My Enemy Is Number 9

Chloe Caldwell♡

Nathaniel Cole is handsome.

Not the clean-cut, prom king kind of handsome.

More like carved-from-sunlight, six-foot, broad-shouldered, messy-blond-hair kind of handsome that makes you go, 'oh my ovaries,' and ruins you for other men with one lazy, crooked grin.

Right now, that grin is wrapped around the neck of a Bud Light as he tilts the bottle back. His throat moves when he swallows.

God.

“You gonna keep staring at Captain Pucks-a-Lot,” Anita murmurs beside me, nudging my shoulder, “or are you actually gonna loosen up tonight?”

The bar is packed and loud. Hockey players shout over each other while cans slam against tables and some early-2000s trap remix blasts through the speakers until the bass vibrates through my stool.

Thankfully, nobody else hears the idiot I call my best friend trying to embarrass me in front of the man I've been crushing on.

“Oh my God, Anita.” I duck lower in my seat, mortified. “Do you seriously have to say everything out loud?”

“Yes,” she says unapologetically, taking a sip of her drink. “Because watching you thirst over him in silence is becoming physically painful.”

I push away from the table and groan into my Coke can.

The worst part?

She's right.

Nate is literally sitting across from me, and I still can't work up the courage to tell him I like him.

“It's not that easy,” I mutter.

Anita snorts. “Please. Men are not complicated. Especially hockey boys. They all share one brain cell. Well, except the four angels."

Of course, the four angels were the only hockey players that made sense to her, every other player was garbage.

I huff out a laugh despite myself, but my smile quickly fades as the doubts creep back in.

“What if he rejects me?”

Anita opens her mouth to answer, then pauses.

“Well, you better make up your mind.” She nods toward the entrance. “Looks like somebody else got tired of waiting.”

I follow her gaze, and my stomach drops the second I see who's just walked in.

Amber Hale. The Campus Barbie herself.

Blonde hair cascading over perfect shoulders, tight-fitting shorts and a crop top, legs for days, and enough confidence to power the entire city grid.

She walks like she knows people are staring. Because they are. Including Nate.

My heart sinks as she saunters straight toward our table without hesitation. She slides into the seat beside Nate and trails a manicured finger slowly across his chest like she owns him.

Nate's teammates immediately lose their minds.

“OHHHH!”

“Cole, you lucky bastard!”

“Somebody get this man another beer!”

Hands slam against tables as the guys cheer and clink their cans together. A few of them even start chanting Nate's name, getting louder with every repetition like their captain has just scored the winning goal in the championship.

Meanwhile, I sit there trying not to look visibly pathetic. Amber leans closer to Nate, laughing at something he says. Nate smirks lazily, and God, I hate how good they look together.

“You gonna count your losses now?” Anita whispers beside me.

“No.” I grab my can and finish the Coke in one go. “Who knows? She might just be a fling.”

Amber suddenly stands when Cardi B's “WAP” blasts through the speakers, and the team erupts instantly.

“Oh, shit!”

“TURN IT UP!”

Amber grins mischievously before climbing directly onto Nate's lap. My breath catches in my throat as she starts grinding slowly against him while the entire table howls like a pack of wild animals.

Nate tips his head back slightly, his jaw flexing as Amber runs her hands over his shoulders. One large hand settles against her waist, guiding her dangerously close to his crotch as she moves against him.

My chest aches so badly I can barely breathe. Of course he likes this. Girls like Amber are exactly his type. Not awkward girls who spend Friday nights organizing color-coded study notes.

Amber rolls her hips harder. Nate lets out a low grunt, keeping his fingers firmly around her waist. His teammates absolutely lose it.

“COLE IS DOWN BAD!”

“That man's fighting for his life right now!”

“Somebody hose him down!”

I just sit there, moping like an idiot while the room spins. Suddenly, Amber stops dancing, and Nate lets out an annoyed groan.

“Oh?” she teases. “You needy now?”

Nate laughs under his breath. “You gonna finish what you started or what, baby?”

Amber grins wickedly and slides off his lap. “Nope.”

“What?” Nate groans.

“You don't deserve it.”

Nate's teammates immediately shout in betrayal.

“THAT'S FOUL!”

“BRO WAS RIGHT THERE!”

Nate drags a hand down his face dramatically while everyone laughs. Then Amber looks past the table, her gaze landing directly on me.

A mischievous smirk tugs at her lips.

“Oh, shit,” Anita mutters, leaning toward me. “Why is she looking at us?”

Amber crosses her arms and tilts her head. “If someone offered you ten grand, Nate,” she says, pointing directly at me, “or one kiss with her.”

Her?

She pretends she doesn't know me.

She turns back to Nate. “Which one are you taking?”

The entire bar goes silent. Every. Single. Person turns to look at me. I shrink back in my seat, resisting the urge to launch myself out of it and sprint out of the building.

Anita immediately leans toward me. “We're leaving.”

I want to move, but I don't. Because suddenly, I'm not here anymore. I'm thirteen again, standing in front of my eighth-grade classroom while my classmates laugh at me.

While Amber and her friends call me weird.

“Earth to Nate,” Amber snaps, waving her hand impatiently in front of him. “Answer the question.”

Nate finally looks at me. His gaze drifts over my face and down my clothes before returning to my eyes. He looks almost curious, like he's trying to decide something. Like I'm an item sitting on a shelf.

Then he leans back lazily in his chair and smirks.

“Ten grand,” he says easily.

Everyone in the bar laughs so hard that I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me whole.

“But honestly?” Nate shrugs. “I would choose ten grand over you too, Amber.”

I look up sharply. What?

“Excuse me?!” Amber gasps in disbelief.

A few people laugh even harder, and for one horrible second, just one horrible second, I think maybe he's not a complete douchebag after all.

“But,” he says, slicing straight through that tiny hope, “if the choice was between kissing her or drinking piss?”

His grin widens.

“I'm grabbing the piss.”

The whole bar detonates. Everyone howls, and someone nearly falls out of their chair laughing. Amber doubles over before grabbing Nate's face and kissing him hard.

And Nate? Nate just laughs into the kiss like he didn't just rip my self-esteem to pieces in front of half the campus.

Everything around me goes blurry. Anita is saying something. I can see her mouth moving, but I don't stick around long enough to hear what she's saying.

I grab my bag, shove away from the table, and storm out of the building.

“Chloe!” Anita yells behind me.

I keep running. The cold night air hits my face hard enough to sting. My vision blurs as tears spill down my cheeks. I don't even know where I'm going.

Just away. Away from Nate. Away from everybody. Away from the feeling that maybe every awful thing people said about me growing up was true.

I stumble toward the street, barely making it across one lane when SCREEECH! A motorcycle speeds straight toward me.

Oh God.

Everything happens so fast. I try to jump backward, but my legs won't move quickly enough. The biker yells something, and the motorcycle swerves violently. I throw my hands over my face and BAM!

Something slams into me, sending my body flying sideways onto the pavement.

Tires screech against the road. The motorcycle skids to a stop nearby. The smell of burnt rubber fills the air as the rider jumps off his bike and storms toward me.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he yells furiously, ripping off his helmet.

I stop breathing the second his face comes into view. Dark hair falls messily over sharp brows, framing a strong jawline and high cheekbones.

His storm-gray eyes blaze with anger as he glares down at me.

He looks unreal, like some ridiculously hot actor who stepped out of a luxury watch commercial.

The stranger stares down at me, and suddenly, despite everything, my heart stutters.