She hated him. He hated her. And that was alright in their world until one night. Everything changed then, conversations exchanged between drags of a shared cigarette having developed a mutual respect between enemies.
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Slowburn enemies to frie...
Steve works on his homework at my desk. I sit on the corner of it, proofreading his essay. A single vanilla candle burns on my nightstand, filling the room with the cozy fragrance. A warm breeze creeps through the open window, blowing through his fluffy hair.
"I've seen toddlers with better handwriting," I remark, squinting at the scribbled pages.
Steve glances at me, annoyed. "Did you agree to help me just so you can bully me all day?"
"It makes the time go by," I smirk, hopping off the desk.
Steve huffs, tossing the pencil on his notebook. He rubs his eyes.
"I'm going to work at Scoops forever," he wallows.
I furrow my brows. "You most certainly will not," I encourage. "You'll get into college, Steve. If not this year, then next year. We've got time,"
My throat hardens when I realize I've used the term we. Steve looks up at me through thick eyelashes. Those eyes could make the strongest warriors fall to their knees.
I clear my throat. "Besides. You work with Robin, she's great. I would know,"
"She's mean to me, too," he complains.
"Maybe your charm just wore off," I tease lightly, fixing my hair in the mirror.
The alarm clock on my nightstand reads 3:45. We started Steve's essay at noon. I hadn't realized we'd been working that long. "How about a break?" I suggest.
Steve grins. "Don't have to ask me twice. Coffee?"
"Coffee sounds great," I exasperate.
He grabs his jacket from the back of my desk chair and opens the door for me. I duck under his arm and out the door. He follows close behind, shutting the door. Something about him following me around my house as I grab my purse and jacket makes me giddy but nervous.
"Where are you off to, Dear?" Mom asks from the kitchen.
"Off to grab some coffee real fast. Would you like some?" my sentence bounces off the living room walls and into the kitchen.
"Oh no, I'm good. Enjoy your date!"
"It's not a date, mom!" I groan. I roll my eyes and mouth a 'sorry' to Steve. He shrugs nonchalantly, opening the front door for me.
I slide past him and he closes the door behind us. Steve walks beside me, our arms brushing against one another occasionally.
"When does Dustin come home from camp?" He inquires, keys jingling in his hand as he fumbles to unlock the car. I tense up as I watch him, muscles flexing as he opens the maroon door and reaches to press the unlock button.
