’t mention that I haven’t seen Blaire at all today and doubt she’s even in the building. It’s been driving me crazy because I’ve been dying to tell her my “Liam Is Back” story.

  When Ronnie squints her eyes, her black and gray makeup mixes together, and I wonder when she’ll fly south for the winter. “When you see her, tell her I’m looking for her. To talk about her career post-Dildo Fest.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Why in the world is Blaire doing her best to get fired?

  ∞∞∞

  With Blaire’s disappearing act and the upheaval that Dildo Fest causes, I don’t get a chance to talk to Kya until after work. I didn’t call her last night after Tarek and Liam left because my head was still spinning and I needed time to process my thoughts on my own. But now I’m dying to tell her and can’t wait to see her shocked face in person. I stop by her apartment and when she answers the door, my thunder is immediately stolen.

  “Liam is back,” she tells me before I can tell her.

  “How do you know?” My shoulders sag, and I want to pout. It was big, dramatic news. I was going to stretch it out for maximum effect.

  “Tarek told me.” She closes and locks the door. Valkyrie bounds into the room and halts near my feet, snuggling into my hand when I bend to pet her. But I don’t have to wait long to get the attention I wanted from Kya.

  She regards me with an eager expression that makes her resemble a Valkyrie. “So what happened? What did Liam say? What was his excuse? Did you hit him?”

  I smile as she pauses to breathe. “I didn’t hit him. But Tarek did.”

  “Tarek hit him?”

  “He didn’t mention it?”

  “No.” She pulls Valkyrie onto her lap and combs her fur with her fingers.

  I kick off my shoes—I’m as comfortable at Kya’s place as I am at my own—and make myself cozy on her couch.

  “What did Tarek say?” I ask once I’m settled.

  “Just that he brought you that book you wanted to borrow and Liam showed up out of the blue at the same time.”

  Or approximately fifteen minutes after we’d started making out, which Kya obviously doesn’t know about. Good. Tarek was keeping his mouth shut about the weirdness between us.

  “You have any wine?” As if I need to ask.

  “I’ve got a nice Cabernet and some rosé.” She starts to stand, and Valkyrie leaps to the floor, running to the kitchen ahead of her.

  “Yes to both.” I pick up my phone. “How about I order us a pizza?”

  She pauses on her way to the kitchen. “You’ve got a boyfriend and a newly recovered fiancé and you’re choosing to spend the evening eating pizza and hiding at your best friend’s place? Uh oh. You’d better tell me everything. Fast.”

  I wave her down. “I will. I will. After I order the pizza.” There’s no way I’m telling her everything.

  I call the order in. I won’t do online delivery ever since the time Blaire and I accidentally pushed the “place order” button twice and got double the pizza for which we paid double the price.

  Kya returns from the kitchen and sets glasses and the wine bottle on the coffee table. She sits in the chair and pours for us.

  “So what’s happening with Liam?” she asks after I’ve successfully placed our half extra cheese and pepperoni and half supreme pizza order. She holds my glass of wine out of reach. “Tell me, or no drinking.”

  “He showed up, Tarek left, Liam and I talked. Now gimme.” I grab my drink without spilling.

  She sighs and offers me a commiserating look. “He can’t have had a good excuse.”

  I snort. “Um, no. Just said he was sorry. He was so wrong for leaving me. He’s the stupidest man alive. All he wants is to have me back, blah blah blah.”

  Kya blows out a breath. “And you told him you are a strong woman who has discovered you never loved him and to get the hell out.”

  I take a gulp of rosé and stare at Kya’s dining room table, strewn with papers, pens, and her computer.

  “Tell me you told him that.” She leans forward and glares at me meaningfully.

  I squirm. “Not in so many words.”

  “What words did you use?”

  I shrug and stare into my rosé. “I said I’d go out with him.”

  “You what?”

  “He wanted to get back together, and I said no. I told him I’m seeing someone.” I look at Kya with wide eyes, and she nods, thinking I mean Brandon when Liam definitely thought I meant Tarek…and Brandon, but whatever. “And Liam wanted a second chance. So I told him he could have one. But he’ll have to start at the beginning. Like we’d just met. I’ll date him and see how he measures up against Brandon. They can compete.”

  Kya almost spit-takes her mouthful of wine. “Have Liam compete against Brandon?”

