Bitter Rival: an enemies to lovers romance

by J. Sterling

  He always ended his tirade with a warning for me to stay away from James and made me promise that I would. He’d told me on more than one occasion that nothing in this world could disappoint him more than me befriending James Russo and that if it ever happened, he would disown me completely and I’d lose the winery.

  That was a pretty damn heavy cross to bear. One I’d never even confessed to my best friend. I kept that tidbit of information inside, too embarrassed to admit it to anyone, not even my mother. It felt like some sort of betrayal to my father to repeat it out loud, especially when he felt so strongly about the subject. Instead, I’d allowed his words to become a part of me, a weight so unbearably heavy at first but, with time, had become manageable. James was the devil who could make me lose the winery and everything I’d worked for my whole life. No one was worth that. End of story.

  “Now that we’re older, you’ve never wondered why you’re supposed to hate him? I mean, wondered enough to push it and get real answers? At what point do you both deserve the truth?” Jeanine pushed. She was always pushing.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know; it was more that I’d simply accepted the fact that I might never know, and I’d convinced myself that I was okay with that. Even though our entire small town knew about the rivalry, no one ever dared to elaborate on it. I wasn’t sure who they were scared of more—my father or James’s father. Whenever I’d made the mistake of asking someone who I thought would know details, they always said they couldn’t remember or that I should ask my parents. Even old man Johnson at the liquor store had said our families’ story was like folklore now, passed down from generation to generation, but all screwed up the way the game of telephone got and that I couldn’t trust what anyone around here said about it. I couldn’t argue with that logic, so I’d eventually stopped trying.

  I groaned before directing my attention once again toward James. “He’s a stubborn ass. He’s cocky and egotistical, and he thinks the world revolves around him. That’s reason enough for me. What about that rumor he started about me in high school? I can’t even look at him without wanting to gouge his eyeballs out for that.”

  “That was a hundred years ago. And I still think he did it on purpose,” she countered softly as if scared of my reaction.

  “Of course he did it on purpose! He wanted to ruin my life,” I practically shouted as my mind took an instant trip down memory lane.

  It had been in high school, junior year, and James had told everyone that I had sex with him. Not just sex, but that I had also lost my virginity to him.

  At first, I laughed it off, naively thinking that since everyone knew how much James and I hated each other, no one would ever believe it. But they did. Every single person believed James, and after that lie, no guy asked me out or even looked at me in passing. It was devastating to a sixteen-year-old girl to have that kind of stuff being said about her.

  It was even worse when I confronted James about it, demanding he take back the lie and tell people the truth.

  He smirked at me before telling me, “No,” like that was the end of the conversation.

  But, apparently, it was because I had been too mortified to bring it up again, and he had been too satisfied with himself over ruining my reputation to ever take it back.

  It was a funny thing—a girl’s word versus a guy’s. Why was it that no one ever believed the girl when sex was involved?

  DRUNK CONFESSIONS

  James

  Looking at Julia La Bella was like staring at the sun. I couldn’t look for too long or else it started to really fucking hurt. Yeah, I knew that was a cheesy-as-hell comparison, but the woman was a goddess. She always had been.

  I’d learned the definition of beautiful the first time I ever laid eyes on her as a little kid. A part of me fell in love with her then even though she hated my guts and couldn’t stand being anywhere near me. I didn’t blame her though. The second we found out about each other, we were raised to despise the other. I’d just never been any good at following the rules, especially ones that made no fucking sense.

  I was pretty sure that if Julia could get away with murdering me, she’d at least give it the old college try. The death stare she currently penetrated me with only furthered my feelings on the matter. Her best friend, Jeanine, however, would definitely try and stop her though. I wasn’t sure what the hell I’d ever done to get on Jeanine’s good side, but I’d always be thankful for it.

  “I really need to get to work here, ladies. I’m sure you need to do the same.” I flashed a charming smile at the group of women who had gathered around my booth and refused to leave.

  No matter how disinterested I appeared, they didn’t give up or go away. They were relentless in their pursuits. And trust me; I recognized the irony that was my life.

  “See you after the competition,” they all threatened before scattering back to where they belonged.

  I cast another glance over at Julia, and my damn breath caught in my throat. She had always affected me that way, and there was a pretty good chance that she always would. Which, let’s be honest, didn’t fare well for my future relationships if she wasn’t a part of it.

  Being raised to not only hate, but also stay the hell away from the one girl who starred in every single teenage fantasy had been the bane of my existence. Do you have any idea how hard it is to “stay away” from the girl next door?

  I mean, literally.

  My property line ends where hers begins. Acres of vines divide the La Bella winery from the Russos’ but not our homes. You would think that with all that expansive land, our great-grandfathers would have built the main houses to have some seclusion and privacy, but no, the idiots had practically built them right on top of each other.

  And the worst part? I had grown up being able to see Julia’s bedroom window from mine. Talk about some piss-poor parental planning. How the hell was I ever supposed to fall out of love with the girl if she never left my line of sight? And then there were nights where I swore she’d left her curtains open on purpose, just so I could see her getting undressed for bed. She tortured me in every possible way, but she never gave in, never crossed the invisible line separating us even though, at the time, I would have bet my life that she wanted to just as badly as I did.

