Twisted Hate: An Enemies with Benefits Romance

by Ana Huang

  Just one night. That’s it.

  24

  JULES

  I woke to the scent of bacon and coffee, my favorite smell in the world. Individually, they were amazing, but combined? Utter perfection.

  I was surprised Stella was cooking bacon, though. She only ate meat once in a blue moon. Now that I thought about it, she didn’t drink coffee, either, just tea and her criminally grassy green smoothies.

  Weird. Maybe she was entering a new coffee and meat phase.

  I opened my eyes and stretched, ready to bask in the glory of my beautiful new room at The Mirage. Instead, I was greeted with the world’s most hideous painting. The mess of brown and green looked like a herd of cats had vomited on it.

  What the hell?

  I shot up straight, my heart pounding with panic until bits and pieces from last night slowly came back to me.

  Hyacinth. Max. Josh. Storm.

  I must’ve fallen asleep during the movie, and Josh must’ve moved me into his room sometime during the night.

  My heart rate slowed. Thank God I wasn’t in some psycho murderer’s sex dungeon, though I wasn’t sure sleeping over Josh’s place was much better.

  I looked around his room, taking in the simple wooden furniture, navy comforter, and light gray walls. Atrocious art aside, it looked like a regular guy’s room, though the faint scent of citrus and soap lingering in the air was so delicious I wanted to bottle it up for future enjoyment.

  My eyes landed on the digital clock on the nightstand. 9:32 a.m. Shit. I should’ve been long gone by now.

  I climbed out of bed and quickly washed my face and rinsed my mouth in the bathroom across the hall before I walked into the kitchen. I opened my mouth, ready to bid Josh a hasty goodbye, but my words died at the sight before me.

  Josh was cooking. Shirtless.

  Holy hell.

  I think I just unlocked a new kink, because I suddenly couldn’t imagine anything sexier than watching a man cook bare-chested.

  The sculpted muscles of his back flexed as he reached for the salt next to the stove. His hair was even more tousled than usual, and the sunlight streaming through the windows gilded his skin with a deep bronze glow. A sliver of black sweats peeked over the kitchen island blocking the bottom half of his body. The pants rode just low enough to send my imagination spiraling in all sorts of X-rated directions.

  I watched him in silence, fascinated by the easy grace with which he moved. I’d pictured him subsisting on pizza and beer like he had in school, but judging by the gleaming pots and pans hanging on hooks over the island and the neatly labeled spices lined up on the counter, he knew his way around the kitchen.

  It was strangely attractive.

  I knocked into one of the island stools in my trance, and Josh turned at the sharp scrape of wood against tile. His gaze skimmed over me before he looked away.

  “You’re awake.”

  “I’ve never slept in so late.” I slid onto the stool and tried to keep my eyes above his waist. Don’t think about sex. Don’t think about sex. “Thanks for letting me stay over,” I added awkwardly.

  Sleepovers hadn’t been part of our pact, and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it, especially after how, ahem, aggressive our nighttime activities had been.

  It wasn’t like we’d made long, sweet love and I woke to him cooking me breakfast. It was more like…well, like he fucked my brains out and a thunderstorm trapped me in his house.

  “I wasn’t going to throw you out in the rain, Red.” Josh slid a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, toast, and crispy hash browns onto the island.

  My stomach rumbled, and I peeked over his shoulder at the stove. “Any chance you have a second plate?” I asked hopefully. “I’m starving.”

  “Nope.” He popped a piece of bacon in his mouth. “Only made enough for one. Cooking breakfast for you would be too much like dating, and you already broke the rules by sleeping over. I had to sleep on the couch last night because of you. You can have my leftovers though.”

  My jaw unhinged. “Are you serious?”

  Disbelief erased the last bits of my grogginess. Obviously, I wasn’t entitled to breakfast, but it was pretty rude to eat right in front of me without offering me a plate.

  “Does it look like I’m joking?”

