Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

I had so many strings tying me here, but over the years, they’ve loosened and become detached. The bakery was the last one, really. Seattle is only a half-hour away, so I could still come to visit my parents whenever I wanted. Mom is doing good. And besides, Sam lives here and could check in on them too.

The more I think about it, the more alluring the idea becomes.

I block Hal’s number then tuck my phone away. I refuse to rise to his baiting. I can’t even blame Johnathan. Hal can be very intimidating and also very convincing when he wants to be. It’s part of the reason he and Sam always got in so much trouble. I firmly and roundly blame Hal for it. Even my parents probably do, but they never stopped Sam from being friends with Hal.

I make myself busy by filling the orders I have for today. When everything is out of the oven and is cooling, I sit down at my desk, open a blank document, and start typing up a proposal for Hal to consider buying me out. I swear if he wasn’t serious about it, and it was just another trap, I’m going to make his life a living hell in whatever ways I can. I’ll have to look some up or ask Sam for pointers, but I’ll make it happen.

Suddenly, my phone dings, and I take it out, thinking it might be a text from my parents, or maybe a friend who wants to hang out, or even something scathing from Sam. I could use the distraction right now.

Hal: It’s Hal. You can’t block all my numbers.

I grunt and tighten my grip on the phone, so I don’t give in to temptation and hurl it across my office. It’s a bare-bones office with old hardwood flooring and some of the ancient paneling that came with the building when I bought it. I never bothered updating the office. Anyway, I don’t think the 1970’s faux wood panels would do much damage to the phone, but the floor is another matter. Unlike Hal, I can’t afford to replace my phone or have two or god knows how many more.

I block the second number as well.

I have cakes to assemble, cupcakes to decorate, and a proposal to type. What I don’t want to think about is Haladon Walker.

So I’m extra annoyed when, fifteen minutes later, I realize I haven’t typed a blessed thing.

All I’ve been doing is thinking about Haladon Walker.

I force myself to work on the proposal. After that, I decorate cupcakes and the cake I have to have out by closing time today. I used to love this, but today, it digs into my nerves, fraying them further instead of soothing them.

And then my phone goes off again.

I swear, when I see the text, I very nearly give in to my earlier urges to destroy the bloody thing.

Since you enjoyed my first poem, here’s another:

Salamanders are creepy and gross.

I’m the partner you like the most.

Before you think about potting me and start to whine,

Don’t worry; everything will be fine.

See you when you get home.

Oh, and don’t bring the pot because I’m not alone.

He included the high-five-hands emoji with all those little shining lights or something around them. I personally think of those as hallelujah hands. Anyway, I block the number without responding, then delete the stupid text.

After the past few days, I was looking forward to getting away from the bakery—a place which used to be where I ran to for clarity and comfort—and going home to my crappy apartment with the decaying carpets and appliances that are on life thirty of the nine they might have generously been given. Not to forget the peace and quiet and reassurance that Hal couldn’t get in there. After getting the orders out, I left the bakery late, seriously hoping Hal was bluffing in his last text.

But no such freaking luck. I find him sitting on the doorstep with my brother. Yeah, so he wasn’t kidding about that. My brother is with him, and they look like a pair of kids who are ready to get into trouble, bursting at the seams with their silly secrets, inside jokes, and whatever wretched trouble they’re cooking up next.

“Sam,” I croak as I walk up the sidewalk. I’m bone freaking weary and beyond tired of seeing Hal’s face at the moment. “I thought you’d stay away from me for a while, given I still plan to make good on my threats to give you a choice haircut and fuck with your eyebrows.”

Both Sam and Hal unfurl their stocky bodies from the doorstep. Sam stands there awkwardly while Hal has his usual overly cocky pose going on. They’re both wearing jeans and light blue sports t-shirts, and it’s as if they planned for a twin day or something. The logos are different, though, I note. It must have been a strange accident where they read each other’s minds without meaning to. They’ve been friends for so long that it could easily happen.