Enamor (Hearts of Stone #3)

by Veronica Larsen

  Who in the hell even owns that much lube?

  I had to get back in the shower, in an attempt to wash it off. But I quickly discovered the stuff is highly water resistant.

  On another day, I sat on the couch, adding a clear topcoat of polish to my nails, when a loud groan of frustration came from down the hall. I laughed for several minutes, knowing the sound came from his bathroom, where he likely turned to the space where his toilet paper roll should hang and found, instead, a roll of duct tape.

  The next day I was showering with my bar of soap, which I started using since I felt safe it couldn't be tampered with without leaving evidence. However, the soap would not lather no matter how hard I tried. Took me ten whole minutes to figure out Giles had coated the bar in a thick later of the clear nail polish I must have left out in the living room the night before. I wasn't so angry at this prank though. I could've fared far worse after my duct tape stunt.

  It's bizarre to think that out of my two roommates, the one I inadvertently spend more time around is Giles. My defensiveness toward him from the early days has ebbed away from grappling to put him in his place, to finding a perverse pleasure in pissing him off as much as he enjoys pissing me off. I find that I am no longer merely tolerating his presence, but have accepted him as a permanent pain in my ass, one that I'd strangely miss if it suddenly disappeared.

  I've just finished getting ready for my shift when Giles comes through the front door. I pretend not to be excited he's home, keeping my attention on the lunch I'm fixing myself.

  I've got a special treat waiting for him. There's a box of donuts on the counter. Of course, I knew I could never just offer Giles one. He'd be too suspicious. Nor could I leave it simply lying around. Too inconspicuous and therefore suspicious. Instead, I wrote a note on it, pretending to be one of the neighbors gifting the donuts to Ava, and set the box off toward a corner of the countertop, out of plain sight.

  I'm still not sure he will fall for it, but knowing his proclivity to digging into other people's food, I thought it would be worth the shot. Besides, the thought of him taking a big bite out of a donut filled with mayonnaise is too great to pass up.

  When I glance over my shoulder at him, there's a distracted look in his eyes as he stares past me like he barely sees me. Something's off. He seems lost in thought as he reaches into the fridge for a bottle of water.

  "Are you okay?" I ask, turning to face him.

  "Huh?" He looks at me as if just noticing that I'm standing here. He uncaps the bottle, taking a drink before answering. "I'm fine."

  "You seem…I don't know, down." I worry that something's happened. He's usually so carefree and light, I don't think I've ever seen him frown.

  "Just got back from seeing my aunt," he says, running a hand over his face.

  "Ava's mom?"

  He nods, taking another sip of water.

  "Is she not doing well?" I don't mean to pry, but all I know is that she's sick and Ava's working extra jobs to pay for her care. I haven't talked to Ava enough to garner any more details than that.

  "It's hard to see her like that, when she doesn't know who you are or where she is." At my look of confusion, Giles adds, "She's got Alzheimer's."

  My mouth opens then shuts again. "Alzheimer's?"

  I wonder how old Ava's mom is and, as though reading my thoughts, Giles says, "It's early onset with fast progression."

  "Wow," I say, looking down at his feet. "That's awful. I can't imagine that."

  I watch as his feet move toward me and my eyes shoot up to his face, thinking he's coming to me. But his eyes are fixed on something over my shoulder. I don't realize until he nudges me sideways that he's reaching for the box of donuts.

  He picks up the forged note that reads, Thanks for your help, Ava. Enjoy these on us, tosses it onto the counter, and reaches for one before my hand can close around his arm.

  "Giles, wait—"

  "She'll get over it," he says of stealing Ava's donuts.

  "No, but—"

  It's too late. As though to silence my protest, he jams the donut into his mouth, then chews for a few seconds before his eyes narrow and his mouth twists in disgust. He runs to the trash and spits out the contents of his mouth, then snatches his water bottle from the counter to take a drink, only to spit the mouthful of water into the bin as well.

