Games of Love: Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

“What’s up, little sister?” Oliver answered. His voice was low and slow as if he had been sleeping or was tired.

“I just thought I should call you and check-in,” I lied, trying to sound chipper so that he wouldn’t think anything was wrong or anything was up with me.

“You out of school yet?” Oliver asked, sounding as if he was digging over papers or sorting through envelopes.

“Yeah, it’s the winter holidays now,” I told him, tapping my fingers over my leg nervously. Oliver would never be mean to me or make me feel bad, but I didn’t know how he would take me dating some random man.

“How was work at the cafe? Everything looked good when I got there. The register was fine and everything. The baby’s doing great, by the way. Rose is too.”

“That’s great, Oli,” I said quietly. I hesitated. “Oli look, there’s something I need to tell you and Rose.”

Chapter 7

Sadie

I woke up on Connor’s couch again the next morning and he shook his head when he saw me. He was sleep-rumpled and bleary-eyed, and his t-shirt and flannel pajamas were wrinkled. I tried hard to ignore how ridiculously attractive I found him at that moment. He rubbed his belly under his shirt and stared down at me, blinking,

“Why didn’t you take the bed?”

“You were in the bed,” I said, sitting up with the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, covered in a warm cocoon. I needed a shower and a huge cup of coffee.

“Only because you took the couch,” Connor told me, clearing his throat, and rubbing at his eyes, plopping down beside me, and pulling my feet into his lap. He ran careful fingers up the soles of my sock-covered feet and then he grinned at me when I squirmed. I kicked at his hand gently, pushing him away, and he shrugged in surrender but let his warm hand curl over the arch of my foot. I smelled coffee and instantly looked up, finding my coffee maker sitting on Connor’s counter like it had always been there, terribly domestic.

Connor watched my reaction and then jumped to his feet, gesturing to the kitchen. “Oh yeah,” he said, pulling down a mug and filling it with coffee. “I forgot to tell you—I set up your coffee maker. I hope it’s okay.”

“It’s great, yeah, thank you.” I took the mug from him and nodded, feeling a rush of warmth in my hands and my heart. Connor sat back down again beside me. I sipped slowly at my coffee, relishing the bitter warmth of the drink in my hands.

“Into the studio again today, I guess,” I told him, sighing as he turned on the TV to let it play softly in the background of the apartment. “We get our cameraman, and everything starts.”

“Great,” Connor rolled his eyes, looking annoyed. “Can’t we just tell them what’s going on? Why do they get it all on camera and get in our personal lives like that?”

I let out a short laugh at that, looking over at him. “It’s a TV show, Connor. That’s what we signed up for and that’s how they are. I want to win it all, so I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Connor said quietly. I knew that he hadn’t cared about winning in the first place.

“You want your father’s approval, right? You want him to look at you and be proud of your relationship, don’t you?” I asked him, glancing at the side of his face while he stared at the TV, trying to appear uninterested.

“We’ll just have to see what happens,” Connor told me vaguely, and then it was my turn to roll my eyes. He got up from the couch abruptly and grabbed his phone from the table, typing his fingers over the screen quietly. “You hungry or anything? I can order us something to eat if you want. The place downtown has great waffles… if you’re interested I mean. I just thought it was a good idea. We don’t have to or anything.”

I shook my head lightly, smiling at him. “Good idea, but you know what? I have a better idea.”

After I showered and dressed in a warm pullover and jeans, Connor tossed me one of his big, soft sweaters. I stared at him with it balled up in my hands, confused. The pale brown elbows were worn as if someone had spent hours leaned over a desk or bent over a book at a library table. I pressed my fingers to the threadbare fabric there, imagining Connor sitting in a chair, content and comfortable with his favorite book held carefully in his elegant hands. It was a cozy and peaceful picture.

“It’ll make it seem more real, you know?” He shrugged carelessly as if it was nothing at all for me to be wearing his clothes, though I thought I could see a soft hint of warm pink spreading over his cheeks as he looked away.