Love to Hate: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Only Him Series Book 3) Read online

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied.

  “Hey. Not your fault. I’ve never had great luck with women anyhow.”

  “You should try guys,” I laughed.

  “Maybe, but not right now. Most of the guys I’ve met have ended up being more complicated than the women. God,” Dion said. “It’d be nice to meet someone who clicks with me, you know?”

  “I know.”

  He led me toward the table and seated himself beside me as I began to eat, only idly paying attention to the news program playing in the background as Dion considered his well-kept apartment. He sighed after a short moment and said, “So. You and this guy.”

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “You like him?”

  “I do,” I replied.

  “How long have you known him?”

  “A little over two weeks now.”

  “Have you had the talk with him?”

  “Not yet,” I said, setting my hamburger down before turning to face him. “I try not to rush things, especially after what happened with my ex.”

  “What happened, exactly?”

  I told him—in no uncertain detail—about everything that had occurred between Brad and I, then detailed my recent encounter with him in the furniture store. By the time I finished, all Dion could say was, “Damn.”

  “Yeah. I just… don’t want to throw myself into anything. Not after what I’ve been through.”

  “You gotta give nice guys a chance, Chase.”

  “I know. But don’t you think it’s a little early?”

  “I think he would be the one to tell you if it was a ‘little early.’” This he said with air quotes to enunciate his point. “Don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “I guess.”

  “Hey,” Dion said, slapping a hand across my upper back. “You never know until you try. Right?”

  “I… guess,” I said.

  I considered my half-eaten hamburger and tried not to pull any metaphors from it, but it was hard not to, considering my state of mind and being.

  I was missing my other half.

  Could it be found in Dylan, I wondered? And would he even be reciprocative to the idea of the two of us going steady after such a short amount of time?

  I couldn’t know—and wouldn’t until I tried.

  “Hey Dion,” I said, lifting my hamburger from my plate and standing. “I think I’m going to take you up on your suggestion and go give Dylan a call. There’s no point in beating around the bush when I’ve got feelings for the guy.”

  “Atta boy,” Dion said, then fist-bumped my hand. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”

  “Thanks Dion. I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes.”

  “You better,” the man laughed.

  I left feeling even better about my decision than when I’d previously thought about asking him before.

  ***

  I stared at the phone, at its screen, at the contact information pulled up for Dylan Cross, and realized that the idea of asking him to go steady was easier than the actual process of doing it.

  “Shit,” I mumbled.

  “Shit,” the bird replied behind me.

  “Scottie,” I warned, lifting my head to face the bird. “What did I say about using bad words?”

  “No no no no,” the bird said, scraping his beak along the bars of the cage.

  “Exactly. Now can you watch your toons and be quiet so I can make a phone call?”

  “No.”

  Figures, I thought, but kept quiet as I palmed the phone, thumbed Dylan’s contact information, then lifted it to my ear.

  I waited for the man to pick up—for him to answer his phone, or at least for his answering machine to connect me. When it seemed like the man would ever answer—and that his answering machine would never pick up—I sighed and was just about to hang up when the phone clicked.

  “This is Dylan,” the man replied.

  “Dylan,” I started.

  “I can’t come to the phone right now, so please leave a message and I’ll get back to you ASAP.”

  “Fuck,” I said, then realized that the answering machine had already picked up. “Shit. Sorry, D. It’s Chase. When you get a moment, could you call me? Or… come over, rather? I need to talk to you about something. Don’t worry! It’s nothing bad. Thanks. Bye—”

  The message ended before I could formally hang up.

  With a sigh, I stood, crossed the short distance toward my computer, and seated myself before it.

  I had to keep myself distracted somehow. Otherwise, I was apt to go insane.

  ***

  Hours passed, during which time I wrote, browsed the Internet, tried desperately to keep my mind off Dylan Cross. However—when a knock came at the door around eight o’clock that evening, I was just about ready to give up hope.

  Is it, I thought, him?

  I stood and made my way toward the door before leaning forward and peering through the peephole.

  Dylan waited outside, hands in his pockets and face looking rather grim.

  He’s expecting the worst, I thought.

  I opened the door before the man could think anything worse and greeted him with a smile. “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey,” the man replied. “You wanted to see me?”

  I stepped aside and allowed him to enter the apartment without so much as another word. When I closed the door behind me, he turned to face me, his face still wearing the same grim look. “So,” he said, drawing the word out so I could explain in kind why he was here and at such an hour of the night. “What’s up?”

  “I wanted to talk to you in person,” I said, “rather than do it over the phone.”

  “Is this the part where you tell me we’re not right for each other?” he frowned.

  “What? No!” I cried. I stepped forward and took hold of his one hand. “Quite the contrary, actually.”

  “Pardon?”

  I smiled and reached up to press a hand against his chest. “The reason I wanted you to come over here,” I said, “was because I wanted to discuss our relationship—or, rather… what could be our relationship.”

  He waited—blinking, casually, the film of doubt from over his eyes. “Are you,” he started.

  “Asking if we could go steady?” I asked. “Yes, Dylan. I’m asking if we can go steady.”

  The smile he offered could’ve melted the sun and turned gold any object he set his eyes upon. “Chase,” he said, taking me into his arms. “I… don’t know what to say.”

  “I was hoping you’d say yes,” I replied. “Because otherwise, this is going to get a lot more awkward.”

  “Yes, Chase. I’ll go steady with you.”

  He took hold of my body, lifted me into his arms, and pressed a long, hard kiss against my lips.

  Behind us, Scottie buzzed and began to dance upon his perch.

  “So I guess it’s settled, then,” Dylan said as he set me back down on the floor. “You’re my boyfriend now.”

  “And you’re mine,” I replied. “My knight in shining armor.”

  He blushed, then smiled before wrapping his arms around me once more. “You sure you’re ok with doing this?” I asked. “So soon?”

  “A friend told me I need to take chances,” I said. “And right now, you’re the chance I want to take.”

  “Want want want want!” Scottie cried.

  “What does he want?” Dylan asked.

  “For us to kiss again,” I said.

  So we did.

  And as we held the kiss, I took hold of his hips, brought his body against mine, and melded seamlessly against him.

  I knew, regardless of whatever conventional approach dictated, that this was right.

  He was my firefighter, and I was the man who adored him so.

  This couldn’t feel any better if it tried.

  The End

  ###