ANYTHING BUT ENEMIES

23. the worst for my enemies (dane's version)

CLEODORA'S HOTEL ROOM is basically the same as mine, but the open suitcase, clothes strewn around the floor, and piles of junk food really add character to the place.

I take a step forward, pulling back the window curtain to reveal a stretch of downtown Kensington.

"Why does your room have a better view than mine?"

"Obviously the coordinators knew what they were doing," is her witty response.

I turn around to find her perched on her bed, outrageous boots holding her steady. My eyes automatically sweep over her body, and I quickly pull down the blinds to make it harder for myself to stare. "Probably a mistake."

"I doubt it."

"Doubt all you want. If the people knew who they were dealing with, you would've gotten thirteenth floor dumpster view."

"You're projecting, Doggy." Her eyes roll, but it feels far from hostile.

To be honest, I could care less about exchanging poems at this point. I just want to be in her presence.

The thought sends a wave of nausea crashing through me.

"Just speaking the truth." I force out after noticing I've been quiet for too long. I avert my gaze, staring at the mountain of candies on Ruby's dresser before daring to make eye contact again. "Unfairness aside, how's your nose doing?"

She looks caught off guard by the question, but lifts a shoulder. "It's fine—better, I mean." Then after a second, she adds, "Why?"

"I'm not allowed to ask questions?"

"You're asking one right now."

"Rhetorical." I lean back against the windowsill, crossing my arms to keep them from shaking. "Now why don't you—?"

"Let me see yours first." She interrupts me loudly.

I shake my head instantly. "Mm, no, I think I should see yours first."

"I asked first."

"It was more of a command," I argue, "And you cut me off before I could make the request that you go before me."

She tugs at the strap of her dress, drawing my attention back to the piece. Tight, short, distracting paired with her long, tan legs. "Rock, paper, scissors?"

"Is this preschool?"

"How else would you recommend solving this?"

"We default to the person who began asking the question first."

"And how do I know you weren't about to say something else?"

We hold eyes for a second before I peel myself from against the blinds, walking toward her. "Fine, I'll play."

"Great." She scoots back so that she can cross her legs, smirk turning up the corner of her glossed lips as she places a fist in her palm.

Cute is the word my mind decides to intrusively drop. I feel my shoulders stiffen.

I should not find this girl to be anything but lethal. Hot? Sure. Beautiful? Yeah, whatever. But cute?

God, I'm fucking losing it.

I swipe my hands down my pants before quickly throwing up my own fist.

We play the first round with her devotedly chanting rock, paper, scissors under her breath in the silence of the room. My skin flames as she throws her paper over my rock, nails digging into my hand.

"Oof, looks like you're first, Doggy."

"Best two out of three."

"No, we're not— "