A Little Like Romeo: A Sweet Enemies to Lovers Romance (A Little Love Book 1)

by Emily Childs

  “Uh, no,” says Jane. “Girls need to get ready with just girls sometimes. Let me live out my romance fantasy through you two.”

  “Aren’t you getting pretty sassy with Ben?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Jane says, looking at her phone. “That reminds me, I better get going. We’re meeting for coffee.” She stands and starts down the hallway before turning and snapping her fingers. “Hey, keep your distance until I’m gone. New rules.”

  We laugh, but listen. No worries, distance is closed once the deadbolt clicks.

  ***

  Jonas hasn’t spoken to Axel about what’s happening between us. I’m not sure why, but we sort of avoid talking about the situation. He knows I called Axel, and we leave things at that. I don’t know what will happen at this dinner. I’m nervous Axel will be angry, maybe at me, maybe at his brother. But more, I’m worried any drama will stoke the flame between our families.

  I refuse to go backward.

  “Why can’t we talk now?” Jonas asks on my doorstep. “At least tell me what it’s about.”

  I’ve been trying to get rid of him for the last half hour. Someone like him is not easy to part with.

  Sighing I cock my head. “Can you let a girl stick to her plan? I have reasons why I don’t want to deep talk right now. I am more romantic than that.”

  Jonas smiles now and my head feels heady, like a rush of adrenaline. “I like romantic moments too. We can make this one right now.” He cages me against the wall, palm against my face. I peck his lips, wanting more.

  No, I am not getting caught in his spell. With a nudge I urge him back. I will save spells and swooning for tomorrow night.

  “You are tricky,” I say. “And addicting, but if you don’t leave, then I will never get anything done, and I won’t make it to the dinner, and my plans will be ruined.”

  “Tell me to leave then,” he says.

  “Not nice.” I trace the line of his lips with my thumb.

  He groans and peels back. “Fine, you win.”

  “That’s more like it.”

  He grins. “I’m dancing with you tomorrow, Jacobson. In front of everyone.”

  “I will never speak to you again if you don’t.”

  “Tomorrow then.”

  “If you’re lucky I will call you tonight.”

  He chuckles and fiddles with his keys. “Then I have something to look forward to.”

  I’m in enormous trouble. When Jonas finally drives away, I clutch my chest before my heart beats a hole through the center.

  Tomorrow everything could change. I hope, in the best kind of ways.

  ***

  “That’s the one,” Jane says when I step out of the dressing room. She stands from the plush cushion, sets down the fashion magazine she’s been reading, and circles me. The surrounding mirrors show off every bit of the form-fitting black dress. The cap sleeves top just over my shoulders, and the swooping neckline is a little lower than I’ve worn before, but still acceptable for my father to be in my company. Biting my lower lip, I enjoy the thrill passing through my stomach and admire the way the dress gathers along one hip, giving the illusion I actually have curves.

  “Add some red stilettos and you’re set, my friend,” Jane says. “Jonas won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

  “I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”

  “Oh, I can,” she says. “I’ve been waiting for this for weeks.”

  I laugh. “Maybe this is all too fast.”

  “Maybe so, but maybe not.”

  “Have I ever told you how frustrating your vague bits of advice can be?” I laugh and spin once more.

  Jane sits again. “Okay, let me be honest.”

  I stop spinning, a little nervous. “About what?”

  “Calm down,” she says. “I’m not going to say anything bad. I’ve seen you date a few guys these last four years. Remember peanut butter Tony?”

  I scoff. “How can I forget.” My only semi-serious relationship had an unhealthy love of peanut butter. Now, I have a strange distaste for the flavor.

  “I thought maybe you were sort of smitten with him, but Brit—Jonas is a new level of smitten. Like, the first second I saw you together I thought you’d been holding out some secret love back home. Remember? The first second.”

  I think back our first road trip to school. It seemed so long ago, but only weeks stood between that moment and now. “I’m still terrified.”

  “No, not terrified,” Jane says. “Words are important. Excited. You can be nervous, sure. But this is what you want, right?”

