Subscriber Wars: An Enemies-to-Lovers-Romantic Comedy Read online

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, places, and companies is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and/or restaurants referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  First Line Editor: Fairest Reviews Editing Services

  Second line Editor: Jaime Ryter

  Proofreading: All Encompassing Books

  Cover Design: RBA Designs

  Formatting by: Champagne Book Design

  All song titles and lyrics mentioned in Subscriber Wars are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Copyright © 2020 Kristy Marie All rights reserved.

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  About This Book

  Epigraph

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Alternate Ending

  Other books by Kristy Marie

  Acknowledgments

  For my middle child.

  (Proof that you do get individual attention sometimes.)

  I know you’d rather shave off your eyebrows than read a book, but one day, you’ll be able to tell my grandchildren I wrote a cringy romance story and dedicated it to you.

  Don’t worry, every high schooler needs one embarrassing parent story… this is yours.

  #staceysmomaintgotnothingonme

  #iknowyoudontknowwhothatisbutitmakesyourdadandilaughreallyhard

  Valentina: I was thinking we should use an original quote, you know? Something that relates to our story…

  Sebastian: Done. See below.

  Women are complicated and crazy. It takes booze and chocolate to live happily ever after. The end.

  Valentina: Seriously?

  Sebastian: You wanted something true, yes?

  Valentina: One day someone is going to hit you with a car.

  Valentina: On purpose.

  Sebastian: So you’re saying you don’t like the quote?

  Valentina: Sebastian!

  Sebastian: Fine. See next page.

  Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ‘em.

  William Shakespeare, The Twelfth Night

  Based on a true fake story.

  “What in the mother of all fucks?” My mouth falls open. “Have I been roofied?

  Was someone stupid enough to actually slip something in my drink?

  I scrub a hand down my face and over the dusting of hair already growing back from this morning’s shave.

  “Am I foaming at the mouth?” I ask Vee, looking around at the empty townhouse. Trash and empty beer cans are scattered on the counters—a fucking mess that someone, who is not me, will clean up later. “Where’s my phone? I need a mirror. If I’m about to die of poisoning, I prefer not to go out looking like I frenched a Saint Bernard.”

  “Sebastian… I’m sorry,” she explains, her voice lighter than before. “I didn’t mean for—”

  Oh, yeah, she meant for this to happen. Don’t let that pouty mouth fool you. I’ve had this shit coming, and she served her revenge up frosty with a side of fries. The camera won’t lie when she airs this video. All of her followers will see me go down like a little bitch—all red-faced and wide-eyed. Hell, I’d have been less shocked if I stuck my dick to an antenna during a lightning storm. She fucked me up good, and I have to give credit where credit is due.

  “Shh… now, now,” I say, holding myself upright. “Don’t go getting all soft on me.” I mean to hold my finger to her lips, but I’m drunk as fuck, and end up shushing her with my thumb instead.

  “You won fair and square. Never apologize for winning.” Gravity—or the alcohol—pulls me closer to her body. “You hear me?”

  The unique gold flecks swirl lazily in the depths of her chocolate eyes as she stares up at me, a frown line creasing her flawless skin. She probably expected a different reaction. One where I yell and throw shit around while downing the last two beers sitting on the coffee table. But that would be too satisfying for her. What Valentina Lambros needs is what we’ve always had together. War.

  “Sebastian—”

  “Tsk, tsk.“ I chide, shushing her.

  I want to force my thumb into her lying mouth and feel the warmth of her lips wrap around it and ease the ache. Instead, I swipe away a tear and drag my disappointed thumb through the layers of makeup, revealing her bare face inch by inch.

  Grasping her chin between my fingers, I tilt her head to the side, allowing my breath to flutter over her ear. “You may have won the battle, Valentina. But I promise you this—I will win the war.”

  University CamFlix Competition Submission

  Entry Number: 75

  Sebastian and Valentina

  First Interview, also known as day one with the fake demon boyfriend

  The clapperboard snaps in front of our face. I can’t believe I agreed to this. And with Sebastian of all people. Apparently, I like to torture myself for fun. Wait, no, for money.

  “Why don’t you start from the beginning? Tell our producers why we should consider you for this competition.”

  I glance at Sebastian, who has a stupid grin on his face. “Go ahead, tell them, sweets.” His voice is like satin: smooth, cool, and silky enough to slip off his bed of bullshit.

  I’d like nothing more than to junk punch him and watch his eyes water, but I made the bastard a promise—act like I love him until we win. Trust me, it’s not as easy as it sounds. The boy might have abs for days and a face you could see yourself doing those, “see what your future baby would look like” apps, but it doesn’t help me in this situation. You see, Sebastian has a personality that makes me a little… stabby. Amongst other, violent things.

  Inhaling, I level Sebastian with the fakest smile I can manage. “Sure, honey.” The words are bitter and taste a lot like hatred. “You see, Tom—” I clear my throat and smile at the camera, “—It all started with a war.”

