Dear Enemy, You're My Mate

Chapter 27 **

Patricia

Coffee fills my mouth, and I smile at the strong taste—caffeine is a girl's best friend. Who cares about dogs and diamonds when the sense of being wired hits your brain?

Without the black, addictive liquid, I would die.

Tiffany lifts her eyes into mine. "So, tell me about everything that has happened in town while we were gone."

I inhale the scent of coffee. "Nothing much has happened."

"Nonsense!" Tiffany laughs. "Tell me about your school—do you like it there? Have you made any new friends? Is Dior still a pain in the ass, or has he laid off your back?"

I look around while thinking of what to answer first.

I'm sitting inside a café together with Tiffany and her twin brother Rohan. Both of them have barely even touched their drinks, and honestly, they are acting weird.

Tiffany is oddly bubbly and overly excited while her brother inspects the place as if he believes something to jump out from the shadows.

"Ah, as I told you, school is okay," I say, hoping Tiffany will stop trying to pressure me into telling her everything. She would freak out if she knew my parents threw me out and probably ask why.

And, of course, I can't tell her the truth. Tiffany can't know that I'm a werewolf. Humans knowing about our existence never ends well.

"You never answered my other questions."

Tiffany's eyes are intense, and I'm left perplexed. I'm not used to Tiffany being this interested in boring daily life stuff. It feels like she is interrogating me, even her expression is strange, but her lips change into a smile as if hearing my inner thoughts.

"Sorry," Tiffany apologizes. "I've just really missed you!"

"Me too," I tell her warily. For some reason, my instincts tell me to stay cautious. "So, what brings you back to Sweden, and don't come using me as an excuse—there must be something else."

Tiffany parts her lips to answer me, but she hastily turns her head when a chair to another table scraps against the floor.

"Ugh, I hate that sound. It makes me shudder every time. Who is being so loud?"

Tiffany shifts in her seat. Her eyes land on Dior, who I know have been spying on us since we arrived—I've been choosing to ignore the fool.

I sip my coffee. "No one important."

Dior isn't alone. He is sitting together with a handsome man wearing a suit, who must be Elijah. The man has been fixing his tie every five seconds. He is pedant like Dior described him, but whenever his gaze lands on the third guy, Wesley, his eyes turn tender and too gentle for me to consider the old vampire evil.

Wesley is Dior's beta, a sweet guy who is relatively short and innocent-looking but make no mistake—his wolf form is ferocious.

I keep watching the trio but jerk in startlement when Tiffany almost chokes while eating her cupcake.

"Holy shit!" Tiffany whispers with a slow-spreading smile taking over her lips. Appreciation is evident on her face, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her apparent admiration. "Who... Is that?"

Tiffany is staring straight at Dior, completely ignoring the other two men.

I frown, but Rohan answers for me.

"Some suspicious guy who has been watching us for too long," Rohan grumbles.

I witness his fingers clench around the sharpest key in his keychain. He looks ready to commit murder.

With a silent sigh, I give my attention to the other table. Dior immediately meets my gaze, and I take a moment to drink in his beauty, which seems almost otherworldly in the low light inside the café.

Butterflies swarm my insides. I have the strangest urge to brush my fingers through Dior's dark hair.

As I keep observing the gymrat and Dior's eyes soften, which I'm not used to at all. Dior appears all gentle, but when Rohan leans closer to whisper into my ear, anger flashes over Dior's face in the blink of an eye. I swear he even inaudibly growls.

"Hi!" Rohan whispers.

I giggle when his warm breath tickles my skin. "What are you doing?"

"I'm testing something," Rohan chuckles in pure amusement. "Only making sure."

I lift my eyebrows in confusion when Rohan leans back to smirk at Dior from across the café.

Immediately, Dior gets up from his seat, but Elijah pulls him down with a shake of his head. It makes me wonder what the heck is going through Dior's mind. He looks pissed off and ready to kill.

Rohan gives me a shit-eating grin. "Whoever the fuck that man is, he likes you."

My skin burns at Rohan mentioning Dior's emotions, even though I'm sure Rohan must be mistaken.

Dior is only in for the chase. The mate-bond doesn't always mean something—some people reject their mate straight off the bat.

And I'm afraid Dior would grow bored if I ever wanted him back. Which I don't—I'm better off without him.

"He likes Patricia?" Tiffany sounds disappointed. "Are you sure?"

Her eyes flicker to mine, and she pouts with her lips. I can tell she is physically attracted to my mate, which bothers me.

"Do you know him?" Tiffany asks.

"Mmm," I hum.

I'm uncertain if Tiffany is ready for the horrible truth I'm about to give her. Also, I hate to admit it, but I'm secretly hoping my revelation will make her stop staring at Dior like he is the honey to her bee.

I continue talking. "That guy over there, with the long legs and elegant-looking stance even though he is wearing casual clothes..."

Tiffany nods eagerly. Her eyes are sparkling, and she is even leaning towards me. "Go on, tell me his name!"