  “It looks like you’re two seconds away from a slow, painful death,” I growled. “There are plenty of knives in here, and I know how to use them.”

  “Then use them to cook something for yourself.” Josh continued eating like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  My eye twitched. Gah, he was so…so…ugh!

  “You are such an asshole.”

  “I remember you calling me the same thing last night.” He sipped his coffee. “Right before I fucked your brains out. Seems you have a thing for assholes, Red.”

  Heat scalded my face and neck. “That was last night. This is now. And I didn’t mean to sleep over,” I snapped, hating how right he was. “I just fell asleep.”

  “Yes, that’s what sleeping over means,” Josh said slowly. “With those reasoning skills, you’ll be winning court cases in no time.” He straightened and wiped his mouth with a napkin before tossing it in the trash. “I’m taking a shower. I have a shift in an hour.” He tipped his chin toward his plate. “Have at it if you want.”

  I scowled at his retreating back.

  My pride demanded I leave, but as always, my hunger overrode all.

  I pulled the plate toward me and realized it was near full. He’d only eaten a few pieces of bacon. Weird. Josh usually ate like a horse. I once saw him mow down a double decker burger, large fries, two hot dogs, and a chocolate milkshake in less than twenty minutes.

  For a doctor, he ate like crap.

  I finished half the plate and returned to Josh’s room to change back into my clothes from last night. My dress was horribly uncomfortable compared to the softness of Josh’s shirt, but I resisted the urge to steal his clothes for myself. That was girlfriend behavior, and God knew I wasn’t his girlfriend.

  By the time I was ready to leave, Josh still hadn’t gotten out of the shower.

  I debated waiting for him so I could say bye, but that felt too awkward, so I sent him a quick text and slipped out quietly instead.

  I’d just climbed into my Uber when a new message popped up on my screen.

  No text, just an image. A still image from the tape, to be exact. I was on my knees while—

  I quickly deleted it, but the bacon and eggs I ate earlier resurfaced in my throat.

  Max.

  I’d pushed him to the back of my mind while I was with Josh, but now, my anxiety from last night rushed back in a wave of nausea.

  I knew exactly why he sent that picture. To fuck with my head and remind me of his dark, looming presence in my life. That was his M.O. He liked to toy with people until they drove themselves insane and did all the hard work for him.

  I closed my eyes, trying to relax, but the car smelled like overly sweet air freshener and it made me gag even more.

  I wished I could rewind time and freeze it so I stayed in the comforting oblivion of Josh’s house forever, but there was no hiding from the truth in the harsh light of day.

  I could only hope that whatever “favor” Max asked of me was doable…or my life as I knew it would be over.

  25

  JOSH

  Did I wait until Jules left before I stepped out of the shower like a coward? Possibly.

  But I’d rather be a coward than deal with the awkward morning after goodbye. Our arrangement was supposed to eliminate that awkwardness by setting clear boundaries and expectations, but of course, the weather had to fuck it all up on our first night.

  If I ever made it to heaven, I was going to have a long, hard talk with God about timing.

  I was still irritated with myself for letting Jules sleep over when I arrived at the hospital, but the chaos in the ER quickly wiped away any thoughts of my personal life.

  Strokes. Kni
fe wounds. Broken arms and legs and noses and everything in between. They flooded the emergency room in an unceasing, back-to-back wave, and the work week following Hyacinth was so insane I had zero time to agonize over my sex pact with my little sister’s best friend.

  Jules and I did squeeze in a few quickies, none of which ended in a sleepover or cuddling, thank God. But for the most part, it was all work, all the time.

  Most people would hate working such long hours, but I craved the stimulation—until I hit one of Those Days.

  I had good days, bad days, and Those Days—capital T, capital D—in the ER. The good days were when I walked away knowing I’d made the right interventions at the right time to save someone’s life. The bad days ranged from patients trying to assault me to a mass casualty incident when only me, my attending physician, and a few nurses were on duty.