  “For once, yes. I know this is what I want.”

  She grins. “Alright then. Let’s buy this thing and hit the road. I want to see that goofy cousin of yours again.”

  “He’s like three feet taller now.”

  She helps me gather my things, and her new red dress. We pay, grab some cocoas at a café next door, and pile into Jane’s car.

  I try not to think of tomorrow too much. I even try to study for midterms once we get to my house, Jane tries too, but Oscar is distracting. I sneak away and steal a few minutes on the phone with Jonas. I can’t sleep. My thoughts whirl uncontrolled about the moment when I will finally tell Jonas Olsen I am falling headfirst, unashamedly in love with him.

  Chapter 23

  Oscar shamelessly flirts with Jane at the breakfast table Saturday morning. Farfar finds my roommate interesting, retorting in Swedish when Jane says something in French. They aren’t having a real conversation and are the only ones who find it side-splitting. The Chamber of Commerce delivers a large bouquet of flowers that stand proud in the center of the table. A silk ribbon runs through the center of the plants with the entire name of Hanna’s written in gold lettering. The Chamber plans to have the history of the bakery on display for guests to read, so last night a member of the council came and did an entire interview with Farfar. I loved hearing his story again and again.

  Farfar and Farmor immigrated with a cluster of Scandinavians a few years after World War II. Farfar was only nineteen when he left Sweden. I know he met my grandmother on the ship bound for Ellis Island, but hearing how he was smitten with her from his first glance like she was him, is my favorite part. One thing I always loved about my grandparents before Farmor passed away, no one would ever doubt their love for each other. Always dancing after hours; Farfar always washing dishes at her side. To me, their story held magic and a sense of pride came in knowing others would know the same inspiring tale of Hanna’s Swedish Pastries tonight.

  Jane and I sit outside on the front stoop so I can show her the Olsen’s side of the street. There isn’t a lot of movement on their territory, but they are there. I smile at the thought.

  I fall back slightly when the door swings open and Dad steps outside. “Girls, the dinner is in a little over an hour, you might want to get ready.”

  “We’re coming,” I say. Jane smiles like she is ready to cause mischief and drags me upstairs to my bedroom.

  I help Jane pick the perfect pair of earrings and do the makeup on her eyes. She is bold with a pair of black and white heels that make her legs go on for miles.

  Then we set to work on me, arranging my hair in loose curls around my shoulders. Jane lets me borrow a gold teardrop necklace and thin bracelets to match. I know by the end of the night I will either forgo the red stilettos or I will come home with blisters. I like the way Jane paints my lips in a nude pink and adds a little more color to my cheeks. Tonight I look more like the Italian in me, but it suits.

  “You’re going to kill him, Brit.”

  Fanning myself with a crumbled piece of paper on my desk, I shake my head. “My heart is going a million miles an hour.”

  Jane laughs and pulls me out of my room where Oscar waits to drive with us, all tidy in his gray suit. “That’s a good thing, Brit. That’s a really good thing.”

  It might not sound like a classy award dinner since the setup is in the high school gymnasium, but I hardly recognize
the place. A white canopy covers the bleachers, and twinkling lights along the fabric add that little romantic nudge this night needs. Tables with white linen cloths are set on one side of the room, and soft music plays while people gather. Two young men take our coats at the door and usher us inside.

  A photographer is snapping a picture of the butcher, whose shop is next to ours. Jane enjoys seeing the owners of the hardware store that has been in Lindström since the early twenties respectfully set up a large picture of the original owner, Mister Daniels. They purchased the store when he passed away. Mister Daniels’s picture wasn’t the only one placed on stands and tables. All kinds of black and white photos are lined along the flowing edges of the canopy. I want to look at them all, until Oscar points across the room to the tables where Farfar and the others are seated.

  “Oh, you all look wonderful,” Inez says, cupping Oscar’s face. He tries to get away. Agnes giggles, then coughs.

  “Still coughing, kiddo?” I ask.

  She nods, her voice raspy. “A little.”