I inhale loudly to prepare myself, hesitating before telling her. "That's Dior."

She gasps. "No way!" Her eyes travel back and forth between our and their table as if she doesn't believe me. "You're lying!"

A small smile tugs on my lips as I study Tiffany's flabbergasted expression. I was also surprised to learn how much Dior had changed over the summer break—I had the same reaction as my friend.

"I'm not lying, Tiff."

Tiffany blinks multiple times and then openly stares at Dior, who looks rather uncomfortable. His expression tells me he doesn't like being watched, but his dimples show when our eyes connect yet again. Sparks fly until Rohan touches me, causing Dior's face to darken like a thundercloud.

"Holy shit..." Tiffany takes another deep breath as if trying to get used to the idea she was checking out Dior mere seconds ago. "I can't believe pimple-face turned into that! He was so short in the past and chubby as well! And now he is..." she hesitates as if it physically pains her to even think about her following sentence. "Hot as hell."

"I know..."

"He is tall too, like way bigger than Rohan, which I didn't think was possible. And those biceps! Look at him!"

Alpha werewolves are naturally enormous. I don't tell Tiffany that and instead, try to ignore the bitterness lashing at me when I find Tiffany checking out my mate again.

"I mean, I would do him." Tiffany sounds all dreamy. "Dior is exactly my type."

Jealousy churns in the pit of my stomach like a witch brew. Tiffany is smiling too broadly at Dior for my liking. I let my eyes trail their way over to my mate's broad chest and then up to his curious eyes. I'm immediately hit with need.

I force my eyes back to our table, where I clench my fingers around my cup of coffee. Without a care in the world, I down every remaining drop and set down the empty cup.

I notice Rohan is watching me, and I questioningly lift an eyebrow at him. He looks surprised.

"Spidersenses," Rohan comments.

"Huh?"

"Nothing... I just never realized how interesting you were in the past, but I do now." He smiles. "You're special, Patricia."

I blush, taken by the compliment. "Uh, thank you, I guess?"

Rohan keeps the smile on his face and seems to hold back a laugh when Dior and his crew pass our table.

Elijah hands me a tight smile, and Wesley gives me a wave before they both walk out hand-in-hand. Dior stops by our table with a smile that seems forced.

"Good evening, Patricia and friends," Dior says, which is odd—I'm used to him either ignoring or bullying me at school. "I thought I should come by and say hi before I'm leaving."

Tiffany glances between us. "Wait, are you two friends now?"

"More than friends," Dior replies.

My eyes narrow. "Less than friends."

Hurt becomes visible over his features, but he keeps his cool.

Rohan stifles a laugh. "Seems like Patricia disagrees. Does that mean she isn't taken? Perhaps I will ask her out myself."

I blink, not sure what is happening. Dior is towering over our table, sizing up Rohan with an icy glare.

Dior looks scary, and for the first time, I see what everyone else must notice when they face Dior—an intimidating guy with the size capable of taking down anyone daring to challenge him.

"Who is this guy, Patricia?" Dior asks in a tone both curious and frightening. His arms are crossed over his meaty chest while his eyes are locked on Rohan.

"Oh, Rohan is a friend, and I'm sure you remember Tiffany."

"I do," Dior is still glaring at Rohan, who is grinning in his seat. "Tiffany used to call me fat little boy and made all the girls call me pimple-face—I remember her."

Tiffany gasps. "T-That was a long time ago!"

My eyes widen as I listen in on the fiery conversation. I'm not used to guys not immediately taking a liking to her.

Tiffany is pretty with glossy lips and hair. She dated half the guy population when we were younger, and I don't think she has ever been rejected.

Dior smiles, but it isn't friendly. "It still wounded me—shallow girls are the worst, in my opinion," his eyes then travel to mine, where they stay. "Have a wonderful evening, Patricia. The paint on your nose suits you—you look cute."

I stare at him, and Dior chuckles before heading out of the café. My hands reach for my nose. I'm horrified when green paint colors my fingertips.

"Why didn't you guys tell me about the paint?!"

Rohan shrugs. "I agree with Dior—it looks good on you."

Flustered, I turn to Tiffany, who appears to be paralyzed. Her jaw is locked in a gasp, and when she faces me, her eyes are sullen.

Eventually, she gives us a piece of her mind. "What an asshole Dior has become! I was going to ask him out, but not anymore! Uh-uh!"

Rohan laughs. "You're only bitter he wasn't as into you as you were into him."

Tiffany gives a little "Hmph!" And then she looks me up and down. "You better not be thinking of going out with him—Dior isn't worth the trouble."

I nod. "Agreed."

Regardless of my words, I look out through the window and witness Dior stuff a hotdog into his mouth.

A smile spread over my lips at the hamster cheeks he is sporting, but as soon as I notice my heart fluttering, I glance away.

I need to focus on something else. "So, what do you say we head to the theater?"