  Two months after the incident Sebastian and I agreed to never discuss again.

  “You do realize this is breaking and entering, right?”

  My sister from another mister, also known as my roommate, Aspen, actually looks like a real—and very hot—burglar in her all-black attire. Me? Not so much. I didn’t bother changing out of the worn, flannel shirt—courtesy of my brother—and the denim cutoffs I wore to class this morning. I had other things on my mind. Things like stalking my neighbor so I can break into his house, uninterrupted.

  I turn from the door lock where I’m squatted. “No, it isn’t. He gave us a key.” I hold up the two lock picks as evidence of said key and blow a wayward strand of hair from my face. �
�Besides, it’s only B&E if we break something when we enter.”

  I know that’s not true. I’m not an idiot. But I need my roommate to not chicken out, since someone has to hold the flashlight while I pick this lock.

  “Sebastian—” who I like to call ‘Bash-hole’— “practically begged me to break into his house this morning when he stole my chair, Aspen. We can’t let him get away with it, it’ll set a bad precedence for the other neighbors.”

  Aspen chokes on a laugh. “You mean to tell me that we’re only doing this to set an example?”

  I don’t even care that it sounds ridiculous. “Yes, exactly. An eye for an eye and all that.” I wave away her silly grin. I’m doing this. I don’t care how crazy it makes me look. Sebastian Carrington will not get away with stealing my chair and then acting like I was high this afternoon when I asked him about it.

  Those frosty blue eyes were cold enough to chill a drink when he narrowed them in my direction and laughed. “Good afternoon to you, too, Valentina. You’re looking rather handsome today.”

  Of course I didn’t hit him, but I really wanted to. Instead I flipped him off and asked, “Where’s my chair?”

  “Why would I have your rickety old chair?”

  I popped a hip and tried really hard not to let my eyes wander down the length of his body. “Uhh, I don’t know, because you hate me?”

  That stupid dimple, the one that makes smart girls take a trip down regret lane, pops when he grins down at me. “That’s one way to describe it.” He touches the bow of my lips with his finger. “Have a good one, neighbor.” And then he slammed the door in my face.

  Now, I don’t know about you, but no one slams the door in my face, especially not my nemesis. Sebastian Carrington may be the face of MyView, the social media site made specifically for amateur reality stars, but to me, he’s just the shitty neighbor next door who I may or may not have kissed a couple months ago.

  Everyone has those shoulda, woulda, coulda stories.

  Sebastian is mine.

  I shoulda told him the truth and not played that last prank.

  It woulda changed everything between us.

  If I coulda done it over… well, I still probably would have played the prank. If I hadn’t, we would have never become friends—even if it was short-lived.

  The point is, Sebastian wants me to break into his house because that’s what we do to each other. Sure, he hasn’t played a prank on me since I won the last one, but it was only a matter of time. I knew he would come around and start the prank battles up again. He might have pouted about losing, but there’s no way he’d let me be the winner for long. His pride wasn’t that wounded.

  “Earth to Vee.” Aspen’s voice is a harsh whisper that pulls me out of my head. “Hurry up before we’re caught.”

  I ease the picks back in. “We’re not going to get caught. Besides, I’ve never known you to be scared of breaking the rules.”

  Aspen fidgets next to me. “I’m not, but I’m on thin ice with my dad right now, so if we get caught, we’ll need to call Aunt Bianca. She won’t ask questions.”

  I nod, still focused on the lock in front of me. “Agreed.” I’m not on thin ice with my parents, but something tells me they wouldn’t be very happy if they had to bail me out of jail in the middle of the night.

  Twisting the metal, I hear something click. “I almost have it,” I tell Aspen.

  “Good, just hurry. Sebastian’s neighbor just turned on her porch light.”

  I’m literally going as fast as I can. The last thing I want is for Bash-hole to come home and catch me pilfering through his shit like some kind of broke pirate.

  “That’s just Pam. She’s harmless,” I assure Aspen. She’s also a stripper, but I keep that tidbit to myself. “She’s just getting ready for work.”

  “How do you know this?” I don’t know why Aspen seems so shocked that I actually know things about our neighbors. Well, never mind, I do know. I’m not a people person nor as outgoing as Aspen. Quite frankly, I prefer dogs over humans.

  “Hold the flashlight steady,” I demand, ignoring her question and moving the picks around. My tongue is sticking out, but I don’t care. Aspen knows this is how I concentrate.

  “I thought you and Sebastian were done messing with each other anyway?”

  I almost groan and tell her to hush. My history with Sebastian is not something I like talking about. Okay, fine. I’ll admit, I might have a teensy, itty bitty, minuscule amount of guilt that I’d rather no one know about. Questions about our history will lead to answers, and answers will lead to his and my embarrassment.

