Sincerely Enemies: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (The Warr Acres High Series Book 1) Read online

  I took a quick shower—Aunt Linda would kill me if I got grease on her sheets—and then I went to the garage they’d converted into a bedroom for me. Meaning, they’d put a futon and a space heater out there, along with their washer and dryer, the mower, lawn fertilizer, hoses, and a power washer.

  I couldn’t complain. It wasn’t much worse than the little apartment we used to live in where I slept on the couch and Ma and Dad—when he was around—took the bedroom. At least I had a little privacy now.

  I dropped down on the futon and pulled the laptop Mrs. Arthur gave me from my bag. It was one of the school’s old, clunky ones. I lifted the screen up, logged in, and typed in Uncle Ken’s Wi-Fi password. Mrs. Arthur had already logged me into the Dear Adam gmail account.

  There were a few spam emails—anyone want to make friends with a prince from Nigeria? But then there were also a few real messages.

  From: WAHS Portal [Long-term Girlfriend]

  To: DEAR ADAM

  Dear Adam,

  I’ve been dating the same guy for a long time, and now that we’re seniors, I’m wondering if we should keep dating? We’ll be going to college soon, and everyone’s telling me that’s the best time of your life to make friends and date new guys and that having a boyfriend in college will just hold me back. I love him, but is that enough?

  Long-term Girlfriend

  I sighed at the screen and ran my hand over my tight curls. Whose idiotic idea was it to have me write this? Had they just looked for the least qualified person for the job and zoned in on me? I didn’t have time for a relationship—let alone helping other people with theirs. But there were so many times I’d wanted to tell my mom what to do in her relationships. Maybe this was my chance to share the advice I never could give her.

  I opened up a new email, addressed to Mrs. Arthur, and wrote my first column.

  Dear Long-term Girlfriend,

  You say you love him, but do you? If you really liked this dude, breaking up wouldn’t even be on your mind. I think the fact that you’re wondering about it is answer enough. Just let him down easy. And not in a text. That’s just uncool.

  Signed,

  Adam

  I created a new folder in my account and moved that email to “Done.” On to the next one.

  From: WAHS Portal [2 Young]

  To: DEAR ADAM

  Dear Adam,

  I’m a freshman, and a senior guy asked me out. When I told my parents about it, they flipped. Like, my dad literally lost it, saying I’m too young to date and that senior guys only have one thing on their mind. But I feel really pissed because, well, that means he doesn’t trust me to pick which guys to date. That’s absolute crap. How can I get my dad to see that it’s time to let me choose who I want to go out with?

  Sincerely,

  2 Young

  I dragged my hand over my face. Was graduating really worth it?

  Ma would kill me if I didn’t though. Literally.

  Dear 2 Young,

  The term “fresh-meat freshman” exists for a reason. And your dad? Might not be too far off base. I mean, unless you’ve been in a guys’ locker room, it’s kinda hard to understand where your old man’s coming from. But if you’re super set on dating this guy, maybe ask for supervised dates? If this dude’s not just in it for one thing, he wouldn’t mind having your parents tag along to the movies or something.

  Signed,

  Adam

  My eyes already felt tired from staring at the computer screen, but I went on to the next email. There were five, and I only needed three. Maybe I could knock this one out and not have to worry about it for the rest of the week.

  From: WAHS Portal [Setting Things Straight]

  To: DEAR ADAM

  Dear Adam,

  I don’t even know why I’m writing you. I guess I just feel hopeless at this point. I came out to my parents last week, and my mom hasn’t talked to me since then. Hasn’t even looked at me. We used to talk all the time, and now I feel like she wouldn’t even care if I just left and didn’t come back. I don’t know what to do to make things right.

  Love,

  Setting Things Straight

  My gut hurt like I’d eaten something bad. That story hit too close to home. Yeah, I wasn’t gay or anything, but having a parent treat you like you didn’t exist? I got that.

  Dear Setting Things Straight,

  That sucks. Even though I can’t totally relate, not feeling accepted as who you are is the worst feeling ever. If you were brave enough to be honest with them, you’re tough enough to get through this too. And, take it from me, not all parents are who you thought they’d be. That’s on them, though. Not you.

  Signed,

  Adam

  As I typed the words, hit save, and closed the laptop, I wondered how much I believed that last part. If at all.

  Four

  Nora

  I was trying to do some last-minute review for the American Government test, but everyone in our class was talking too loudly. Some guys a few rows over were seeing whether they could throw grapes in the air and catch them in their mouths. These girls right next to me were talking about date ideas. Usually, I was good at tuning everything out—living with four younger siblings teaches you that real quick—but they said something about the school newspaper, and I had to listen.

  “Did you read that advice column?” one girl whispered to her friends.

  I kept my gaze down so they couldn’t tell I was eavesdropping, but I saw the other two nod out of my periphery.

