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before i start this story, let me assure you:

i am acutely aware that enemies to lovers between a man and a woman be portrayed with a power imbalance, one party treating their party meaner that's what okay, that in the journey to getting together lines can get crossed and you look and the characters and don't root for them.
that being said, i promise you i won't do that. i won't make damien this huge asshole who's cruel to his supposed love interest.

let me also say, for me to show you the impact of damien x audrey, i first have to show you a contrast with that being said, i also plan to level the playing feeling i.e. as asshole-ish damien is, i will make audrey! to reiterate, making them complete and utter dicks to each other will make the process of them falling for each other that much more impactful and interesting to read!

*details have been changed (and will continue to as i flesh out the plot!!)


"Why'd she break up with you? I thought with you guys were doing good. Thought she wanted you to move in with her," Danielle Palmer spoke curiously, casting a halfway glance from the road.

I shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, eyes flickering to the scenery passing in the window. The words of my ex echoed in my mind, "You're - you're so closed off! You don't share anything with me—I'm nothing more than a fuck buddy to you, and I'm not okay with that."

In retrospect, her reasoning was valid. There was no denying the fact that some might consider me 'guarded,' but I never led her to believe I wasn't. And, what was wrong with that? It wasn't like I was cold, or anything—it was simply that talking about my deepest secrets, my childhood was a no - go.

The way I grew up, the way I was wired, getting all mushy and in touch with feeling made my skin crawl. I just couldn't do it. What did it matter, anyway? There was never any good that came out of dwelling on the past. Whether I remained alone forever, or not, I stuck by that.

Yet, as I reminded myself of it, replaying the break up, there was a peculiar feeling in my chest. It wasn't sadness because we weren't together, we barely dated for a minute, but something like fear.

I cleared my throat. "Dunno," I answered my best friend vaguely with the white lie, "said something about wanting to find herself."

Dani hummed, knowing as far as relationships go, nothing serious would ever come about with a commitment-phobe like myself. "Yeah, well, now you can find yourself wrapped around someone else." She made a turn down a short road of gravel, the scent of salt drifting into the car. "It's gonna be three months of pure debauchery. Just me and you—"

"And Damien," I dryly interjected.

For the next three months, Danielle Palmer and I would be living at her aunt's beach house down in Florida. Since she had finished her freshmen year in college with her as always 4.0, her parents graciously allowed her the residency of the quaint location.

Bringing me along, however, required a fair share of convincing because I was a bad influence, apparently. Ironically, what convinced was Damien Palmer: someone was arguably worse than me. Somehow, for whatever reason, it was because he was still living there and promised to keep us—re: me—under control.

The ever-so bougie Palmers trusted thumbtacks-in-your-chair, shoot-hornets-at-the-teacher Damien Palmer over me: when I heard that, I almost burst my appendix. What a joke!

Nevertheless, I wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. My post graduation year had been erratic and mercurial so far, and maybe staying still for once would be good for me. Even if I had to do with her asshole of a brother there.

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