The Enemy (It Happened in Charleston 2)

I hear June’s voice before I see her, and a big stupid smile pulls at my mouth. My feet move a little faster, and when I realize I’m showing the same level of excitement as a puppy going somewhere new, I make myself slow the heck down. I round the corner into the kitchen, and my smile falls.

There’s a random dude standing near June. He’s staring at her even though June is giving all of her attention to Stacy who is stirring a pot on the stove. Dude’s got dark-brown hair and a jawline that could be used for measuring perfect right angles, and I immediately decide his brain is the size of a pea. I set the wine bottle down on the counter so firmly I’m surprised it doesn’t break. I’m a grumpy toddler, angry and breaking things because I was promised a cookie and I’ve been given a piece of broccoli instead.

Everyone startles at the sound and whirls their heads toward me.

I smirk and say, “Hi,” but I’m only looking at June.

Her green eyes briefly take me in from head to toe before she seems to remember something and latches onto the guy beside her. She weaves her arm through his and then around his waist to tuck herself in closer to him, turning a coy smile to me. ?

?Glad you could make it, Ryan. This is Carter.”

I don’t look at Carter because he’s irrelevant to me. I’m fixed on June, and her eyes are glittering at me—taunting. And then it hits me. I know what’s happening here. She’s bringing back the oldest play in the book. My play that I ran too many times to count. She’s intentionally breaking the rules and bringing a date to our foursome friends dinner. So now I’m the odd man out. It’s retaliation at its finest.

I smile, letting the original sting I felt roll right off my back. June is striking back. She’s trying to get under my skin.

You know why? Because she likes me.

Chapter Eleven

June

“Well, isn’t this cozy,” says Stacy once we are all seated around the dining room table. She’s not happy with me. She really wanted tonight to be the friends dinner we never had in high school. Just four grown adult friends, sitting around the table, eating and laughing, and swapping stories of where life has taken us over the years. But I rained on her parade by bringing Carter tonight. I couldn’t resist.

I can’t tell you how many times Ryan did this to me in high school. It should feel good to return the favor now. But no, it doesn’t, because he doesn’t seem like he’s affected by it one tiny bit. Is it too much to ask for a little scowl? One itty-bitty jaw clench?

Ryan is Mr. Sunshine, leaning back in his chair and smiling at me and Carter like we just tied the knot and he can’t wait to throw the rice.

“So cozy,” I say, scooting a little closer to Carter’s side and bumping my shoulder against his. Am I using him? A little. But in all fairness, I told him ahead of time that I would be using him tonight. Plus, he’s getting a free meal out of it. So that’s sweet, right?

“How long have you two been seeing each other?” asks Ryan with a suspiciously cordial voice from across the table.

“First date, actually,” Carter chimes in, and I want to pinch him under the table to remind him to stick to the script.

“Oh, but we’ve had our eye on each other for a while now.”

Ryan lifts his brows with a delighted smile. “Really? How sweet. Where did you meet?”

“The gym. Stacy can you pass the rolls?” I ask, adding an extra layer of butter to my smile so it matches Ryan’s.

“Ah, where all true love blossoms,” he says, and I resist letting my face fall into a scowl.

And so dinner proceeds in exactly this way for the rest of the meal. I don’t think anyone is afforded the opportunity to speak because Ryan and I continue to wield our swords across the table, hoping the other will lose steam. I reach for the salt, but he picks it up first so that he can be the one to give it to me. He goes for the wine, but I snatch it up first and fill my glass to the brim, taking the last of it. (P.S. Stacy’s glare is really scary.)

Ryan is relentless, though, continuing to badger Carter and me with questions about our budding relationship and suggesting vacation spots we should try out. WE GET IT, RYAN. YOU KNOW IT’S A SHAM.

But I don’t give in. No way. I’m in charge of this rodeo, so I venture a step further and lean over to lay my head on Carter’s shoulder. Now I’m fluttering my lashes up at him as he tells us about his job at the marketing firm, and I hate myself so much it’s startling. It’s like my spirit slips out of my skin, and for a solid minute, I’m hovering above my own body, watching myself pet Carter and wishing I could pull my own hair to make it stop. My scheme isn’t even working. Ryan is not annoyed. He’s still smiling. He’s still staring at me. And he is still the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.

My soul zooms back down into my body when I see my phone light up on the table with a text.

MR. DARCY: Why don’t you just shove your tongue down his throat?

I hurry and rip my phone off the table before Carter has a chance to see the text. I look up and find Ryan’s dark pools searing me. He lifts a taunting brow, and for a split second, I think that maybe I do see a little jealousy there. I glance quickly around the table and confirm that Stacy and Logan are engrossed in Carter’s monologue about his boring job.

JUNE: Don’t text me.

MR. DARCY: That’s fine. I was just trying to see if you saved my number in your phone, anyway.

I immediately flip my phone over like that will keep Ryan from seeing the truth. But my phone buzzes again, and I can’t help but look.