  I shrug again and tuck my feet up onto the couch. “Why not? Brandon and I aren’t exclusive.” Really not exclusive if I’m kissing Tarek in closets. And couches. And other places. What other places could we kiss in? Larger closets, carpeted closets, beds, bigger beds, smaller beds…I tell myself not to picture them, but I do anyway. “Brandon and I haven’t gotten serious yet. We’ve ba
rely kissed. I can date them both and then decide between them.”

  She shakes her head and frowns like our seventh-grade teacher. “It’s not going to work.”

  “Sure it is. It’s sensible.” I tap my fingernail against my glass.

  “Noooo,” Kya stretches the word out for emphasis. “It’s the opposite of sensible.”

  I sip my wine, relax against the cushions, and allow my eyes to drift half-shut. “Maybe.” At the moment, I don’t really care. And now that I’m away from them, I’m finding it difficult to muster any feeling for Liam or Brandon one way or the other. I’ll just wait and see who’s left standing.

  Kya narrows her eyes. “I don’t know about this new Zen Marissa.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This is the reaction to your missing fiancé coming back, begging with his heart in his hands?” She gestures at me with her palm up and tilts her head. “What happened to the girl who made me dress like a stylish burglar, all in black, slink around his house, and stalk him and the stripper?”

  I think back to the night Kya and I watched Liam and the woman he left me for dance in his kitchen while I crouched in his bushes. “She grew up and stopped caring so much.”

  “Apparently.” Kya shakes her head and takes a drink before continuing. She runs a finger down the stem of her glass. “That was nice of Tarek to punch Liam for running away on you.”

  I snort again. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. “He didn’t.”

  Kya sits up straighter. “Yes, he did. You just told me Tarek punched Liam.”

  I wave her down. “Oh, he punched Liam, all right, but not to punish him for me. He punched him because Liam punched Tarek first.”

  Kya’s eyebrows draw together. “Liam punched Tarek? Why?”

  “For being there.”

  She cranes her neck, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  And finally my mind catches up to why Tarek probably left out that part of the story when he told Kya. “I guess Liam was jealous?” I try to sound like it’s an unbelievable thing to think. It’s not that hard to pretend. I still don’t really believe it. “When he found Tarek at my place, he thought something could’ve maybe been going on between us.” I roll my eyes to show the ridiculousness of the idea.

  Kya laughs. Really hard. Insultingly hard. She laughs until tears are streaming from her eyes, and she has to gasp for breath and grab my arm for balance. Then she laughs some more. I try to join in, like thinking something physical going on between Tarek and me would be unimaginably hilarious instead of my new favorite daydream based on rock-hard reality.

  The doorbell rings. “Pizza’s here!” I jump up, happy to be distracted, and leave Kya rolling with her howls of laughter.

  I pluck my wallet from my purse and fling open the door. “How much—” I stop as my mind registers that the man holding the pizza box aloft is Tarek and not a random and harmless pizza delivery person.

  The smile leaves his lips when he sees it’s me and not Kya, and a somber look edges into his eyes. “Hey,” he says and lowers the box. “I—uh—ran into the pizza guy in the hall and paid him for Kya. And I guess, for you.” He holds it out to me like a gift.

  I look at him for a second. “Okay. Thanks.” I take it from him and bring it to the coffee table. He follows me, closing the door behind him.

  “What’s so funny?” he asks Kya, who’s still laughing.

  She raises her eyebrows in surprise at seeing him and tries to lock down the remains of her laughter. “Nothing,” she gasps. “Just a joke Marissa told.”

  “It’s really nothing,” I say, alarms going off in my brain lest I should be asked to repeat said joke. “Kya’s just crazy.”

  “I am,” she says and finally pulls herself together. She looks at the pizza box. “I’m getting some plates. Tarek?”

  He glances up at her.

  “Staying for pizza?”

  He cuts his eyes to me then back at her. “Sure.”

  “Great.” She skips to the kitchen.

  Tarek peers in the direction Kya took then scoots to the edge of his chair. In a low voice he says, “What happened with Liam last night?”

  Now that I don’t have his tongue in my mouth distracting me, the old anger comes back. This right here is the man responsible—by his own admission—for Liam running off in the first place.

  “It’s none of your business,” I hiss quietly, leaning toward him.

  “I think it is,” he hisses back, his eyes straying from my face to my cleavage, now accentuated by my leaning forward with my elbows tight at my sides.

  “And I know it isn’t.” I stick my elbows out so they’re less supportive, but his glance stays low.

  “We okay with paper plates?” Kya sweeps into the room. Tarek sits back.

  “Sure,” I tell her in a normal voice. “Kya, how’s it going with Trina?”