  Then he rounds on me, where I still stand by the sink, my hand half covering my mouth as I try not to laugh.

  "You'd mess with a man's food? You're soulless."

  He stands there, draining the contents of the water bottle, all the while glaring at me.

  "It wasn't your food. Maybe if you'd stop being a jerk and eating everyone's stuff that wouldn't have happened."

  "You're going to regret this one," he says, wiping his mouth with his hand. "You'll pay for ruining donuts for me."

  "I tried to warn you."

  He tosses the water bottle away and I'm pleased to see that his playful expression has returned full force.

  "We've entered a new stage of this war, Julia," he says in a low voice.

  "Oh," I taunt, with a fake shiver, "I'm so scared."

  He takes slow steps toward me without breaking eye contact. His gaze so intent, it offsets my regular breathing rhythm. My breath catches in my throat. I hold my ground, though, staring up at him as he stops just a foot away, his green eyes pouring intensity down on me, making me feel warm across every millimeter of my skin.

  He wets his lips and says, "This won't be over until you're lying down in front of me…" He pauses and my chest rises on a small intake of breath, as I will myself not to blush. Eyes glinting, he adds, "You know…in surrender."

  "Then this won't be over," I say, somehow still staring at his lips. "Ever."

  We simply stand there for a few seconds. I'm hyperaware of the fact that we've never stood so close to each other. And even though I'm hoping my glare is as cool and intimidating as his, I can't control my slight lightheadedness from the heat rising through my body.

  "What the hell are you two up to now?"

  Ava's voice pulls me back to my senses. I take a backward step from Giles as she walks farther into the kitchen. Cheeks warm, and not looking at either of them, I take my lunch and head to the table.

  It's like I've just sprinted up a set of stairs, my heart beating faster than usual. It's not until I take a bite of my sandwich that I look up in horror to see Ava putting one of the donuts in her mouth. I try to shout out for her to stop, but my food muffles the words.

  Ava's face contorts and she turns to lean over the sink to spit up the donut. "What the fuck?" she yells, rushing to run tap water into her mouth.

  Giles walks away from her, his low snickering audible enough.

  "Oh my god," I say, after finally swallowing my food. "Didn't you get my text? I told you not to eat those donuts."

  Ava spins around from the sink, her typically adorable face pinched in anger. "I'm sick of this goddamn prank war," she says, jabbing a finger from me to Giles, who sits on the couch. "First, I lather lube all over my fucking legs, and now I'm eating mayonnaise-filled donuts."

  I cringe at her words, feeling guilty that she's been collateral damage twice.

  The reason I figured out Giles put lube in all my lotions was that I warned Ava to use a different bottle than I had, but it turned out to have lube in it, too.

  "I don't care what you guys have to do," she says, "but you end this damn thing or I swear I'll kick you both out on the street. You hear me?"

  Giles lets out a small laugh, obviously not taking Ava seriously. She snatches a kitchen towel, balls it up, and flings it at Giles. It lands just at his feet, where he looks at it then back at her.

  "Relax, little one," he says, smoothly. "It'll be over really soon."

  My stomach clenches at the way his lips curl up in a playful smile. He looks my way and winks. I'm not sure I'm ready for whatever he has coming my way.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Giles

&nbs
p; I'M NOT THE TYPE to shy away from a challenge, but trying to think of how to get Julia back for her sacrilegious abuse of donuts has left me drawing a blank.

  The upside to that has been the amusement of watching her over the past few days. Julia's been on edge, every day more apprehensive about what I have in store for her. I'm sure she wonders if I'm biding my time or if I've just given up on the whole thing. As fun as it's been to watch her squirm, I can't let this drag on for another week. Ava's got a point, the pranking really is growing out of control. Julia and I are both overly paranoid about everything we use or touch, and yet still fall victim to pranks every so often because the house is practically booby-trapped.

