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"Sleeping with the Enemy"

by Penelope P.

Part One

1. Of Rose Petals and Condoms

Cole and I were destined to be together… Too bad we didn't think so.

I was falling asleep; that's how bored I was. Where was Gregory? He was always on time. Or at least he tried to be. But honestly, an hour?

Okay, I sounded like a bitch. Maybe he was in traffic. Is it really that big of a deal to wait? I had an iPod. Which happened to be dead. Well, that's what you get when you leave it on all night long.

I crossed my legs and slouched in my chair as I let out a sigh when I imagined all the horrible things I would have to endure that summer. I cringed just thinking about the former summer I've spent in Jacksonville.

Maybe this year would be better.

Pfft, Yeah right.

"Well, well, well," An all to familiar voice sneered. I cringed. No, this isn't happening. It's supposed to be Gregory God Dammit. I looked up and found him standing with his arms crossed over his chest. There was only one person on this planet who has that evil look.

Cole Brian Mercer.

Cole is his name. Could that be anymore perfect for the son of Satan? His parents sure knew what they were doing when they named him.

White-hot burning cole under my ass is what he is.

Maybe I should explain.

Rich people do stupid things. Things like buying cars that go a hundred miles over the speed limit. Or hunt ducks and wear ascots. You know redundant things, which make then seem like assholes. Well my stupid rich parents made an agreement with his stupid rich parents. The agreement was I spend every single summer at their summer mansion until I turn eighteen. Seriously I'm not joking, they signed legal documents and everything.

Why? You may ask.

Obviously in the hopes that I'd fall in love with their son and we'd get married. Obviously.

Since arranged marriages don't really happen outside of India, they thought it would be super fun if they gave me a push in his general direction.

Like hell it worked.

So far their little agreement has gotten nowhere. Cole and I hated each other's guts. He'd make sure to make my life a living hell. Of course my mother thought he was just trying to get my attention as most boys do.

Cutting off my hair and super gluing it to my upper lip while I sleep doesn't sound like romance to me. It sounds like he hates me.

Of course I got him back by stashing explicit magazines and some naughty videos in his room for his mother to find.

That was sweet.

So there we were. Our last summer together, thank God. Both seventeen and just months away from being legal adults. Legal adults who want nothing to do with each other. I can hardly wait.

"Why me…" I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

He took lazy steps over to me. "I see you're still fat." He commented.

I was so not fat. I totally wasn't. Jerk. If anything I was malnourished. "Still charming I see."

"I try." He shrugged.

"Where's Gregory?" I asked. "Did you kill him?"

"He's got a cold, so I was forced to be your chauffeur."

I stood up. "My luck just gets better and better."

Of course I carried all my bags to his car alone. It's not like he could have helped. He sat impatiently in the driver's seat of his Aston Martin while I stuffed my crap into the trunk. I wanted so bad to key his car, but I fought the urge. I was not going to be the instigator.

"Could you possibly be any slower?" He groaned.

I ignored him; he was not worth the energy.

I climbed into the passenger's seat and buckled myself in. We didn't speak as he pulled out of the airport parking lot. The silence was completely awkward, for some reason.

We never really spent time alone together. Moments like that were always avoided. So now as we sat in silence, it felt weird.

No, it felt wrong.

"Did you graduate?" He suddenly asked.

Why did he care? "Of course. What's it to you?"

"My mother asked me to ask you."

Ah… Cole's mother. She was something.

Here's a brief history of Lydia Mercer. That woman is something special. When Cole was six she decided that she needed more in life then what Mr. Mercer could give. So she found all the joys of life with Corinne. Mr. Mercer went apeshit, and moved out leaving poor Cole alone with his crazed lesbian feminist mother.

It turns out Mr. Mercer has been married four times since Lydia. Of course he has never found another Lydia. She really is one of a kind

Isn't Cole just so lucky to have all of us in his life?

"How's Tatiana?" I asked knowing he hated talking about his crazy family.

I saw him roll his eyes. "It's Yolanda now."

Scratch that, five times.

I let out a small laugh. "No wonder you're so fucked up."

He growled. "Of course, we all can't have adoring parents such as yours. I wish my parents loved me enough to ship me off to a boarding school halfway across the world. How is Switzerland?"

I rolled my eyes. "Fuck you too."

We were silent again. See how we can't even have a conversation without arguing. I've tried to be nice to him, but it's impossible. He's evil.

We didn't talk for the rest of the drive. I was thankful.

The Mercer mansion stood on top of a hill. Obviously. Picture a mansion in you're head. Okay, that's what Cole's humble abode looks like. It was a typical cliché mansion, but don't forget about the tennis court and swimming pool.

Cole stopped outside of the large gate and pushed in the password on a little keypad. The doors opened slowly, obviously to piss him off. He drove up the pathway towards the mansion where two women were waving by the large entrance.

Shoot me now.

"Josslyn!" Lydia screamed when I emerged from the car.

The how ever old she was-something year old woman looked like she was thirty. She was wearing a power suit, and her hair was perfect. As usual. She motioned for Cole to get my bags. This of course pissed him off even more.

Lydia grabbed my shoulders. "Oh, Josslyn you're so pretty!" She smiled and turned to Cole who was carrying my stuff inside. "Cole don't you think Josslyn is beautiful." She called.

He ignored her, and disappeared into the house.

Lydia passed me off to Corinne who by definition was a hippie. She was wearing a long tie-dye summer dress. Her hair was pitch black, and dead straight. Now that I think of it, she looked a lot like Cher.