  Then there were Those Days. They were few and far in between, but when they happened?

  They were devastating.

  The unending flatline of the monitor drilled into my skull and mixed with the roar in my ears as I stared down at my patient’s closed eyes and pale skin.

  Tanya, seventeen years old. She’d been driving home when a drunk driver T-boned her car.

  I’d done all I could, but it wasn’t enough.

  She was dead.

  One minute she was alive, the next she was gone. Just like that.

  My breaths rushed out in ragged pants. After what felt like an eternity but was, in reality, a minute at most, I lifted my head to find Clara and the techs staring back at me, their expressions grim. A faint sheen shone in Clara’s eyes, and one of the techs audibly swallowed.

  No one spoke.

  “Time of death: 3:16 p.m.” That was my voice, but it sounded strange, like it was coming from someone else.

  After a moment of silence, I walked out. Down the hall, around the corner, and toward the designated relatives’ room where Tanya’s parents waited.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  Everything sounded muffled except for the echo of my footsteps against the linoleum floors.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  I’d lost someone in the ER before. During my first year of residency, I treated a patient who’d been shot in the chest during a random drive-by. He’d succumbed to his injuries within minutes of arriving at the hospital.

  There was nothing I could’ve done; he’d been too far gone. But that didn’t stop me from walking out of the trauma bay, into a bathroom, and throwing up.

  Every doctor lost a patient eventually, and every death hit hard, but Tanya’s socked me right in the gut.

  Maybe it was because I’d been so confident she would pull through. Or maybe it was because she barely had the chance to live life before death snatched it so cruelly from her.

  Whatever it was, I couldn’t stop a destructive swarm of what ifs from crowding my brain.

  What if I’d made a different call during the treatment process? What if I’d reached her earlier? What if I were a better doctor?

  What if, what if, what if.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  My steps faltered for a second outside the relatives’ room before my hand closed around the doorknob and twisted. It was like I was watching a movie of myself—I was here, but not really.

  Tanya’s parents jumped up when they saw me, their faces drawn tight with worry. A minute later, the worry exploded into horror.

  “I’m sorry…did everything we could…”

  I kept talking, trying to sound sympathetic and professional, to sound anything but numb, but I barely heard my own words. I only heard the mother’s keening wail and the father’s angry shouts of denial, which collapsed into shuddering cries of grief as he gathered his wife into his arms.

  Each sound drove a phantom spike through my chest until I was so littered with them I couldn’t breathe.

  “My baby. Not my baby,” Tanya’s mom sobbed. “She’s here. She’s still here. I know she is.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I repeated.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  Not my footsteps, but the thundering of a broken heart.

  I maintained my stoic mask until I ran out of useless words and left the family to their grief. I had a dozen other patients to treat, but I needed a minute, just one minute, to myself.

  I quickened my steps until I reached the nearest bathroom. The numbness spread from my chest to my limbs, but when I closed the door behind me, the soft click of the lock sliding into place unleashed a sharp sob that ripped through the air.

  It took me several seconds to realize it came from me.

  The pressure building behind my ribcage finally exploded, and I doubled over the sink, dry heaving until my ears rang and my throat was raw.

  Tanya’s lifeless body on the stretcher. Ava in the emergency room after she almost drowned. My mom’s open, empty eyes after she overdosed on pills.

  The memories ran together in a macabre stream.

  I gagged again, but I hadn’t eaten since I started my shift eight hours ago and nothing came out.

  By the time my dry heaves faded, sweat clung to my skin and my head pounded with tension.

  I turned on the faucet and splashed my face with cold water before paper toweling off the moisture. The rough brown material scratched against my skin, and when I caught my reflection in the mirror, I saw a faint reddish mark from where I’d rubbed it against my cheek.

  Faint purple smudges beneath my eyes, sallow complexion, white lines of tension bracketing my mouth. I looked like hell.