  “They’re going to start dinner orders soon,” Dad says, glancing over a thin cardstock menu of the catered options.

  “This is awesome,” I say. “Congratulations Farfar.” I wrap my arms tight around my grandfather while Jane takes the seat next to Oscar, much to my cousin’s pleasure.

  “Thank you,” Farfar whispers. “You look very much like your beautiful mother tonight.”

  I smile, grateful he’s no longer upset after the birthday fiasco. Farfar always seems to know what to say to make me feel like I am his number one—although Oscar says the same thing about our grandfather often, and I’m certain Agnes will say that too.

  I round the table to sit next to Jane just as high-school aged servers go about taking orders. That’s when I freeze.

  My wandering gaze locks across the dining area. Jonas is there. I don’t see Axel yet, but ugh, Logan stands next to Jonas while he holds out Sigrid’s chair as she sits. As if our eyes are magnets, Jonas glances up. The muscles required for breathing close shop for a moment when his piercing stare studies me. He looks perfect; his tailored black suit brings that head-fog back I love so much. I don’t even mind when Logan waves at me.

  I snap out of my trance only when Jane tugs on my arm and snickers, I take my place at the Jacobson table. She glances over her shoulder with a touch of arrogance.

  “Oh, Brita,” Jane whispers. “He’s ruined. Did you see the way he looked at you?”

  “Did you see the way I looked at him?” I rest a palm on my chest, trying to slow my heartrate.

  “Yes, yes I did.”

  The back of my neck tingles, I hope it means Jonas has me in his sights, but I don’t dare turn around. Giving my order to the server, I sip my water, and fall into easy conversation with my family and Jane until our plates are cleaned.

  Dancing will follow the dinner while people mingle, and a raffle for a basket filled with an item from every honored business will wrap up the evening. Dad and Inez are looking forward to that part the most. People take to the dance floor, or wander about the pictures and awards. The younger crowd seems more interested in trying their hand at snagging the grand prize. Oscar goes with my dad to enter their names into the raffle drawing and Jane asks me to show her toward the bathroom when she pushes her plate away.

  “I can go alone,” she insists when I try to follow. “You know I’m not a group bathroom girl. Let me go in peace, I say.”

  Laughing I show her the way then fall into the crowd surrounding the display tables. I look at the framed black and white moments of early building construction, or smiling faces with new open signs on shiny new businesses. Then the brush of a hand goes to my arm. Fireworks spread along my skin where he touches me. I bite the inside of my cheek and meet his eye. Even with my heels he stands several inches taller than me, and I like the way he looks at my face and eyes as if he is meeting me for the first time. Did I mention he looks perfect?

  “Hi,” I say breathlessly. Jonas steps closer so our bodies touch.

  “You look beautiful,” he says.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “You are delicious.”

  He cocks a brow. “Delicious, huh? I like that, but don’t give me the credit. I tend to pull it off when my mom dresses me.”

  “She did well.” I purposely scan him top to bottom.

  “Would you want to make a few waves,” Jonas says, leaning his lips next to my ear, “and dance with me?”

  He holds out his hand, the smile I’m in love with spreads over his face. Nodding, I clasp his hand and allow him to lead me to the center of the wooden floor. Most couples are old enough to be our grandparents, but I don’t care. My hand is laced with his, my arm around his neck where I start caressing his skin. The warmth of Jonas’s hand on my back sends a shiver up my spine.

  Neither of us look around, though I know it won’t be long before both the Olsen table and the Jacobson table are fully aware of what is happening on the dance floor. We watch each other, as though every other breathing thing in the room disappears.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” Jonas asks after a few moments.

  Swallowing hard, my lips lift in a nervous smile. “About how I’m really glad we started studying together.”

  Jonas tugs me closer against him so I catch a long breath of his aftershave. Our cheeks align, and I imagine staying in this position forever.

  His voice comes rough next to my ear. “I don’t study that much anymore, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to fail my midterm.”