She mumbled her hellos in French. The only language she spoke of course. It's hilarious when Lydia and her talk. Lydia speaks in English and Corinne speaks in French and they seem to understand each other. Why they can't use the same language is a mystery to me.

Lydia wrapped her arm around my shoulders and led me into the house. It was beautiful by the way; larger then our house back in New Jersey. The walls were a light cream color, which matched some of the tiles in the marble floor.

"Now Josslyn," She said to me as she pulled me through the house. "I was thinking…"

Oh shit.

"Corinne and I decided that you two are old enough to share a room."

I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.

I stared blankly at her, thinking maybe she said something completely different. Or maybe I was just hearing things. Because if I heard her correctly and I'm reading between the lines, she just gave me permission to have sex with her son.

I can't even describe to you how disturbed I was by that. "Pardon?" I squeaked.

She pulled me a little closer. "Josslyn, you're a woman now…"

I didn't what to have that talk.

"It's okay if you… want to-"

"Actually," I said quickly. "My guest room is fine." I said trying to sound careless.

She laughed. "Don't worry I've already made the preparations."


From above I heard a disturbing loud bang, then hurried footsteps. "What the hell did you do to my room?" I heard Cole yell from the top of the stairs. Seconds later he was storming down into the foyer. "What's with the candles?!" He barked at his mother.


"Don't worry dear they're not scented. I know how much it bothers you."

His eyes were wide and filled with confusion. As were mine. What exactly was she talking about?

"I want to know why my room it looks like's a honeymoon suite." He turned to me and glared. "Did you arrange this as some kind of sick joke?"

"What?" I asked.

He let out a strangled laugh. "There are rose petals everywhere!"

There was a moment of silence, then Corinne spoke up. "Je pense c'est romantique"

Cole look at her and shook his head. "I don't know what you're saying. How many times do I have to tell you I don't speak French?"

"Cole," Lydia said sternly. "Don't get snippy."

Cole narrowed his eyes. "Snippy?"

"And, Corinne says she's thinks it's very romantic." She added.

I couldn't speak, apparently neither could he. I watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Then without another word he turned and left.

Once he was gone Lydia turned to me. "He's just shy…" She smiled. "Why don't you go up and see how he is." Her left eye winked and I cringed.

"Go on…" She gave me a gentle push. I really didn't want to go, but honestly I'd rather face angry Cole then stay with them. I hurried up the stairs, and down the hallway. My stuff was dumped outside of the guest bedroom.

Lydia locked my room from the outside. I tried the other guest rooms, all locked. I couldn't believe this is happening. It was not cool.

Bingo! The pool house!

How much do you want to bet she locked that too?

So, I lugged my things up another flight of stairs until I was outside his room. This was not going to be pretty.

Already humiliated I knocked on the door. It opened and a very angry Cole stood looking down at me. He was tall. Really tall.

"Did you grow?" I asked before I could refrain myself.

His face scrunched up. "What?"


He was waiting for me to speak but I didn't really know what to say. "No," He said eventually.

I looked up. "No, what?"

"No to whatever you're going to ask, and I think I have an idea what it is."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not asking, you're mother has made it pretty clear that I'm staying here."

His eyes widened. "Here? As in my room?"

"It seems pretty obvious that your mother has chosen for us."

"Don't use the word us when you're talking about… you and I." I waited for him to move out of the way. He didn't. "Try the guestrooms."


"All of them?"

I nodded.

"That's evil."

"She probably learned it from you."

He gave me the look. "Okay, here's the deal," He puffed out his chest to get ready to release a mouth loud. "My room, my rules. Don't touch anything, don't breath on anything, don't do anything." I rolled my eyes. "And don't roll you eyes, it's fucking annoying." I gave him a fake smile. "And you're sleeping on the floor."

I raised an eyebrow. "We'll see about that." I pushed past him, dragging my luggage.

I could see why he freaked out. His room was covered in candles and rose petals. I was speechless. It looked completely romantic. Like serious cheesy romantic. The kind you read about in those ridiculous romance novels where they use words like: bosom, heaving, thrusting, manhood. You catch my drift.

The bed was covered in rose petals. Where did she get that many fucking rose petals? And sitting on the pillow was a… are you ready… a box of condoms.

Yup, condoms.

That was the most embarrassing thing that anyone has ever done to me. "There are condoms on your pillow." I chocked. "You're lesbian mother gave you condoms…" I had to say it aloud to believe it. "For me…." I gagged.

I felt him cringing beside me. "That is so sick." His voice was tiny. "I feel violated."

We stood there looking at the box of condoms for a while. Then he said, "Make yourself useful, help clean this shit up." He handed me a garbage bag, and for the next hour we removed all evidence of romance.

I was in the middle of picking petals off the carpet when Cole let out a loud yell. "Fuck!" He screamed from inside the connected bathroom. I jumped up to see what the problem was, and oh boy was it a problem.

The large Jacuzzi was filled with soapy water and… you guessed it, more petals! So was the sink. Oh, and more candles. It's like she wanted us to burn down the house.

He started to throw things into the garbage bag. "Loofahs?" He growled throwing some into the garbage bag. "I hate loofahs."

I sighed and helped him dispose of the loofahs. For sure, that was going to be the worst summer of my life. I could feel the humiliation coming on.

Why doesn't someone just put me out of my misery?

Tell me what you think. Good or bad.