Enemies Without a Limit

Chapter 11

Naomi flopped down on her comfy bed, releasing a heavy sigh. Yes, finally it's the weekend, she thought relieved. She had gone to Darryl's house every day after school since the day they had sex in his room, which was only three days ago. It was becoming a routine. They would argue and bicker at school, he would say something arrogant and she would say a smart retort a hundred-times better. It wasn't as if they were keeping up a front—she honestly hated the kid. She still hated him as much as she did that damned day in Freshman year and she knew that feeling was mutual, but it was the way he absent-mindedly brushed against her skin leaving a blazing trail, or the way he gave her racy mental pictures just by whispering in her ear, but mostly, the way he worked her lips with his, that made her come back for more everyday and he seemed pretty pleased with her visits, too.

Not only had the rest of the week become a routine, but it started to become a game. With their new rule implied to their deal, they both fought for the upper-hand, hoping that one could out-text the other. It was becoming so much fun being in control, that she usually found herself running back and forth between Darryl's place and hers about twice a day—until her parents came home. They weren't even ashamed to keep score. Lying on her back and looking absently towards her ceiling, Naomi couldn't help but smile to herself as she recalled their current stances. She was at five and Darryl was at three. 

Her body was sore from all the exertion and leaped off the bed towards the shower, craving for the need of the steamed, pressurized, hot water from her shower head. She and Miles had made plans to meet after his baseball practice and get more one-on-one time with each other. Miles was starting to grow on her, and she started to fall for him more and more. 

He had joined the junior dance committee along with her, and they had more time together. They had stayed, together, some days after school to plan the school dance and he had came over to her house once during the week and met her parents—who loved him—but she honestly wanted nothing more but some alone time with him. She couldn't help but love how goofy he was, and she almost laughed at herself when she thought back and imagined him to be the cool, and unapproachable guy that would never give her the time of day. He had even began sitting at her lunch table—even though it got awkward when Nathan and Jazzy kept eating away at each others' faces all the while. 

Taking things slow had to be the best thing I ever thought of, Naomi complimented as she put the finishing touches on her make-up. Thankfully, it seemed as if the cold weather was long gone from New York and was glad that she could start dressing to her favorite season. It was Spring and she definitely had the Spring Fever. She wore her favorite peach sleeveless blouse decorated with a fringe of ruffles down it's front, white skinny jeans and moccasins. During the week she straightened her normally wavy dark hair and it seemed to get her a lot of wanted and unwanted attention at school. 

Just then the doorbell rang and she grabbed her beige Gucci shoulder purse and zipped down the stairs and towards the front door.

"Hey, babe." Miles greeted, leaning for a kiss to her cheek, "You ready to go?"

"Yea." she said with a dimpled-smile and left after she double locked her door.

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Darryl heaved a heavy, exhausted sigh as he flopped down on one of the nearby couches. It was the same couch that he and Naomi were screwing each other, for the second time that day, just a couple of minutes ago and as he leaned closer into the soft, tan cushions, he could faintly smell her floral scent. He was exhausted, not only because of what happened twice already today, but the whole week had him trying to catch his breath. With the new rule enacted to their deal, they started to make a game out of it, which he found kind of amusing. It definitely kept him on his toes and it surprised him how well Naomi seemed to like their game, too. He rolled over on his back, shaking his head at the current score—remembering that he was losing.