  One of them giggled. “That thing he wrote to the girl whose boyfriend started baby talking to her? Classic.”

  Her friend laughed. “Right? Or what about the one from the kid coming out?”

  The other girls nodded solemnly.

  “He just...gets it, you know? It’s not all preachy like a lot of columns.”

  Despite myself, I smiled. The advice column had been a great idea, and whoever Adam was, he was doing a great job. His identity had been kept totally secret. Trey actually seemed pretty miffed that the newspaper teacher wouldn’t tell him who Adam was. But for the column to work, people had to trust who they wrote to, even if it meant messaging a complete stranger.

  I looked up from my notes and caught sight of Emerick a few rows over. He was leaned back in his chair, head tilted back, talking to one of his friends behind him. For the briefest seconds, our eyes caught. He arched an eyebrow, like he was saying, what? But not in a helpful way. Maybe in a challenging way?

  I didn’t know. Eyebrows shouldn’t need translators. And I shouldn’t have been so curious about what his meant.

  Our teacher started talking about the test, and I directed my attention back toward the material. I pored over every line of my notes I could until he asked us to clear our desks.

  The rest of the day passed as usual, and I hurried to the parking lot after school to meet my sister. Since she was only a freshman and didn’t have her permit, she needed me to take her to her dance lesson across town.

  She was already waiting at the car when I arrived, her toe tapping like I was late.

  I ignored the toe, got in, and we left the parking lot. I tried talking to her on the way, but she was writing on a notebook in her lap, trying to get some homework done.

  After dropping her off, I drove to Warr Acres City Hall. I interned there one day a week—mostly doing paperwork—but Dad promised me working in government at a young age would pay off down the road. He said starting later in life hurt him in his race for mayor of the city and now in his attempt at governor. But for how much he worked, how much he was away from home, he deserved the position. All of us did for having to pick up the slack while he was gone.

  By the time I picked Amie up and drove home, I was exhausted and nursing more than a few paper cuts. Plus, I still had an AP English assignment to do.

  Food. Then homework. Amie and I trudged inside toward the kitchen, and I stopped short.

  Trey was sitting at the table with Mom and m
y youngest sister, chatting like nothing had ever happened between us.

  Mom looked up at me and grinned. “You have a visitor, Nora.”

  I smiled, but my lips felt tight.

  She stood from the table. “I already made supper. Why don’t you two take it upstairs?”

  As Mom turned away to get the plates, I gave Trey a look that I hoped said, what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks are you doing here, you scumbag?

  Trey replied with an I’m an idiot shrug. But when Mom turned back to us, he replaced his even expression with a warm smile.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Wilson.” He eyed the plate full of mashed potatoes and gravy and salmon. “Man, I’ve missed your cooking.”

  She set the food on the table and put her free hand over her heart. “You flatter me, Trey.”

  Of course he did—that was Trey’s specialty. Actually putting any meaning behind his words? Well, that was a different story.

  I picked up my dish from the island and turned to go upstairs. “Come on.”

  “Remember to keep your door open,” Mom said, already focusing on my little sister.

  Trey’s voice dripped with that perfect-teen-boy kindness parents ate up. “Of course, Mrs. Wilson.”

  I hurried up the stairs, not worried about whether he was following.

  Of course, he was right behind me when I walked into my room, and he sat in my desk chair like he belonged there.

  I set my plate on the dresser and whirled to face him. There had to be at least one exception to Dad’s kindness rule, and he was sitting right in front of me. “What are you doing here?”

  He took a bite of potatoes and took his time chewing, even though someone with dentures could have eaten the goop quicker than Trey.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” he said, carefully cutting his salmon.

  “Well, you better hurry. I have a paper to write for English, and I have to help Mom with Amie’s costume. Oh, and I need to sleep.” I definitely did not have time for this.

  Trey turned his soft hazel eyes on me, the eyes I’d fallen in love with when we worked the junior prom committee together. “Nora, just hear me out.”

  I grabbed my plate from the dresser, dropped onto my bed, and shoveled some flaky salmon into my mouth.

  “That’s not very ladylike.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  He chuckled. “You’re so cute when you do that.”

  Okay, now I was fuming. I swallowed. “Get to the point, Trey.”

  “Look.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brooch.

  My eyes flew to the delicate gold flower. “Is that...” I reached out to touch it.

  “Your grandma’s,” he finished. “I found it at a pawn shop the other day.”

  I looked up into those eyes and then back at the only thing I had left of my grandma. She’d given it to me to wear at prom, right before she passed away. I clutched it to my chest and closed my eyes. My heart had been broken without it.

  He cleared his throat. “I...um, I’ve been looking for it ever since you lost it, and I guess I just got lucky.”

  I met his eyes again. “Thank you.”

  The corner of his mouth pulled back in a half smile. “Anything for you. You know that.”

  Did I?