  Even though it's technically my turn, I can't assume that there isn't a prank lingering around somewhere. Might be too late of a realization, but I shouldn't have started messing with her belongings. It only served as an invitation for her to mess with mine. And now she's progressed to tampering with food? The woman has to be stopped.

  It's time I change the narrative of this little war. Julia so brilliantly demonstrated how to prank with just a few, well-timed words. Like the very first stunt she pulled at the party three weeks ago, when she started an irritating STD rumor that I still hear whispers of. There's no weight to the rumor, of course. I get tested regularly and I'm clean as a whistle, but that's besides the point. I'm going to pull the prank that ends the prank war. Something Julia won't be able to think long enough to prevent. Something that will send her crawling away with her tail between her legs.

  I can't think of a better way of setting this war to rest than to get her to admit what she's been trying to deny all along. After all, it's the reason behind everything. It's what fuels her need to be combative with me, her reluctance to give into it. She might not realize it herself, but it's also the reason she got between me and the blonde at the party.

  Julia wants me. I know it and she knows it, too. It's about time we address the obvious between us. She's too headstrong to ever say it aloud, but her body speaks for her. The plan is simple; I'll get her alone, get her guard down a little, and go in for a kiss. She will give in because she won't be able to resist doing what she's wanted to do for a month now. She'll surrender with a simple kiss and that will be the end of it all.

  Tonight might be the night. It's Friday and Luke hooked a group of us up with his parents' house for the weekend. I doubt his parents know of their son's plan to throw a July Fourth party while they travel to the east coast. The Durant family has an insane house in Point Loma, overlooking the San Diego Yacht Club. I'm talking rooftop deck, downtown views, heated outdoor pool, jacuzzi, game room, and over 3,600 square feet to accommodate whatever antics vivid imaginations can dream up.

  Ava takes the weekend off, not because she finally realized she needs a break, but because her boyfriend, Damien, is in town. She sees him once or twice a month ever since he took a summer internship in the Bay Area.

  I've met the guy a few times before and it's plainly obvious he's crazy about her. What's important is that he can handle her. Damien's bullshit detector is sharp and he knows when Ava is leaning toward her tendency to mislead. I like that he keeps her in check.

  Damien, Luke, and I sit on the rooftop deck with a few other guys, drinking beer and grilling some burgers. The girls are inside, supposedly changing into bathing suits but, judging from the amount of time they're taking, I'm guessing there's other female rituals involved in the process.

  Brian, one of Luke's friends, is in the middle of a story when he halts mid-sentence. The patio doors squeal open behind us and all heads turn in that direction just as Julia steps out onto the deck holding a drink in her hand, alone.

  If I were drunker, I might hang my head in disappointment at the fact that she's not in a bikini. She's still dressed in the jean shorts and the simple V-neck blouse that shows off her cleavage despite how often she tries to readjust it. I'm beginning to wonder if she's purposefully hiding her body, embarrassed of it somehow. It would be a damn shame because she's got the kind of shape fantasies are made of.

  All the guys waver in varying degrees of throat clearing and seat shifting at the topic of the conversation we've just abandoned. Julia acts like she doesn't notice, taking a seat at the only opening, between Luke and Brian. The space is wide enough so that she isn't touching either of them, but as she settles in, Luke locks eyes with me and wiggles his eyebrows up and down a few times before plastering on an almost harmless expression. She's met all these guys before, with the exception of Damien, at the party we had at our house. But I don't like how comfortable she seems around them. It's as if she has no clue what her proximity does to men.

  "What are you guys up to?" she asks, addressing the group, but looking directly at me.

  "Trust me," Luke says, "you don't want to know."

  Brian coughs up his drink then clears his throat. Julia looks unconcerned. "Try me."

  "Brian was just telling us how he got caught by campus police last quarter, uh—" Luke snorts "—showing a lady the backstage area of the performance arts studio."

  "Was there a show?" She stares straight at Brian, face so innocent, tone so unassuming, that it makes all of us go still. When he doesn't answer her, she pries further, "Are you a performance arts major?"

