Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
Tags: Rom-Com, Enemies to Lovers, Blind Date, Sweet Romance, Dual POV Energy
My mom tricked me into driving home, claiming there was a massive family emergency.
I sped all the way back, heart in my throat, only to find a meticulously planned ambush blind date.
"Summer, sweetie! Helen’s son is brilliant, super successful, and works right in your district! You two will have so much in common!" My mom was beaming from ear to ear.
I rolled my eyes so hard internally they almost got stuck. But for the sake of family peace, I forced myself to sit down.
The doorbell rang. My mom practically sprinted to the door.
Then, the door opened.
Standing there was the exact guy who had camped my spawn and killed me eight hundred times in my favorite game,
competed against me to the death at work,
and someone I wished I could avoid until the end of time.
Chase Evans.
He was dressed in a sharp, ridiculously tailored suit, standing right on my parents' porch.
Our eyes locked. Both of our pupils dilated in sheer horror.
My mom greeted him warmly. "Chase, you're here! Come in, come in! This is my daughter, Summer."
Chase’s expression morphed from complete shock to frozen stiffness, before he finally forced a smile even fakier than my mom's. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Miller. Good to see you... Miss Miller."
*Miss Miller?* Was it your evil twin who argued with me in the project WhatsApp group until 2 AM last night?
I spent the entire dinner sitting on pins and needles.
My mom and Mrs. Evans were pushing hard. "You both work in the Financial Twin Towers, right? Tower A and Tower B! Isn't that pure fate?"
Fate? More like a curse! The coffee shop downstairs was our personal battlefield. The number of passive-aggressive wars we had waged over the very last cup of cold brew was legendary!
My mom sighed. "Our Summer is just too competitive. She needs a dependable man to take care of her."
And Chase—that shameless jerk—actually nodded in agreement. "You're totally right, Mrs. Miller. Girls shouldn't push themselves so hard."
I almost snapped my fork in half.
Who was the one who publicly tore down my proposal at last week’s industry conference, claiming it "lacked innovation"?
Stop pretending to be an innocent golden retriever!
Desperate to survive the awkwardness, I kept my head down, shoveling food and focusing on the fat cat lounging nearby.
"Nugget, c'mere, buddy. Want a piece of shrimp?"
Mrs. Evans paused, looking completely puzzled.
"Wait, Summer... how did you know our cat's name is Nugget?"
My fork froze in midair. My brain short-circuited.
Crap. Total slip of the tongue!
Chase’s gaming tag—and his avatar on literally every platform—was a picture of this exact fat cat named Nugget! We had been roasting each other online for three years; how could I *not* know?!
Under the table, Chase gently kicked my foot. Then, without batting an eye, he chimed in:
"Mom, she probably saw it on my Ins. Miss Miller must have stumbled across my profile."
I jumped on that lifeline instantly. "Right! Yes! Totally by accident. Just saw it on Ins."
Mrs. Evans had an instant revelation.
"Ohhh! Chase, you’ve been secretly checking out Summer's Ins this whole time?"
Chase: "..."
Me: "..."
Now the misunderstanding was a million times worse!
After dinner, our moms kicked us both out under the excuse of "letting the kids bond."
Walking through the community park, Chase and I maintained a solid ten-foot buffer between us. The air around us was colder than an Antarctic glacier.
"Ha. Honestly didn't expect my mom’s ‘exceptional young man’ to be you," I sneered, breaking the silence.
Chase shoved his hands into his slacks pockets and let out a cold chuckle.
"Right back at you. I never imagined the ‘gentle and sweet’ Summer was the same psycho who chased me across three game maps with an axe."
"You had it coming! You stole my boss kill!"
"Did that boss have your name stamped on its forehead?"
Realizing we were about to start a fistfight on the sidewalk, I took a deep breath.
"Fine. Cut the crap. When we get back, we tell our parents we're totally incompatible. Zero chemistry. Got it?"
Chase raised an eyebrow. "Music to my ears."
With that truce established, the tension softened by about one percent. We walked side by side, our shadows stretching long under the moonlight.
After a few quiet minutes, Chase asked out of nowhere:
"That technical roadblock you mentioned in the group chat yesterday... did you end up solving it?"
I blinked, taken aback. "Why do you care?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Just... curious."
Weird. Why was my arch-nemesis suddenly showing concern for my work?When I got home, my mom and Mrs. Evans were sitting on the couch cooing over our baby photos, having the time of their lives.
I slipped back into my bedroom. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Chase.
It was only one sentence, but it made my heart skip a beat.
Chase: [Actually...]
[Actually what?] I fired back.
The screen showed "typing..." for a full minute.
Finally, his text popped up:
[Actually, your mom and my mom just made a new SnapChat group with the two of us.]
I opened the app, and there it was: a brand new group chat cheerfully named *One Big Happy Family (Future Edition)*. The members were me, Chase, and our two overly enthusiastic mothers.