  That was why I started inviting girls over and making sure that Julia would see them up in my room with me. I freaked out one night after catching her staring from her window to mine. It was exactly what I had wanted, but she actually looked hurt. I thought about her doing the exact same thing to me in retaliation, and I would have deserved it, but the idea of seeing Julia with some arrogant loser from our high school grated on my every nerve. My insides twisted in a jealous rage at the mere thought of another guy’s hands touching any part of her skin or being in places that I was forbidden from ever entering. I’d stopped bringing girls home that night.

  “Are you going to sit there, daydreaming all day, or are we going to pour this wine?” My best friend, Dane, appeared out of thin air and clapped me on the back.

  I had no idea how long he’d been standing there, watching me watch her.

  “I wasn’t daydreaming,” I bit out and reached for a bottle a little too aggressively, spilling some of the contents out of the top.

  “Reminiscing, daydreaming, fantasizing”—he shrugged as he wiped up my mess, his too-long blond hair falling over his eyes—“whatever you want to call it.”

  I could have continued to lie to him, but it was pointless. Dane was the only one who knew how I felt about Julia.

  “I was just thinking back.”

  “So, you were reminiscing,” he said in a know-it-all tone. “What part are we reliving this time?” Sometimes, my best friend was a real asshole. “Ooh, I know.” He raised his hand like he was waiting for me to call on him. “Drunk confessions in the vineyard. You know that’s my favorite.”

  My temper started to flare. “Of course the single most humiliating and heartbreaking night of my life would be yo
ur favorite. How are we even friends?”

  “For the record, I was being sarcastic,” he said the words ridiculously slow like I was some sort of knuckle-dragging caveman who couldn’t comprehend them. “And I only mentioned that particular moment in time because I know it’s the one you enjoy torturing yourself with the most. You’re nothing if not self-deprecating when it comes to that woman.”

  He wasn’t wrong. I had been working up to that particular scene before he interrupted me with his presence.

  “I just need the reminder sometimes.”

  “The reminder that she fake hates you?”

  “The reminder that she really does.” I winced.

  “You and I both know that’s bullshit. You could put yourself out there and just tell her how you feel,” he offered with a shrug.

  “I’m never doing that again,” I said a little too bitterly, but the memory still felt fresh.

  “Come on, James. That night was so long ago, and she was drunk. You’re both adults now. Or at least, you pretend to be.”

  “It’s not a good idea,” I said around the lump in my throat when all I could really wonder was, What if she rejects me again?

  The scene played out in my head without warning.

  * * *

  A door slammed in the distance, and I looked out my window to see Julia stalking off toward her vineyard with multiple bottles of wine in her arms.

  What the hell is she doing? I wondered.

  I watched her, focusing on her every move, her every step. Before she ducked into a row of lush vines, she turned around and looked directly into my bedroom window. Our eyes locked, and she paused for what felt like an eternity before she turned and disappeared from view.

  Was that intentional, or did I surprise her by watching? Was that an invitation of sorts for me to follow her? What did it mean? What did she want?

  I had no idea, but I sat in my room, trying to figure it out for too long before I sucked it up and decided to go find her. Tonight would be the night that I finally confessed to Julia La Bella that I had feelings for her, our parents be damned.

  Sneaking out of my house was easy, but trying to find Julia was a pain in the ass. I wasn’t familiar with her property at all, so attempting to navigate it made me feel like I was a blind mouse in a maze.

  “What do you want, Russo?” Her voice carried over the grapes and led me straight to her. She had four separate bottles of wine propped next to her, and she was apparently drinking them all.

  “What are you doing?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I figured, if I was going to run this place someday, I might as well try to like the stuff.” She sipped from her glass and wrinkled her nose. “It’s so gross. How do people drink this?”

  I laughed because I had the same reaction each time I was forced to try our wine as well. “I’ve heard it’s an acquired taste,” I said as I sat across from her.

  “That’s what they say about beer, too. I don’t know about you, but if something has to be an ‘acquired taste,’” she said with air quotes, “I think that means it sucks.”

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  “Why do you care?” she snapped, and I knew she was at least buzzed.

  “I care because …” I paused, almost too nervous to answer honestly.

  She took another gulp of the wine and winced, waving her hand for me to continue. “Because what?”

  Shit. Here goes everything, I thought to myself before word-vomiting all over her.

  “Because I like you. I’ve always liked you, Julia. Since the moment I first saw you,” I said, a little too honest for my own good.

  “When we were four. I remember. But what are you even saying right now? Do you hear yourself?” Her tone sounded almost offended, which made no sense.

  “Of course I hear myself.” I scooted closer in the dirt, so I could touch her if she let me. “I’m telling you that I like you.”

  I reached for the hand resting on her knee, but she pulled it away.

  “You don’t like me, Russo. You like a challenge. You like the things you think you can’t have.”

  “Seriously?” It was my turn to feel offended.