  As Brian glances around for help on how to respond, Julia's innocent expression evaporates. "I'm just messing with you, Brian. Who were you screwing back there?"

  Brian is hesitant at first to tell the story in front of her, but Julia prods him for details, nudging him until I'm left surprised by the graphic details he gives. Things we'd never say around a woman for fear of offending her.

  But Julia just narrows her eyes at him and says, "Man, you're a disgusting asshole."

  The guys laugh, though it's obvious she wasn't kidding. What's funny is the unapologetic way she says it, like it was the elephant in the room we needed to acknowledge after hearing his ridiculous story.

  I pull out my phone and shoot her a text message.

  [You don't have to listen to this.]

  A second later, she sits up at what I'm assuming is a vibration in her pocket because I don't hear a sound alert. She pulls out her phone and reads the message, glancing at me before typing her response. There's a new discussion happening around us. One I'm not even remotely paying attention to as I wait for Julia's response.

  [I don't remember giving you my number.]

  [Ava gave it to me. Thought I should have it. You know, for emergency purposes.]

  [Right. And what's the emergency here?]

  [I'm not sure if you've noticed, but you're surrounded by hungry wolves.]

  And, God, you look delicious.

  [I've dealt with worse. Trust me. And this conversation is an improvement to what's going on inside.]

  [Drama?]

  [Like you wouldn't believe. The girl with the short black hair? Three people are trying to find a way into the bathroom because she's in there crying hysterically.]

  [What happened?]

  [I guess the guy she was dating just broke up with her via text.]

  [So wait. You're telling me there's a cute girl in the bathroom, all by herself, upset, and possibly wanting a revenge fuck?]

  My lips turn up as I meet her glare from where she sits. Unrelated laughter from the guys breaks up the lull.

  [You're a class act, Giles.]

  [What, are you saying you don't know the benefits of angry sex?]

  [Can't say I do.]

  [That surprises me, seeing as how you're angry all the time. I would think any sex you have is angry.]

  Again, she looks up to narrow her eyes at me in silent warning, though there's the smallest hint of a smile in them that encourages me.

  [Well, let me enlighten you, little leopard. Angry sex is intense fucking. Letting out your frustration into another person. Showing them how mad you are by pounding into them until you both feel good again.]

  I'm not sure if I'm imagining it, but I think she's shiftin
g in her seat.

  [Little leopard? Is that code for something?]

  [Do you want it to be?]

  She ignores my question and responds with her own.

  [But if it's angry sex, shouldn't both people be angry at each other?]

  [Yeah, I guess you're right. It wouldn't be an angry fuck for me because I'm not mad. If I were mad, I'd make it so you would be sore for days.]

  [Watch your pronouns, mister.]

  [Huh?]

  [You said 'you' instead of 'she.']

  [Oh. I did?]

  She takes her phone and pointedly presses the power button until the glow of the screen disappears. Then she gives me a sarcastic grin that tells me the conversation is over.

  But, see, I don't think it is.

  We rejoin the group's discussion. As soon as he gains Julia's attention again, Luke delivers the same lame line I've heard him use multiple times before. The one where he jokes about being sort of a big deal, before revealing he's the mascot for the Padres. Julia demands to see pictures and so Luke pulls some up on his phone. She laughs at the sight.

  The Padres mascot is a big, cartoonish looking friar. Fat and balding, wearing a monk's gown with the team logo embroidered on its chest. It's not what you'd expect a guy like Luke to agree to wear, which I suppose adds to the entertainment value he's going for.

  Luke knows as well as I do that getting a girl to laugh is one of the sure ways into her pants. Not missing a beat, he tells Julia she should come to a baseball game sometime to see him in action. She brushes off his comments without even bothering to respond.

  The guys pretend they aren't all angling to get closer to her, or that their jokes aren't tailored to make her laugh harder. I don't like it. Sure, these are my friends, but that only means I know exactly what's going on in their sick heads.