  Too late I see Tarek shaking his head at me.

  Kya’s eyes gather moisture, and I feel like a terrible friend for not monitoring the Trina situation more closely. I should know without asking what topics will send my best friend into a sob storm.

  She sets the plates and napkins on the coffee table and sits on the couch next to me. I pat her on the back.

  After long seconds of staring at her hands, she finally says, “Trina isn’t into me.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I put my arm across her shoulders and squeeze her in a half hug.

  “I’m sorry too.” She pats my hand and takes a deep breath. “I knew it wasn’t your fault that she was ignoring me at the Korean BBQ dinner. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

  “It’s okay. It’s—” I break off when the top of the opened pizza box hits my knee.

  “Sorry,” Tarek says with his mouth full, half his piece already gone.

  Kya laughs and wipes her eyes. “Forget it. Dig in.” She gestures at the box. “Before it gets cold.”

  She and I each take a slice. I tell her Trina’s a fool for not appreciating her. Tarek asks if she can get a refund on her gym membership. By the time we’ve polished off the last of the pizza, Kya seems more hopeful about the future. I make a mental note to look around the office for any new love interests for her. I’ve often wondered what team Ally the goth receptionist plays for, but I’m not sure I could stand going on double dates with her and her slow-talking ways.

  “I have to go,” I tell Kya. I don’t have to go, but it’s weird sitting next to Tarek, pretending everything’s normal. I hate him. I want him. And I hate that I’m wanting him. Time to go home. “Thanks for dinner. And wine.” I give her a big hug and wave goodbye to Tarek in a normal, friendly, completely non-provocative, non-suspicion-causing kind of way.

  I’m halfway down the stairs when I hear a clatter above me. I look up to find Tarek descending the steps two at a time. My stomach flips, and I don’t know if it’s panic or passion. I pause on the landing. He slows to a stop when he reaches me. He obviously wants to talk, and my heart pounds as I wonder what he’s going to say.

  Maybe something like it’s stupid that we keep kissing. Or don’t tell Kya that we keep kissing. And maybe we should set up alternating days when we can hang out with her so we don’t awkwardly run into each other again like this and wish we were kissing.

  But he doesn’t say a word. Instead he grazes my cheek with his fingers and in one delicious push propels me backward against the wall. His hips and chest and mouth all make contact in exactly the right places, and I find myself swirling in the midst of our third sudden makeout session.

  My body bends around this feeling. My pulse rockets, my belly squirms, my knees tremble, threatening to buckle.

  I drop my purse and wrap my arms around him. I kiss him hard and suck on his tongue. He grabs my hips with a hand on each side and crushes against me. The hard length of him digs into me, really making me wish we were naked and horizontal right now, and not in the stairwell of Kya’s apartment building.

  A door
clangs open over our heads, and through the switchback of stair rails I can just see Kya’s elderly neighbor, Mr. Florian, descending the stairs.

  My breathing is ragged when I pull away. “Let’s go somewhere else.” I pant against Tarek’s lips and bite his lower one, tugging on it, because it’s there and I can.

  He groans low in his throat. “Yes, please.” The way he draws out the whispered words sounds like begging.

  We step apart and rush down the rest of the stairs before Mr. Florian can catch up with us.

  Banging out the door at ground level, Tarek and I enter the cool evening air. There are few lights in the apartment building’s parking lot, and I can see the stars shining above us. I breathe deeply. Some of my good sense comes back. I turn to Tarek on the sidewalk.

  “No, don’t do that,” he says, already watching me.

  I pause in front of him and incline my head. “Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t think too hard about this.”

  “I already have.” I clasp my hands in front of me.

  He runs a hand through his hair. “Shit. I know. I knew you would.”

  I shrug. “Don’t sweat it,” I say. “You’ll probably pick up another girl between the sidewalk and your car.”

  He narrows his eyes at me and glances away. I leave him standing there on the concrete and walk to my car, thinking.

  I have to be sensible about my romantic entanglements. I’ll call Brandon or Liam or both when I get home and evaluate which one I really want. It’s time to get my plans for the future solidified.

  ∞∞∞

  When I get home, I call Brandon. We make a date for Saturday night. He’s ecstatic that we’ll be going out together alone—without any of my friends there to enact some elaborate scene. I don’t tell him how right he is in using the word “scene.”

  In the interest of being proactive and fair, I call Liam next, and, in a very short conversation, set up a date for Friday night. Keeping them one after the other will help me compare oranges to oranges.