  The look in her eyes practically leveled me. “Seriously. You don’t like anything that comes too easily. You never have. That’s probably why you think you like me, but you don’t really.”

  “You don’t get to tell me how I feel about you.”

  “Whatever. I’m sure this is some sort of game. Did Dane put you up to this? Did you make some kind of bet with your stupid basketball team?” She started to hiccup, but it didn’t stop her. “Why don’t you go spend time with one of the many girls I’ve seen in your room lately?”

  “Julia, look at me,” I pleaded, and her glazed-over eyes met mine. I shouldn’t be doing this while she was drunk, but it was now or never. “I have feelings for you. I wish they would go the fuck away, but they won’t. They never have. And they never will.”

  She started laughing and couldn’t stop. It got uncomfortable, and right before I pushed to my feet, she said, “Feelings? Do you even know what feelings are? I’m sure you don’t. I hate you, Russo. I want nothing to do with you. And I never will.”

  “You really feel that way? You, Julia La Bella, genuinely hate me and not just because our parents have told us to for our whole lives?” My heart felt like a boulder inside my chest, suddenly too heavy, too burdensome, as I waited for her answer.

  “Not because of our parents. I really feel that way.” She swallowed hard but avoided all eye contact with me.

  “You’ve never once thought about what it would be like to be together?”

  “Why on earth would I ever think about being with you?”

  Without responding to her question, I left. I believed her when she said that she hated me. And I believed when she said she wanted nothing to do with me. But I couldn’t handle it. I’d worn my heart on my sleeve, and she’d ripped it off, thrown it on the ground, and stomped all over it without a second thought. The rejection stung. More than that, it fucking ached. Each beat of my heart reminded me that she didn’t want me; she would never want me, and I was a fool for ever thinking she could.

  Why the hell did I put myself out there like that?

  I swore I’d never do it again. Not for Julia La Bella and not for any girl.

  * * *

  Dane snapped his fingers in front of my face, and I shook my head.

  “Yeah, yeah. What?”

  “Drunk confessions?” he asked a little too smugly, already knowing the answer.

  “Maybe.”

  I had no idea how to get Julia to stop hating me, to stop judging me for something I had no part in. I hadn’t even been born when our great-grandfathers made that stupid bet that ruined our families’ lives. I had nothing to do with it, and neither did she. Yet she despised me as if I’d burned down her vineyards with my own two hands.

  The most ironic part of this whole thing was that it was her damn family who had won the bet in the first place. So, if anyone should hate anyone, it should be me hating her. I had every right. Instead, all I could think about was getting my hands underneath that tight-as-hell skirt she currently wore and plunging my fingers inside her. I’d dreamed about the way Julia La Bella would feel underneath my touch for too many years. I’d salivated, just thinking about the way she must taste. I’d bet it was as sweet as the wine she made.

  “You’ve had it bad for her since we were five years old.”

  “Four,” I corrected. If the motherfucker was going to start spouting off ages, it was at least going to be the right one.

  “What?” He looked at me, confused.

  “I’ve had it bad for her since I was four. My birthday party, remember? It was the first time I ever saw her,” I explained like he hadn’t been standing next to me that day.

  Our respective families had apparently done their damnedest to keep us apart since birth. I had no idea how we’d never seen each other before th
at day, but up until then, I had no clue there were any other kids around for miles. Someone must have gotten sloppy on my fourth birthday because Julia came running out of her house with a bright pink dress on, her hair in two pigtails, as she waved at me like we were long-lost friends before her father wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back inside the house, kicking and screaming.

  Our lives crossed that morning, and they’d yet to come undone.

  “Yeah, you asked me if I could see the angel, too, or if only you could see her,” Dane repeated the story that was seared in my brain.

  I let out a soft laugh. “And you said you didn’t see any angel, but you saw some dumb girl.”

  Dane shrugged. “I think, between the two of us, my assessment was more right. Julia La Bella is no angel.”

  My gaze swung to him, narrowing. “Watch it,” I warned.

  His hands raised in the air in defeat. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just saying, she’s no angel, is all.” He picked up a glass of wine and downed it in one gulp instead of sipping it like you were supposed to do. “This is good stuff.” He twirled the glass between his fingers before refilling it and downing it a second time. “It’s really fucking good.”

  “I know.”

  “Think it will beat hers?” He gave a head nod in Julia’s direction.

  I swallowed hard as I looked at her for what had to be the thousandth time already. I blew out a quick breath, forcing my eyes away from her body. “Probably not.”

  “Will you ever stop trying?” He gave me the side-eye, and I had no idea if he was being serious or not.

  The winery was in my blood. I’d been groomed to take it over, to create and make wine from our vines. As much as I hated losing year after year, quitting wasn’t an option.

  “Why would I stop trying?”

  “No reason. Just asking, is all.” He started to turn his back to me, and I placed a strong grip on his shoulder.

  “No, really. Why would I stop competing? This is my livelihood. My business. My career. Why would I ever stop doing what I love?” My blood pressure started rising as my pulse quickened. It took all of two seconds to get me completely defensive.