My mom was already typing: [The kids hit it off so well! We can finally relax!]
My soul left my body.
Then, Chase's private DM popped up: [We need to play the long game. Don't leave the group yet, or they'll get suspicious. Let's just pretend to be polite and ignore each other. Deal?]
I thought about our moms' relentless matchmaking energy and texted back: [Deal.]
Looking at Chase's avatar—that chubby cat named Nugget—I suddenly felt like this absurd blind date wasn't the absolute end of the world.
At the very least, I had just discovered my rival's biggest weakness: he was a total mama's boy who couldn't say no.
Oh, Chase. Payback is going to be so sweet.
The *One Big Happy Family (Future Edition)* group quickly turned into my daily source of entertainment.
Mostly because I loved watching Chase suffer.
Our moms had endless energy, constantly mothering us in the chat.
My mom: [@Summer @Chase Temperature is dropping today, bundle up! Chase, keep an eye on Summer. She always chooses fashion over freezing.]
Just as I was figuring out what to say, Chase’s reply popped up.
Chase: [Understood, Mrs. Miller. [Shared link: The Ultimate Cold-Weather Layering Guide for Peak Health]]
Me: "..."
Mrs. Evans: [@Summer @Chase Are you two free this weekend? Come over for Sunday roast! I’ll make something hearty!]
My fingers flew across the keyboard to decline, but Chase beat me to the punch.
Chase: [Mom, we can't make it this weekend. Summer and I... already have tickets for an art gallery.]
I spammed his DMs with rage: [??? When the hell did we agree on an art gallery?!]
Chase replied in seconds: [Strategy. Giving a specific excuse sounds way more legit than a flat-out no. Plus, it keeps them from proposing even crazier dates. You're free this weekend, right?]
Me: [...Yeah. Free.]
Chase: [Cool. I just sent you a link to a virtual art tour. Spend ten minutes skimming it so our stories match if they ask.]
Staring at the virtual gallery link on my screen, I was completely speechless.
This guy was so competitive he even optimized lying to his own mother.
On Saturday, I was lounging on my couch binge-watching TV when I dropped a lazy message into the family group: [The exhibit was amazing. So inspiring.]
My mom replied instantly: [Just a sentence? Where are the photos?]
I froze. A screenshot of what? My laptop screen?
Just as I was having a mild panic attack, Chase dropped three flawlessly composed, professional-looking gallery photos into the chat.
Chase: [Mrs. Miller, these pieces were really fascinating. Thought I’d share them with you and Mom.]
Mrs. Evans: [Oh, lovely shots! Where’s the photo of the two of you together?]
My heart seized up.
Chase replied with ice-cold chill: [Too crowded today, couldn't get a good angle. Next time.]
Masterclass. Absolute masterclass.
I couldn't help DMing him: [Where did you get those? Photoshop?]
Chase: [My cousin went last weekend. I asked her for them.]
Me: [...Chase, you are a professional con artist.]
Chase: [I take that as a compliment. Your "so inspiring" review wasn't bad either.]
Ridiculous as it was, thanks to his scheming, the weekend passed without incident.
My mom was so thrilled she even sent me a fifty-dollar "Date Night Fund" on PayPal.
Honestly? Not the worst setup.Monday morning, I was waiting in line at the coffee shop downstairs. Just as it was my turn, the person right in front of me snagged the very last cup of cold brew.
I cursed under my breath, but when the culprit turned around, it was Chase!
He casually swirled the cup, smirking. "What a coincidence, Miss Miller."
I gave him a razor-thin smile. "Not a coincidence. I buy my coffee at this exact time every single day."
"Really?" He acted surprised. "How come I've never bumped into you before?"
"Because you usually clock in at the literal last minute. You’re fifteen minutes early today," I blurted out.
The second the words left my mouth, I wanted to swallow my own tongue. How on earth did I know his morning routine?!
Chase froze for a beat, an amused, probing glint flashing in his eyes.
"Oh? So Miss Miller... keeps close tabs on my schedule?"
My cheeks flared up. I forced myself to maintain eye contact. "Know your enemy! Standard corporate strategy!"
He let out a low chuckle, choosing not to press me, and instead extended the cup toward me. "Here. Take it."
I stared at it. "What's the catch?"
"Didn't your mom tell me to look after you?" he said smoothly. "Hot Americano is better for energy anyway. Too much cold brew wrecks your stomach."
I took the coffee suspiciously. Did the sun rise in the west today? My sworn enemy being nice to me?
Then, he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times.
My phone buzzed with an incoming message.
Chase: [Cold brew was $6.50. Don't forget to Venmo me.]
Me: "..."
I knew it! I should never have expected human decency from him!
That afternoon, our department held a cross-company pitch meeting with a partner firm.
When the client team walked in and I saw who was leading them, I almost snapped my pen in two.
Chase.
When he spotted me, he hesitated for half a second before slipping on his usual slick corporate facade.
