All Chapters of My Enemy [BL]: Chapter 421 - Chapter 430

ELLISJulian laughed, a deep, genuine sound that rolled through the apartment effortlessly, landing in my chest exactly how I’d been trying to prevent anything from doing. "Relax.""I am relaxed—""You look like you’re about to have a medical emergency.""I might. You might have triggered one with your stupid self.""That’s a bit concerning." His grin settled in easily, as if it was right at home. Then, with the calm of someone who knows they’re in control of the situation, he lifted one of the tickets and held it out to me."Hockey game," he said.I blinked. Once. Twice. The truth seeped in slowly, rerouting around everything I had already decided.How did this guy even know I liked, no... loved hockey? When I was a kid, my dad would spend weeks saving up money just to take me to a hockey game and buy the souvenirs.Though we’ve never had much, my dad loved me enough to sacrifice his free time for extra shifts for a sport he wasn’t even fond of. Just because I was, those days where h

ELLISThat got a real laugh from him, brief and genuine, spilling out before he could rein it in, the kind of laughter he reserved for moments of unguarded amusement. I hated that I could now tell the difference.I was halfway down the hallway, dignity still mostly intact and retreat almost complete, when his voice called after me."What’s so wrong with two friends hanging out?"I halted.Turning around slowly, like I had just caught someone misusing a word that needed addressing."Friends?" I said."Yes.""We are not friends.""Really?" He feigned thoughtfulness as if he was being completely genuine. "We eat dinner together.""Against my will.""You watch movies with me.""Also against my will.""You stole my blanket last week."I shot my finger at him so quickly my brain barely kept up. "That is not what happened, you fucking gave them to me.""But you didn’t return it, did you? You were wrapped around it like it owed you money."My face flushed. "That proves nothing about our relat

ELLISThe last customer finally cleared out of the flower shop around four-thirty. By the time I was done sweeping the floor, wiping down the counters, locking up, and finding my coat wherever it had wandered off to during my shift, I felt like my body had been pieced together by someone who didn’t really know what they were doing.My back ached, my feet ached. I was pretty sure my soul had filed a formal complaint.The only things keeping me going on that walk back to Pinnacle Hall were the thought of a hot shower and an almost desperate hope that Julian had somehow forgotten about tonight.Our hangout... because it wasn’t a date!Not that I was scared or anything...I mean, pfft! I wasn’t scared. I was an adult with a fully functioning nervous system and a healthy relationship with my emotions, which, right now, were all playing it cool.I was just an adult who had spent most of the afternoon serving customers and quietly wondering if faking my own death would be easier than whatever

ELLISI gawked at the limo, to me, though, it might as well have been a spaceship. A really expensive one, with leather seats and its own driver, sitting there all casual while I was having a quiet meltdown on the pavement next to it.Right then, the driver stepped forward, and I took him in like he was the proof of my worst fears, impeccably dressed in a black suit that looked like it had never met a wrinkle, moving with the kind of smooth professionalism you only see in someone who has been driving important people around for years and knows how to keep it discreet."Good evening, Young Master Cross."I froze. Young master? What, was he royalty?The words hit me one by one, each needing some careful consideration.I whipped my head around to Julian faster than I probably should have.Just how rich was this guy?!Julian took that address in stride, as if being called "Young Master" was just another part of his life that he didn’t bother thinking about anymore. "Good evening, Harris."

ELLISIt had been seven years. That thought hit me hard and fast, seven years since I’d been near a hockey game. Years since life had enough breathing room for things like this, an evening free of job obligations, or bills hanging over my head, or the constant low-grade anxiety of someone doing mental calculations in the back of their mind.A memory bubble popped up before I could steer my thoughts elsewhere.My dad in the upper deck of a much smaller arena, not nearly as impressive as this one, leaping up for a play he totally misread, shouting with all his conviction about a call that had gone down differently than he thought. I laughed at him.We shared a terrible hot dog, pretending to be hockey experts when we barely understood the icing rule. The blissful, uncomplicated joy of being a kid, cold, and happy in a crowd.That nostalgia hit me harder than I expected, settling in a weight behind my sternum...Dad...I really want you to get better. I can’t do this without you. I don’t