  “Nora, I...” His eyes turned down. “I’m sorry I broke up with you.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. This? Now? “It’s fine.”

  His hand felt heavy on my shoulder. “It wasn’t. It’s not. I made a huge mistake.”

  I blinked at him, eyes wide, and not because he was wearing a tight T-shirt that showed off his basketball muscles or because he wore my favorite cologne of his, but because I wanted to believe that was true.

  But I couldn’t. “I thought you said you didn’t want to date someone long distance?”

  “Yeah, it’s going to be hard when you’re at OU and I’m at Columbia, but we’ll make it work, right? There are video calls and email and text. And month-long winter breaks. And it would probably be better if we weren’t a distraction to each other while we’re in school anyway.”

  “A distraction?” Was that how he saw me?

  “You know what I mean.” He ran his thumb over the cap of my shoulder, and it sent shivers to my stomach. “We always agreed school came first.”

  “Yeah, and that’s why we hardly had time to hang out when we were dating,” I reminded him.

  His hand dropped from my shoulder to my waist. “I thought our study dates were fun.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  I batted his hand away, but I couldn’t help but smile. Kissing with our books open had been a really nice way to study. That was the closest I’d ever come to getting a B, though.

  He came a little closer and twirled a piece of my hair in his fingers. “I’d do anything for you.” One of his hands covered mine, the one that was holding my grandma’s brooch. “Just think about it. Promise?”

  I sighed and closed my eyes. “I promise.”

  He left down the stairs, showing himself out like he had so many times before.

  But the problem was, I didn’t have time to think about this. I barely had time to write my paper. Which, for the record, I did. Just not very well. Then I went downstairs and helped Mom pin and sew on pieces of Amie’s dance costume. And then, when one of the babies started crying, I went to her room and fed her a bottle. And then, when I fell into bed, totally exhausted, with only six hours before school started the next day, I was still thinking about Trey.

  So, I reached out to the only person I could think of.

  Adam.

  Five

  Emerick

  I was about to close my laptop when a new email flashed across the screen. Even though not every question got put into the newspaper, I read them all. It was kind of like watching the Jerry Springer Show—seeing how many problems everyone else had made me feel a little less bad about my own.

  Seriously, if you looked at the social media accounts of the kids at my school, you’d think they lived the perfect lives, went on vacations all the time, or always hung out with friends. But these letters told me something different. I’d gotten at least a hundred of them already, and they didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

  I told myself I’d read just one more before going to bed and clicked open the newest email.

  From: WAHS Portal [ThePerfectStranger]

  To: DEAR ADAM

  Dear Adam,

  I hope you’re having a nice evening. I want to start this by saying I don’t want my email in the paper. I just...wanted to talk to someone who might understand. Someone who might give me some clue of what to do. I know you probably get a lot of emails, so if you don’t have time for mine, I understand.

  I guess I’ll just jump in. I met this guy last year, and we started dating at prom. Everything seemed perfect. My parents loved him, we had a lot of the same goals for our future, he got along with my younger siblings... He was perfect, basically. I won’t bore you with how cute he is, but, trust me, he’s not bad to look at, either.

  But when we started getting acceptance letters back from college, things changed. He applied to schools out of state, and I didn’t. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to. My family needs me here to help. But he doesn’t get that. He told me I was throwing my life away by not seeing the world and that he didn’t want to have a long-distance relationship. So, we broke up. Well, he broke up with me. And it hurt. But he just asked me out again, and I’m not sure what to say.

  The thing is, I don’t think anyone even knows we’re broken up. We still hang out together at school all the time. He drops by my house. He still calls me babe in front of other people. But now? I don’t know if I even want to be in a relationship with him. Do I want to date someone who is always going to put school and work first? Is it something he’ll grow out of?

  I’m realizing I basically sent you a novel, so I’m sorry. You can reply to my email if you want. It’s [email protected].

  ThePerfectStranger
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  PS – I read about something called “Caregiver’s Fatigue.” Basically, it’s like the people who are always helping others need help too. So if you ever want to talk, I’m here.

  PSS – I’m hearing great things about your column. Keep up the good work.

  That email had me all over the place—smiling, feeling bad, feeling surprised. I’d gotten a lot of emails, but none of them had ever asked how I was doing with everything or offered help. But the thing that stood out most in her email? Needing to stay around her family. I got that. The feeling of family over everything else—even your future.

  So, for the first time, I wrote back. Not for the paper, just for her.

  From: ADAM

  To: ThePerfectStranger

  Hey ThePerfectStranger,

  I’m having a good evening, thanks for asking, and don’t worry about the email. A little light reading never hurt anyone. Just don’t tell Ms. Chance I said that.

  I guess if you wanted advice, you came to the right guy. But you’re not going to get the benefit of this going through the counselor, so I guess you’re stuck with me. If that’s okay. Tell me to stop whenever.