Our executives were exchanging pleasantries. "We're thrilled to collaborate with Mr. Evans and his team. This will be a great learning opportunity for everyone..."
During the entire meeting, I was on maximum defense mode, firing on all cylinders to ensure he couldn't find a single flaw in my pitch.
Strangely enough, while Chase asked plenty of sharp questions, his tone was remarkably calm. When I explained a particularly tricky milestone, he actually nodded in approval.
That wasn't like him at all.
When the meeting wrapped, the senior directors stepped out first, leaving the working teams to hammer out the finer details.
I packed up my laptop, ready to make a quick exit, but Chase walked over.
Soon, it was just the two of us left in the conference room.
He tapped on my desk. "Hey."
I looked up, annoyed. "Can I help you, Mr. Evans?"
He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a whisper. "About our fake dating pact..."
My heart lurched. Was he going to blackmail me with it?
Then he finished: "...Don't slip up in front of our moms."
*That was it?*
I breathed a silent sigh of relief and scoffed, "Worry about yourself, Evans."
He straightened up, gave me an unreadable look, and walked out.
I sat there bewildered. Did he really stay behind just to tell me that?
My phone lit up. A notification from him.
Chase: [You did a great job today.]
Staring at the screen, then toward the empty doorway, my heart did a weird, involuntary flutter.
What on earth was wrong with me? Why was my sworn enemy suddenly starting to look... kind of attractive?During the joint project phase, Chase and I became the world's most functional strangers.
By day, we clashed across the boardroom table—he was the nitpicking client rep, and I was the relentless vendor who refused to back down an inch.
By night, in the *One Big Happy Family* group, we were the model sweethearts who "got along great and supported each other's careers."
The sheer level of cognitive dissonance made me question my sanity.
One Tuesday, we argued in a breakout room until almost 7 PM over a single UX detail.
I fought tooth and nail for user experience; he stubbornly pushed back on technical constraints and dev hours.
"Summer, ideals are great, but reality requires considering budget and timeline!" Chase knocked his knuckles against the table, his brow deeply furrowed.
"And if you never step out of your comfort zone, you'll produce second-rate software forever!" I snapped right back, even though deep down I knew his logistical points were valid.
In the end, we both compromised, settling on a middle ground we could both tolerate.
When the meeting ended, we were both too exhausted to speak.
My phone vibrated. My mom in the group chat.
Mom: [@Summer @Chase Are you kids still working late? Make sure to eat dinner on time! [Shared link: 10 Golden Rules for a Healthy Late Dinner]]
I was completely drained and didn't even have the energy to type.
A few minutes later, Chase replied in the group: [Just wrapped up, Mrs. Miller. Summer and I are heading out to grab dinner together right now. Don't worry.]
My head snapped up to look at him. He was calmly slipping his phone into his pocket and gathering his folders.
My DMs chimed instantly.
Chase: [New bistro opened across the street. Solid Yelp reviews. We can eat while finalizing today’s meeting minutes so nobody can backtrack tomorrow.]
Me: [...Chase, are you a literal demon? You want to review meeting minutes while eating dinner?]
Chase: [I have to circulate the minutes before 8 PM. You can either starve on your commute home to write them, or eat good food and knock it out with me in thirty minutes.]
I ground my teeth: [Send me the address.]
Dubious motives aside, that dinner was ridiculously efficient.
We hammered out the action items in record time and even reached quiet agreements on several disputed points.
When the bill arrived, I instinctively pulled out my card to split it.
Chase glanced at his screen and said, "Put your card away."
I raised a brow. "What? Did Mr. Evans finally grow a conscience?"
He tilted his phone toward me. On the screen was a notification from Mrs. Evans: [Treat Summer to a nice meal, son! Mom’s paying!]
Me: "..."
He pocketed his phone, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips—completely free of his usual sarcasm. "Let's go. Dinner's on my mom."
Watching that smile, my traitorous heart skipped another beat.
Dammit. It was definitely just the joy of getting a free meal.
Finally, launch week arrived. Both our teams worked around the clock.
At 3 AM, I dragged my half-dead body down to the corner convenience store for caffeine, only to run into Chase, sporting identical dark circles under his eyes.
He had grabbed three cans of black coffee. Seeing me, he handed one over.
"Thanks," I mumbled, taking it. I didn't even have the stamina to throw an insult. "Your team still at it?"
"Yeah. Running the final stress test." His voice was raspy with fatigue. "You guys?"
"Patching the last critical bug. Fingers crossed it's the final one." I leaned my back against the snack shelf, feeling entirely hollowed out.
We stood there in silence on the empty sidewalk outside the store, sipping bitter coffee, watching the quiet, deserted city streets.
For once, there was no bickering, no petty office politics. Just two exhausted corporate warriors sharing a moment of mutual survival.
"You know..." Chase broke the quiet softly.
"You did really well."
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
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