Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(80)

Andrew: Would tacos also be your choice for a birthday dinner?



Me: Tacos are always the choice, Andy.



Andrew: And what about cake? What’s Birdie’s favorite kind of birthday cake?



While comparing horrible driver’s license pictures last night, he happened to find out that my twenty-eighth birthday is at the end of May. Less than two weeks away, in fact. His, on the other hand, isn’t until the beginning of July, and he’ll turn thirty-six.

Now, while I don’t think thirty-six is old at all, I still teased him about being a grandpa.



Me: I already told you, I don’t want to make a big deal of my birthday, old man.



Andrew: Funny ha-ha with the old man shit. And don’t worry, I’m going to completely ignore your birthday. But I still need to know what kind of cake you like.



“All right, Birdie.” Maureen’s voice grabs my attention, and I look up from the screen of my phone to find her almost locked and ready to start applying my makeup. “I think I’m almost set to go.”



Me: Gotta go, Andy. It’s hair and makeup time.



Andrew: Birdie, if you don’t tell me what kind of cake you like, I’ll show up in that trailer in about twenty minutes with a naked birthday celebration of my own.



Me: You are a psycho.



Andrew: I’m waiting…



Knowing full well he won’t let this go, I give in to his ridiculous demands.



Me: I don’t actually like birthday cake. I’m more of a pie kind of gal. Strawberry pie is my favorite.



Andrew: You’re so weird.



Me: If by weird, you mean I have excellent taste in desserts, then I agree.



Andrew: Have a good day, sweetheart. I’ll see you and your perfect, sweet-as-honey pussy tonight. ;)



I smile. I can’t help it. Sometimes—okay, as of recently, a lot of times—playing around with Andrew is the most fun I’ve had in a very long time. And both Samantha and Billie were recently on my ass about letting loose and having fun…

So, basically, I’m just doing what they suggested…right?




My long day of filming led me to Andrew’s hotel room, where I spent the first hour eating takeout tacos and the last three hours doing…very awesome, dirty things.

We lie in bed on our sides, still naked and more sated than I thought was humanly possible, facing each other.

He reaches out to run a gentle index finger up my hip, and the tickling sensation makes me wiggle away from his touch.

“Gah. Stop that.”

“You’re so ticklish.”

“I know,” I say through a giggle when he repeats the same laugh-inducing movement with his finger. “I’ve always been like that. When I was a kid, my dad used to get a kick out of it and tickle me until I would almost pee my pants.”

A warm smile tilts up the corners of his lips. “You and Billie lost your parents when you were young, right?”

I nod. “I was eleven and she was nine.”

“Damn, that’s a tragic thing for kids to go through, losing their parents at such a young age.”

“I would certainly agree,” I answer. “Though, we were incredibly lucky. Our granny didn’t hesitate to step up and take care of us.”

“Is she still alive?”

I shake my head. “She died several years ago. Billie is pretty much my only family now.”

His mouth moves down at the corners. “You don’t have any other family?”

“No. Not really,” I answer honestly. “No one that we were close with, at least.”

“Is that hard?” he asks, his voice devoid of anything but warmth and kindness.

All I can do is shrug. “I wouldn’t say it’s easy, especially when it comes to birthdays or holidays, but I guess it’s just something both Billie and I have gotten used to. Just making the best of a sometimes hard situation.”

He stays quiet for a short moment but, eventually, surprises me when he says, “Tell me a good memory about them.”

“About my family?”

He nods and the softness in his tone makes my chest expand, and the first memory that pops into my head makes me smile.

“Blueberry waffles.”

Andrew quirks a brow.

“Every year on our birthdays, Daddy would make waffles, and Momma would add her secret blueberry preserves on top,” I explain. “And when they died, that tradition had become so special for us that Granny kept it going.”

“Your granny sounds like she was pretty damn amazing.”

“She was.” I smile as her pretty face becomes front and center in my mind. “She was also a bit of a ballbuster. Incredibly stubborn and set in her ways.”

He chuckles and taps my nose with his index finger. “That sounds familiar.”

“Billie and I used to drive her crazy at times,” I tell him. “One time, when I was thirteen and Billie was eleven, we tried to make my teenage wish come true of having a surprise party for my birthday. Granny nearly lost her shit when she came home from church on a Sunday afternoon and about half the damn people from our small town were at her house.”