ANYTHING BUT ENEMIES

19. pretty boy

HE'S AT THE goddamn pool.

He's at the goddamn pool, and there's nothing I can do about it because he's already seen me, and I'd look like a coward if I decided to turn back now.

And to think I'd initially come here to relax—oh, the irony.

Unable to make much progress on the way my envy poem had started to come along, I'd admitted defeat and dragged myself out here after Ruby insisted it would be better if she finished her close reading outline in time to get to bed early.

So here I am. In my baby pink bikini, silver heart clasp holding two tiny triangles of fabric together, and stretchy, red ribbons hitched up my hips. Facing Dane Anderson.

The world really must hate me.

His gaze is critical, sweeping slowly from head to toe to take in the entirety of my body from behind that stupid notebook, ballpoint pen twisting easily through his fingers on the arm of the chaise lounge before he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "What's the getup for?"

I rush to gain the upper hand in this conversation, letting my mouth twist into a mean smile. "Why? Hoping I dressed up for you?"

"Hardly." The book comes down slightly to show me his unimpressed expression, and I take this time to let my eyes roam over him now. In the faint glow of the lights surrounding the pool, he's wearing board shorts and a short-sleeved button up. It's kind of freaky not to see him in uniform—an alternate reality where he has the potential to be a normal fucking person.

"Like what you see, Cleodora?"

The question makes my heart thud once really hard before I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "Having fun familiarizing yourself with my tits, Doggy?"

His only reaction is the slight tick of his jaw, eyes finding my chest for a moment before he eventually brings his gaze back down to the book. "Not really. I've seen better."

"Doubtful."

"Really? Why doubtful?"

I open my mouth, failing to come up with anything witty in reply and he nods sagely, lips ticking upwards meanly to match mine. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're an asshole?"

"Many people. You more than once. Has anyone ever told you that you're annoying?"

"Oh, I'm sure you get that a lot."

"I don't actually. I think it's something to do with the fact that I'm self-aware."

"Wow, asshole and a liar—this is turning out to be quite the impressive resume you have."

His eyes raise at that, and he leans back farther in his seat, silent for a beat. I think I've won this round until he conversationally says, "Who let you out of your cage tonight?"

My teeth instinctively bare, response coming quick. "Shouldn't I be asking you that, Doggy?"

His eyes lock intently with mine as I move toward him, not blinking up until I'm perched on the arm of his chaise, feet tucked to the side of his legs, struggling to come up with a reason for why I would do such a thing.

"What are you doing?"

I don't know.

"Spending time with an enemy of mine. Does this make you nervous?" I lean back, palms to plastic, and he makes a small noise out the back of his throat.

"Find somewhere else to sit."

I don't break gaze, pulling my hair up into a high bun with an elastic tie. "I like this spot right here actually."