  God, I needed a strong drink. Or, better yet, a vacation with several strong drinks.

  I set my jaw and tossed the crumpled paper towel into the trash. By the time I returned to the main floor, I’d fixed my professional mask back in place.

  I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in grief or self-pity. I had a job to do.

  “Hi there.” I smiled at my next patient and held out my hand. “I’m Dr. Chen…”

  The rest of my shift passed without any major incidents, but I couldn’t shake my clammy skin or erratic heartbeat.

  “Are you okay?” Clara asked when I clocked out.

  “Yep.” I avoided her sympathetic gaze. “See you tomorrow.”

  I didn’t give her a chance to respond before I headed to the locker room. I usually showered at home, but I was desperate to wash the blood off. It stuck to my skin, thick and cloying, invisible to everyone except me.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and stayed beneath the water until it ran cold and a deep chill settled into my bones. Normally, I couldn’t wait to leave the building after a shift, but right now, nothing sounded worse than being alone.

  My friends were all working, and it was too early to go to a bar, which left me with one remaining option.

  I toweled off, got dressed, and fished my phone out of my jeans pocket to text Jules only to find a message already waiting from her, sent twenty minutes ago.

  Jules: You off work yet?

  Me: Just got out.

  Me: Where are you?

  It was Tuesday, so she wasn’t working at the clinic today.

  Jules: SciLi, in the back.

  Relief rattled my lungs. That was within walking distance.

  Me: Don’t move. Be there in fifteen.

  26

  JOSH

  The hospital was right next to Thayer’s campus, so it didn’t take me long to reach the science library, formally christened the George Hancock Library after a long-dead donor and informally known as SciLi. It was a hidden gem tucked on the third floor of the biology building. Whereas Fulton, the school’s main library, was always packed during exam time, SciLi was quiet year-round.

  The walk gave me time to push lingering thoughts of Tanya’s death to the back of my mind. Being outside the hospital and surrounded by smiling, chattering students made it easier. It was like I’d stepped onto a movie set where I could pretend to be the person I wanted to be instead of the person I was.

  When I arrived at SciLi,
there were only a handful of students scattered throughout the space. Walls of books stretched two stories toward the double-height ceiling, interrupted only by massive stained-glass windows set at regular intervals. The glow from the green glass desk lamps mingled with the sunlight to cast a warm, hazy glow over the hushed sanctum.

  The thick emerald carpet muffled my footsteps as I walked toward the back, where Jules sat by herself.

  “Working hard, I see,” I said when I reached her. A tall stack of textbooks sat next to her ever-present caramel mocha, and loose sheets of notes and index cards covered every inch of the oak surface.

  “Someone has to.” She raised her head, and alarm pinched my chest when I noticed her puffy, red eyes.

  “Were you crying?”

  What the fuck were they doing over at the law school? I was pretty sure study materials weren’t supposed to make someone cry unless they were tears of frustration, and Jules wasn’t the type to lose it over academic stress.

  “No.” She tapped her highlighter against her notebook. “I have allergies.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  We kept our voices low since we were in a library, but everyone was so zoned out and we were so far from the nearest person it didn’t matter much.

  Jules’s tapping picked up speed. “Why do you care? I called you for sex, not a heart-to-heart.”

  “I don’t care.” I dropped into the chair next to her and lowered my voice further. “But I’d rather not fuck a crying woman unless you’re crying from pleasure. Any other kind of tears is a turnoff.”

  “Charming.”

  “Would you rather I get turned on by others’ distress?” I slipped into our banter with shocking ease, considering my day in the ER, but when I was around Jules, everything else ceased to exist.

  For better or for worse.

  “I don’t have the energy to argue with you today, okay?” she snapped, her voice lacking some of its usual fire. “Either fuck me or leave.”

  My brief flare of good humor evaporated. Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate to take her up on her offer of sex, but today wasn’t normal.