The Enemy (It Happened in Charleston 2)
“Go ahead.” I nod toward the phone. It’s clear by the way June is chewing the corner of her mouth that she does not want to open that text around me, so I do what I do best and taunt her. “Gone soft on me, June Bug? Surely you’re not worrying about my feelings?”
She flashes a glare at me from under her lashes. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Is it working?”
She snatches her phone from the floor and swipes it open. “Yes.”
Our eyes both scan the words, and I try very hard not to find that hammer.
HUNTER FROM PARTY: Hey June! Sorry I’m just now getting around to texting you. The past few weeks have been insane from work, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you and wanting that date. Any chance you’re free tomorrow night and want to go to an art crawl with me?
“Who is he?” I ask, making sure to keep my voice neutral and calm.
She shrugs. “Just a guy I met at Logan's birthday party a few weeks ago.”
June isn’t smiling, and for some reason, that gives me hope. So much of me wants her to text this Hunter guy back and tell him to go jump off a bridge, but then I remember what Bonnie told me. Inch her in.
“You should go. Sounds fun,” I say, but I don’t move my hand away from hers. Whether she likes it or not, this hand belongs to me now.
“Are you kidding?” She looks up to me and searches my face.
I force myself to look nonchalant. No big deal. I’m the poster child for repressed emotions right now. “Not kidding. I think you’d have a lot of fun at an art crawl.”
“Well, yeah…but...” She lets go of my hand and turns to face me. Crossing her legs, she settles a scrutinizing gaze on my face. She’s hooked me up to a lie detector before she begins her questions. “Have you or have you not been trying to date me this past week?”
Okay, I see. It’s not a lie detector. We’re in the courtroom now, and I’m on the stand. “I have. And I will date you, just not yet.”
Her eyes narrow. I picture her wearing a sexy black pencil dress with a briefcase at her side, and it makes this whole thing more fun. “But you’re okay with me dating other guys in the meantime?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
She doesn’t acknowledge my sexy joke. “Why? This is another game, isn’t it? You have an ulterior motive in wanting me to go out with him.”
I smile and lift a brow. “Now why would I want you to go out with other guys if I’m into you?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
I lean forward slowly and rest my lips against the shell of her ear. “Let me know when you figure it out.” While I’m there, I decide not to waste an opportunity and kiss her neck before standing up.
June stays seated, eyeing me cautiously, but a faint smile hovers over her lips because she loves this. She loves the strategy. The dance. The calculation. It used to be fun in high school, but now that we know what the other person’s lips feel like, the game is twice as exciting.
I stick my hand out, and she accepts it, letting me pull her up to her feet. With her standing inches from my chest, I say, “Go ahead. Accept him.”
She twitches her head to the side a little and eyes me one last time. I’m not sure if she found the answer in my face she was looking for or not, but finally, she types out a quick response accepting Hunter’s invitation and hits send.
Chapter Twenty
June
Do you know what it feels like to be given a five-star prime rib from the best restaurant in town and then have it ripped away from you only to be replaced with a greasy fast-food burger off the dollar menu? I do. That’s what happened when Ryan told me I should take the date with Hunter.
There’s not a chance in the world that a date with a random guy that I met at Logan's boring birthday party would be anywhere close to a date with Ryan. But let’s be honest here, Hunter could show up to my house completely naked with a body like Thor, hand me a million dollars, and I would still just be like meh, I guess that’s cool. Because Ryan has ruined me for the rest of the world.
I wanted to call Stacy and ask her what I should do, but I picked up my phone five times and set it back down because it’s time I start figuring things out on my own. Stacy is married now. She’s gone. The sooner I stop leaning on her the better.
That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in an empty movie theater (except for the old man in the front row sneaking his cat out of a duffle bag, which I really don’t want to concern myself with) about to consume five pounds of popcorn. Seriously. I could have gone with a hypothetical absurd number, but I’m holding the big tub that costs $30, and I would bet all of my life savings that it actually weighs five pounds. And when you realize that I’m dead serious and plan to eat this entire bucket myself, it makes the five-pounds thing seem more terrifying.
So, why am I here alone about to send myself into a butter coma? Because Ryan has compl