  Hence the reason it will always be referred to as the incident we never discuss.

  I lean my head to the side, swiping the sweat from my forehead. “We were. It’s been two months since our last prank.” She’s my best friend. I may not be able to tell her the whole truth, but I can throw her some crumbs to satisfy my guilt and curb her curiosity. “I don’t know what triggered him to steal our chair this morning. He was probably drunk.” Now that I think about it, that’s probably the case.

  “Have you considered Sebastian might not have been the one who took it?”

  Ha! She has no idea the crap Sebastian and I will do to get one over on each other.

  “He stole it, Asp. I have no doubt.”

  The question is, why?

  “If you say so.”

  She starts scanning her phone, and for a minute, fear creeps in. “You’re not posting this are you?”

  Aspen looks at me as if I’m that crazy girl that posts videos of her birds picking food out of her teeth. “Of course not. I’m not Miss Social Media Celebrity. I’m asking Fenn if they cooked dinner. All this criminal activity is making me hungry.”

  Whew. She’s just texting her brother, who lives across from us. I don’t know why I even worried about her posting. It’s not like I don’t post every day, but I’m on a reality cleanse right now. Instead of posting clips of the pranks Sebastian and I play on each other, like I used to, I’ve gone back to my roots and only post ‘how-to’ videos for special effects makeup.

  If someone were to post me pranking or having anything to do with Sebastian right now, it would go viral and then we’d be forced back together and that could get really awkward since the last time I saw him, he declared war. Yeah, we didn’t end our relationship with a high-five and a smile.

  I shrug, pulling my focus back to the lock. “Oh good. I could eat too.”

  “We’ll go over there when we’re finished. I’m sure Drew cooked up something good.” Mmm… I bet he did. Drew and his brother, Bennett, are Aspen’s brother’s roommates. We all grew up together in the same neighborhood. Our parents are such close friends that we refer to Drew and Bennett’s mom and dad as our aunt and uncle.

  “Got it!” I almost jump up and down when the lock finally turns to Bash-hole’s townhouse.

  “Took you long enough,” Aspen says, pushing me forward and through Sebastian’s back door.

  “You’re just used to me picking the door to our townhouse,” I murmur. “It’s easier than his.” We forget our keys a lot. My dad keeps threatening to have one of those electronic keypads installed, but then I wouldn’t have the practice of picking locks. I think we can all say that particular skill came in quite handy just now.

  Aspen flips a switch and Sebastian’s sin pad comes to life. “We’re looking for that wicker chair you sit in and watch those horror movies, right?”

  “Yep, that’s the one.” I head for Sebastian’s bedroom. I know, it’s not on my bucket list to see either, but at a quick glance, I don’t see my chair in his living room. He had to have stashed it somewhere more hidden. “You check in here. I’ll check the hazardous rooms.”

  Aspen doesn’t need to suffer for my mistakes. This is my war, and if anyone is going to have a limb rot off by catching something in this cesspool, it’s going to be me.

  I dart off, eager to get the hell out of here and back to my room where a l
ow budget horror film awaits me. I know, sounds like a great time for a college freshman, but when you pair it with butter and a side of popcorn, it’s not too shabby for a Friday night.

  I’m not one of those college girls who need constant attention or even a date night every weekend. I’m the girl who would rather spend her evenings at the K9 shelter with the rescued service dogs and making “tough guys” cry at the pool hall.

  You can imagine how proud my mother is. I take that back, she’s proud. She’d just like it if I, occasionally, wore something other than flannel shirts and Doc Martens boots to holiday gatherings. But I’m not interested in shoes that make my ass look bigger for a man’s viewing pleasure.

  I close my eyes and hold my breath because, let’s be real, this is Sebastian we’re dealing with. I’m liable to be scarred for a lifetime. Slowly, I open the door to Sebastian’s bedroom. Believe it or not, I’ve been in here before, but it’s been a while and things could have changed. Sebastian used to keep his room tidy—I know, shocked me too—but apparently, not anymore. His film books and journals are scattered across the floor next to the bed, which doesn’t make sense because he normally keeps them in the bookcase.

  I snag one of the balled-up pieces of notebook paper, unfolding it slowly, in case something springs out of it. (I’ve watched a lot of horror movies, okay?) On the paper is a bunch of stats for his MyView page—the page we both became stars on. His follows and likes have taken a dramatic hit these past two months, since we haven’t been pulling pranks on each other.

  My stomach clenches as the guilt gnaws at me.

  He told me not to be sorry for besting him, and I have to hope that he truly meant what he said.

  Tossing the first piece back onto the floor, I grab another, this one is about the campus contest, UniCamFlix. The producers of the hottest reality show on MyView are hosting an open call for all future filmmakers, actors, producers, etc. I entered last week, hoping that my special effects makeup videos will be considered. The flyer says anyone in the film industry is eligible, but sometimes, they don’t post the fine print.