  We sway a few more beats, my cheek rests against his. The way my heart soars, everything feels so right. I promised myself I would do this. Reluctantly, I pull back so I can meet his eyes. My hand around his neck inches forward, and I brush my fingers along the collar of his shirt while my thumb caresses his cheek. Now Jonas looks as though he can’t breathe.

  “Jonas there’s…more I want to talk about, but I don’t want to do it here. Do you think we can go somewhere?”

  He nods quickly and stops dancing. I suppose he takes my request as go somewhere right now, before the song even stops. “Do you have a coat ticket? I’ll go grab it.”

  I bite my lip, hardly able to contain my happiness when he rushes away. Dad stares at me while Inez whispers something to Karl. I don’t know if she is pleased or not. I don’t care. Farfar is buried in a piece of cake, not looking at anyone.

  “Brita, oh my,” Jane says, suddenly at my side out of nowhere. She drags me toward the photo tables. “Are you dying? Where did Jonas go? What happened?”

  I chuckle and scan a few pictures in various frame sizes. “He’s getting our coats. We’re going to go talk.”

  Jane squeals and shakes my shoulders as though she can’t quite contain her excitement. But I stop. My eyes widen as I reach for a picture, studying with new intent the four smiling faces. I know what my grandparents look like in younger years. I’ve seen many pictures. There stands Farmor, snuggled against Farfar. She has tight, light curls that tuck under her jaw, and he has darker hair. But two more people stand in the photo, smiling with the same excitement as my young grandparents.

  The woman has dark hair, styled much like Farmor’s, and the man who has his arm slung over Farfar’s shoulder has striking eyes I recognize even in black and white. They are nearly identical to Jonas’s. Together they hold a large copy of a business license that reads Scandinavian Market.

  Jane steps next to me, examining the picture over my shoulder. “What is it?”

  “These are my grandparents,” I say. “And these two…I think these are Jonas’s grandparents. Look at the business name. Janey, there is no Scandinavian Market, just the two bakeries. I think they were once business partners.”

  “You guys really don’t know the story at all?”

  I shake my head. “My grandpa won’t talk about it. I knew they were friends, but not business partners. They seem so happy.”

  I feel sad looking at the picture. Young Viggo a
nd young Farfar did look happy, like they might’ve been brothers. Flash forward to today and their voracious hatred for each other, I can only imagine what might have happened to drive them apart.

  “Brita,” a deep voice booms. “And Pizza Girl.”

  I roll my eyes and face him. “Hi, Logan. How are you doing?”

  He smiles, his tanned skin a stark contrast to his white teeth. “I’m doing great. Thanks for asking. How are you ladies?”

  “We’re amazing,” Jane says sweetly, though I hear the sarcasm. “By the way, I’m still waiting for you to buy me a new pizza.”

  “Name the time and place,” Logan flirts.

  Don’t fall for it, Jane, I think. But she can hold her own. I glance around Logan and catch sight of Axel. He’s not alone. A young woman with long auburn hair and a skimpy, pale dress links her arm with his. Axel dips low, whispers something into her ear, and she giggles.

  “Jane, look,” I say, nodding toward Axel.

  “Well that was quick,” Jane mutters. Logan follows her eyes.

  “Quick with what?” Logan asks.

  “The girl,” says Jane. “Moved on quick.”

  To be fair, I ended things because I moved on too. I’m still a little surprised to see Axel with his mouth on a girl’s neck. I mean, his mother is five feet away.

  One of Logan’s brows climbs. “Axel and Shay have gone out loads of times this semester. She lives here too, but was a few years behind us in school.”

  I don’t recognize her, but then I don’t recognize people from my own graduating class sometimes. I peer at Logan. “What do you mean loads of times? They’ve been dating?”

  Logan chuckles, and looks at me funny. “Well, she’s one of the girls he dates. Things picked up with her back in February—I guess the Olsens had family pictures or something. They went out a couple times. But there’s a girl in his therapy classes named Lily, I think, and then…” Logan trails off. He has a kind of wicked smile. “Wait, Brita, did you think Axel was only dating you?”

  I hardly know how to respond. I’m glad Jane does for me. “Well,” she says. “Typically that is what most girls think.”